#ok. LOTS of things to unpack here

[3416]

"is the sun important to you" has to be one of the funniest questions ever asked in media availabilities

[abundanced]

//Okay if you're willing I'm also curious for Yaoshi's thoughts on Dan Heng, but particularly because post-companion quest he's studying medicine and healing. ~starlighttrain

@starlighttrain. / about dan heng.

❛ he is ... the reincarnation of the high elder , dan feng. if you ask me , it only seems natural to learn healing from the current high elder. i wonder ... does that boy realize how close he strays to my path ?? and if he knew ... could i guide him onto it ?? ❜

[gas-stxtion-a]

//sorry i haven't been working on replies lately! you see, it's because [mid-sentence i slowly lie down on the floor and start crying really hard. i do not finish my explanation]

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[vroomvroomwee]

Crowley is Lucifer

(Ok I know some of you don't believe this theory but I highly suggest you give this a quick read anyway. I tried to make it short and easy and I'll be going chronologically, from s1 all through s2)

- First, let's get this out of the way, Lucifer and Satan aren't neccesarilly the same person. Even in the show the devil that appeared in s1 has only ever been reffered to as Satan, not even once as Lucifer.

- In the bible Lucifer was the one to tempt Eve with the apple, and who do we know that does that in the show. Crowley is literally THE snake from Eden.

- An obvious one perhaps, but the red hair is also a giveaway

- In the bible Jesus was tempted by the devil for 30 days, in the show Crowley says "I showed him all the kingdoms of the world", so that's another role Lucifer has that Crowley had in the show

- It's well known (even mentioned in the Sandman) that Lucifer was the most beautiful of all angels, and our demon is played by no other than David Tennant

Now on to season 2 because there's a LOT to unpack here

- He litterally started the engine of the universe which was one of Lucifers roles

- He's the first to say "let there be light", which is pretty fucking huge since that is Gods line

- "I worked closely with upstairs on it" even in the first scene they're telling us Crowley is an angel of very very high rank

- He fell for asking questions, which is litterally what Lucifer fell for, for questioning God. This in and of itself should be a pretty big indicator. "I only ever asked questions"

- Shax: "a miracle of enourmous power only the mightiest of archangels can perform"

Crowley: "How do you know I didn't do it"

And Shax just... doesn't counter that. She looks even skeptical, as if it COULD be a possibility, unlike Uriel who says to Aziraphale don't excpect us to believe you did it. Shax litterally doesn't shut the option down which confirms Crowley has the power not only of an archangel but of the mightiest kind

- In the bookshop with Gabriel/Jim he says "I don't remember. It [gravity] seemed like a good idea when we were all talking about it"

- "You're welcome to come in, you might even spot an archangel" don't tell me this was Crowley just egging Shax on and not being sneaky

- The fact that he could sense the demons coming. "Somethings wrong""It's coming in waves", when Aziraphale couldn't. It could be a demon thing but we saw Sandalphon, an archangel of lower rank, in the first season mention "something smells evil" so obviously angels can sense demons too, they just have to be powerful enough. And keep in mind Sandalphon was already in the book shop for quite some time, Crowley sensed them even before they had arrived (he also sensed the hell hound who was some fucking miles away)

- The.fucking.folder. "You have to be a throne or dominion above" and this dude opens these clasified documents like it's nothing. If this isn't an indicator of his high position as an angel I don't know what is.

- He's worked with Saraqael, another very high ranking angel

- "I'm the only first order archangel in the room"... and the camera imediately pans to Crowley, and for anyone who's read the book and watched the show you know that rarely anything is coincidental

- When the Metatron says they can't lose another prince of heaven. This... this fucking line. So it's relatively well known that Gabriel and Lucifer are brothers, and if Gabriel is one of the princes of heaven I wonder who the other one could be. "Two princes of heaven". And the Metatrons words were very careful, he doesn't say lost as in heaven can't find him, he says it in the context that they won't be sending Gabriel to hell since they won't lose another prince to downstairs

- In the bookshop when no one can identify the Metatron he turns to Crowley who imediately recognises him. Now you have this dude, who's literally on top of the angel hierarchy and is responsible for running heaven and the connection to God themself, surrounded by archangels and a principality you spoke to face to face with just a few years ago and... none of them can tell who you are, the only one who does is the literal demon. That tells us that Crowley has not only seen him in this form, but has probably worked with the Metaron himself personally. "Always asking damn fool questions", 10 million angels and he remembers what this one particular angel was like 6000 years ago

- Crowley is also very reluctant to reveal his identity as an angel. Now if he were just an ordinary angel of no real significance he wouldn't have a problem revealing his name, but... if his name was one that's the literal representation of all evil in this world, then it is understandable he keeps it a secret, in fear he might scare Aziraphale away

- And I wanted to leave the best for last. So you remember in the book when Crowley has to sign his name to start Armaggedon, and Hastur tells him "no, your real name" after which he reluctantly writes it. Now in the book we never see him write anything, but in the show we see him write a sygil, something that looks very mich like an L. An L... A FUCKING L. And now I wonder how this theory didn't come up sooner.

(Also he can fucking stop time, like dafuq)

Edit:

- "Oh looky here it's Lucifer and the guys" we all thought he was talking about someone else, he's just refferencing things other angels have said about HIM. FUCK

- I keep seing people saying Crowleys memories were wiped because he couldn't remember Saraqael and Furfur. But I think people forget, demons lie. He's lying to make them think he's not that angel they worked with, that he's not Lucifer. (In season 1 we hear him a few times refferencing his life as an angel, so he does remember most of it)

- Also saying if the Raphael theory were true then as showrunners they would have mentioned him somewhere for those not that familiar with the bible (or don't read much fanfiction). The refferences for Crowleys past are so so vague that it would be too sudden and confusing if he were Raphael. But there is one name that everyone is familiar with, no matter who you are how old you are or where you're from, a name that needs no introduction.

Edit 2:

- Back to him being the most beautiful angel, I don't think it was ever quite explained how every single demon when they're in hell looks... awful, but Crowley doesn't. Beelzebub has the spores all over their face, Hastur the maggots and the sh-, Dagon the scales etc. But Crowley doesn't, not even when he's in hell, he's always just so, well, pretty.

- I saw a few people asking about how Lucifer started the rebellion and Crowley wouldn't do that. I think it's the same Crowley who wouldn't get stuck in traffic after creating the M25, or the same Crowley that wanted to call Aziraphale after bringing down the entire London network, "you told them you invented the spanish inquisition, and started the second world war""so the humans beat me to it that's not my fault", "so all this is your demonic work?""no, the humans thought it up themselves nothing to do with me"

- Also I think Satan's in charge of hell not Crowley the same way the Metatron's in charge of heaven and not Gabriel (and who can very easily demote angels if he so wishes)

Edit 3:

- like some of you pointed out Lucifer is also known/means Light-bringer. And Crowley was the first to say "let there be light."

- The file he opens with Muriel is Gabriels file, a class A archangel, so if he knows the password to that it means that either he's on the same level as Gabriel, or above him.

[choccy-milky]

LMAOO thank you for your efforts and also for putting this cursed image in my head....between being a beater AND making the trek up to the ravenclaw tower constantly/every morning to pick up clora, seb never skips a workout💪

@myfangirlinessononeblog BAHAHA DONT WORRY ABOUT IT GIRL!! ill admit tho when i got the preview for your ask which just showed me "id like to apologize for my previous ask" i was like oh god...what did she send me that warrants an apology???😰 but this was so funny to me LOOL esp bc i thought everyone already knew that "spoiler" of sebs "death" by now, so its always fun to see when someone hasnt been on my blog for long/reads my fic first and then gets to it HAHA. also i love the manic energy of not being able to wait between chaps and NEEDING to vent to me LOOL relatable... weve all been there girly🤝🤝 (and im glad u liked seb beating himself up over being dead for TOO long BAHAH that really is so him...😭bro needs to relax) BUT THANK YOU ALSO!! IM GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING IT!!💖💖💖

@nerdycollectionstrawdewfan i want to do this so bad!! i just still havent got around to getting to that quest yet bc ive still barely started my second HL playthru bahha, and i want to experience the quest myself rather than watch it on youtube, BUT TRUST ME ITS DEFS SOMETHING IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT/WANTING TO DO!! and THANK YOUU💖💖

@jax-the-kneecapper BAHAH AWW TYY RIGHT BACK AT YOU🫂💖💖😭 and i mean if its to keep someone alive i guess i have no choice but to continue🫡👩‍⚕️👩‍⚕️thank u for the excuse🥰

BAHA I DO!! idk if you saw my last ask but i have a pregnancy oneshot in the works!! but unlike what i say there, it probs wont be finished by this month at the rate im going😭 BUT IT IS COMING!! and after that i have a really reallllyyy short oneshot (probs like 5k words. short for ME, that is) thats kinda dark/about yandere seb. but also dont worry about pressuring me cuz IM GLAD YOU WANT MORE OF THEM, IT JUST MOTIVATES ME!! SO THANK YOU💖💖💖🥹

and speaking of motivation!! THANK YOUU im glad you liked it and that you not only got attached to my ver of seb but even to clora as well!!😭ill defs keep writing for them as long as the ideas are still there, thank YOU for reading and for the lovely message!!💖💖💖

decided to end this off with the most UNHINGED ask i have EVER RECIEVED LMAOOOOOO GIRLLLLLLLL???? ok a lot to unpack here first of all im OBSESSEDDDD with the fact that after seeing that sight, ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS YOU THOUGHT OF WAS SEB AND CLORA??? LMFAOO AND SEBS REACTION TO IT😭😭😭IM FUCKING CRYINN GGGG LIKE SERIOUSLY....and second clora will ALWAYS be sebs fav cave no matter what (how dare you make me read that with my own eyes) and also THE VAGINA IS A MUSCLE!! IT CAN LOOSEN AND BECOME TIGHT AGAIN!! ✨THE MORE YOU KNOW!! ✨ but also no seb will NOT be traumatized bc he will NOT be seeing that LMAO😇 in the pregnancy oneshot im writing he doesnt look down there😇 he already almost passes out from seeing clora in pain, so i think looking down there and seeing whats happening would actually knock him out/put him in a coma LMFAOOO (also congrats to your sister🥰🥰i hope her cave isnt too wrecked🥰(ok im sorry 💀💀but also YOU started this🫵)

[arilevenatz]

Outscored 𝟏┃C.JH

Pairing: jock!Jongho x Reader

Genre/trope: enemies to lovers au

Word Count: 25.7k (💀) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]

Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end

AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!

This is part one. Read part two here-

one | two

The brisk winter air nipped at YN’s cheeks as she stood at the entrance of her new college. The towering brick building seemed almost menacing in the gray morning light, but she pushed the uneasiness aside. This was her fresh start—a chance to prove herself in a new environment. With her books clutched tightly to her chest, she took a deep breath and walked inside.

The first few days were a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and navigating unfamiliar hallways. YN quickly found herself bonding with Hanni, a bright and cheerful girl who seemed to know everyone. Hanni made the transition easier, guiding YN through the social intricacies of the campus.

By the end of the week, YN noticed something odd. Every time a certain group walked down the hall, conversations died, students avoided eye contact, and some even went as far as turning around to take another route. She spotted them from a distance—eight guys, each exuding an air of dominance that seemed to make the air thicker. They moved like a pack, and the energy around them was impossible to ignore.

"Who are they?" YN finally asked Hanni during lunch, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Hanni’s face turned serious as she glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. “That’s Ateez,” she whispered. “They’re…well, the jocks of the college. Everyone fears them.”

YN frowned. “Why?”

“They’re not just athletes. They’re...intense. If someone so much as looks at them the wrong way, things don’t end well.” Hanni hesitated, lowering her voice further. “I heard someone got sent to the hospital last year because of an argument with one of them.”

YN’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Hongjoong is their leader. He’s smart but scary. Seonghwa, his second-in-command, always has this calm but intimidating vibe. Yunho and Mingi are the muscle—you don’t want to get on their bad side. San and Wooyoung? Absolute chaos, always ready to start something. Yeosang is quiet, but people say he’s the sharpest one of them all. And Jongho…he’s the enforcer. If Hongjoong gives the word, Jongho makes sure it’s done.”

YN’s stomach twisted uneasily. “They sound like villains in a movie.”

Hanni shrugged. “It’s best to steer clear of them. Just focus on your studies and don’t give them a reason to notice you.”

YN didn’t respond to Hanni’s warning, opting instead to stay quiet and let the conversation drift to safer topics. Deep down, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this so-called fearsome group. They sounded like trouble, but she didn’t see how avoiding them would be difficult—she wasn’t the type to get involved with people like that anyway.

Later that afternoon, YN walked into her next lecture, the chill of the earlier conversation still lingering. She found her usual spot near the back of the classroom, quietly unpacking her notebook and pen. The room slowly filled with students, but the air shifted when a group entered.

She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Whispers and nervous glances rippled through the class, and her pulse quickened.

For the first time, YN let herself take a cautious look. There he was—Jongho. He was hard to miss, even without the murmurs. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried an aura of icy indifference, his sharp jawline and piercing gaze giving him an almost unapproachable air. He wore a simple hoodie, but somehow, it only emphasized his muscular frame.

YN quickly looked away, her heart pounding. So this is what Hanni meant. She had shared a class with him all week but hadn’t even realized it. She must have been too absorbed in adjusting to the new college life to notice.

Jongho took a seat a few rows ahead of her, close enough that she could see the subtle tension in his posture. He didn’t speak to anyone, his focus completely on the empty whiteboard at the front of the room. He radiated a coldness that seemed to push everyone away, yet she noticed how other students carefully avoided sitting near him.

Deciding to stick to her original plan, YN ignored his presence, keeping her eyes firmly on her notes throughout the lecture. But as the weeks passed, it became harder to pretend he wasn’t there. He was in more of her classes than she’d realized, and his presence was impossible to miss.

Jongho never caused a scene—he was silent, focused, and distant. Yet there was something about him that made her uneasy. He wasn’t just another student. There was a weight to him, a quiet strength that made the air feel heavier when he walked into a room.

And whether she wanted to admit it or not, YN was beginning to notice him more and more.

Jongho had never paid much attention to his classmates. He came to class, did what was required, and left—never lingering or engaging unless absolutely necessary. To him, school was simply a task to complete, something to cross off his list.

But one day, during a particularly grueling economics lecture, something caught his attention. The professor had asked a question—a tricky one that made most of the class go silent, their heads sinking lower to avoid eye contact.

And then, she spoke.

"Isn’t the answer related to the supply-demand equilibrium in a perfectly competitive market?"

Her voice was calm and self-assured, and when Jongho glanced up from his notebook, he saw her. She sat near the back, her expression thoughtful as she explained her reasoning. The professor nodded, impressed, and praised her for her detailed response.

Jongho’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t even considered answering that question—it had seemed too abstract to bother with. Yet, there she was, providing answers with ease.

At first, he shrugged it off. Maybe she just got lucky. But over the next few classes, he noticed it happening again. The professor would pose a difficult question, and before anyone else could muster the courage to speak, she’d answer it. Every time.

It started to bother him.

Jongho prided himself on being one of the smartest students in his classes, even if he didn’t flaunt it. He hated drawing attention to himself, but deep down, he knew he was sharp—more than capable of holding his own against anyone. Yet this transfer student, who barely even seemed to acknowledge anyone in the room, was constantly one step ahead.

“Who does she think she is?” he muttered under his breath after one particularly frustrating class.

From then on, Jongho found himself paying closer attention to her. He wasn’t sure if it was out of curiosity or sheer annoyance, but he started to notice little things about her. The way her hand shot up the moment a question was asked. The quiet determination in her eyes as she scribbled down notes. The slight smile she gave when the professor praised her responses.

It wasn’t just that she was smart—she was confident in her knowledge, and it was infuriating.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like someone was challenging him. And he didn’t like it.

The buzz around campus was electric when the exam results were finally posted on the bulletin board. Students crowded around, eagerly scanning the list of names and scores. YN was among the last to approach, her usual calm demeanor giving way to quiet excitement.

When she finally found her name at the very top of the list, her heart soared. She had done it—topped her first major exam at the new college. Her efforts, countless late nights of studying, and meticulous note-taking had paid off.

Hanni squealed in delight when she saw the results. “YN! You’re at the top! I told you you’re a genius!”

YN laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her. “It’s just one exam, Hanni.”

“Doesn’t matter! You crushed it!” Hanni grinned and tugged her arm. “We’re celebrating. There’s this cute cafe nearby—my treat!”

They walked to the cafe, the chill of the winter day melting into the warmth of good company and coffee. YN felt proud, her confidence growing as Hanni hyped her up about her success.

But across campus, in a quieter corner of the library, Jongho wasn’t in such a celebratory mood.

He stared at the results list on his phone, his jaw clenched. Second place. He’d never been second. Not once. For as long as he could remember, his name had always been at the top. It was his thing—the one thing no one could take from him.

But now, there it was. YN. A name he hadn’t even bothered to remember until recently. The transfer student had dethroned him, and it stung.

Jongho closed his phone and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His mind replayed the last few weeks: her quick answers in class, the way she always seemed to know everything, her calm confidence. He had brushed it off at first, but now it was clear—she wasn’t just smart. She was better than him, at least academically.

And Jongho hated losing.

“She’s just a transfer,” he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the irritation. “It’s probably beginner’s luck.”

But the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. It wasn’t just the results—it was the way she seemed so unaffected by everything. While he was stewing in his frustration, she was probably out there celebrating, not even thinking twice about the fact that she had knocked him down.

For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt something unfamiliar—a mix of annoyance and determination. He wasn’t about to let this stand.

“Fine,” he thought, his jaw tightening. “Let’s see how long she can keep this up.”

Jongho's frustration only grew as the weeks turned into months. Every test, every quiz, every exam—YN was always at the top. It didn’t matter how much he studied or how hard he tried to reclaim his spot. Her name remained above his, and it gnawed at him.

His friends noticed the change in him.

During one of their usual hangouts, Wooyoung nudged Jongho with his elbow. “You’ve been acting weird lately. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Jongho muttered, not bothering to look up from his phone.

San leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Don’t tell me it’s about those scores again. You’re still stuck on that, aren’t you?”

“I said it’s nothing,” Jongho snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s definitely something. You’ve been sulking since those results came out. What’s the deal with her? Did she do something to you?”

Jongho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, she didn’t do anything. She just—she keeps beating me. It’s annoying.”

Yeosang, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “So what? You’re not used to competition?”

“It’s not just competition,” Jongho muttered. “It’s like…no matter what I do, she’s always one step ahead.”

The room fell silent for a moment before San shrugged. “Then maybe talk to her. Figure out what she’s doing that you’re not.”

Jongho scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, like I’m going to go up to her and ask for advice. She’s the reason I’m in this mess.”

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew San had a point. He couldn’t keep letting this get to him. If he wanted to understand why she was always on top, he’d have to confront her eventually.

Two months had passed since the first exam results, and YN’s streak hadn’t faltered. Every high score, every bit of praise from the professors only added to Jongho’s growing frustration. He’d tried ignoring it, tried telling himself it didn’t matter, but the truth was, it did.

He finally decided he couldn’t take it anymore. After class one afternoon, as the students began to trickle out of the lecture hall, Jongho stayed behind, his eyes fixed on YN as she packed her things.

She was just about to leave when he stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over her desk.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and steady.

YN looked up, surprised to see him standing there. “Oh, hi.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had spent so long stewing in his own thoughts that now, face-to-face with her, he felt unprepared.

“You’re YN, right?” he finally asked, even though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, her expression curious. “Yeah. And you’re Jongho.”

He was slightly taken aback that she knew his name, but he didn’t let it show. “We need to talk,” he said, his tone firm.

YN blinked, clearly confused. “About what?”

“About how you keep getting the highest scores,” he said bluntly. “And why you’re always ahead of me.”

Jongho froze as YN’s words echoed in his mind.

"Maybe it’s because you’re not studying enough."

She had said it so casually, so effortlessly, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out of the room, leaving him standing there like a statue.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at the empty doorway. Then, something inside him snapped. A laugh escaped his lips, low and disbelieving at first, before growing louder.

When he walked out of the lecture hall and joined his friends, they immediately noticed something was off.

“Uh…why are you laughing like a maniac?” Wooyoung asked, leaning away from him as if Jongho had finally lost it.

“Did you finally crack under the pressure?” San teased, though there was genuine concern in his voice.

Jongho shook his head, the grin still lingering on his face. “She told me I don’t study enough,” he said, almost in disbelief, as if saying it out loud would make it sound less ridiculous.

Wooyoung blinked. “Wait. She said that?”

“The nerve,” San muttered, shaking his head.

Mingi, who had been quietly listening, tilted his head thoughtfully. “So…do you want us to talk to her? You know, scare her a bit? Make her think twice before pulling that again?”

Jongho’s laughter stopped abruptly. His expression hardened, and he gave Mingi a sharp look. “No.”

“No?” Wooyoung echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Jongho repeated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not stooping to that level. I don’t need to threaten her to get what I want.”

“But she insulted you!” Wooyoung said, throwing his hands in the air.

“She didn’t insult me. She just…” Jongho paused, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. “She got under my skin.”

Yeosang, who had been leaning against the wall silently, finally spoke. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Jongho exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to beat her.”

“Hold up man what-” San frowned.

“In the next exam,” Jongho clarified, his eyes narrowing with determination. “I’m going to study harder than I ever have, and I’m going to take that top spot back. She thinks I’m not studying enough? Fine. I’ll show her exactly what I’m capable of.”

His friends exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and concern on their faces.

Wooyoung leaned closer to San and whispered, “I give him three days before he snaps again.”

But Jongho ignored them, his mind already racing with plans. This wasn’t just about pride anymore. It was about proving to himself—and to her—that he was the best.

When Hanni heard what YN had said to Jongho, she nearly dropped her phone in shock.

“You told Jongho—the cold, terrifying Jongho—that he doesn’t study enough?” Hanni exclaimed, pacing back and forth in YN’s dorm room. Her voice was a mix of disbelief and panic, her hands flailing in the air.

YN, sitting calmly on her bed, shrugged as she sipped her coffee. “Yeah, I did. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Hanni stopped pacing and stared at her friend like she had grown a second head. “YN, you don’t just say that to someone like him! Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? This is Jongho! The guy who could probably crush someone’s desk in half with his bare hands!”

YN smiled slightly, setting her cup down. “You’re exaggerating. He’s just another student, Hanni. Besides, it’s not like I insulted him. I gave him constructive criticism.”

“Constructive—YN, are you listening to yourself?!” Hanni groaned, clutching her head as if she could physically hold in her frustration. “I’m scared for you! What if he gets mad? What if his friends get involved? They’re not exactly known for handling things peacefully.”

“It’s fine,” YN said, her tone steady. “I don’t think he’s the type to do anything rash over something like this. He seems too...proud for that.”

“Proud?” Hanni snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”

YN chuckled softly, leaning back against her pillows. “Look, Hanni, I appreciate you worrying about me, but it’s not a big deal. He’ll get over it. If anything, maybe it’ll motivate him to work harder.”

Hanni sat down heavily on the edge of YN’s bed, her arms crossed. “I hope you’re right. But if he so much as looks at you funny, I’m grabbing your hand and running for the hills. Got it?”

YN laughed, nudging her friend’s shoulder. “Got it. But trust me, I can handle myself.”

Hanni gave her a wary look but eventually sighed in defeat. “You’re way too calm about this. I don’t know whether to admire you or scream at you.”

YN just smiled, her confidence unwavering. Little did she know, Jongho wasn’t the type to let something like this go unnoticed—and he had no intention of backing down.

Jongho's determination was like a fire, burning through his focus as he buried himself in his books for weeks leading up to the next exam. He studied longer, harder—pushing his limits. He felt the tension, the pressure building in his chest every day. The thought of losing to YN again fueled his resolve. This time, he would prove he was the best.

But when the results came in, his stomach sank.

There it was again—YN's name at the top. Not his.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the paper with frustration boiling inside him. He had done everything right. He had pushed himself to the breaking point. And yet, once again, she had beaten him.

This time, it was different. This time, it wasn’t just about pride. Jongho could feel something snapping inside him, the pressure and disappointment manifesting as a tight ball of anger in his chest.

That day in class, he couldn’t focus. The words the professor spoke seemed distant and irrelevant, his mind consumed by the crushing weight of defeat. As he stared at the floor, barely registering the lecture, one of his classmates—someone who had clearly noticed his mood—decided to test him.

The guy leaned over and smirked, a sharp edge to his tone. "So, Jongho, how does it feel to be second to a girl? Maybe you should quit studying and leave it to the real people, huh?"

The words hit Jongho like a punch to the gut.

Before he could even think, he stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. His hands balled into fists. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t need to. The guy barely had time to react before Jongho stood up, took the guy's phone, slammed it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.

The silence in the classroom was deafening.

But it wasn’t over.

Once class was dismissed, Jongho stormed out of the building, his anger blinding him. He found the guy outside, lurking near the campus gates, laughing to his friends about how "easy" it was to get under Jongho’s skin.

Jongho didn’t hesitate. He charged at the guy, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the nearest wall. The punches came fast and brutal, each one landing with a sickening thud.

The guy didn’t stand a chance.

It wasn’t until he was gasping for breath, barely conscious, that Jongho stopped. His knuckles were bloody, his anger slowly subsiding as the reality of what he had done set in.

When word of the fight spread through campus, it didn’t take long for YN to hear about it.

She had been in the library when a group of students started whispering, talking about how Jongho had beaten up some guy for talking trash about him. Her stomach twisted, and an unease settled in her chest.

The image of the cold, calculating Jongho she had always seen in class—silent, intense, and distant—was nothing compared to the picture that now formed in her mind. The guy had provoked him, sure, but it didn’t make the violence any less jarring.

That night, as she walked back to her dorm, her mind was racing. Jongho had never struck her as the violent type, but now she wasn’t so sure. The thought of him losing control scared her in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

YN leaned against the door of her room, her hand lingering on the knob. She wanted to shake the unease off, tell herself it was just a one-off thing. But a part of her couldn’t stop wondering what else lay beneath the surface of his cold exterior.

For the first time, she was genuinely afraid.

And as she lay in bed that night, trying to push the thoughts away, one question lingered in her mind: What would happen if he ever lost control around her?

The tension between YN and Jongho had been building for weeks, and it finally reached a boiling point. The news of the fight still fresh in YN's mind, she couldn't shake the unease every time she saw Jongho. His cold, imposing presence was something she'd learned to ignore—until now.

It was an ordinary afternoon when she walked through the halls, lost in thought, heading to her next class. The campus was quieter than usual, most students already in their lecture halls. As she turned down a less-traveled corridor, she froze. Jongho stood at the far end, his broad frame blocking the only way out.

He didn’t say anything at first, just watched her with that unreadable expression. YN’s heart rate quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel the familiar tension rising in her chest, the uneasy flutter of anxiety that crept in whenever she had to face him. But this time, it felt different. She could sense that something had shifted.

She instinctively took a step back, her back pressing against the cold wall. Jongho’s eyes flickered for a moment, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a scowl. He started walking toward her, each step deliberate, the weight of his presence sending a chill down her spine.

"You really think you're better than me, huh?" Jongho's voice was low, almost menacing. His height loomed over her as he stopped just inches away, trapping her between his muscular frame and the wall.

YN’s breath caught in her throat, but she held her ground. Her legs were tense, her mind racing for a way to escape this moment. "I didn’t say that," she replied, her voice shaky but firm. "I just did my best. It’s not my fault you can’t handle it."

Jongho’s eyes darkened, his arms leaning on the wall beside her, the air between them thick with a charged tension. "You think it’s just about scores?" he growled. "You think I care about that little competition? You’re making me look weak, YN. And I don’t like that."

YN's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her fear and anger mixing into a potent cocktail. I have to stand my ground, she thought. I can't let him intimidate me like this.

"You don't scare me, Jongho," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Her words were quieter than she wanted, but there was strength behind them. "If you have a problem with me, then deal with it without resorting to violence."

The moment she said it, Jongho’s smirk widened, a flash of something darker crossing his features. "Oh, but I do have a problem with you. You think you can just waltz in here and take what’s mine, huh? You think you're better than me because you’re smarter? You think you can just walk around untouched?"

YN’s breath quickened as she realized how cornered she truly was. She had thought she could handle him, but now, with him standing so close, all she could feel was the overwhelming presence of his body. The intimidating way he leaned into her personal space, his arms just above her shoulders, blocking any escape.

"I’m not afraid of you," she said again, though she could feel the doubt creeping in. She was scared—terrified, even—but she refused to let him see that.

Jongho leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from hers. "You should be," he whispered. "You’ve made me look like a fool twice now. You’ve gone and crossed a line, YN."

For a split second, she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Was he going to hurt her? Was he finally going to break the calm facade he always wore? But before she could react, something in him shifted, and his grip loosened just slightly.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to leave her with a sliver of space. The tension didn’t fully dissolve, but it was a temporary reprieve.

The silence between them was thick, each of them locked in their own thoughts. YN’s mind was racing. What just happened? She had stood up to him, but had it been enough? Would he let this go, or would this feud only escalate?

Jongho finally straightened up, casting one last look at her. "You’re not getting away with this, you know," he muttered before turning and walking away.

YN let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her legs were trembling, but she stood tall, refusing to let herself appear weak in front of him.

This was only the beginning. She knew that now. The rivalry between them had officially begun, and it would take everything she had to survive it.

The tension between YN and Jongho simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in small, irritating ways at first. It started with the little things—her pens went missing, her notes rearranged in ways that made no sense, and every now and then, she’d find her books out of order. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, or maybe even her own forgetfulness. But the longer it went on, the more she began to suspect that it wasn’t just random.

Then, one day, she was walking between classes when one of Jongho’s friends—Mingi, she recognized him from class—deliberately bumped into her, causing her to drop her bag and its contents. Papers scattered across the hallway, and YN scrambled to collect them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Oops, sorry,” Mingi said, his tone dripping with false sweetness, though his grin said otherwise.

YN said nothing, biting her lip and standing up straight, trying to keep her composure. She quickly gathered her things, but as she bent down to pick up the last few papers, she saw the same smirk on his face, as if he were enjoying the scene.

It was deliberate, she thought, clenching her jaw as she stood up.

She could feel his gaze still on her as she gathered the rest of her things in silence. But she didn’t let it show—she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. When she walked away, she could sense his eyes lingering, but she kept her head high.

The following week, she arrived in class to find her desk had been vandalized. Not in a big, obvious way, but enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. There were scribbles in the margins of her textbooks—crude drawings, insults, and even a few threatening words that made her skin crawl.

Jongho.

She didn’t have proof, but there was no mistaking it. She could feel his influence, like a shadow following her at every turn. And the worst part? It wasn’t just him. It was his friends, too. They were all in on it—targeting her, testing her patience, pushing her to the edge. They’d figured out how to get to her without crossing the line too far.

The final straw came one afternoon when she sat down at her desk and found her pencil case had been emptied out. It wasn’t just the pens this time; it was everything—everything scattered across the floor. When she picked up the pieces, her hands trembling, she saw a note hidden inside.

"Better luck next time, genius."

Her blood ran cold.

This time, it wasn’t just annoying. It was personal.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her fists clenching. She could take a lot of things—insults, small pranks—but this was pushing it. This was harassment.

YN’s mind raced with determination as she walked through the campus, every step firm and resolute. The pencil case incident had been the last straw. Jongho and his friends had pushed her to her limits, and she wasn’t going to let them get away with it any longer.

She had been debating it for days, but now she was certain—she had to confront him, face to face. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Hanni had tried to stop her, pleading with her to let things go. But YN couldn’t back down. She couldn’t let herself be intimidated. Not anymore.

She entered the cafeteria with a clear purpose, scanning the room until her eyes landed on him. Jongho sat at the head of a table, surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking as if everything were normal. The sight of him made her blood boil, but she didn’t hesitate. She walked straight up to the table, her steps loud and deliberate.

When she reached the center, she slammed her hands down on the table, the sound of it echoing through the cafeteria, drawing the attention of everyone around. The chatter died down, all eyes on her. Jongho’s friends froze, surprised by the sudden boldness. YN stood there, staring at Jongho with unwavering defiance.

"Stop these pathetic games and face me like a man!" she declared, her voice strong and clear.

The room fell silent, everyone waiting for Jongho’s reaction. His friends exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to expect, while Jongho himself leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, everything felt frozen. Then, slowly, Jongho stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. His height towered over hers, and for a second, the sheer difference in their sizes was almost comical. He was a giant compared to her, and yet, there she was, standing tall and not backing down.

He studied her for a moment, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. His lips curled into that familiar, confident smirk. "So, you want me to face you, huh?" he said, his voice low but full of challenge. "Well, I guess I can give you what you want."

His friends were stunned, clearly not expecting YN to show such boldness. Some of them exchanged worried looks, while others couldn’t help but chuckle nervously.

Jongho didn’t look worried, though. He stepped closer to her, his towering presence making her feel even smaller. Yet, YN stood her ground, refusing to let her fear show.

“You’re brave,” Jongho said, his voice rough, but there was something almost impressed in it. "I’ll give you that." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “But be careful what you wish for. You really want me to face you, YN? You sure about that?”

YN didn’t flinch. She locked eyes with him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I’m sure.”

For a long moment, they just stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The tension between them was thick, palpable. It wasn’t about the score anymore, not about the pranks or the harassment—it was about proving who had the upper hand.

Finally, Jongho broke the silence. He stepped back, crossing his arms. "Alright, YN. You’ve got my attention," he said, his voice cold but not dismissive. "You wanted me to face you. So I will."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and YN’s pulse quickened. This wasn’t over. It was only just beginning. She could feel the shift in their dynamic now, the lines of the feud being drawn more clearly than ever.

His friends remained silent, watching the exchange with bated breath. Jongho didn’t seem like he was going to back down either, and YN knew this wouldn’t end easily. But for the first time in a long while, she felt empowered. She had stood up to him, and he hadn’t crushed her. That meant something.

With a final glance at Jongho, YN turned away but not before she threw one last remark over her shoulder.

"I’m not afraid of you.”

The moment YN turned to leave, feeling the adrenaline of her bold confrontation, she felt a sudden, strong grip on her wrist. Before she could react, Jongho yanked her back with ease, his hand tightening around her wrist as he dragged her out of the cafeteria.

"Hey!" YN protested, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, his strength overwhelming. She tugged harder, her steps stumbling as she struggled to break free, but it was no use—Jongho was far stronger than she could have imagined.

The cafeteria had fallen silent, all eyes still on them, but Jongho’s friends were the only ones who seemed unfazed. They continued their conversation as though nothing unusual was happening. It was clear to YN now—their group operated on a different set of rules, and no one dared challenge them.

Jongho didn’t look back, his focus entirely on pulling her out of the building. "Stop resisting," he muttered, his voice low and commanding. "If you wanted to talk, you should've done it differently."

YN’s heart raced in her chest. She had expected a confrontation, but not like this. Being dragged out of the cafeteria, humiliated in front of everyone—it was more than just a challenge now. It felt like an outright power play, a move to remind her of who really held the control.

“Let go of me!” she shouted again, trying to wrench her arm from his grip, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulled her toward the exit, his jaw set in a hard line.

Once they were outside, the cool air hit her face, but the storm in her chest only grew stronger. She was angry, more than she had been in weeks. She had finally stood up to him, and now he was treating it like some twisted game.

Jongho stopped in the middle of the empty courtyard, releasing her wrist abruptly. YN stumbled slightly, but caught herself before she could fall. Her hand instinctively rubbed where his grip had been, the sting of it still fresh.

"That’s the problem with you," Jongho said, his voice cold, but there was an edge to it now. "You think you can just challenge me like that, without consequences? You think you can walk in here and take everything, without anyone pushing back?"

YN glared at him, her pulse still racing. "I didn’t want to take anything. I just wanted you to stop being a coward. To face me without all your games."

Jongho’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew more intense. "You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t just about you and me. This is about who owns this place. Who holds the power."

He took a step closer to her, towering over her as usual. The same sense of intimidation that had always been there was present now, but something in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper—made her pause for a second.

"What happens next, YN? You think you can win this? Because right now, you’re just poking the bear, and trust me, you don’t want to go any further." His voice was dangerously calm, like he was warning her—threatening her.

For a moment, YN’s breath caught. She had been so focused on proving herself, on standing up to him, that she hadn’t considered what would come next. She had no idea what kind of person Jongho really was, and now, facing him in this quiet courtyard, she realized just how deep the game went.

But despite the fear clawing at her chest, she wasn’t ready to back down. Not now. Not after everything she had endured.

"I’m not scared of you, Jongho," she said, her voice unwavering. "You want to play? Then let’s play. But I’m not going to let you intimidate me anymore."

Jongho stood there for a long moment, studying her as if trying to figure her out. Then, without another word, he turned and began to walk away, his back to her.

But as he reached the entrance to the building, he paused and looked over his shoulder.

"You’ll regret this," he said quietly, his voice carrying an almost unrecognizable note of warning. "You have no idea who you're dealing with.”

YN stood there, watching him go, the weight of his words sinking in. But even with that warning hanging in the air, she wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

She had made her choice. And from here on out, she would face the consequences.

The days following their confrontation marked the beginning of something far more sinister than YN had ever anticipated. What started as small pranks—missing books, random notes, pens vanishing from her desk—soon escalated into something far more calculated. Jongho wasn’t just trying to annoy her anymore. Now, it was as if he were playing a psychological game with her, testing her limits, breaking her down bit by bit.

At first, it was subtle. During class, Jongho would sit behind her and drop her textbooks just enough to cause a distraction, so she’d lose her focus. When she turned around, he’d act like it was an accident, offering a lazy apology that barely sounded sincere. The worst part was, he didn’t stop when she asked him to. Instead, the “accidents” seemed to happen more frequently, each one wearing her down, bit by bit.

Then came the whispers. At lunch, when YN walked into the cafeteria, she’d overhear Jongho’s friends whispering just loud enough for her to catch snippets of conversation. They’d talk about her in the most degrading way, not even bothering to hide it, knowing she could hear. She’d try to ignore them, but every word they said lingered in her mind. They called her a nerd, mocked her for thinking she could take on Jongho. But what stung the most was when they started to question her sanity, insinuating that she was unstable, that maybe she was imagining things.

The insults didn’t end there. As days passed, YN would arrive at her locker to find it had been vandalized again—her carefully written notes defaced with sarcastic messages, her books covered in nonsensical drawings, and sometimes, there would be personal remarks, comments that hit too close to home.

She was starting to feel it—the isolation. The feeling that she was being targeted by something darker than just school pranks. Every time she walked into class, she could feel eyes on her. Jongho’s eyes. He had made it clear that he enjoyed the game, that he enjoyed seeing her squirm.

But what was worse was how it started to affect her. She’d find herself unable to concentrate in class, the constant weight of his presence in the background. She started second-guessing her every move, wondering if her classmates could see the cracks forming in her façade. Her hands trembled when she reached for her books, and she found herself waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing, thinking she’d heard footsteps outside her door, as if he was watching her even when she wasn’t at school.

One afternoon, after a particularly brutal round of pranks in class, YN was heading to the library to get some quiet time. But as she turned the corner, she froze. Jongho was leaning against the wall, blocking her way. His usual smirk was replaced with something darker, a glint in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine.

"Thought you could escape?" he said softly, the words hanging in the air like a threat. "You’re mine now, YN. You’re not going to get away from me that easily." His tone was low, but there was a certainty to it, a finality that made her stomach twist.

She took a step back, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice shaky despite her best efforts to remain calm.

Jongho pushed off the wall and walked toward her slowly, his steps measured. "I want you to understand who’s in control," he said, his voice quiet but full of malice. "You don’t get to come in here, challenge me, and expect it to end like a fairy tale. You want to keep playing? Fine. But you better be prepared to lose. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you."

Her heart raced as he took another step forward, his presence looming over her. There was no escape, no way to fight back. He had already won in ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She stood frozen, a mix of fear and anger coursing through her veins.

She didn’t say anything more as Jongho turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding in her chest. The quiet moments after he left felt more oppressive than any of the pranks or insults he’d thrown her way. She could feel the weight of his words settling on her, knowing that he had marked her as his target, and there would be no way to avoid his wrath.

Jongho was playing a game, but this time, it wasn’t just about winning or losing. It was about control—and he was determined to make YN realize just how powerless she truly was.

The day had come. YN could feel herself on the edge, the constant psychological torment, the pranks, the whispers, the humiliation—it had all built up to this moment. Her hands shook slightly as she sat in class, trying to focus on the lecture, but her mind was clouded with frustration. She had been walking around with a constant knot in her stomach for weeks, dreading every moment she stepped into class, every glance that was thrown her way.

Jongho had been especially persistent that day. The moment she sat down, he was there, taking his usual seat behind her. His presence felt like a weight pressing down on her, and she could almost feel his eyes on her back, waiting for the perfect moment to start.

Then, it happened. Just like every other time, he shook her desk, hard enough to make her papers tremble and her drink teeter dangerously on the edge. But this time, something inside her snapped.

Her hand gripped the cup tighter than she realized, the warmth of the coffee almost burning her palm, but it didn’t matter. In one swift motion, she turned around and dumped the entire contents of her coffee on Jongho’s desk. The liquid splashed across his notes, seeping into the wood and staining everything in its path. The room went completely silent.

Jongho froze, his expression blank for a moment, as the coffee soaked into his things. The other students in the class watched in shock, unsure of how to react. YN's breath was coming fast and ragged, her heart racing in her chest. She had done it. She had finally snapped.

Jongho’s face twisted in anger, but there was something else in his eyes—surprise, maybe even a flicker of respect. He looked up at her, his jaw clenched.

“You think this is funny?” he growled, his voice low, dark with frustration.

But YN didn’t flinch. She didn’t back down. The tension in the room was palpable, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of control. Her voice came out calm, but her eyes were fiery.

“Do you think this is funny, Jongho?” she shot back, her words sharp like daggers. “Do you think it’s funny what you’ve been doing to me all this time? The pranks, the insults, the mind games? You think I’m just going to sit here and take it? Well, I’m done.”

The class was dead silent, no one daring to speak. Jongho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stood up, towering over her. His friends, who had been silent spectators until now, shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing at each other.

"You’re really testing me now, YN," Jongho said, his voice controlled but filled with an edge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "You think this is the end of it? You think dumping coffee on my desk will make me back off?"

YN stood her ground, her posture strong, though inside she could feel a storm brewing. “Maybe it won’t make you back off, but it’ll make you think twice. You’re not invincible, Jongho. And I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

He stared at her for a long moment, the anger and frustration in his gaze palpable, before he finally spoke again, his voice low but cold.

"Don’t think this is over," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "You just made it worse for yourself."

But YN didn’t care anymore. She had finally spoken up, finally taken a stand. For the first time, she wasn’t the quiet, submissive girl she had been before. She had fought back, and even though she knew things were far from over, a small part of her felt empowered.

As Jongho turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, YN stayed seated for a moment, her heart still racing. She didn’t know what was coming next, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldn’t let him control her anymore. She had drawn a line in the sand, and this time, she wasn’t going to let him cross it.

As YN and Jongho stood there, the tension between them thickening with every word exchanged, neither of them willing to back down, the professor’s voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife.

"Enough," the professor said, standing up from behind the desk. "Both of you, stay after class. You're clearly not focused on the lesson, so you're going to stay behind and finish your homework together. You’ll leave once you both complete it. Understood?"

The class seemed to hold its collective breath, eyes darting between the two of them. The professor’s order caught both YN and Jongho off guard, but neither could afford to challenge it. Both were still seething from their confrontation, their tempers flaring, but the professor had made it clear that there would be consequences if they didn’t comply.

Jongho shot YN one last, heated look, his jaw clenched tightly, before muttering under his breath, "This isn’t over."

YN didn't bother to respond. She was too exhausted, emotionally and mentally, to keep fighting. Instead, she gathered her things quickly and retook her seat, ignoring the whispers that started circulating through the room. Jongho, reluctantly, sat down beside her, though the air between them was still thick with animosity.

The professor, seemingly unfazed by the tension between the two students, resumed the lesson, but the entire class was distracted by the palpable conflict unfolding before them. Time dragged on as YN tried to focus on her work, her hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline that still buzzed in her veins. Her eyes kept darting toward Jongho, who was scribbling furiously in his notebook, as though the homework could somehow take his mind off the encounter.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, but the professor gestured for them both to stay. The students filed out of the room, leaving just the two of them alone, and the silence between YN and Jongho grew even more awkward. Neither of them spoke as they began working on the homework, the atmosphere charged with tension.

For the first few minutes, it was clear that neither was ready to engage in any form of conversation. YN focused on her paper, trying to ignore the weight of Jongho's presence beside her. But every now and then, she felt the heat of his gaze, the intensity of it making her skin prickle. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was still watching her, trying to figure out what she would do next.

Eventually, the silence became unbearable. Jongho broke it, his voice low but dripping with frustration.

"This is your fault, you know," he muttered, his pen tapping against the desk in agitation. "If you hadn’t made a scene, none of this would’ve happened."

YN didn’t look up from her paper, her focus unwavering. She had long stopped caring about his blame. "I didn’t make a scene. You pushed me to it. I didn’t ask for this," she shot back, her voice steady but edged with annoyance.

Jongho let out a low, frustrated growl. "You think I care about your excuses?" he snapped. "You think I won’t make you regret this?"

YN met his gaze, her own expression hardening. "I’m done with you trying to make me regret everything I do. You don’t scare me, Jongho."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension crackling between them like electricity. It was clear that neither of them had the intention of backing down, but there was something else, too—something unspoken, a shift that neither could quite understand.

Jongho let out a deep breath, finally turning back to his homework. The air between them wasn’t any less tense, but at least it was quiet now, with both of them trying to get through the task at hand.

Time dragged on, and the silence remained. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, YN finished her homework. She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started to gather her things.

"Done," she said curtly, not bothering to look at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

Jongho followed suit, packing up his things, but his movements were stiff, like he was still holding something back. He didn’t say anything as YN turned to leave, but she could feel his gaze burning into her back.

"See you around, YN," he said, his tone low, a challenge lingering in his words.

YN paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned to face him, her expression cold but firm. "You’ll never get me to back down, Jongho," she said, her voice steady. "And one day, you’ll realize that."

Without another word, she stepped out into the hallway, leaving Jongho standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, trying to understand the weight of her words. The conflict between them was far from over, but somehow, YN felt like she had taken a small step toward taking back control. She didn’t know what would happen next, but for the first time, she felt like she could face whatever came her way.

After that tense punishment session, YN made a firm decision—she was done engaging with Jongho. She’d had enough of his games, his constant attempts to rattle her, and the exhausting back-and-forth that seemed to follow them everywhere. From that day forward, she resolved to ignore him completely.

She wouldn’t look at him during class. If she felt his gaze on her, she’d keep her head down and focus on her notes. If his friends tried to whisper snide remarks as she passed by, she’d pretend not to hear. She even started taking different routes to her classes to avoid crossing paths with him altogether.

At first, it seemed to work. Jongho didn’t immediately escalate things, and YN began to feel a small sense of relief. Hanni noticed the change too and encouraged her to keep at it.

“It’s the best way to deal with guys like him,” Hanni said one afternoon as they studied together in the library. “They thrive on attention. If you don’t give him any, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”

YN nodded, determined to stick to her plan. She was finally starting to feel like she could breathe again, even if the occasional encounter with Jongho still made her stomach twist.

But, of course, Jongho noticed.

At first, he thought her silence was just a phase, a temporary retreat before she would come back swinging. But as days turned into weeks, he realized she was serious. She wasn’t reacting to him at all. No glares, no comebacks, no confrontations. It was like he didn’t exist to her anymore.

And it infuriated him.

In class, he’d purposely drop his pen near her desk, just to see if she’d flinch. She didn’t. He’d make loud remarks to his friends, knowing she could hear, but she never looked his way. Even during group projects, when they were forced to interact, she kept her responses curt and professional, refusing to engage in any unnecessary conversation.

The more she ignored him, the more it ate at him. Jongho wasn’t used to being dismissed like this. People either feared him, admired him, or tried to stay on his good side. But YN? She acted like he didn’t even matter.

One day, during a particularly dull lecture, Jongho found himself staring at her from across the room. She was diligently taking notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Something about her calm, focused demeanor made his irritation bubble to the surface. How could she be so unaffected?

After class, as YN packed up her things, Jongho lingered by the door, waiting for her to leave. When she finally stepped into the hallway, he fell into step beside her, his presence impossible to ignore.

“You think ignoring me is going to make me stop?” he asked, his tone low and almost teasing.

YN didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t care what you do, Jongho. Do whatever you want. It doesn’t concern me anymore.”

As YN took a step to walk away, Jongho’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist—not harshly, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She froze, her eyes darting to where his fingers wrapped around her wrist before snapping up to meet his gaze.

“What is it now?” she asked sharply, her voice tinged with exasperation. “I talk to you, you make my life miserable. I ignore you, and now you’re bothering me again. What do you want from me, Jongho?”

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the bustling noise of students in the hallway. Jongho didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. For a moment, it seemed like he was struggling to find the right words, his usual confidence faltering.

“I…” he started, but then stopped, his frustration evident. He released her wrist, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself.

“You’re so irritating,” he finally said, his tone low but not as sharp as usual.

YN blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice growing more frustrated. “You’re irritating. You come in here, acting like you’re better than everyone—"

“I never acted like that!” YN cut him off, her voice rising. “All I’ve done is mind my own business and try to survive in this place. You’re the one who decided to make me your target. And for what? Because I’m smarter than you? Because I beat you on a few exams? Get over it, Jongho!”

Her words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, Jongho just stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t back down, her chest rising and falling with anger, her gaze steady and unwavering.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

“Then explain it to me,” YN snapped, crossing her arms. “Because I’ve had enough of your nonsense. If you’ve got something to say, just say it already.”

Jongho looked at her, his expression unreadable. His usual arrogance seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, though he masked it quickly.

“You’re the first person who’s ever beaten me,” he said finally, his voice quieter than she expected. “I’ve always been at the top, always been the one everyone looked up to. And then you show up, and suddenly… I’m not.”

YN blinked, her anger softening just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to admit that, least of all to her.

“That’s what this is about?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “Your ego?”

Jongho’s jaw clenched, and he looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I do understand,” YN said, her voice firm but calmer now. “You’re used to being the best, and when you’re not, you don’t know how to handle it. But that doesn’t give you the right to make my life hell. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, just like you. If you have a problem with me, deal with it in a healthy way. Compete with me in class, not by… whatever this is.”

Her words seemed to strike a chord, and for the first time, Jongho didn’t have a retort. He just stood there, staring at her, his expression unreadable.

“Are we done here?” YN asked after a moment, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.

Jongho hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Fine,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away.

Jongho watched her go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. For the first time, he felt… uncertain. He couldn’t explain it, but something about her words lingered, gnawing at him in a way that nothing ever had before.

Jongho sat with his friends at their usual spot in the cafeteria, poking at his food absentmindedly. The others were chatting and laughing, but his brooding silence didn’t go unnoticed.

Wooyoung was the first to comment, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Alright, spill it. What’s got you looking like someone stole your protein powder, Jongho?”

“Yeah,” Mingi chimed in, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. “You’ve been weird lately. Is it because of that girl again?”

At the mention of YN, Jongho’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look up, but his grip on his fork visibly tensed.

San raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s definitely about her. The way you keep glaring at her during class could set fire to her notebook.”

“Shut up,” Jongho muttered, shoving a piece of food into his mouth to avoid saying anything more.

But his friends weren’t about to let it go.

“It’s not healthy, man,” Yunho said, leaning forward with a concerned look. “You’re obsessed. Every time she walks into a room, you lose your mind. What’s the deal?”

Jongho finally looked up, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Everything about her bothers me,” he said sharply. “The way she talks, the way she’s always so perfect in class, the way she acts like she doesn’t care about anything—”

“Or the way she beat you?” Seonghwa interjected calmly, raising an eyebrow.

Jongho shot him a glare but didn’t respond.

“Sounds personal,” Wooyoung teased, grinning mischievously. “Are you sure this isn’t just… you know, a crush?”

The table fell silent for a moment, and Jongho froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and denial. “What?” he said, his tone sharp.

“You heard him,” Hongjoong said, smirking slightly. “All this energy you’re putting into her… are you sure it’s not something else?”

“No,” Jongho said immediately, his voice firm. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” San asked, leaning his chin on his hand. “I mean, it’s classic, isn’t it? The whole ‘I can’t stand her, but I can’t stop thinking about her’ thing. Sounds like a crush to me.”

“I don’t like her,” Jongho snapped, his ears tinging red. “She’s annoying, and she thinks she’s better than everyone else. That’s all.”

His friends exchanged knowing looks, clearly unconvinced.

“Whatever you say,” Wooyoung said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve seen this before. Denial is step one.”

“Step two is overcompensating,” Mingi added with a laugh.

“And step three,” Yeosang said smoothly, “is realizing you’ve been an idiot the whole time.”

Jongho scowled, shoving his chair back and standing up. “You’re all delusional. There’s nothing going on.”

He grabbed his tray and stormed off, leaving his friends laughing behind him.

But as he walked away, his thoughts betrayed him. Their words replayed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered if there was a kernel of truth in what they said. No, he told himself firmly. It’s not that. It can’t be.

Still, the idea lingered, unsettling him in a way he couldn’t quite shake.

The next day, Jongho walked into college with a heavy sense of unease. His friends’ words from the day before replayed in his mind like an annoying song he couldn’t shake. A crush? On her? The idea was absurd—laughable even. There was no way that was true.

Yet, as he walked into the classroom and his eyes instinctively searched for her, he felt a strange tightness in his chest when he saw her sitting at her desk, completely focused on her notes. She was chewing on the end of her pen, her brows slightly furrowed, clearly deep in thought.

Jongho shook his head and looked away. No. Absolutely not.

But throughout the lecture, he found his gaze drifting back to her, no matter how hard he tried to stop himself. He told himself he was just observing her—nothing more. But every time she raised her hand to answer a question or leaned over to highlight something in her book, he found himself questioning his own thoughts.

Why am I looking at her? Why does it bother me that she doesn’t even glance in my direction anymore?

He denied it over and over. It’s not that. I’m just annoyed with her. That’s all. She’s competition, and I don’t like losing. That’s it.

But then, during a group discussion, she laughed at something one of her friends said, and Jongho froze. It wasn’t loud or attention-grabbing, but something about the way her face lit up made him stop and stare for just a second too long. His chest felt… weird.

He immediately snapped his head down to his notebook, gripping his pen tightly. No. No way.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the thought refused to leave his mind. Every time he saw her—whether in class, in the hallway, or even at lunch—his brain kept returning to the same annoying question: Why do I care so much?

By the time the final bell rang, Jongho was more frustrated with himself than he’d ever been. He stormed out of the building, ignoring his friends’ calls, and headed straight to the gym. He needed to work off this confusion, to get his head back in the game.

But even as he threw punches at the bag, the image of her wouldn’t leave his mind. Her voice, her laugh, her determination—it all haunted him.

And as much as he tried to deny it, a small, nagging voice in the back of his head whispered the truth he didn’t want to hear.

Maybe his friends were right.

The evening was calm as YN sat across from Hanni in their favorite cafe, sipping on iced coffee and chatting about everything and nothing. The warm ambiance of the cafe felt like a comforting bubble where YN could momentarily forget about the chaos that had become her college life.

As they wrapped up their time together, Hanni gave her a playful warning. "Don’t overthink things, okay? And if that Jongho guy gives you trouble again, call me. I’ll—well, I can’t fight, but I’ll be there for moral support."

YN laughed. “Thanks, Hanni. I think I’ll be fine.”

She hailed a cab outside the cafe and slid into the backseat, giving the driver her address. The night was cool, the faint hum of the city filling the silence as the cab moved through traffic. YN rested her head against the window, her thoughts wandering as the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold.

At a red light, the cab came to a halt. Absentmindedly, she glanced out the window, her eyes tracing the silhouettes of vehicles and pedestrians passing by. Then, her gaze locked on a sleek black motorcycle that pulled up beside her.

The bike was spotless, its polished surface gleaming under the streetlights. The rider wore an all-black outfit—leather jacket, gloves, and boots—and a black helmet that seemed to swallow the light. His presence was almost magnetic, drawing her attention without effort.

And then, as if he could feel her gaze, the rider tilted his head slightly in her direction. He reached up and flipped open the visor of his helmet.

Her breath hitched.

All she could see were his eyes, but that alone was enough to captivate her. They were sharp, intense, and utterly mesmerizing, framed by long lashes that made them look almost unreal. The dim glow of the streetlights reflected in his dark irises, giving them an almost smoldering effect. It was a gaze that carried an effortless power, like he didn’t need to say a word to command attention.

It took her a moment to realize she recognized those eyes.

Jongho.

Her heart skipped a beat. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but the weight of his stare was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t hostile or challenging like she was used to; it was unreadable, calm, yet undeniably strong.

She couldn’t look away.

The light turned green, and the cab started moving again, breaking the spell. YN turned her head back toward the window, her mind racing. She could still feel his gaze lingering even as the cab sped away.

What was he doing out here? Why was he on that bike? And why, of all things, did the memory of his eyes make her cheeks burn?

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. It’s just Jongho. Stop overthinking it, YN.

But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t be able to shake the image of him so easily.

The lecture hall buzzed with excitement as the professor announced the group assignment. "Alright, everyone! Pair up into groups of two for this project. You’ll be working together for the next two weeks, so choose wisely."

YN sat up straighter in her seat, mentally scanning the room for Hanni or anyone else she could team up with. She had barely turned her head to search when someone pulled the chair next to hers with an air of finality.

She glanced over, and her stomach flipped. Jongho.

Without so much as a greeting, he dropped his bag on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "I’m your partner," he said, his tone making it clear it wasn’t up for debate.

YN blinked at him, startled. "You didn’t even ask me. What if I already had a partner?"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. "You don’t."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "And how do you know that?"

Jongho shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Because I got here first. Problem?"

YN’s fingers tightened around her pen. His confidence was maddening, the way he acted as if he had every right to make decisions for her. "Actually, yes, I do have a problem," she shot back.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too bad. We’re already partners. Let’s just get this over with."

YN stared at him, torn between frustration and disbelief. Of all people, why did he have to be the one to claim her as his partner?

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Fine. But don’t think you can just boss me around, Jongho."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. "Wouldn’t dream of it," he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

As the professor continued explaining the assignment, YN couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He sat there, completely relaxed, as if he hadn’t just bulldozed his way into her plans.

Two weeks with him, she thought, resisting the urge to groan. This was going to be a long project.

As the lecture ended and the other pairs started discussing their plans, Jongho turned to YN, his expression as composed and commanding as ever.

"We’ll get started this weekend," he said, packing up his things. "Meet me outside campus. I’ll take you to my place."

YN blinked at him, confused. "Your place?"

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "You live in the dorms, right? Too cramped to work there. My place is better."

She hesitated, her instincts screaming that this was a bad idea. "Wait… how am I supposed to get there?"

Jongho slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at her like the answer was obvious. "I’ll take you on my bike."

Her eyes widened. "Your bike? No way."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her protest. "What’s the problem?"

"The problem," she said, crossing her arms, "is that you’re probably going to crash it on purpose just to mess with me."

At that, Jongho actually laughed—a low, deep sound that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Seriously? You think I’d risk my bike just to scare you?"

"Yes," she said flatly.

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. "I’m not crashing my bike, YN. Trust me, I take care of it better than I take care of myself."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Still, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I can just take a cab or something."

Jongho shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Cabs take too long. Besides, this way, I know you’ll actually show up."

YN frowned, feeling cornered. She hated how he always had a way of making her feel like she didn’t have a choice. "I don’t even like bikes," she mumbled.

"Then it’s about time you got used to them," he said with a smirk. "I’ll pick you up Saturday at noon. Don’t be late."

And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there, staring after him in disbelief.

As much as she wanted to refuse, she knew Jongho wouldn’t take no for an answer. She sighed, already dreading the weekend. This is going to be a nightmare.

Saturday rolled around, and YN begrudgingly got ready for the day. She decided to keep it casual but cute, pairing a skirt with a cozy sweater and boots. She knew Jongho would probably make some snarky comment no matter what she wore, but she didn’t care.

When she walked out to the dorm entrance, there he was—leaning against his sleek black bike, arms crossed, looking effortlessly intimidating. His leather jacket fit perfectly, and the helmet tucked under his arm completed the look.

Jongho’s eyes scanned her from head to toe, and before she could say anything, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you really wearing that skirt?"

YN frowned, her hands going to her hips. "What’s that supposed to mean? Are you shitting on my fashion choices now?"

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, it’s not that. But if you want your skirt to ride up every time we hit a bump and your legs to freeze in the wind, then go ahead. Your choice."

She blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "Oh, how cute," she said sarcastically. "You’re looking out for me now?"

Jongho smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want to deal with you whining the whole ride."

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Fine, fine. I’ll change. You’re so thoughtful," she added with a dramatic flair of sarcasm before turning to head back inside.

As she walked back to her room, she muttered to herself. He really has a way of ruining a perfectly good morning.

As YN walked back out in her new outfit, Jongho was already waiting, his fingers tapping idly against his helmet. When he saw her, he wordlessly handed her a second helmet.

"Put it on," he said curtly.

She took it with a slight glare and slid it over her head, fumbling with the straps under her chin. It wasn’t exactly her area of expertise, and she struggled to fasten it securely.

Jongho tsked, stepping closer. "You’re hopeless," he muttered, reaching out to fix it himself. His fingers worked deftly, fastening the hook with ease. YN stood frozen as he worked, her cheeks warming at the proximity.

"There," he said, stepping back and grabbing his own helmet. "Try not to mess it up."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Jongho climbed onto the bike, motioning for her to get on. Reluctantly, she swung her leg over and settled onto the seat behind him. The bike rumbled beneath them, the vibrations already making her nervous.

"Hold on," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

"No, thanks," she replied stiffly, gripping the edges of her seat instead.

Jongho chuckled darkly. "Suit yourself."

Before she could react, he revved the engine, and the bike lurched forward. YN yelped, her hands instinctively flying to his waist as the sudden acceleration caught her off guard.

"Thought so," Jongho said smugly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

"Shut up!" she yelled back, her grip tightening as they sped down the street.

The wind whipped past them, and YN had no choice but to hold onto him as they weaved through the city. Despite her earlier reluctance, she couldn’t deny that the ride was thrilling—though she’d never admit that to Jongho.

As they rode on, she felt a mix of frustration and something she couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, she chalked it up to the adrenaline. For now, she just wanted the ride to end without incident.

The bike came to a smooth stop in front of an upscale apartment complex. YN’s eyes widened as she took in the towering building, its modern design complete with sleek glass panels and a luxurious entrance. It was easily one of the nicest places she’d ever seen.

"You live here?" she blurted out as she climbed off the bike, staring up at the building in disbelief.

Jongho removed his helmet, shaking out his hair as he turned to her. "Yeah. Why?"

"Why?" she repeated, still gawking. "How can you afford a place like this at your age? Are you secretly some kind of heir or something?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

YN rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel even more intrigued. She followed him as he led the way to the entrance, her curiosity growing with every step.

The lobby was just as impressive as the exterior—polished floors, tasteful decor, and a front desk manned by a professional-looking concierge. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing around, taking it all in.

"This is… insane," she muttered under her breath.

Jongho glanced over his shoulder, his smirk still firmly in place. "You coming, or are you just going to stand there gawking?"

She shot him a glare and hurried to catch up, determined not to let him get under her skin any more than he already had. But as they stepped into the elevator and ascended to his floor, she couldn’t help but wonder just how much she didn’t know about him.

As the door to Jongho’s apartment swung open, YN stepped inside and took a moment to take everything in. The interior was sleek and minimalistic, with a predominantly black and gray color scheme. There was gym equipment neatly set up in one corner, a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a couch that looked both comfortable and expensive. The only thing that stood out amidst the masculine decor was a small potted plant on the windowsill and a couple of oddly cute figurines on the shelf.

"This is so… you," YN said, her voice filled with curiosity as she walked further in, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of the sleek black counter in the kitchen. "Gym equipment in the living room, all black interiors, and—wait, are those little figurines?"

Jongho leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she explored his space. "Don’t touch those," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"Relax," she said, giving him a playful glance. "I’m just looking."

Her curiosity and the way she looked at everything with awe made Jongho pause. His arms were crossed, but his gaze softened as he observed her. There was something about the way she moved—so full of energy, yet grounded—that made it hard for him to look away.

He caught himself staring and frowned slightly. What is wrong with me? he thought.

His mind wandered to his friends' teasing words from before. Did he actually like her, or was she just annoyingly cute today? The way she had stood up to him earlier, the way she looked at him with fire in her eyes, and now the way her curiosity lit up his apartment like she belonged there—everything about her was throwing him off.

YN turned around, catching him looking at her. "What?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Nothing," Jongho muttered, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Are you done looking around, or are we actually going to work on this project?"

She raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "I don’t know… maybe I should take a closer look at those figurines."

"Don’t even think about it," he warned, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

As she laughed and turned back to the desk he had cleared for their work, Jongho found himself wondering just how long he could keep denying whatever it was he was feeling.

As they sat down at the desk to start their project, Jongho found himself unexpectedly captivated by YN. At first, he had been irritated by her sharp tongue and unrelenting determination to beat him at everything. But now, as she leaned over the papers, her brows furrowed in concentration, he noticed the small things—how her hair framed her face, the way her lips pursed as she thought, and how her intelligence shone through every word she spoke.

She was explaining something about their topic, her voice steady and confident. He nodded along, but his focus wasn’t on the words—it was on her.

She’s not just smart, he thought to himself. She’s… beautiful.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until YN looked up, catching his gaze.

"Jongho?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you even listening?"

He blinked, quickly snapping out of his thoughts. "Yeah, of course. You were saying… something about this part of the project?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but let it slide. "Right… anyway, we’ll need to gather some more sources for this section."

As the hours went on, Jongho found himself getting more comfortable around her. The way she approached problems with a mix of logic and creativity impressed him, and he started to appreciate her little quirks—the way she tapped her pen against the table when she was thinking or the way she smiled triumphantly whenever she solved something tricky.

Unbeknownst to him, his initial irritation toward her was transforming into something else entirely. He liked having her around. Her presence, her energy, the way she challenged him—it all felt… right.

But he didn’t recognize it for what it was. Not yet.

He told himself it was just admiration, just a growing respect for her intelligence. But deep down, something was changing. Jongho was falling, and he didn’t even realize it.

Jongho leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as he scrolled through food delivery apps on his phone. "I’m starving," he muttered. "I’m thinking of ordering something. What do you want? Pizza? Burgers?"

When he didn’t hear a response, he glanced up, only to find YN wasn’t in her seat anymore. Confused, he turned his head and saw her standing in his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into the fridge.

"What are you doing?" he asked, getting up and walking toward her.

YN glanced over her shoulder, tilting her head slightly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Let me cook. Don’t waste your money."

He blinked, caught off guard. "You can cook?"

"Of course," she said, pulling out a few ingredients she had found—a carton of eggs, some vegetables, and a pack of noodles. "It’s not going to be anything fancy, but it’ll be better than spending money on overpriced takeout."

Jongho leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched her move around his kitchen like she owned the place. "You don’t have to do that," he said, though there was no real protest in his tone.

"I want to," YN replied simply, giving him a quick glance. "Besides, it’s the least I can do since I’m using your space for this project."

Jongho didn’t argue further. Instead, he stood there, watching her as she chopped vegetables with practiced ease. There was something oddly comforting about the sight of her cooking in his kitchen, her focus entirely on the task at hand.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself, a rare, genuine smile. This girl really knows how to surprise me, he thought.

As the aroma of the food filled the apartment, Jongho realized that for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind sharing his space with someone else. And as much as he tried to deny it, he was starting to like the feeling.

As YN stirred the pot, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jongho still standing there, arms crossed, watching her like she was a show on TV. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why don’t you stop standing there like a statue and help me out, Jongho?" she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Jongho straightened up, clearly caught off guard. "Help? Me? You’re the one who insisted on cooking."

"And you’re the one with two perfectly working hands," she shot back, turning to point the spoon at him. "Come on, big guy. Chop some vegetables or something. Or do you only know how to lift weights?"

His jaw clenched slightly, more out of mock annoyance than anything else. "Fine," he muttered, stepping closer. He grabbed a knife and the vegetables she handed him.

"Careful," she said, watching him for a moment. "I don’t need you ruining my masterpiece."

Jongho gave her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You really like bossing me around, don’t you?"

"Someone has to," she quipped, going back to her cooking.

He smirked but didn’t say anything, focusing instead on cutting the vegetables as precisely as possible. For a guy who spent most of his free time in the gym or with his friends, he was surprisingly good with a knife.

As they worked side by side in the kitchen, a strange sense of ease settled between them. The usual tension was still there, but it felt lighter somehow, almost playful.

"See?" YN said as she tossed the chopped vegetables into the pan. "Teamwork makes the dream work."

Jongho rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head."

But deep down, he couldn’t ignore how natural it felt to be here with her, working together like this. And no matter how much he tried to deny it, he liked it. Maybe a little too much.

As they sat down at the coffee table to eat, Jongho casually turned on the TV and scrolled through the streaming options. “Might as well put on something while we eat,” he said, settling on an action movie.

YN nodded, already digging into the meal she had prepared. She took a bite, and at first, everything was fine—until the spice hit her. Her face betrayed her struggle as her lips parted slightly, and her eyes darted toward her glass of water.

Jongho noticed immediately. He paused mid-bite, watching her subtle struggle. Without a word, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. YN blinked, confused for a moment, but didn’t say anything as she reached for her water.

When he returned, he was holding a small tub of ice cream and a spoon. He set it in front of her without meeting her eyes, sitting back down like it was no big deal.

She looked at the ice cream, then at him. “You… got this for me?”

“Don’t read too much into it,” he muttered, focusing on his food. “You looked like you were about to set your mouth on fire.”

Despite his dismissive tone, YN couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks,” she said softly, taking a spoonful of the ice cream. The cool sweetness instantly soothed her, and she let out a small sigh of relief.

Jongho glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to stay engrossed in the movie. But he noticed everything—the way her shoulders relaxed, the small smile playing on her lips, the way her eyes brightened as she ate.

It wasn’t the first time he had paid attention to her without realizing it, but it was the first time he felt… something. A warmth in his chest he couldn’t explain.

Why am I doing this? he thought, shoving another bite of food into his mouth as if that would quiet his mind.

Every little thing about her was starting to stick with him. The way she challenged him, the way she surprised him, the way she smiled. And now, the way she sat across from him, enjoying the ice cream he’d fetched without a second thought.

He shook his head slightly, trying to brush it off. It’s nothing, he told himself. It’s just… habit. Or pity. Or… something.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

Divider from @/cafekitsune

[soft4gguk]

to build a home | chapter twelve

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. ceo!jk + dilf!jk x nanny!oc

Genre: strangers to lovers. angst. fluff. smut.

Word count: 18k (hehe)

Warnings: this is so long i don’t know that i remember every single thing i must’ve included here but i’ll try my best lol. angst!! this is a very angsty chappie but it’s needed ok? so sad so sexy oc. jungkook is a dick twice!! for like a second but its bc he’s scared :( & stressed. Unprotected sex (don't!!! xo). they dirty talk a lot acc. i think thats it? i hope thats it lol. 

Author’s note: it’s a sunday and we have a new tbah chapter!! thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart for waiting. and for giving me such a warm welcome and giving my writing so much love, even amidst my absence. i really hope you guys enjoy this installment of to build a home! i poured my heart on this and i enjoyed it so, so much. it felt like the good old days!! do let me know what you thought - i feel like there’s so much to UNPACK for this one. i love you guys x a million. thank u for reading <3 

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Chapter Twelve

The sun stirs you awake this morning, its rays sneaking their way inside your room with every gust of wind that makes the curtains dance and the moment you regain the smallest bit of consciousness, you know it’s too early. You’re not meant to be awake for another hour or so but after a minute of tossing and turning, you begin to feel the sleep drift out of you. Your mind fills with thoughts and things to do, feelings and their unresolved natures. It’s Monday, after all, lots to do, lots to feel and certainly lots to confront. 

You slip out of the comfort of your blankets and pillows, putting your headphones over your head and pressing shuffle on the first playlist you find, cranking the volume a little too high in hopes that it will quieten the sea of thoughts that begin to whirlwind inside your mind. You make your way to the kitchen and almost miss the peace and quiet of six a.m., specially here. When the world is still asleep and it’s just you and you can let yourself fall into the long process of making yourself a cup of coffee. More than a process, you’d call it a ritual. You find it good to just stare at your hands at work, resilient in providing sweet satisfaction in a matter of minutes. And so, despite the lack of peace and quiet this morning provides, you get to work. Grinding the coffee beans until they’re silky smooth, pouring the water into the bottom of your italian press and putting it all back together to rest at the stove top. Until all there’s left to do is wait. Wait, wait, wait… 

“I love you.”

You wish it was those mere words that were pressing on you. But it was more. It was the way you felt his body weight on top of yours grow tense. The way the seconds felt like minutes, and then hours, until not even in proximity could you feel him close. How the air felt dense around you and your nerves got the best of you. 

“You don’t have to say it back. I’d say it was a heat of the moment thing but… I don’t think that makes any difference.” 

It all echoes inside of your head. Inside of your chest. Your words, the stutter, the awkward laughter that followed as you tried to brace yourself for whatever came next. Only nothing did. 

He didn’t say it back. 

He didn’t say it back when the high came down and you both wrapped your bodies around each other. He didn’t say it back as he kissed you, slowly and with that lazy characteristic that takes on when he’s sleepy, but not less filled with intention. He fell asleep first, his body impossibly flushed to yours, your fingers carded in his hair for hours as you laid awake, unable to reconcile sleep. 

He didn’t say it back when his lips on your cheeks woke you up the next morning. It was sweet, your mind blank with the exception of the bliss his touch basked you in. He kissed and touched, he pleased. But he didn’t say it back. 

He didn’t say it back throughout the day but by then your mind had fallen at ease, taking you by surprise, even. It was a lazy Sunday morning that turned into a lazy Sunday afternoon, nothing but peace and leisure as the three of you spent the day by the pool. Snacking on whatever the season had turned ripe and sweet. It was a perfect summer day and as Soori splashed about and you looked into each other’s eyes in pride and joy, you thought that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to tell you.

But he didn’t say it back. Not when you said goodbye after putting Soori to sleep, not when he kissed you and said he’d see you tomorrow. Not when you turned around, stealing one last glance at him, lingering for a second too long in awe of his beauty as he smiled and leaned by his doorframe, taking you in. Not even when he called you to make sure you’d gotten home safe and his silence and yours filled the line right as you were about to hang up. And then you didn’t, and you waited, until the line disconnected. 

Your coffee overheats as you go back and forth, one cruel thought after the other, and it’s the lid jumping and splashing the liquid everywhere that brings you back to your small kitchen. 

“Shit.” You remove the pot from the stove and let it rest for a minute as you clean up the mess. Getting lost in your thoughts again because, hey, at least you woke up early, so as to give you enough time to let the overthinking make you clumsy. 

Ten different things go wrong before you’re finally able to sit down on your couch, freshly brewed iced americano in one hand, your journal and pen in another. All you need to do is let your thoughts leave you. Yes, that’s exactly what you need to do. You need to come back to yourself as you sip your coffee slowly and fill an entire page worth of your feelings. It’s catharsis in it’s purest form. A foul-proof method, at that. 

Only it isn’t. You fill the pages with sentences like,

Why didn’t he say it?

I should’ve not acted like it meant nothing to me. It meant the world to me. 

He means the world to me.

I love him. 

Does he not love me back?

And the one that filled the pages the most,

Why doesn’t he love me back?

And by the time you’re ready to leave the house, you’re still a ball of unresolved emotions and a chaotic neutral feeling taking over your every being because all you want to do is scream but you’re running late to see the root of all your problems. 

~

Thankfully, the root of all your problems walks inside his kitchen that morning holding what you believe is the cure of all that is wrong in the world: his daughter. 

“Oh my God, you look so cute,” and she does. A smile that makes you melt, two pigtails held by tiny pink bows and an oversized Winnie The Pooh t-shirt that brings her whole look together. “Good morning, baby.”

The moment she falls into your arms you feel an ease run through you that makes you submit to the harsh edges of the world, waving white flag. She’s foul-proof magic and method. 

“Good morning,” he says, giving you a smile that almost washes away your uncertainties. 

“Good morning.” You take Soori from his arms and return the smile, but he can tell it’s not quite there yet. Not that he thinks much of it – your morning meet ups in the kitchen are always cordial but not overly so, you wouldn’t want Mrs. Chae to suspect anything. – 

“I have a busy week coming up.”

“You do?” It’s a question that translates to, you didn’t mention that and Jungkook doesn’t miss it in your tone. 

 “Yeah. So I’ll probably be home a bit late. No more than an hour, though, is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Great. Thanks!” He’s nonchalant as he walks up to the kitchen island, greeting Mrs. Chae and moving quickly through his iced americano. 

He leans against the counter, scrolling down his phone, not a care in the world. A particular sip has him choking on his coffee and he coughs a little. Inside, you smile. And yes, that’s not the proudest you’ve been of a feeling but can you be blamed? He doesn’t look like his coffee splashed all over his kitchen counter this morning because he couldn’t stop thinking about how he confessed his love to you and you didn’t say it back. Matter of fact, not saying it back is the least of your concerns. He didn’t say anything! No reaction, nothing. You hope he chokes on his coffee again. It’s harmless, in your defense, most women would be hoping for bloodier, more treacherous things. He’s lucky you don’t- 

“‘Kay. Gotta go. Have a nice day, Mrs. Chae!” He walks over to you, taking Soori from your arms and showering her cheeks with kisses as he makes his way to the doorway. She’s getting better at the goodbye part of the mornings but Mondays are always tricky. 

“Have a nice day.” You smile, a bit forcibly. 

“Aw,” he frowns, pouting, and you think he almost gets it, but no. “You tired, baby? Mondays can be hard.”

You want to gasp. No, really, it takes all the strength in you not to gasp. “Yeah, slept horribly, actually.”

“Take it easy today. You two should take a nap in my bed.” You nod and agree and he hugs you after he passes Soori to you, pulling her in as well. It’s a little three-way-hug and it makes your heart feel a little comfort, even amidst the chaos. 

“You take it easy, too.” Your hand finds his and you squeeze, even if for a second. 

“Bye, baby.” He kisses you. “Bye, baby!” He kisses Soori. And off he goes. 

This is pretty much what your entire week looks like. Going to bed late, head swimming in thoughts. Waking up an hour before your alarm rings, head swimming in the said thoughts. Breakfast before Lucy is up, so you can leave right as she wakes up, because a part of you knows she’d know, and that you couldn’t handle it. Lucy cares. Lucy would ask you a thousand questions, or encourage you to talk about it, or she would simply wrap you up in a hug that would send tears to your eyes that would turn into full on sobs by the time she was done putting her loving on you. So you lie to her; tell her Jungkook needs to be at the office earlier this week, and she buys it, no questions asked. 

 You walk half of your commute, and then take the bus, mainly to kill time. On Wednesday you think you could probably just take the bus right away, be early, make up some excuse to Mrs. Chae and go up the stairs, to his bedroom. You could watch Soori for him as he gets ready, you could take him in as he prepares for the day, you could ask him to be five minutes late so he can kiss you silly and extinguish the fire of doubt that keeps growing thicker, taller flames inside your heart. But, could you? Could you do all that? Have you fallen into enough familiarity as to do that? You thought you had, now you’re not so sure. 

Spiraling. That’s what your week looks like. You meet him in the kitchen, bask in the peace Soori brings you the moment she wraps her arms around you (she’s a hugger now) and try to suppress the witty remarks that threaten to leave your mouth, fueled by sarcasm and anger, every time you speak to him. But most days, you’re just sad. So sad you have to fake a smile, or make a grand effort to hold a conversation. Not that you have many. Jungkook is busy, morning and night. Something about a new property they’re getting ready to acquire - a future addition to The West End Collection. Each day the stress and tiredness reflects on him more, his energy plummeting. He says something about timezones and having to reply to emails at three a.m. so you assume it’s an international transaction. Nonetheless, it’s all assumption, you guys barely talk. And you get it. Jungkook is a busy man – he owns hotels, for Christ���s Sake! – And under any other circumstance, his distance and your lack of communication combined wouldn’t worry you, it’d simply be that, circumstantial. But right now, all it does is fuel the overthinking and self-doubt.

But then it’s midday and you remember how he kissed you in the morning before he left, and your thoughts quieten. Instead, they’re replaced by that pink, fuzzy feeling that your body recognizes as him. The feeling that belongs to him and him only. And on the bus ride home you replay the way he kissed you goodbye, no one around you, and able to take his time. His hand resting on your cheek, his lips parting your mouth, the small sigh of relief that never fails to leave him whenever he deepens the kiss. This cloud of comfort the memories put you in inevitably land you back to square one, simply for the fact that they remind you of the one thing that presses on to your heart the most: you love him. 

~

By the time Friday rolls around, you’re so exhausted from the marathon taking place inside your head that the moment you make it home, aided by the quiet and solitude that falls into your apartment – courtesy of date night for Lucy and Jimin – your body starts to ache from exhaustion. 

You change into an old t-shirt and shorts, put your hair up in a bun and decide you will be treating yourself to take out. You get cozy, blanket tucked under you as Gilmore Girls – your comfort show – plays on the TV. Scrolling lazily through the food delivery apps, you ponder on what to eat. You want something that screams sad girl stays home because non-reciprocated love is too heavy of a burden to bear. Pizza, pasta, a burger. Maybe some ramen! Or a burrito, that never fails. Or perhaps just dessert. Perhaps that’s what you need. A shock to the body in the form of sugar. But amidst your indecision your lids fall heavy and you’re out cold before the clock can mark eight p.m. 

And you sleep. You sleep through the night, a deep, dreamless slumber that makes you pay for all the sleepless nights you put your body through. You barely move an inch throughout the night, Gilmore Girls serving as a soft lullaby in the background until Netflix gathers that you are not, as a matter of fact, still watching. You could probably sleep through the morning, and if you really tried, you could probably sleep through the afternoon if you cozied yourself up just right, but the universe has other plans. More like, Lucy and Jimin have other plans. In their defense, you are running late for book club. 

Their hushed little giggles as they enter the house is the first thing you hear in the depths of your subconscious as the noise attempts to stir you awake. But it’s to no avail. Your mind ignores it eventually after it goes on for a minute too long. The second attempt is their hushed chit chat that takes one too many pauses as it gets lost in the giggles and pecks they share in between. 

“Shhh. You’re gonna wake __ up!” It’s Jimin, your subconscious recognizes that much. 

“Hmm,” more giggles. “She should be in the shower right about now. She has book club, remember?”

“Shit, that’s true! Hey, we can fuck in the kitchen again?” 

“Jimin, oh my god. Shhh!”

You frown, but your mind refuses to fully wake up. 

It’s the wet noise from their kisses that finally do it, at a third triumphant attempt. You jolt awake, turning to the direction of the kitchen where you see the image that matches the dirty little noises they make. Lucy opens her eyes for a split second as Jimin presses her against the counter and she all but screams when she sees your head peeking from the sofa, hair a mess and a scowl painting your features. Jimin shrieks follow a second later. 

“Shh. Shhhh!” you say. “What time is it?”

“It’s 9:15!” Lucy yells, still startled. “What are you doing here? Are you feeling okay? You look… under the weather.”

“Yeah __ you look rough,” Jimin says. 

“Aren’t you two just sweet? I fell asleep on the couch,” you stumble as you make your way to your bedroom, still groggy from sleep. “Shit. I’m gonna be so late.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you some coffee and a sandwich to-go,” Lucy says, peeking inside your bedroom. 

“Thank you, Lu. You’re the best.” You brush through your hair, incredulous as to how it got so messy through the night. 

“Of course,” she says, lingering in your doorframe. “But seriously __, are you doing alright? I’ve barely seen you this week.”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Long hours at work, that’s all.”

She smiles. “I’m gonna tell Jungkook not to work you too hard when I see him today.” You look at her, confusion lacing your features. “Dae’s birthday party, remember?”

“Oh, shit. That’s today. I totally forgot.” 

Now it’s Lucy’s turn to look confused. And rightfully so. I mean, what would warrant a reaction like the one you just had? You love Dae. And she knows that any excuse to see Jungkook puts a giddy, little smile on your face, like a teenage girl. She calls it the puppy love stage, and is convinced you’re deep into it. You can’t blame her. A week ago you would have agreed. But today you were hoping you could avoid all thoughts of him. Come up with some excuse, tell him you’re feeling a bit under the weather and that you’d take the weekend to recover. But your plans of drowning your feelings in pizza, ice cream and Gilmore Girls (not necessarily in that order) just tumbled to the ground. You do, in fact, love Dae and wouldn’t miss his birthday party for the world. 

“I’ll just be a little late,” you smile, disguising your thoughts. “So, you know, I can come back and shower, seeing as I won’t have time to do that.”

You’re not entirely sure she buys it, but she offers you a smile and heads to the kitchen to make you breakfast. That act alone makes you want to cry. 

It’s gonna be a long day. 

~

It’s a beautiful, sunny day. Perfect for a pool party. Mai had hired a very capable catering company that was in charge of feeding both the adults and the kids at Dae’s birthday party, but Taehyung had gotten a new grill and he could find no better day to break it in than today. And even though she insisted, it was to no avail. They were grilling – the finest cuts of steak, at that – and opening the nicest bottles of wine. His first born was turning five and they had a second one on the way! He takes a minute to take it all in, sighing in pure, blissful satisfaction. There was only one person whose grilling skills could come close to his, and he knows that much because he taught him. 

“What a good day, isn’t it, Jungkookie?”

Jungkook nods, taking a sip of his red wine as his eyes scan the scene before him. Kids running around everywhere, scattered all over Mai and Taehyung’s garden. A huge bouncy castle with a water slide happened to be the main entertainment of the day, making him question how he was going to top it up with his Iron Man act. His friends all gathered to celebrate Dae, whom he loved and couldn’t believe was turning five. He also couldn’t believe he was still a bachelor when he was born, not envious of his friend’s new lifestyle, and now… well, look at him now! His eyes scan the place for Soori, who’s in Kenny’s lap as her cousins play around her. She smiles and claps, eyes wide as she kicks and screams in joy and he can’t believe she’ll be able to keep up with them soon. 

“Can you believe we’re dads?”

“In awe of it every day, actually. Can you believe we’re actually good at it?” Taehyung looks at Jungkook, who’s deep in thought. 

“No. Takes me by surprise every day,” he says, and Taehyung likes the way Jungkook gives himself credit, despite it all. 

“Can you believe Jimin is well on his way to settle down?” Taehyung says, gaze diverting forward. Jungkook follows his line of vision and understands exactly what he’s talking about. There they are, Jimin and Lucy. 

“About time.” And he’s only half joking, but the truth is, Jungkook hadn’t seen his friend this happy in years, and he’s got Lucy to thank for that. They all do. 

“Aw, imagine how cute their babies will look like,” Taehyung says, earning himself a frown from Jungkook.

“Keep your baby fever in your pants, please.”

“Oh, if only you knew.”

Jungkook looks at him and it takes him all but a second to know what he’s talking about. 

“Really?” Taehyung just shrugs, but he smiles bright and big, and his happiness is contagious. “Bro, seriously. You have to learn to shut your mouth. Mai is gonna kill you! Again!” and of course, Jungkook is alluding to the very first secret Taehyung couldn’t keep from his best friend. That first secret is turning five today. 

“Don’t tell her I told you, bro.” He sounds like a child, and Jungkook can’t believe he’s officially a dad of two. 

“Oh, I so will.”

“Fucking traitor.” He says. 

“Hey, congratulations. I’m so happy for you guys.” 

Taehyung brings him in for a hug and it ends as quickly as it begins. “Shh, sh. She’s looking this way, act cool.”

“A fucking child.” 

“You’re the child! I’m older than you by almost two-”

Jimin walks behind them, taking them by surprise when he throws his arms around their shoulders. “Children, please. Settle down.” 

Lucy giggles, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s goofy nature. She loves that about him. Matter of fact, she’d just told him, for the very first time, that she loved everything about him. That she loved him. This came after Jimin had blurted it out, in the middle of a very mild argument over the best Shrek movie. She loved him so much she’d decided to overlook the fact he said it was the fourth. Everyone knows it’s the second. 

“Funny. We were just talking about you.” Taehyung says. 

“Nothing but compliments and praises, I’d imagine!” He says. His friends both shrug at the same time, earning themselves a scowl from him. 

Jungkook turns to Lucy, smiling at her before asking, “Hey, have you heard from __? She told me she’d be here.”

“Oh, she overslept this morning, didn’t even have time to shower. So she just went home to freshen up before the party.” Lucy replies, finding it a bit odd that he isn’t aware of your whereabouts. 

“Ah,” he ponders on this for a minute. “I see.”

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” Her smile is kind, almost like she knows. And oh, she knows. Only she can’t put her finger on it entirely. She knows something’s mildly off, but everything seemed fine at surface level. Ultimately, she didn’t want to pry – knew that often her overthinking led her to worry for no reason – but also, her gut was almost never wrong. 

Jimin’s voice brings her back from her mental gymnastics. 

“Babe, let’s go get our bathing suits on! I’m so going on that bouncy castle.” 

“Please don’t do anything stupid. And don’t break the bouncy castle, the deposit on it alone was more than your Saint Laurent boots.” Taehyung tells him, nonchalantly, back at work on the grill. 

“Bro, it’s like, 30 degrees outside. Take those off.” Jungkook adds. 

“Do not address me, flip flop man.” 

Taehyung’s head snaps. “Hey, what’s wrong with flip flops?”

Jimin scans him from head to toe, stopping at his feet. “Everything.” And like that, he’s gone. 

Taehyung and Jungkook return to grilling duties, diligently at work and in total silence for a couple of minutes, so as to recover from Jimin’s brutal abuse towards their choice of shoewear. 

It’s Taehyung that breaks the silence first. 

“So… you and __, seems like it’s getting pretty serious, huh? Plus, you’re happy. I can tell. We all can, to be fair.”

He laughs, and when he does, it has a bite to it Taehyung wasn’t expecting. “So, I get laid and it shows?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean it. Not the words he uttered, or the edge that laces his voice. Not even the breath he took right before he spewed their venom. He regrets it the moment they leave him. 

Taehyung winces. “What the hell was that, man?”

“What exactly?”

“I’d like to believe you’ve passed the point of just fucking ___.” Taehyung can’t even call you the nanny anymore, his words faltering for a second before saying your name. 

Jungkook chuckles, and again, he doesn’t mean it. His friend can tell, which concerns him more. He wouldn’t press if he didn’t know he was lying through his teeth, lacing it with fire just to reinforce a point he didn’t believe himself. 

“So, when she stays the night, what exactly do you think we do?”

Taehyung shakes his head and it’s him who’s chuckling this time. “You’re such a pussy.”

Jungkook’s head snaps fast, an immediate frown taking over his features. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it fucking means. You’re a pussy. Love looks you right in the eyes and you fall into the most cliché tale of fearing it so much it makes you, quite frankly, an asshole.” Jungkook winces at the word love, though Taehyung doesn’t notice – heavily invested in shaking some sense into him. 

“I’m not going to sit here and pretend what it feels like,” he continues, voice taking on a softer tone. “To lose something so abruptly that it makes you feel like everything that follows will hold the same fate. You didn’t have a choice – when you gathered all that strength and courage for Soori, you didn’t have a choice. You gave her love when life was throwing the opposite your way, that was brave. Do the same for yourself. That same courage, choose it.” He throws a punch at his chest, right where his heart is – it’s not forceful but it makes the youngest tumble backwards slightly.

Jungkook stares at his friend, his heart taking on a wave of feelings that pass him by too quickly for him to grasp, let alone process. It’s anger first, sadness following, and when it crashes, they land in fear. Square one, too weak to say much, he just stares at Taehyung – his expression dumbfounded but above all, pained. 

For a second, as Taehyung stares into his eyes, he sees a wide-eyed twenty-year-old Jungkook. Puffy cheeks and cherry hair, a heartthrob to everyone’s knowledge but his own, making him all that more charming. Jungkook tries to find words – anything to form a shield, to dismiss his friend’s words and take the easy route out of this conversation, this feeling, you. But in an instant, he’s reminded of how hard “easy” can be. How much pain comes with the strain of fighting and how the other side of that pain can be almost sweet – vulnerability. 

The words that follow make Taehyung feel nostalgic. 

“I talked to my dad – well, more like- he talked to me.” Taehyung nods, already knowing where this is going. “He knows. About __.”

“Okay… and what seems to be the problem?”

“In his eyes, everything. It almost felt like he was putting some sort of blame on me, for everything that happened with Ira. How it affected our family,” Jungkook pauses, the word family leaving his lips in a tremble. “They think she’s going to cause the same societal hysteria – if not worse. The CEO dating the nanny.” He huffs, shaking his head in disbelief and even though he laughs, it lacks humor. 

Taehyung’s one for big words but quite frankly, what he says next is the most accurate answer he can find, looking at his friend in the eyes as he says, “So?”

Jungkook looks at him, hesitating for a moment. “What do you mean so?”

“I don’t believe for a second that you just took his opinion and went with it. I don’t believe for a second you just agreed with him. Not even to get him to stop talking. I know you better than that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Exactly. So, what seems so be the problem, because your parents trying to discipline the twenty-eight-year-old? I’m not buying it.” Jungkook holds his gaze for a second before it drops to the floor, shoulders dropping in defeat as a sigh follows. “Life gets hard and the way things come to be, the circumstances we face, yeah – those are hard. But never loving. Loving is easy. That’s why it’s worth it.” 

Jungkook’s about to tell him that a week ago, you told him you loved him, and that he didn’t quite know if you meant it. He’s about to tell him that he didn’t say it back – that fear got the best of him. That all the possibilities of everything that could go wrong presented themselves to him like a movie. Frame by frame, so vividly that it physically pained him, making his body grow rigid and cold. He’s about to tell him that the biggest fear of it all was the possibility of you leaving, just like Ira did. But it’s right in that moment that he hears Soori’s shriek. It startles him at first, he thinks something must’ve happened to her, that she’s hurt, or perhaps just fuzzy and needs him. He drops the tongs he’s holding and is ready to run over to her. And then he sees you, fully stopping in his tracks when he realizes she’s perfectly fine – she was just excited to see you. 

Kenny hands her over and you take her into your arms, rocking her from side to side as you hug her to you. You feather kisses all over her face but she barely lets you, too excited and jumpy in your hold. She points at the red balloons that adorn the garden and you go wide eyed in excitement. Dae runs over to you and you kneel down, Soori still in your arms, and bring him in for a hug. He tells you things that Jungkook can’t make out from a distance but he, too, is going wide eyed in excitement. You motion to a box that sits by the sofa, neatly gift wrapped in Iron Man print. He claps and jumps and takes you by the hand, walking you to the table that holds all his birthday gifts. It’s only after you’ve helped him place your gift at the very top – as per his request – that your gaze finally meets Jungkook’s. 

You look beautiful, and when you smile at him he can feel his heart physically stop for a beat too long. Your long hair dances in the wind, and some gets tangled in Soori’s fingers. Even she looks at you in awe. You’re wearing a sage green summer dress that hugs your body in all the right places and then just flares out, accentuating that contrast you naturally hold. Very sweet but so very woman. 

He could stare at you for hours. 

And for his despair, for the most time, he does. 

~

You do a great job at seamlessly avoiding Jungkook. 

Now, it’s not that you want to avoid him. It’s more so that you don’t know how to face him. You’re afraid that anything he says or does could trigger a response inside of you that you won’t be able to control. Perhaps you’ll cry, or snap at him. Perhaps you’ll go completely mute. At this point, you don’t know. You tell yourself this is the price you pay for leaving a feeling untreated. But what could you do if the treatment to your feelings is standing at 5 foot 10 in total oblivion?

That much you know. Jungkook is oblivious as to how you really feel. And you can’t fully blame him for this because a. You’re the one that said he didn’t have to say anything in return and, b. Oblivion makes him look so small in your eyes. I mean, you’re out here sitting with your female rage, plotting his revenge, laughing a little too hard when he steps on a lego – in full Iron Man costume, may you add – and he just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know. Because if he knew, he wouldn’t be stealing glances your way. Or letting his hand linger a little too close to yours when you stand next to him as Dae and his friends tell you what they’re reading in school. Or when you pass Soori to him, your arms getting tangled together. Or when you both reach for the same cupcake, the same glass of wine, the same deviled egg! He lingers like you often do when you’re in public and have to be kept a secret. When touch and proximity are scarce and you have to milk every touch, every word, every glance. 

In Jungkook’s eyes, your distance is simply discretion, because for Jungkook, your words were a heat of the moment thing. A testimony of how good you two had made each other feel. I mean, despite the way your words affected him and welcomed a new set of fears he wasn’t quite planning on having with you, he let you get away with it. He felt, in a way, that he was doing you a favor. I mean, you did sound embarrassed and almost avoidant when you said it. So why press on it? Why put the two of you through the stress of having to navigate your feelings? All of this made total sense to him when he woke up Sunday morning and decided to not give his mental chaos another thought. Why would he, when he could just enjoy you instead? 

Despite said female rage, the day turns out to be magical. Dae’s charmed by all the love he receives and even takes a power nap halfway through it all because he’s so exhausted from fun and play. But once he’s up, he’s unstoppable again. Running, swimming, singing and dancing, his fifth birthday party is a success. And now, with sun kissed noses and sugar rushes, his friends begin to say goodbye one by one. This is your queue, you think, and you walk over to Mai to thank her for having you. 

“What? No! Don’t leave now. The party’s just getting started. For us, at least,” she winks at you, motioning to the glass of wine she holds. It’s apple juice, only you don’t know this. 

“Uh,” you can’t come up with any excuses. 

“Plus! Don’t you wanna stay to see Dae opening his presents? It’s my favorite part of the day.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude-” you know that for Soori’s birthday at least, that moment happened after all the guests had left, and it was just their close group of friends. You feel out of place.

“Nonsense. He wants you here. We all do. I do,” she grabs your hand in hers and you give her a little nod before she’s dragging you back to the party. 

You enjoy yourself more than you’d expected. In between conversations, left over finger food and really good wine, the evening passed you by. You enjoyed getting to know everyone better and found particular joy in seeing them in this dynamic they seemed to be very familiar with. Of course, this was all accredited to the years they’d spent together. You couldn’t help but find it quite amazing; the fact that the majority of them had known each other since high school, all through college and adulthood. Parenthood, too, for some of them. Every act of service, word spoken and inside joke was laced with something that words couldn’t quite describe, but if you were to try, you’d label it as family. Simple as that. They were family. Seeing how quickly Lucy was weaving her way into their friendship group made you feel so happy for her. And it was in that instant that something told you that she’d stay forever. Not a doubt of it. She belonged – here, with Jimin, surrounded by love and family. She just belonged. 

Dae opened his presents and each reaction was better than the last. He was in a total high and the only thing that made winding him down for bed easier was Mai telling him that the faster he went to bed, the quicker he’d wake up to a room full of brand new presents he could play with all day long, if he so pleased. That and the fact that his cousins were staying the night and by the time Taehyung was done scattering his room with sleeping bags for the kids, the place looked like a campsite. 

And so the night was drawing to an end as you all sat by the lounge area in Mai and Taehyung’s backyard. Music playing softly from the speakers, the half eaten Iron Man cake on the table and a string of memories recalled by each of them as they reminisced. 

“Time flies,” Namjoon says. 

“I can’t believe you were the first one to have a kid.” Yoongi tells him. 

Hobi wraps his arm around Kenny, bringing her closer before he says, “how could you not? He’s always been very daddy.” They all laugh at his choice of words. “I didn’t mean it like that. Filthy minded, the lot of you.”

“I thought it’d be Jin,” Yoongi defends. 

“Nah. I always knew it was gonna be Namjoon. You left us too soon, bro.” Jungkook says, wrapping an arm around him and pouting. 

“Excuse me?” Iseul gasps, scowling at him from the warmth of Namjoon’s embrace, at the other side of him. 

Jungkook smiles at her cheekily, pout growing even more. “I love you. You know that. Matter of fact, you left us too son, bro.” He says this to Iseul. 

“Exactly. I was fun,” she says, crossing her arms as she falls back into the couch. 

“You still are! We all still are!” Seulgi says, raising her glass. They all join, and you laugh as you hear them add commentary like, “yeah, but at what cost?”, “I have chronic back pain.” and, “I fell asleep five minutes into a movie last night.” 

“God, I haven’t even been inside a club in years. What’s good nowadays? __? Lucy?” Jin asks. 

You both look at each other, not very familiar with the clubbing scene anymore. 

“Candied Star,” says Jimin, voice going low. 

“Shame on you, bro.” Yoongi tells him. 

“What the fuck is Candied Star?” Asks Hobi. 

“It’s a club!”

“It sounds like the name of a very blonde, very busty 90s pornstar.” Says Mai and they all laugh. 

“I actually used to love that place. It’s pink and excessive. And the DJ’s solid.” You say. 

Jimin claps once, body jolting, having a full eureka moment. “We’re totally going tonight. Saturday’s are the best nights!” 

“I’m so in. Taehyung’s fancy wine made me drunk, it’d be a waste to just go home.” Lucy adds. 

“You’re welcome, kid.” Taehyung raises his glass in her direction. 

“You coming, __?” Jimin asks you. 

You can’t fight it when your eyes land on Jungkook. His are on you already and again, you both linger in held glances for a second too long. You know he can’t go as he has Soori tonight. And you know your female rage wants to keep at a distance from him, so this is the perfect escape plan. But your heart takes one look at him and you want no more than to go back home with him. Have him all to yourself, crawl under a blanket with him and just hug him to you in a way that says, “I’ve been wanting to do this all week.”

“I’m in!”

And that’s the thing about untreated feelings: they rebel against you, even if the heart is waving white flags. 

~

See, you might not be one for crowded spaces and shitty music. You might be an Elton John fanatic, technology denier, gardening grandma attire wearer old soul. This might all be true, yes. But right next to that truth coexists a side of you that simply can’t help but love the fact that you’re twenty three. You’re twenty three and that means that on a saturday night, your responsibilities are at the bottom of the pyramid. You’re twenty three and there’s something about tonight that exacerbates the fact that you’re young and can allow yourself to be a little stupid. 

Candied Star is exactly what you described it as: pink and excessive. You hadn’t been here in months and perhaps that’s what makes it all the more alluring. You swiftly make it inside, courtesy of Jimin, who has a certain power over every bouncer and PR in the city. You could get used to the VIP treatment, if you were to confess. The line was going down a mile and you could see it from the taxi as you made your way to the club. The music is good from the get go and nothing about the atmosphere feels menacing or intimidating. Candied Star is for the cool kids. And what you mean by that is, Candied Star is for the girls, the gays and the allies. Nothing about this place caters to the male gaze and in a way, it’s so freeing. 

The moment you step foot inside you begin to let loose, and it’s not too long after that you’re being found by a troop of beautifying fairy godmothers that circle around the three of you, bedazzling your faces until the strobes inside the club hit you and you’re drenched in glitter and sparkling. The music aids the cinematic feeling of the night and when Jimin hands you a drink, it’s pink and shiny and you don’t know why but it just makes sense that it is. “It’s strawberry gin,” he says and you all bring your glasses together and cheer for a cause you’re not aware of but that demands celebration as you scream and sing and dance. 

By your third sparkly, strawberry gin, you’re the life of the party. 

No, really. You are. 

“I didn’t know __ had that in her!” Jimin says to Lucy, who admires you in awe. 

“Oh, but she does,” she yells over the loud music. 

The same people that put beads and glitter on your face are the ones that encourage you to get on top of one of the tables and give it your all. You’re not much of a dancer but in that moment, something in you releases in screaming color. Maybe it’s the song that plays that you vow to never forget. Maybe it’s the smiling faces that surround you and cheer you on. Perhaps it’s finding Jimin and Lucy in the crowd, smiling at you. You beckon them over and it takes them a while to get the hint but when they do, the crowd is parting for them and they’re being cheered on. You help them get on the stage – yes, a table, but it’s your stage – and you dance. You dance and sing and yell words to songs you didn’t even know you knew, or that maybe you thought you’d forgotten. 

But how could you forget? How could you forget how young you once were? How could you forget how young you are now?

~

Jungkook rocks Soori from side to side, bottle in hand as she begins to drift off in between suckles. The way she fights sleep to keep eating makes him giggle and when he does, her eyes snap open once again, seemingly more alert than the last time. 

“Shh, shh… sorry, baby. Sleep,” he whispers and his voice soothes her as he feels her little body relax in his arms. 

Night feeds are a rare occurrence nowadays but today was an exception. She’d had a fun day outside of her routine and the moment Jungkook had parked the car on his driveway, she’d woken up, more alert than ever. So here they were, in the middle of her nursery as Jungkook added a little bounce to his step the closer she got to finishing her bottle; the rhythm he’d mastered and could confirm worked like a magic trick to put her out cold and fast. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this moment. She was growing way too fast before his eyes and these moments reminded him of when she was a little baby. When she depended on him way more than she does now. When she couldn’t crawl, let alone be so close to walking as she was now. Her eyes open yet again and he looks at her, smiling. She smiles back and he starts humming a soft melody in hopes of putting her to sleep. It has no rhyme or direction and he tries to think of something. He sings to her, and it’s a song he’s heard you sing to her, too. 

Jesus freaks out in the street

Handing tickets out for God

Turning back, she just laughs

The boulevard is not that bad

Piano man, he makes his stand

In the auditorium

Looking on, she sings the songs

The words she knows, the tune she hums

She finishes her bottle, eyes blinking once, twice, before her long eyelashes meet her cheeks. She nuzzles her face closer to Jungkook’s chest and his heart breaks and mends all in the span of a second. He sings softer this time.

But, oh, how it feels so real

Lying here with no one near

Only you, and you can hear me

When I say softly, slowly

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

Hold me closer, tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

You had a busy day today

Soori falls into deep sleep and Jungkook holds her. He lets himself have her in his arms for a little longer. He thinks of all the parenting books he’s read in the past year or so, making himself chuckle as they would absolutely not approve of this. But he doesn’t care. He knows he’s doing the right thing. And perhaps he didn’t know this a couple of months back – a couple of months back he felt like he couldn’t get anything right – but now, looking down at her, he feels confident. He knows he’s doing the right thing because Soori? Soori is perfect. Soori is the best thing he’s ever been good at. Soori is his biggest and most exciting project. And as she sleeps soundly in his arms, it hits him. He’s doing a good job. 

He sings the same song to her two, three… four times. On and on. And at some point, the words start catching up to him in memories of you. He doesn’t want to sulk. He knows you should, as a matter of fact, be out there, having fun with your friends and dancing the night away at some club with a questionable name. But he can’t help but miss you. He thinks of you, because lately, every corner of his house reminds him of you. And yes, it aids his sulking but it’s also nice to just picture you everywhere. He thinks of you rocking on Soori’s chair, watching them, you’d probably be singing along with him. Or perhaps you’d be in his room, waiting for him on his bed, a book in hand, because you always carry one in your bag. 

He laughs as he remembers a conversation you’d had with Lucy right before you left for the club. 

“Wait, I’m not very dressed for the club…,” you say. 

Lucy looks at you, huffing. “You’re never dressed for the club.”

“No, Lu, seriously. I have a copy of Sense and Sensibility in my bag right now.”

“I guess Jane Austen is coming to Candied Star, then!”

And it was so you. Jungkook had never read Jane Austen, but the title alone was so very you. 

Finally, he’s putting Soori in her crib, making sure she has all her friends around in case she wakes up through the night and double checking the baby monitor before he’s gently closing the door of her nursery after he takes one last glance at her. He can’t see much, just one of her cheeks pressed against the mattress from between the wooden bars of her crib. He laughs softly, nose scrunching in endearment. 

He walks inside his room, retrieving his phone from his back pocket and throwing it on his bed. He’s about to turn around but he deflects, reaching back for his phone. He’s got a couple of notifications adorning his home screen – Mai had sent pictures from today to their group chat, his mom had texted him saying they needed to talk and he had a couple of work emails he did not want to get into right now – but none from you. Jungkook sighs, throwing his phone on his bed once again and making his way to the bathroom. 

He showers, taking his time to take the day off. Standing in front of the massage jets for a long time and in days like these, time felt like a luxury. He washes his hair, his body, lets the water run down on him. He takes his time and once he’s done, he walks over to his bed, tapping on his phone in quiet hopes that he’ll see your name on his screen. Nothing. He grabs the device to put it to charge but he changes his mind halfway through, bringing it with him to the bathroom. 

He brushes his teeth, washes his face, does his skincare. A notification pops up. It’s from The New York Times. He rolls his eyes, staring at the screen until it goes blank. He tells himself not to act so childish. He brushes his hair, applies three different products he doesn’t quite know the purpose of. He taps on his phone again, even though he knows he’s not going to find anything new. And he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t and he shouldn’t. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to pry you away from the fact that you’re twenty three years old, and that you should be doing exactly what a twenty three year old should be doing on a saturday night. God knows nobody stopped him, so he doesn’t want to stop you. But he’d be lying if he said that when Jimin invited you to the club, his blood went a little warm. Not fully hot, no. But a little warm. He wanted the night to wrap up so he could approach you and ask to give you a ride. No one would suspect, I mean, he was just doing you a favor, as your boss. But the moment he got you alone in his car he planned to kiss you until you had no choice but to follow him home. And he’d hold you and stare at you and kiss you until it paid for how little he got to do it this past week. He missed you. And he can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked today. At how beautiful you probably look right now, dancing and smiling. Probably a bit tipsy by now because he knows how much of a lightweight you were.

He gets in bed, attempting to get comfortable under the covers. He turns the TV on, plays the cooking channel, dims the lights, then turns them off. He puts his phone on Do Not Disturb but then chooses against it, just in case. Just in case you called him, giddy and with slow, slightly slurred sentences like you had that one time. And if that were to be the case, he’d ask you to come over. He’d feed you carbs, get you in the shower, in his bed. And then tomorrow he’d wake up next to you and- he stops himself. Because if he lets his mind go any further, he’s gonna be the one calling you. And asking you to come over – begging for it if need be. 

But even in his rationality, he hopes. Fighting sleep, just in case. 

You never call. 

~

“Pretty,” you say. Because it is. The city, the lights, even as they pass you by faster than you’d like. Your head is out the window, merciless wind hitting your face as the car picked up speed, making your hair dance behind you and your eyes water, smudging the glitter that adorned your cheeks. 

“It certainly is, but hey, __, maybe get back in here?” Lucy tries to reason with you, but it’s to no avail because your arm joins your head and the way the air feels like a heavy mass attempting to go through you is almost hypnotizing. 

Jimin peeks from his seat next to the other window. He giggles when he sees you mid trance. “Is her seatbelt on?”

“Yeah,” Lucy says as she tries to pull you back in. 

“Leave her be, babe. She’s having a cinematic moment.” 

“I’m scared she’s gonna want to jump out or something.”

Jimin laughs at this. “She won’t. Come here.” 

And so Lucy does, stealing glances your way from time to time to make sure you’re doing okay and won’t do anything crazy like fly out the window. 

That’s not what you want, though. You’re simply admiring the view. It feels so good. It feels so good to forget about what pains you for a night. It feels so good to not think about him, even though this thought alone requires you to think about him. You chuckle. Who cares? You’re not thinking about him, even if you are. Your drunken state tells your brain that you’re free of the Jungkook chaos you’ve been in for what feels like way too long. And when your heart tries to meddle, telling you not to be such a fool and reminding you that a week ago you poured your heart out to him, told him the biggest, most important words – the ones you searched for the most in your love stories – right around this time. Who cares? Who cares, you keep reminding your heart, demanding it to let it go, even if just for tonight. 

“We can cry tomorrow,” your voice is but a whisper that gets muffled by the wind, one that only you can hear. “Who cares tonight? Who cares, who cares, who cares…”

You can hear the beginning chords of a melody that you think you recognize coming from inside the car, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It comes to you slowly though, and when you almost have it, you look behind you and see Jimin and Lucy singing along to the beat of the song. And then it hits you. Your body is inside of the car and you lean forward, hand on the driver’s shoulder.

“Oh my God,” you say to him, “you’re speaking to my soul! And I don’t know if I like it. Turn it up.” He smiles, chuckling at your words before his hand reaches for the console, the song resounding all through the car. 

You lean back on the seat, looking at Lucy before linking your arm with hers. The three of you sing, loud and drunk and happy. 

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars

Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

You can say it's just the way you are

Make a new excuse, another stupid reason

Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck)

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

Good luck, babe (well, good luck), well, good luck, babe (well, good luck)

You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

~

Your head pounds and at first, you don’t understand why. But it pounds so hard it snaps you back into consciousness. Once you are relatively awake you understand why. Not only are you deadly hungover but you’re also in the middle of what you can only describe as chaos. Your window is wide open and there must be a traffic jam going on outside because cars are honking left and right. Elton’s halfway through Tiny Dancer because clearly the first minute of that didn’t do its job at waking you up, and there’s a knock at your door. 

“Come in,” you say, as you switch off your alarm and try to drown out the outside noises by putting a pillow over your head. 

“Good morning, lover.” Lucy enters your room, and when you glance at her from an inch left uncovered by your pillow, you see she’s holding a tray. Iced americano, avocado toast and a sunny side up egg that smells delectable are just a couple of things that make her the best friend in the whole world this morning. The second one is the fact that she’s closing your window and suddenly, it’s peace, quiet and a feast in your room. 

“I’ve done nothing to deserve you.”

“You’ve done plenty.” She smiles and it’s sweet, just like every inch of her. 

“Good morning, dancing queen.” Jimin waltz inside your room, shirtless and with Lucy’s cow print fuzzy headband on his head. 

“I shouldn’t have to see this first thing in the morning, but it’s the price I pay for dancing on top of tables like God did not intend.” 

“Oh, no. I think God was in that room last night.”

“Babe,” Lucy whines. “Leave her alone!”

“Why? It was fun! You’re fun, __. You should come out with us more often, they gave us a bunch of free drinks just because we knew you!” 

You throw your pillow at him and he shrieks and runs away. Both you and Lucy laugh at his theatrics. 

“1 to 10 how much did I embarrass myself last night?” You ask as she hands you your pillow back and you return it to its rightful place over your head. 

“Like, minus 0. You genuinely were the life of the party. All you did was dance and drag everyone along!” 

“I’ll believe you. Thank you for breakfast, Lu.”

“Of course,” she smiles. “Hey, Jimin and I are going to his parent’s beach house for the week. We leave today.” She almost looks apologetic when she says it.

“That sounds so nice, Lu.”

“Yeah,” she says, and her voice takes on the tone she uses when something floats above her head in worry. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I am. But,” she pauses for a second, looking into your eyes. “Are you?”

“Me?” You ask, incredulous and you can see it in her face – how little she buys your act. “I’m fine, Lu. Just tired. It’s been a long week and honestly I probably just need some rest. I’ll try and take loads of naps today.”

She just stares at you for a couple of seconds, deciding your fate. Will she let it slide? Will she press? Will she give you the words of comfort you’re so very sure could make you cry right now and dismantle your lies? 

“You should try and get as much rest as you can.” And the only reason she says that is because they’re running late. 

“And you have fun,” you hug her. “Don’t worry about me, seriously. I’ll rest loads and probably clean around, do some laundry, maybe get some writing done. Ooh, I could meal prep for the week!”

~

You lose a sock on your way to the living room from the kitchen. It makes you stop in your tracks as you glance back and try to see where you’d left it. But it’s nowhere to be found. Oh, well. You shake the can of whipped cream you’d retrieved from the fridge, the cherry on top the most perfect Ben & Jerry’s flavor that has ever existed – chocolate fudge brownie, of course. Your mouth waters at the mere thought and you can’t resist the temptation of having whipped cream at such close proximity and so you swirl a hefty amount inside of your mouth. In perfect cinematic nature, the song that you’ve had on repeat for the past forty five minutes breaks into the chorus (yet again) and now the whipped cream can is your microphone and this living room is your stage. 

You said, "Baby, no attachment"

Your voice is hoarse, the remnants of yesterday’s fun and today’s chaos. 

But we're

You trip on an iPhone charger and it almost sends you flying. But it doesn’t, so you take the opportunity of being jolted forward to add flair to your performance. 

Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out

Is it casual now?

Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach

Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends

It's casual, if it's casual now

Then baby, get me off again

If it's casual, it's casual now

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears touch your lips, warm and salty and it only makes you sing louder because at this point, you’re just letting yourself go a little insane in the privacy of your own home and the solitude that has been granted to you this sunday morning. So you eat ice cream at 11 a.m. and listen to feminine rage songs. More like, one single feminine rage song. And the more you sing it, the sadder it gets. The girls aren’t enraged. The girls are just sad. 

I fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner

Your parents at the table, you wonder why I'm bitter

Your hands come up and you spin as you sing and cry. 

Bragging to your friends I get off when you hit it

I hate to tell the truth, but I'm sorry dude you didn't

I hate that I let this drag on so long, now I hate myself

I hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell

The song ends and a second later, it starts again. You let it. Most of the lyrics don’t even apply fully to your situation and you can begin to recognize this as your steam is blown and you tire yourself out. And yeah, the lyrics may not all apply to you but some do and it feels good to scream them out loud and to get mad. 

You send a flying kiss to Chappell Roan and thank her for her services. 

~

“God, you’re such an asshole.” Your words are directed at Mr. Darcy, who’s been getting on your nerves for the past hour or so. “But you’re so beautiful. And I know deep down you’re a good man.” And it’s then that your eyes begin to well up yet again. Pride and Prejudice always gets to you. 

Your eyes leave the TV screen for a split second so you can draw your head back and take a bite out of your pizza. It’s delicious – cheesy and delicious, and just what you need. Dancing, singing and crying must burn more calories than you think because that was a workout and now you were exhausted and famished, even though you were halfway through your pizza already. 

“I mean, there you are! With your stupidly good looking face and your bad manners,” you point at Mr. Darcy on the screen. “And all because you can’t tell the girl you love her! Elizabeth, you deserve be-”

Halfway through your speech, you get interrupted by the insistent buzzing that comes from your phone. Your eyes scan the couch on the search for it but it’s nowhere to be found. You shove blankets and pillows aside and the more it buzzes, the more frantically you search. You find it under your pizza box right before it’s about to disconnect, quickly sliding your finger across the screen so you can answer the call, not having time to second glance at the contact. 

“Hello?!” You yell into the receiver. 

You hear Jungkook chuckle from the other end of the line and you quite literally choke on your spit, making you cough wide eyed and surprised. “Woah, woah. You okay?”

You hate that he cares. And you hate his little chuckles and how quickly he can disarm you because you feel the way your voice is about to go soft on him. You make sure to clear your throat (and shake the softness off) before replying.

“Yeah, yeah. I just have a bit of a sore throat.”

“So it was a good night, I presume.”

“Yeah, actually. The best.”

Your words are fast and sharp and Jungkook feels the sting. But nonetheless, he’s still oblivious. He blames the sting on his own childish ways of missing you too much even though he’d seen you every day this week. He blames it on the part of him that went to bed last night stubbornly wishing you’d be next to him. And so he opts to be bigger and better than his feelings, collecting himself before he responds.

“I’m glad, baby.” You’re quiet on the other end of the line. “Hey, so… we were just at brunch with my parents.”

“How’d it go?”

“Same old,” and it was true. It’d been awkward at first but then simply filled with small talk and the three of them swooning over Soori, to Jungkook’s fortune. “But I was thinking maybe I could pick you up and you could come over? We could lay by the pool, I could make us some dinner later…”

Your eyes scan the room. They land on the pizza box and then on Mr. Darcy on the TV, mid-sentence in what is probably useless words because none of them are what he actually feels. 

“I have a terrible hangover, being out by the sun would probably make it worse.”

“That’s ‘kay. We could watch movies instead.”

You sigh, your heart breaking at your coldness when you say, “I’ve had a long week, I think it’d be better if I just took it easy today and got some rest. I’m sorry.”

And as oblivious as Jungkook could be in the moment, no oblivion could stand between him and the way your words break something inside his heart in more ways than just disappointment. 

“Oh,” is all he can say. 

“But you guys have fun, okay? Give Soori kisses from me and enjoy the water. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.” Jungkook wonders why the pet name he’s grown so familiar to calling you feels so foreign as they pass his lips now. “Bye.”

You linger. You wait, in silence, the soft static and words left unsaid. 

“Bye.”

I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you and I hate that you don’t love me back and I can’t do with hating that I love you and I could never do with hating you because I love you. 

When you fall asleep around thirty minutes later, it’s with heavy eyes and tears you’d been collecting ever since. You fall asleep before Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth can get their happy ending. 

~

Monday morning feels like hell. Getting out of bed feels nearly impossible and when you finally muster the strength to do so, you feel a headache coming up that threatens to linger for the whole day. You take some Tylenol, caffeinate yourself and eat whatever you can stomach. And since you hadn’t taken the time to make yourself an elaborate breakfast, you get fifteen extra minutes that you use to make yourself look better, in hopes that it helps you feel better. You take your time as you brush through your hair and get really close to the mirror as you apply your makeup, blending and dusting products on with more care than you have in years. You can feel the heat that takes on the day, despite it only being 7 a.m. and so when you stand in front of your closet you try to keep it light. You settle on a pink linen dress that’s a bit too short but still acceptable to go serve your duties as a nanny. And perhaps vanity could cure a broken heart because by the time you leave the house, your strut has a bit more of confidence to it and your mentality consists of more who cares rather than why me?

You settle on the bus seat, reaching for your book but there’s something about Sense and Sensibility you’re simply not in the mood for today. And so you put your headphones on and scroll through your playlists. You’re just a girl, so of course there’s a perfectly curated selection of songs for any occasion and so today’s choice is one titled so sad, so sexy. It’s feminine rage meets bad bitch anthems and your subconscious decides it’s this episode’s soundtrack. 

Mrs. Chae greets you at the door, like every morning, only today she smiles a little wider. 

“You look very pretty today, ___.”

You smile at her, asking her about her weekend as you make your way to the kitchen. You offer to make her some coffee as she gets Jungkook’s ready and it takes a little bit of insisting but she finally lets you treat her. As the minutes pass, though, you start feeling nervous. You hadn’t quite planned how you’d manage your feelings when you saw Jungkook this morning and every little noise has you jumpy and alert. You get Soori’s breakfast ready, cursing how quickly porridge cooks and your immaculate fruit chopping skills, because you’re done faster than you’d think and now you’re hands free and anxious again. 

“Mrs. Chae, let me help you fold laundry.”

“Fold laundry?!”

“Yes! I’m quite good at it. I worked at a little boutique all through my teenage years.”

“No.”

“Please. Just Soori’s at least.”

She looks at you intently for about five seconds, narrowing her eyes. “Her clothes are in the pink basket.”

You do a little cheer and thank her and she shakes her head at you but you can see the way she smiles. You get to folding her tiny clothes, cooing at how cute and tiny they are. You laugh at how her funny t-shirts that have kermit the Frog, Bluey and Wonder Pets prints get mixed with her nicer pieces that are full of tulle and fancy fabrics or are full on designer. But your favorites are the mini versions of Jungkook’s clothes that he always pairs with pink bows or colorful socks. It makes your heart melt. 

“Good morning,” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your trance. “Why are you folding laundry?”

“Don’t look at me, Mr. Jungkook,” Mrs. Chae defends, placing the tray that holds his iced americano on the kitchen island. 

“It relaxes me,” you say, arms reaching for Soori who falls straight into them. “Good morning, munchkin. You hungry?”

“I have to leave now. Emergency meeting at the office.”

“But your coffee,” you hate that you care, but you do. Not to mention that it already worries you that it’s all he has for breakfast. 

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he says, “At the office. Have a nice day, Mrs. Chae.”

You follow him as he makes his way to the door. You can tell he’s stressed just by being in his proximity and it almost reminds you of when you first started working for him, those very first cold and distant weeks. But when he turns around and takes Soori into his arms, he softens and grows mushy again. 

“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Be good for daddy, okay?” He kisses her cheeks. “You’ve recovered, I hope.” He says this to you. 

“Good as new.” You force a smile.

“I’m glad. I’m gonna be late again today, we’re hoping to close this deal this week and we’re in a time crunch. I’ve told Suelgi to pick Soori up in the afternoon-”

“What? Why?”

“Well, you stayed with her last week and-”

“Yeah, that’s my job. That’s what you pay me to do, remember? Also, it messes up with her routine so I’ll keep her and we’ll wait for you right here.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“___-” you don’t let him finish, fearing to fall into a conversation you can’t have right now. You grab the back of his head and bring him close to you until your lips are on his. You feel him relax against your touch and he deepens the kiss, even if for a brief second before you’re pulling away. 

“Have a good day. We’ll see you tonight.”

~

On Tuesday you keep your anxiety at bay by making Soori a really elaborate breakfast. And you’re speaking the whole ordeal. Eggs, cherry tomatoes that you cut up really small, all her favorite assortment of fruits (blueberries, strawberries and pears), avocado that you mash and season with salt, pepper and lemon juice. You even cut her toast in tiny hearts that adorn the corners of her plate. When Jungkook walks inside the kitchen that morning, you’re getting started on her meal prep for lunch. Cooking for Soori wasn’t really on your job description but you liked to be as involved as you could in her feeding and so you’d silently taken on the responsibility. She liked to watch you cook, clapped along as you played music and danced around the kitchen, giving her a show. 

You don’t hear him come in and Jungkook takes the time to let himself stare at you. Amidst the stress and exhaustion, you’re pure sunshine that creeps into his home each morning and for that he’s grateful. If yesterday you threatened to make him late for work, which he really couldn’t afford this week, today you’re making him wish he could throw all the contracts out the window and live in a world that rotated around your axis. He doesn’t know if it’s the way your lips are a tone redder today, or if it’s the way you have your hair up in a bun that somehow looks both disheveled and put together, thin strands of hair framing your face as you concentrate on the way your hands carefully peel the pear. You’re pouting, the way you often do when you’re focused on something and he thinks about how quickly he can get out of this kitchen so he can kiss you. You’re also wearing red, which is a color he doesn’t often see you sport but he makes a mental note to store it under favorites. Your dress is tight around your waist and then flairs out and he knows it’s short because the weather is hot and you know how to dress for it. Jungkook begins to feel hot, too. The straps are held by a bow that rests on top of your shoulders and one of them falls down your arm and he swears to himself this all just happened in slow motion. 

“Mr. Jungkook, good morning.” Mrs. Chae places the tray on the kitchen island with a little more force than she’d originally intended. This makes you jump and it takes Jungkook about a beat too long to come back to his senses. 

“Good morning,” he clears his throat when his voice falters. 

Oh, damn you, Jeon Jungkook in dress pants and a white shirt that hugs your body a little too nicely to be true. 

“Nana,” Soori shrieks, excited to see you as you walk over to them. 

“Hi baby, I missed you.” The moment your arms outstretch towards her, she’s falling into them. You look at Jungkook. “Hey.”

“Hey- how are you?”

“I’m good. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Both Mrs. Chae and Soori stare at the two of you in confusion. 

“Nana,” this time she tries to get your attention, hitting you with her plush toy. You notice it’s shaped like a mille-feuille, courtesy of Lucy. 

“Is she- is that what she calls you?” Jungkook asks.

“I don’t know… it’s the first time she does it more than once in a row.”

“Cute,” he says, smiling. His face grows serious again when he sees Mrs. Chae smirking from the corner of her eye. 

“She’s cute. Want breakfast, baby?” And Jungkook is so entranced by you this morning he almost says yes. “We’ve got blueberries and strawberries and pears. Can you say pears?”

“Nana,” she smiles and is immediately forgiven. 

When you’re by the door saying goodbye, Jungkook’s about to kiss you, and there’s nothing in the world he wants more right this second. And as he leans in and mentally chants victory, his phone starts ringing. It’s Jin, and he knows it’s important. He should’ve taken his call ten minutes ago. His eyes close for a second, sighing in frustration before he picks up the phone. 

“Yeah, talk to me.”

You don’t mean to be so cruel, but alas, you smile. 

~

On Wednesday, it’s Jungkook who opens the door for you and by the looks of it, he’s on his way out, phone pressed to his ear as he steps aside to let you in. 

“Yeah, if you could please have those papers on my desk when I get there- yeah. Thank you, Kay. You’re the best.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s mentally. Inside your head so he can’t see. If you had a dollar for every time you’ve heard Jungkook say she’s the best you’d have two dollars, which is two dollars too many.

“Hey,” he says, eyes still on his phone as he reads what you can see is a really long email. 

“Good morning. What’s going on?”

“I have to run. Soori’s in the kitchen, she’s had a bit of a rough morning. She’s having a bottle right now.” He types as he tells you this. You want to shake him and tell him to look at you. 

“Is everything okay?”

His eyes meet yours. “Yeah, just- closing deals is hectic. That’s all. Everything okay with you?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Great.”

Great.

“Great!” 

“I’ll see you tonight?” 

“Sure.”

He presses his phone to his ear once again and turns around, walking towards his car, the loud beep startling you a bit as he unlocks it. You yell at him, mentally. Inside your head, so he can’t see. 

~

Soori was in fact having a rough morning, and her mood lingers throughout the day. She was a really good, happy baby so on bad days like these you knew something had to be bothering her. You’d found the root of the problem in the middle of a very dramatic cry, as her head swung backwards and her mouth opened to let out a loud wail. Her first back tooth was coming in. She was in pain, rightfully so, and nothing quite pleased her but you tried to do your best. She got extra cuddles and an extra morning nap. You’d made her strawberry juice lollipops so she could chew on for relief and mostly let her play throughout the day. She wanted to be held for the most part, though, and you had to admit you weren’t about to complain. You loved when she let you hold her and hug her and squeeze her. 

You’re halfway through a very softly sung version of Hey Jude when Jungkook calls you. It’s quarter past seven and you were winding down Soori for the night.

“Hi,” you say, voice a whisper so as to not wind her up. 

“Hey. How are you guys doing?”

“Good. She’s getting sleepy, she’ll be out in the next twenty or so. Her first molar is coming in, that’s why she’s fuzzy.”

“Oh, shit. Should’ve thought of that.”

“She’s doing okay now. She just needed extra cuddles.”

“I wish I could’ve been there today. Thank you, ___.”

“My pleasure. How’s your day? It’s late… are you coming home soon?”

And Jungkook knows you’re not asking for any other reason other than the fact you care about him. About his wellbeing and peace of mind. You took care of him in more ways than you probably realized because it just came as second nature to you, to be so caring. You, on the other hand, can’t help the way your heart plays onto the little fantasy. The one in which you wait for him to come home – a home of your own. He comes home to you after a long day and you sit on the couch and order take out and you make sure he has dinner because, to be fair, you’re not sure he does when you leave at night and the worry follows you until you get home even though you know that he can’t go hungry for more than twenty minutes. But you care, so you worry. 

Ugh!

“Yeah. I just have to go through,” he pauses, taking a look around him, “two more contracts. I’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

“I’ll give her a good night kiss from you.”

“Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you,” and you hang up because if you don’t, you’ll fucking blurt those three words at him again, because in your little fantasy, it’s only natural. It’s only natural that you tell him you love him before you hang up the phone. 

God, life was playing tricky, tricky games on your heart. Ones that you were out of ideas on how to defeat. 

~

Soori had knocked out not too long after that. She’d been visibly exhausted from the discomfort and pain she’d carried all day and you could only hope tomorrow was better. You make a mental note to search up some toothing relief methods on your way home. You give her two forehead kisses before laying her down on her crib, placing her little mille-feuille plushie under her arm. 

You make your way to the kitchen, turning on every light that you pass because if you were to be honest, Jungkook’s house intimidated you a little bit during the night. It was just so big and spacious, wide hallways that felt never ending. You liked how quiet it was, though. A sense of peace filling you as you put the kettle on to make yourself a cup of tea. His selection was impressive and you wondered why. You don’t think you’d ever seen him drink tea… you wonder if this was one of the remaining bits of Ira that still lingered around the house. There weren’t many, but it was impossible to fully erase her. There was a mug in the cupboards with the letter I and right next to it, one with the letter J. Her white Mercedes Benz that still sat on the driveway, too. And even though she’d cleared her clothes from the closet, you’d once seen a pretty black dress that you could only assume had once belonged to her. 

You opt for a fancy looking ginger and lemon tea, taking your time to let the leafs brew in the hot water. Thinking of him, of her, of Soori. Of how much you’d weaved your way inside his home, his family, without the details of what landed you here in the first place. I mean, you know some of it, but not the whole story. And then again, how much of a story was there? Her departure had seemed final and abrupt and in your anger, you doubted her words and explanations truly mattered. 

You move through the kitchen, down the dining hall and into the living room at a slow pace, taking it all in. You try to remember if you’ve ever been here alone, when it’s so empty and quiet but you can’t place any memory of the sort. You walk over to the big, tall bookshelf that stood against the wall. It was mostly for decoration, you’d assumed – a bunch of color coordinated books that matched the aesthetic of the living space perfectly. You recognize some titles and some others seem old. Pages on art, architecture, travel and fashion. Your eyes land on one that doesn’t seem to have a name, the spine empty in smooth leather. You reach for it, its weight sitting heavy on your hands. It was big, too and it looked like it held something important. Something that you couldn’t find in a bookshop or library. You know you probably shouldn’t, but your curiosity gets the best of you. You sit on the sofa, tea cup long forgotten on the table, lifting the heavy cover to reveal a white page that held a handwritten note. 

To our Soori Blue,

Our darling girl, you are so very loved, and this is your story so far. This is where you come from and this is how you were loved from the very beginning, even before you were here. When you were but a little star waiting in the sky for your mommy and daddy to multiply the love they have for each other to make you. You’re born from love, Soori, and your parents are proof of that, because they love each other so very much. Waiting for you was hard because we couldn’t wait to hold you and getting to be your Godparents is one of our biggest blessings. You are so loved, you are so special and you will always have us. 

Love,

Auntie Mai and Uncle Taehyung

 You turn the page, a picture of Jungkook and Ira taking most of the frame. They’re pulling faces as they pose for the camera and behind them is the city skyline and a sunset that paints the sky pink and orange. She blows a kiss and Jungkook throws a peace sign as he winks. Under the picture, a caption in neat black font that reads, “this is from the day your mommy and daddy first met. Everyone says it was instant: how they fell in love. I bet they would’ve not believed it if they knew that only a couple of years later, you’d be here!” 

The next picture is a magazine cover, Ira gracing the page, her long, blonde hair dancing in the wind, eyes not fully meeting the camera as she smiles. She looks carefree and young, a beautiful blue dress adorning her body, making her blue eyes shine even from a distance. “This is your mommy. Isn’t she so beautiful? She’s smart, funny, kind and loved by many people around the world. But no one loves her the way we do!”

You turn the page, a picture of Jungkook standing in front of The West End, bright smile on his face. “This is your daddy. He’s really good at his job! He’s funny, cool and generous. He can’t stay still and he’s good at everything he does, first try! We love him a lot.”

Their relationship pans over the years as you leaf through the pages. Ira and Jungkook at the beach, in very many destinations around the world, on Christmas and holidays, with their families and friends, in the comfort of their home and in events and galas. The day they made their relationship official, accompanied by, “it was out of a fairytale!” and birthday celebrations that said, “your daddy spoils your mommy so very much, we’re kinda scared he’ll do the same with you!” as Ira poses in rooms filled with roses and balloons and boxes full of presents. 

You pay particular attention at a picture of Jungkook and Ira, a selfie that seems to have been taken on film. They’re in the kitchen, bright smiles and red, puffy eyes, like they’d been crying. “On this morning, your mommy and daddy found out about you! They were a little scared, but so very happy. You filled them with light, Soori. Just look at those smiles! They couldn’t wait to hold you – it was going to be nine long months!”

Then it’s all of them, out in the garden, Ira in the middle as they point to her stomach. “And on this day we found out about you! We were so happy!! We’d never seen your mommy and daddy so excited, you had a closet full of clothes already and they didn’t even know if you were a girl or a boy yet!”

Ira in an ultrasound, “your mommy and daddy were so happy to hear your heartbeat for the first time.”

Jungkook kissing her stomach, “deep down, your daddy always knew you were a girl. Your mommy was convinced you were a boy, though!”

Jungkook and Ira standing in the garden, pink confetti flying over them. “You’re a girl, Soori Blue!!!!”

The pictures progress with the passing of time, each one with a caption full of hope and love. A picture of Soori as a newborn representing her birth, a carbon copy of Jungkook that makes your heart seize inside your chest. Then pictures of her with her uncles and aunties, their families, Jungkook and Ira, who kiss her each on one cheek in the majority of them. You miss the way Ira smile changes, the way her gaze looks empty after a while. All you see is love, what Soori is truly made of. 

You blame your next thought on how overly emotional this past week has been, how tumultuously you’ve experienced every feeling. 

“There’s all types of love, but never the same love twice.”

You wonder if that had been it for Jungkook. If he would ever be able to experience the love he had for Ira again. You wonder if perhaps he’d ran out of love to give and if that was the case, you couldn’t blame him. You reach the final page; a picture of the three of them, Jungkook holds Soori in his arms and Ira wraps hers around them. She’s looking at him, a smile on her face as they stand in front of the sea. The water is blue and the day looks bright and they’re perfect. They’re love. The real kind, your brain argues. The kind that takes years to nurture, the kind that faces adversities and triumphs. The one that reproduces itself into the most perfect combination of every good thing about both ends. Soori is only a couple of months old but she smiles into the camera and for the first time, you see both Ira and Jungkook in her. 

~

You’d placed the photobook right where you’d found it and for the past thirty minutes, you’d been staring at the glass doors that led to the garden, in complete silence, though your thoughts are loud. You don’t hear Jungkook come in and it’s only when he sits on the couch next to you that you fully notice his presence. 

“What a fucking day,” he sighs, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. 

You look at him for a long time, and he doesn’t acknowledge your silence. 

“You’re home now,” you say, even though it’s not the home you’d want it to be. 

“Yeah,” he looks at you. “How’s Soo?”

“Good. Sleeping.”

“Thank you for staying with her.”

“Of course.”

“I’m fucking starving,” he says, sinking further into the couch, his head turning to face you. “You hungry? Want some ramen?”

You simply nod and that has him getting up from the couch, hand reaching for yours. You walk into the kitchen together, your fingers entwined in his and the simple act sends electric currents down your body. It’s funny how unaware you can be about touch until it’s the right person’s skin against your very own, because what you feel right now, you hadn’t felt in days. 

You miss his touch instantly as he moves on to making dinner. 

“How was your day,” you ask, because you’re tired of the silence, and you’re tired of putting in an effort at keeping your heart quiet. 

“Long. And exhausting. Never ending, even.” And Jungkook doesn’t mean to whine and complain but then again, it’s not like he was lying. His day had been hell and just when he thought it was over, another problem presented itself right before his eyes. 

“What exactly are you working on right now?”

He looks up at you before he says, “I’m buying land to build a hotel in the Alps.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Funny, huh?”

“Your live is unreal to me sometimes.”

He pours water into a pot, placing it over the stove to bring to a boil. He stalls for a minute, remembering where they kept the ramen packets. “Yeah, to me too.”

You point to the cabinets behind him, and he gives you a quick smile in acknowledgement. 

“So, is that what’s taking up all of your time?”

“Yeah, sort of. It’s just a lot of politics and strategy. Meeting in the middle and settling and whatnot. Some of these people are so hard to negotiate with, though. They know real estate, but not hotels.”

“Well, I’d assume not many people do. And I’d assume what you know, you learned at a very young age.”

“Well, not quite. I wasn’t always interested in my field of work, believe it or not.”

“Nonetheless, you grew up around it.”

“So?”

“So, it’s a privilege that you have access to all of this knowledge. What you know- the way you know it, that can’t be taught in a classroom.”

“Well, no. It requires experience.”

Jungkook catches the way you roll your eyes, a huff leaving your mouth as you smile. 

“What?” He says.

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay, you can say it.”

You raise an eyebrow in defense. “Say what?”

“You know, give me the whole nepotism talk.”

“I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Yeah, sure.” He smiles but there’s nothing soft about the action. “Dinner’s ready.”

You stand in deafening silence for a minute, eyes on his, like this is the beginning of something you won’t be able to stop without someone getting hurt. 

“I think I’m gonna go home. I’m tired,” you say, turning around and getting ready to leave. 

“Oh, come on.” 

And that makes you stop in your tracks, turning so you can face him again, eyes narrowed and lips ready to spit venom if you so pleased. 

“I don’t feel like fighting with you right now, Jungkook.” And you could’ve left it at that, and perhaps it would’ve been better, but you don’t. “Oh, wait. I don’t have to do that. Because you seem to know what I want to say.”

He walks closer to you and nothing in his face tells you he’s about to extinguish the flames that seem to grow taller between you. 

“Your poker face isn’t all that good, baby.”

“I’m glad my intentions came across clear as day.”

He smiles, eyes diverting from you for a second before his gaze pierces yours once again. You inch closer to him and it’s barely noticeable, scowling back at him. Your blood feels hot and the flame grows bigger, more violent, only the fire gets lost in something else. Something that is only understood the moment Jungkook is pulling you closer and his lips are crashing onto yours in a kiss that makes the warmth travel throughout your body until the whole room is scolding hot. 

Your lips part but a second as you catch your breaths, chests heaving in sync, impossibly close. You try to find words, form a thought, anything that could leave your lips in a coherent sentence but you’re left with nothing. Blank, red, heat. It’s all you can think about. Him and his proximity. When Jungkook diverts his gaze from your eyes to your lips, it’s you that crashes your lips to his once again, deepening the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair. Both his hands wrap around your waist, squeezing at the flesh and he curses the fabric that comes between his fingertips and your skin. He longs to touch you, he longs to have you and his life was starting to feel like a waiting game when it came to you. He didn’t think he could go a second longer entertaining it.

He walks you backwards until your back hits the kitchen island, flushing himself to you until he’s pressing you against it. Your hands roam down his body, starting down his arms and up his torso, until they’re on his neck again and you wrap your arms around it, hugging him to you. His hands travel to your ass, squeezing before he’s picking you up and sitting you on the counter, taking one step closer so he stands snuggly between your legs as they close around him. And you kiss. You kiss with intention but no direction, his tongue parting your lips and meeting yours halfway – sloppy, messy, needy. His hands travel under your dress until he’s squeezing the flesh on your thighs, drawing you closer to him. You loose track of time, not a care in the world but his lips on yours and so does Jungkook, who doesn’t realize how much he’s aching for you until your hips are involuntarily grinding against his. His cock jumps and he’s more alert of you than ever, a throaty moan escaping his lips as you repeat the motion. 

You feel it, too. And some part of your brain tries to tell you that your body’s betraying you. That you’re kissing him with the same mouth that holds secrets from him, anger even. But you don’t care. Your heart leaps the closer he pulls you in and your skin feels wired with electricity the more the sensation of wanting him begins to take over your body. You want him, you need him, and when he’s so supple for you the way he is now there’s no way you could deny yourself the pleasure of having him. 

Your hand begins its descend, squeezing at the nape of his neck, down his chest and toned abdomen, taking a detour to untuck his shirt from under his pants, letting your hands roam inside, feeling his warm skin against them. You feel the way he sucks in a sharp breath, tummy caving in at your touch in anticipation. You smile against his lips and he kisses you harder, palms squeezing your flesh. You finally give him what he wants when your hand closes around his cock, making it pulse against the fabric of his pants. The moan that escapes his mouth borders on a whine and it’s so delicious it has you throwing your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. His lips find your neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin, rejoicing in the little whines that you let out at the feeling. 

He breaks the kiss, reluctantly removing his hands from your body so he can unbutton his shirt, unable to handle the heavy nature the air has taken around him. You lean back, palms resting against the cool marble of the counter, cocking your head to the side and taking him in. You notice him noticing you, and you don’t miss the way he slows down his movements, taking his time all of a sudden, giving you a show. You smile, lip caught between your teeth and you feel the need to close your legs, an impulse reaction at the need of friction. Jungkook notices this, your body jerking slightly, face delirious, eyes desperate and he chuckles. It has bite and attitude, and you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Don’t get cocky now,” you say, brain short-circuiting when he finally removes his shirt.

“I won’t. Need you too badly to play games right now.”

His words barely register because as soon as they leave him, his lips are back on yours, twice as fervently as before, his purpose clear. You give into him, not wanting to play games either. 

“I need you to touch me, Jungkook.”

His hand comes down to your breast, squeezing and pulling sweet little noises from you. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Your hands find his waistband, undoing the button of his pants, his zipper following, until your hand is traveling down his boxers and gripping around his cock, making him hiss at the contact. 

“Oh, fuck.” His voice is hoarse, deep. Your hand begins to move, thumb collecting the pre cum before you’re circling it around his tip. He bites your bottom lip as you begin to stroke languidly, applying pressure here and there, teasing him. 

“Are you gonna fuck me in the kitchen, Jungkookie?”

“Yeah. It’ll ruin my mornings forever, though.”

You pout, mocking innocence. “Why’s that?”

“Every morning, when I walk in here,” his hands travel under your dress again, fingers toying with the waistband of your underwear. “I’m gonna see you behind this counter,” he kisses you, a gasp leaving your lips as he hooks his index finger down the side of your panties, a soft touch to your skin. “Making coffee, cooking breakfast.” His middle finger spreads your folds, a soft hum passing his lips when he notices how wet you are. “In your short little dresses, acting like you don’t know what you do to me.”

“I-I don’t,” and he doesn’t let you finish your sentence. Middle and index finger entering you slowly, eyes on yours as his face grows confused. 

“You don’t?”

“N-no, mm, Jungkook,” you plead.

“Say please.”

“Please.”

“You’re so good, baby.” He kisses you, fingers picking up pace inside of you, finding that spot that has you arching your back for him in no time. “But you know what?”

“W-what?” Your eyes snap open, silently pleading that he doesn’t stop. 

“I think you do know.” His fingers stop and he smirks when your face falls. Your eyes travel down, following the way his hand wraps around his cock, spreading your wetness all over it. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.” He pushes your panties to the side before his tip teases your entrance, a moan escaping both your lips in unison. “And I think you like it.” He pushes inside of you and you sigh. He thinks it’s sweet, the way you react to him. You feel so good around him. He cups your cheek, pressing his forehead to yours before stealing a kiss from your lips. “Don’t you like it, baby?”

“Yes. I like it, fuck.” You don’t even knowing what you’re agreeing on at this point and you don’t care, too entranced by the way his cock stretches your walls so perfectly, hitting it so fucking good it’s almost like he was made for your pussy. And in this moment, Jungkook is sure of it. 

“Shit, baby. You feel so good.”

And sure, Jungkook could fuck you at this leisurely pace for the rest of his life, getting to feel every inch of you until it drove him fucking insane. But he wanted more – he needed more – and the way you were digging your nails in his biceps told him that you did, too. When he pulls away, you whine, narrowing your eyes at him and then rolling them when he simply responds with a, “patience.” He wastes no time removing your panties, throwing them behind him before he hooks his hand under your knee, bringing your leg up until your foot is resting against the kitchen counter. He starts fucking you again, but harder this time and the angle is so fucking perfect you swear you begin to see stars in your eyes, feeling a bit lightheaded at the feeling. He kisses down your neck again, letting himself enjoy how good you sound, and how good you feel. How good your skin tastes on his tongue. 

“Don’t stop, baby, oh my God.”

And so he locks in the pace, middle finger finding your clit and circling around it until he feels the way your body begins to shake in his hold, pussy clenching around him. 

“Fuck, yeah, baby. Cum for me,  ___.”

Your body shakes, moans getting louder as he kisses you and you can feel the way he smiles against your lips. He fucks you slow, letting you come down from your high, kissing you passionately and making your mind go hazy with every touch. Every little thing he does sends your mind into a frenzy and you fucking love the feeling. Your body is completely submitted to him, and you let him do whatever he wants to you. You let him kiss you, you let him hold you when he brings you down from the counter and your legs fail you. He laughs and you shush him and then you let him kiss you again. You let him turn you around, gently push you down until the upper half of your body rests against the cold marble. His legs part yours, hands uncovering you as he pushes your dress up and out of the way. He runs his hands down your body gently and you close your eyes, enjoying the moment, content little sighs leaving your mouth. He plays with your pussy, as he kisses down your back and when you begin to clench around his fingers, he fucks you like this. He goes hard, but he goes slow and he grunts when you throw your ass back, meeting him halfway. He spanks you once, twice, making you gasp and wish you had the strength to go for hours. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Please, Jungkook- I need it, please.”

And you’re so pliant, so willing to give him anything he wants. So willing to give yourself to him his cock and heart are basically battling for blood at this point. 

“Nngh- I’m gonna cum.”

You feel his warmth hit your ass, some landing on your back, and it makes you giggle, feeling a tad bit delirious at how ridiculously good that can feel. 

“Truce?” You look back at him, but he’s too enthralled by the way his cum paints your ass. 

“Mhm,” he musters after a second too long. 

“You’re such a boy.”

“And you have such a nice ass.”

He cleans you up with his shirt, helping you step inside your panties and even pulls them up himself. When he comes back up, standing in front of you, he kisses you. Not lustfully, not for the heat of the moment, but for something more. Something that says I’ve missed you. Your heart begins to transform into the odd shape it’d been in the past couple of days because all you can think of is how much you loved him right now. How much you’ve loved him, even amidst your anger and disappointment. You knew it, your body knew it, and now your heart was angry again. 

“Stay the night,” he says. “We’ll tell Mrs. Chae that you got here earlier. Or we’ll sneak you out through a window, I don’t know. But stay.”

Jungkook is just trying to be funny, but his words hurt. And you know they shouldn’t. You know you’d agreed to take things slow, to let him heal and test the waters but your decisions had made you selfish and right now, you had no way of controlling how much you wanted what you wanted. 

“I,” you pause, looking into his eyes. “I better go.”

“Why?”

“I should get home and shower and try to rest before tomorrow. Plus, I don’t have clothes or anything here and- I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Jungkook scans your eyes, trying to find the reason as to why your perfectly logical answer makes him feel so uneasy. But he can’t. He can’t find it, but he also can’t shake the feeling. 

“Okay.” He kisses you again. “I’m sorry for being a dick earlier. I let my exhaustion get the best of me.”

You smile at him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. I don’t think you’re a nepo baby.”

“Mmm,” he plays, making you laugh.

“Only a little. But I would never say it to your face.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

He nods, kissing you again. And in that moment, you wonder if you’d ever felt your heart break and fall at the same time. 

~

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere@drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie@shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie@hobipost @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses@kookiecrumb @casspirit0705 @eclectictacozinewobbler @tickledpink55@rjsmochii @dimcorner @miniiimee @vintageroses10 @amyniu @tessxblxckthorn@emotionaltrashcansblog @fangirl125reader @laurynne5 @thickgrinch@dianaxnyc @ruinsofangels @berryonasummerevening @taeslarityy@hisunshiine @preciouschiminie @ruclements @galaxyflab @jalexad@missseoulite @bangtannoonalvg @kootonins @lustremyg @kissme-ornot@92thk @everythingaboutfangirling @cakecobain @callmejimmeo @simp4tae@landl7xoxo @jungjoonie @sanfransolomitatm

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part four)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: jayce ghosts you when you need him most...so you have no choice but to lean on your best friend, ekko

pining, mental health mentions, neurodivergence, lmk if i missed any!

notes: ekko pic...omg... (you may think this series is going slow but i hate a slow burn ass fic that has them fucking chapter three don't pmo...also this evolved way past just jayce and i need to do ekko justice...bc some of yall don't, clocked it)

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist

⭑·ﾟﾟ·*:༅。.。༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅。.。༅:*·ﾟﾟ·⭑

“Do you know that girl Jayce is always with?” 

You arrived to class, ready to learn—but not about physics truthfully. You expected to cut corners, create friendly conversation about nothing, humor Viktor. When you got there, though, you had to ask him immediately. 

“Mel Medara?” Viktor looked to you with intrigue. “I know of her…but not much about her.” He leaned to his left, toward you, “Why?” 

“She’s just always…around? And we spoke to each other once but I was in a hurry…didn’t get much chance for a formal introduction.” 

“Are you certain that your intrigue is rooted purely in your inquisitive nature…or is there another reason you want to share?” 

“No-“ 

The sound of the door towards the front of the class opening interrupted you—it was perfect timing, actually. You would rather not have to unpack why Mel’s presence bothered you so much; truthfully it was an inexplicable feeling. Someone walked in, and you sat up straighter. 

“Hi, everyone! My name is Caitlyn, some of you may know me if you’ve ever been to the student resource center.” She smiled at you, exchanging a look of recognition. “I wanted to formally introduce myself… I will be joining as a TA. If you need anything and can’t get ahold of the professor, you can ask me your course related questions.” She moved to plug a laptop into the projector, “Here is my email for future reference.” She allowed some time for people to copy and take photos of her email down. “Unfortunately, today’s class will be canceled for an emergency…but I was instructed to relay to you that the quiz will still be held next week. It’ll be on vectors and calculating their angles. Be sure to refresh yourselves over the weekend and reach out to me should you have any questions.” People started to shuffle around her, getting up to leave class. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, guys. Feel free to use the space to get some other work done, or leave early.” 

“What the fuck, this was such a waste of my time.” You glanced back towards the board, making sure you got the email address right. “I have been so tired I could be sleeping right now.” 

“I’m sorry, I know you have a lot to deal with right now.” Viktor moved to the end of the aisle, grabbing his cane while slinging his bag over one shoulder. “At least you’ve been in tutoring. The quiz this week should be easier, right?” 

“That’s the thing,” you reached for your phone, “We’ve only just got to vectors so far. That was hard enough.” You hovered your finger over Jayce’s contact, never actually having messaged him. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you started texting him. 

hi jayce 

im sorry to bother you but i have my quiz next week and its gonna be on more stuff than we got to in our sessions

do you have any time to meet with me this weekend? if not thats ok, i can ask my friend

You paused, walking behind Viktor without looking up from the phone screen. 

i just need you

No, you shook your head, continuing the text. 

i just need your help

lmk

ty 

You grimaced at the text bubbles, hating how you split all of that up. You imagined his annoyed face, seeing all of these desperate messages. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t answer. You wouldn’t answer you. 

Viktor turned to you, “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, just frustrated and irritated and angry…thats all.” 

“That’s not a great combination.” 

You shook your head. Without trying, Viktor could always cheer you up. “Unrelated, but did Jayce ask you about what snacks I eat?” 

“He did,” he looked over at you, “It was odd. He said something about ‘reinforcements’ for your guys’ tutoring session.” 

“Oh...okay.” 

Viktor would call himself a lot of things, including perceptive. He didn’t say much, but he noticed the way your eyes lingered on one another when you first met. He was aware of the way you spoke about each other, especially when it was just Viktor around. He simply arched a brow at you, observing your concerned look at the phone screen. 

“Maybe you should take the weekend to rest and recuperate.” 

“I would…but the quiz-“ 

“Just for today. Wait for Jayce to get back to you. Then you can focus solely on next week.” He nodded reassuringly. 

He returned the nod, liking the sound of the plan. 

If only Jayce had bothered to answer. 

——————

“Hi.” 

“Come on in.” Ekko stepped back, letting you into his dorm. 

“I know it’s so last minute, but I know nothing about angles …figured you could help.” 

“I absolutely can help and would love to.” 

You sat your stuff down, getting comfortable as you’d done dozens of times before. You turned a corner, washing your hands at the sink before heading to grab a throw blanket from Ekko's bed. 

He knew your habits, calling from the living room area. “I have the heated blanket out here, too, if you wanna use that one. Know you get cold.” 

You exited his room, wearing the slippers you left under his bed. “Once again, you are the best…because I am, in fact, freezing my ass off right now.” 

“Want something to drink?” 

“Always.” 

The two of you were so in sync—it had to be that way after Powder. It became worse when Vi blamed you, suspecting one of you said something to her to make her disappear. Even though you know you did nothing wrong, there was still a self-hate there. That you couldn’t be there for a friend who needed you—so much so that she left entirely. You couldn’t do that to Ekko, he felt the same. 

“So,” you pulled out the folder Jayce had given you, a slight frown on your face at the thought of him completely ignoring you. “I have this paper, its like a cheat sheet for vectors…but besides what Jayce told me I don’t know what to do. The TA said we also have to calculate the angles…that makes no sense.” 

Ekko grabbed his notebook, flipping to a blank sheet of paper. He sketched a makeshift drawing—surprisingly good for how quick he’d done it. You were always in awe of his artistic talent. 

“Okay, so here…is a light pole.” He moved his finger to the other side of the paper, motioning toward a little drawing of you, smiling on the sidewalk. “This is you.” 

“Wait I’m so adorable here!”

Ekko chuckled, side eyeing you a bit, “Yeah…” 

You snatched the pencil—quickly drawing in a stick figure of him. “This is you!” 

“Is it really? Couldn’t tell.” 

“Hey-“ You swatted his arm, “You’re identical in my opinion.” 

“If having lines for a body is identical…then sure. But anyways…not the point of my sketch.” He grabbed the pencil back, “Thank you very much.” He flipped the pencil, using the eraser side to show you the details. “Okay…light pole…you.” He smirked, knowing you wanted to interject. Ekko raised his hand before you could, “This is the distance between you and the pole.” He made up and wrote a random number in feet under the bottom, the same for the pole. “This is the height of the pole. This is all you need to find every angle and distance measurement.” 

The look on your face was one of pure confusion. “How does that make any sense whatsoever, Ekko?” You moved to close the book. “Actually, lets just watch a movie instead. I’m prepared to fail at this point.” 

Ekko grabbed the book from you, reopening it. “Well, I’m not, so let’s get to work.” 

He continued, explaining as best he could. It was no use, though, it just wasn’t making sense to you. You nodded, trying to get him to move on to something else. 

“Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” You reached to hug Ekko, “You’re the best.” Pulling back, you plastered on a smile, hiding the discomfort. You didn’t feel ready whatsoever. Suddenly, Ekko grabbed your hands, pulling your attention to him. 

“You’re gonna do great.” He lingered on you for a while, “Promise.” 

The doubt you felt made you want to hole up and skip class altogether. Eventually, it developed into a disdain for Jayce. When you thought about it, he was the reason you were going to fail…again. 

——————

You decided against skipping class on Monday, but you were definitely opting out of that damn tutoring session. If Jayce can’t answer a simple few texts, how were you to know you even had a standing appointment anymore. It made you feel less than worthy of a proper notice. Above all, it just felt plain unprofessional…he’s an employee after all. 

Walking into class and into this quiz felt like a walk to your execution. Midterms were quickly approaching, which meant you only had so many quizzes you could fail before the majority of your final grade was tainted by bad ones. 

Viktor greeted you as normal, moving over to give you a seat. “Are you prepared?”

“As best as I can be.” 

The beauty of college was that you did assessments in class and got the results as soon as you submitted. Knowing you would get your score back in the next few minutes had your stomach churning. An image of Jayce, carefree and nonchalant, popped into your head. Nothing was making sense. Reluctantly, you started choosing random answers—disregarding the calculator altogether. Before you knew it, your grade, a 56%, reflected back to you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. You closed your laptop, getting up to leave class early. “I’ll see you later, Viktor.” 

Before he could reply, you were gone. Pushing through the door. You grabbed your phone from your pocket, texting Ekko. 

im done early, wanna meet rn?

He replied a few seconds later.

omw 

You picked up the pace, not out of urgency, but in pure frustration. Everything you’d been working towards wasn’t paying off. The time you spent not being with Ekko—with Jayce—was a waste. 

When you arrived to the dining hall, Ekko wasn’t there yet. You took the time to grab both you and him something to eat for lunch. Within minutes, Ekko showed up, that warm smile on his face as usual. He leaned into you, giving you a side hug while simultaneously grabbing the food from you. 

“How was the quiz?” You didnt reply, simply giving him a side eye. “Damn…I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault…but thanks for helping.” 

He’d seamlessly changed the subject—allowing the two of you to talk without the reminder of your failure that day. You didn’t acknowledge how fast the time had passed and truthfully, didn’t care. You hadn’t planned to show up to tutoring…much less give Jayce any notice. 

To your right, you suddenly heard a voice, interrupting you and Ekko. 

“Hey.” You looked over, seeing Jayce standing there. “I figured you’d be here.” He looks between you and Ekko, hands now on his hips. “You missed our session.” 

You raised a brow and crossed your arms over your chest. “Wow, really? Didn’t know we were still having those.” 

“Of course we are, you have those quizzes-“ 

“Had.” You interrupted, “There was one today. You’d know if you checked your phone.” 

He looked down, embarrassed at his phone sitting in his front pant pocket. 

“I’m sorry- I know this is important for you but something came up.” 

“What? What came up?” Ekko spoke up. 

Jayce turned to look at him, finally acknowledging his presence again. “Something personal,” he looked away, focusing back on you. “Can we talk alone?” 

Ekko spoke again, “Say what you need to say.” 

“I would, but I’m not talking to you.” 

A screech of Ekko’s chair resounded in the dining hall. You reached a hand out, gesturing toward them. “Ekko, please.” 

Ekko looked over to you and inhaled a deep breath. He was looking at Jayce again, but kept talking to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? Call if you need anything.” 

“Wait- Ekko-” 

Jayce gulped, sitting down across from you. You watched Ekko leave as Jayce took his seat, hands resting on the table. 

“What the hell is your problem? You ghost me then show up here with an attitude? I should be pissed…I am pissed! I failed because of you!” 

He nodded, knowing the weight of his being inaccessible. “I’m sorry.” 

“You said that.” 

“There was a personal thing, a family emergency-“

“And yet, your phone is still in working condition.”

You didn’t want to be insensitive, but it takes seconds to reply. A simple message would’ve sufficed. 

“My mom’s sick.” You froze—remembering that it’s just him and his mom. “She was in the hospital all weekend…it still hasn’t gotten better.” He paused, looking at you now, “I thought I owed you to at least show up today.” 

“Well…now I feel like shit.” 

“Don’t. Not your fault I didn’t tell you what was happening.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Hope she gets better?” 

You reached over, placing a comforting hand on his, “I can do that.” 

He let you linger there, before pulling back. “How about this week, since I messed up so bad with scheduling…we meet as much as you’d like just so you can be ready. Shit, it can be every day if you want.” He nodded, “We’re gonna make sure you pass this class if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“Are you sure? I can be pretty high maintenance…” 

He leaned back in his chair, a nonchalant yet playful look on his face, “Not worried about it.” 

“Okay.” You shrugged, “If you say so.” 

The pair of you exchanged smiles, not at all prepared for how tumultuous this week would be. 

part five

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses

[fourthwingfanclub]

Did anyone catch this?

**Onyx Storm Spoilers*

Ok so I am unwell after finishing Onyx Storm! I absolutely loved it and I feel like there is so much to unpack! This is not really a theory but I noticed three separate occasions Xaden reading Violets mind but at such an advanced level. All three times Violets train of thought gets interrupted and pulled away from her questioning his signet even more. I don't know if this was a nod to show him becoming more powerful, or if this is an easter egg for something else to come! I do think this was intentional (as we all know Rebecca loves to do) and that there's some meaning behind it I just am unsure what exactly.

Here are the examples!

“Yeah, I picked up on that.” His brow knits as he nods. “I picked up on a lot of things he was thinking.” I blink. “That’s not how your signet—” “Did you love him?” he repeats.

Yarros, Rebecca. Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3) (pp. 230-231). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

It feels so right to be in his arms. “Because it is,” he says, holding me tighter. I blink and pull back to look at him. “I didn’t say that out loud.” His brow furrows. “Then you must have thought it down the bond, because I wasn’t pushing into your intentions.” My heart races for a different reason. No. But…maybe. “Or your signet is growing.” His eyes flare. Someone knocks at the door.

Yarros, Rebecca. Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3) (p. 272). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

“I missed this.” I lean into the bond, like I can somehow burrow into it if I try hard enough, bury myself in us. In terms of intimacy, this is even better— “Than sex,” Xaden finishes, and I find myself nodding instead of lecturing him about reading my intentions, but that wasn’t… My eyes widen. Has he been honing his signet like Ridoc? “News from home?” Bodhi asks behind us, and I startle.

Yarros, Rebecca. Onyx Storm (The Empyrean Book 3) (p. 359). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Youngest curtis sister reader who has asthma and is always loosing or leaving her inhaler behind? She ends up having an asthma attack at the lot and the gang has to scramble to get her inhaler? Protective brothers maybe 🥺

Thank you!

Summary: You have an asthma attack on the beach with the gang Warnings: asthma attack Author's Note: none You have thouroughly prepared for the beach trip. Everything you needed was in your basket, food, drinks, napkins, activities. You let the breeze flow through your hair, happily. "Is that everything?" Darry said, walking back from the car after unpacking. "Yeah, except for your dumb first-aid kit," You winked and smiled at him. "It's not dumb, Y/n, it's very important. Someone could get hurt." He sternly replied. You rolled your eyes, "That's like a million to 1 chance, Dare,". "Too much of a chance for me," He said, turning back. "Aww, Darry, lay off on her man!" Soda, your brother, yelled. A chorus of agreements rose from the rest of the gang. Darry shook his head, not willing to argue, and sat down on the picnic blanket you placed down. "Have your inhaler?" He mumbled, you pressed your lips together. "Sure," You lied, he quirked his brow at you but said nothing. Suddenly, a handful of sand hit your face. You looked up, scornfully, Two-Bit was laughing and running. "Get your sorry ass back here!" You yelled, running after him, the rest of the gang laughed in amusement. You spent about 10 minutes chasing Two, going in a full circle back to the picnic blanket before you tackled him. You laughed breathlessly and reached for a soda to quench your thirst. Your chest tightened with every sip and an all too familiar feeling bubbled inside you. Your breath shortened and you immedietly grasped onto Darry. "What's wrong?" He asked, he watched redness creep up your cheeks, your breath becoming more shallow and immedietly realized what it was. "Shit...where's your inhaler?" He asked, scrambling to look through your picnic basket. You wheezed and bit your lip sheepishly before pointing at the car. Darry cussed quietly. "Pony, take care of your sister!" He yelled and got up and ran to the car. Ponyboy came rushing to your side to see what was wrong, and not long after everyone else followed. Sodapop's hand held yours as you struggled to breath, Pony's placed gently on your back to soothe you as the rest of the gang looked over you nervously. Darry came running back with his first aid kit in hand. He unzipped it hastily, things falling out left and right and handed you your inhaler. The first few breaths was like a icy stab at your throat and lungs. "Jeez" You said, after catching your breath, unable to muster anything else up. Darry sat next to you, making sure you were feeling ok. You laid back against the blanket. "Should've brought the first aid kit." You muttered, staring up at the sky. Two let out a light chuckle and patted your head. "Feelin' better?" Johnny asked, squatting down near you. You managed a simple nod and the gang breathed a collective sigh of relief.

[mr-laveau]

I have a rare moment to actually post a ramble on Tumblr so indulge me for a second while I tap a few signs add some reminders to people.

The audio RP space is centred on a lot of white male voices. That's not controversial, that's a fact.

Making designs of characters as POC is not a dispute against other white designs. It's adding representation and diversification to the space. Let people have some fun.

There are POC creators in the space. go check them out. Seek them out. Look for them. They exist and you'll be surprised what they have to show you.

Calling shit out in fandom is encouraged because it does need to be called out. You're here as a person of colour and you deserve to be treated with respect here.

It's ok to admit you're not as educated as you should be, don't worry, you can change that. Just do the work and don't expect POC to outright give you that info when they're dealing with shit. That's work you have to do on your own.

Ignoring shit that should be called out by avoiding talking about it when it's being discussed is equal to being complicit in that shit.

POC are allowed to talk about shit that seems weird, we're allowed to let y'all know when something seems unfair or suspicious. We're allowed to approach things with emotions because we're people who are often pushed to our limits on these subjects. Get comfortable in your discomfort in unpacking your privelege because we already have been doing that for a while under far worse.

Asking for rep and making it yourself is valid because these folks will not give it to you, it's unfair but it's what it is.

Finally:

Do not let them tell you how to act as a black person or as a person of colour. Do not let them think that they can get away with shit. Do not coddle them. They should know better. Do not let them convince you to be their token, their teacher, their magical negro, their nanny or whatever have you. You're a person. You have agency. Do not le them take that from you.

Anyways, happy black history month, collect your reparations from your friends because racism is universal and stay thriving out there y'all

[alexwilltellyouthings]

Payneland/DBDA fanfic recs

I'm celebrating 200 fics (yes I keep count, I'm a nerd) and over a million words read in these 3 months of dbd 🎉🎉🎉

SO here are a few of my all time favorites (trying not to mention too many of the already very known ones):

Joi de Vivre, by olympus_mons

my very first fave, explores Edwin's longing so so well. And the ending, bittersweet and so loving, uGH I LOVE THEM

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wanted to be something (you couldn't put down), by Ink_stained_quills

also one of the firsts, so very well written and great feelings realization with a bit of misunderstanding to make it sweet

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Of a youth who loves me, by Aliquis

ok yes this series is pretty famous but I can't just not mention it. it's so sweet and tender and aAAAAAAAaaa. just go read it. just go.

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job officially jobbed, by vernesatlas

e-rated, so it's +18 only! canon divergent and really just the right fic to follow up the handjob comment. as simple as that. I needed it deep in my bones and it's so fucking hot

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The Most Tender Place In My Heart, by coloursflyaway

also famous, although not as much as some of the others by the same author, but this is the best one in my opinion. the way edwin is open about his feelings here, the memories painting the whole picture, the way you can see charles working things out, it's so beautiful

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dulcet tones of broken bones, by gremlininthemachine

this one HURTS. it's a lot of angst, let me tell you that. it feels very true to Edwin's character. mind the tags if there's anything you feel is too much for you. I cried several times. it was amazing. the ending is hopeful, but not entirely conclusive, as there might be a sequel coming on. ALSO it's not really payneland centric, but anyway it was maybe the most emotional any fic has made me in a long time

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the ghost of the past that you live in, by ObsessedWithFandom

EXPLORING CHARLES' BISEXUALITY YESSSS I wanted something like this so much! really liked how it was played out, how each experience puzzled itself into his identity. the OCs are great. really lovely all around

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Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup?, by RoseGanymede95

this is also a series and I still haven't read the unfinished ones, but the first two are amazing. those are case fics through and through, pre-canon, and I just LOVE their dynamic even if not explicitly romantic, and also the cases themselves and how Charles acts and UGH EVERYTHING, really highly recommend these

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Nothing Left to Hide, by RoseGanymede95

listen this person is incredible what can I say. this is a very needed unpacking of hell's aftermath, mostly about how Charles is doing after seeing what he saw. it's a big hurt/comfort on this one. big on both. ugh so good

Well there's that. I hope you enjoy these as much as I did!

[ficsbyrike]

「🌃」 mc-ish mutuals •••

Wanderer on the subway on my way back from work… sorry y’all but I clocked out 14 minutes ago this one’s between you and god

#I need a break #And SO much sleep

(3 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 raf-tumblrsta reblogged •••

「🐥」 raf-tumblrsta mutuals •••

i looooove playing speed draw on roblox and making kids cry when i win every single round its my favorite pastime fr fr

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「🖼️」 rafayels-paint-water follow •••

rafayel when are we getting a new painting 🙏🙏🙏 your fans are STARVING 😭😭

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「🐥」 raf-tumblrsta mutuals •••

girl 😭😭 soon i promise

#everytime i try to do something my mind wanders to roblox #picking up a brush? #no roblox #making sketches? #no roblox #life is roblox

(23 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

「🐺」 thing2 •••

WHAT?? psychopath behavior get her ass nonny!!!

#wait are you talking about sylus from the n109 zone LOL #tbh i see it he’s kinda… #🐦‍⬛ anon

(12 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 lukiepookie reblogged •••

「🦊」 lukiepookie follow •••

I am going to drink one gallon of unprocessed raw milk rn

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「🩻」 dr-zayne-phd •••

I cannot tell if you are joking or not, but I would strongly advise you not to do this. Drinking raw milk can lead to a myriad of health consequences like stomach cramping and vomiting. In more server cases it can even lead to kidney failure, paralysis, or death.

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「🦊」 lukiepookie follow •••

And I will drink another

(1,002 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 otherworldly reblogged savannas-fotos •••

「📹」 savannas-fotos follow •••

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「💡」 otherworldy mutuals •••

The Earth… is really beautiful ＜(“0”)＞

(2,674 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 dramaqueenie reblogged explosively- ••• handsome

「🍎」 explosively-handsome •••

Ok this is going to sound insane but hear me out. I want to confess to my childhood best friend that I have feeling for her, the only problem is that she thinks I’ve been dead for the past 7 months. How do I approach this situation??

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「���」 dramaqueenie follow •••

ok… there’s a lot to unpack here

(58 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 pretty-simple-aesthetic reblogged •••

「🎀」 pretty-simple-aesthetic follow •••

if you genuinely support sylus or think he’s hot,,, block me and i’m being so serious. he’s literally a mass murderer, a wanted criminal, and the reason why the n109 zone is so dangerous. if you cannot set aside your attraction to him and realize that he’s a terrible person, i do not want you to interact with any of my posts. period.

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「🍞」 bananabreadwhore follow •••

Girlie does not realize that the mainstream media brainwashed her so bad this generation is so cooked man how is no one doing research before posting things online 😭😭

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「🎀」 pretty-simple-aesthetic follow •••

girlie does not realize that i am standing outside her house with a loaded shotgun

#and what does media literacy have anything to do with this??? #i’ve had a family member die in the n109 zone you cannot be telling me anything!!!! #i swear this is just some middle aged divorced wine mom who simps for this freak #someone come pick up grandma over here

(30 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 raf-tumblrsta reblogged davinki- ••• appreciation

「🎨」 davinki-appreciation follow •••

Head of a Woman (1500-10) by Leonardo da Vinci

#da vinki 😧😧🫵🫵 #raf-rebloggz #not my art

(5,078 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 lukiepookie reblogged •••

「🦊」 lukiepookie follow •••

I am going to drink one gallon of unprocessed raw milk rn

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「🐺」 thing2 •••

why are we drinking raw milk gang?

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「🦊」 lukiepookie follow •••

Thorsty 😔😔

(1,002 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

🔁 bananabreadwhore reblogged ••• pretty-simple-aesthetic

「🎀」 pretty-simple-aesthetic follow •••

if you genuinely support sylus or think he’s hot,,, block me and i’m being so serious. he’s literally a mass murderer, a wanted criminal, and the reason why the n109 zone is so dangerous. if you cannot set aside your attraction to him and realize that he’s a terrible person, i do not want you to interact with any of my posts. period.

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「🍞」 bananabreadwhore follow •••

Girlie does not realize that the mainstream media brainwashed her so bad this generation is so cooked man how is no one doing research before posting things online 😭😭

#How are you going to be this chronically online and still be this uninformed #Media literacy is so dead man #These people are stuck in their twitter echo chambers and FREAK OUT when a different opinion is presented that doesn’t match their agenda #+ sylus is hot and if you don’t think so there is something wrong w/ you #bananabreadwhore.txt

(30 notes) ⤴️ 💬 🔁 ❤️

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 6 - "Who did this?" Childhood friends Steddie, delayed because I'm still sick and sleeping most of the time, sorry. I will catch up eventually.

When he was eight years old, someone up there sent Steve Harrington a miracle. It was't flashy, shiny or anything, so it took him a while to recognize that it was indeed a miracle. It came in form of a boy about a year older than him, with a mop of wavy dark hair, large brown eyes and even larger smile - Eddie Munson.

Steve was doing well at that time, or so everyone kept telling him. His parents had the money to buy a big house, get him a babysitter when needed, send him to all the activities he wanted - only they were rarely with him. But that was fine. When you have everything that so many others don't, you can hardly complain about something as mundane as feeling lonely.

God, Steve felt lonely.

He was the rich kid, the one with the "nothing is ever good enough" parents, and that rarely won him any friends. They all expected him to organize parties, to get a bouncy castle for the afternoon, to bring a cake whenever they asked, but it felt like they never really wanted him. Steve found the feeling painfully familiar.

It took one gentle rejection of another set of requests and demands, a suggestion that maybe they could just go and check out the fair that was just unpacking nearby, and everyone lost interest in him, called him cheap. Unpacking meant that it wasn't open yet, and that Steve wouldn't pay for the rides. He was just leaving the playground when he heard a high, loud voice call out to him. "Hey, hey you! Yellow t-shirt! Wait!"

Steve stopped and turned around, glaring at the skinny kid rushing to him. "Yellow t-shirt?" he asked, wondering if he should be insulted.

"Well, duh. I don't know your name yet. I'm new here." The boy stopped in front of him with a wide smile plastered on his face. "But now I will. I'm Eddie, I moved in with my uncle a week ago. You are?"

Steve offered him his hand. "Steve. So, uh..."

Eddie laughed and shook his hand. "Hi, Steve. Now, did these sharp ears hear something about a fair?"

Something lifted in Steve's chest, something he never knew weighed so heavily on him. "Sure did!"

His new friend - only friend - beamed at him. "Then lead the way! "

..

It was after they properly inspected all the attractions that the fair had to offer that Steve noticed a bruise on Eddie's arm. It was pure chance - he and Eddie were swinging on a tree branch and Eddie's sleeve fell back, revealing a nasty bruise. It must have been older, but the size and discoloration were still enough to make Steve concerned.

"Who did this?" he asked, pointing at Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie seemed to freeze mid-swing. He dropped to the ground and pulled the sleeve back. "No one. I fell, I'm clumsy like that." He spoke fast and with that carefree smile, but Steve's gut had a mind of its own.

"Eddie. You don't get bruises like that from falling," he said and despite Eddie's protests, leaned in to examine the injury. He'd seen some like that, on kids whose parents tended to fight a lot, or at least according to his parents, "had a nasty violent streak". He always tried not to stare, but he knew what they meant. "It looks...looks like a punch. Did someone do that to you?"

The smile faltered and Eddie dropped his gaze to the ground. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, as if he was deciding whether to run. "Uh...yeah. I mean. It's probably not a secret, it's just that it used to? I mean," he added, noticing the confused look on Steve's face, "my dad tends to get angry a lot when things don't go well. He lost his job, mom left us...so yeah. That's also why I'm here, in a new town, new school...my uncle lives here. I'm staying with him."

"Is he..." wavered Steve, "...is he angry too? Will you be OK?"

If there were any tears in Eddie's eyes, they were gone in an instant. "Wayne? Oh no. He's great. He's a bit scary, but he's so nice. You know, he gave me his own bed. I told him I don't need it, but he didn't care. And he gave me some really cool books! You'll never have to worry about Wayne. Or me. That's a promise."

..

Steve didn't think Eddie meant to lie. "You'll never have to worry about me" sounded wonderful, but it never worked that way with them. And Steve found himself asking Eddie the same question over and over.

"Who did this?" he asked as Eddie came to the school with his head shaved, gently coaxing an answer from Eddie that his classmates thought cutting his hair would be a great prank. "It'll grow back even thicker, just you wait," he snickered, but Steve could see his restless fingers reaching out for the strands that were no longer there.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was helping Eddie fish out his school supplies from the pool. Eddie just laughed it off, saying he'd pissed of a bunch of seniors by not lying to their girlfriends about cheating.

"Who did this?" he asked as he saw Eddie with a black eye and his locker painted over with the word FAGGOT. Eddie shrugged and slammed the locker shut. "It's not like they're wrong," he whispered to Steve. When Steve turned up at his and Wayne's trailer in the evening, Eddie hugged him tight, as if he thought he'd never see Steve again over that admission. As if.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was picking Eddie up after his roleplaying club, Hellfire, and seeing that someone cut Eddie's tires. Eddie just laughed and explained that apparently dragons and adventures were the work of Satan now.

"Who did this?" he asked in marvel as he saw Eddie's first tattoo. It was so crooked and imperfect, but so much like Eddie. When he admitted it was his own work, Steve asked for one of his own.

"Who did this?" he laughed as he kissed Eddie for the first time and found a small braid hidden in his mane of hair. When Eddie admitted he made that one himself, that he gets restless sometimes, Steve asked to teach him. So he could always braid Eddie's hair for him when they eventually moved away together.

But maybe the answers didn't matter.

The answer to "who did this?" didn't matter to the mob that gathered after Chrissy Cunningham's death. They decided they knew already.

"Who did this?" didn't matter when Steve raced to the hospital with badly injured Eddie in his car, the wound on his head bleeding onto Steve's pristine window.

"Who did this?" lost its importance when Wayne and Steve waited for the dreaded news.

And knowing who did it certainly doesn't help Steve now, as he and Wayne are picking up a headstone for Eddie's final resting place.

[fellshish]

I understand that. Michael Sheen is attractive but the more I think about Aziraphale, the more he pisses me off because the worst thing he could have said was turning Crowley back into an angel. Crowley hates heaven and doesn’t wanna be an angel. Why does Aziraphale refuse to admit that both heaven and hell suck and why does he say that Crowley is a bad guy when he isn’t one?

Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were calling Michael Sheen unattractive :))

Ok, a lot to unpack here. But i love thinking about good omens so thank you for asking.

First of all, Aziraphale didn’t say Crowley is a bad guy. Crowley said that they asked him back to hell but he’s “not rejoining their team” and he said no. To that aziraphale replied “obviously you said no to hell, you’re the bad guys”. Not the most diplomatic way to say it, he should have said “they’re the bad guys”, but beneath the words is this: he thinks it’s logical crowley said no because he doesn’t think crowley is a right fit for hell. Because crowley is good.

Does he think crowley is right for heaven, then? Not as is — but perhaps as it could be. They could make it better, together. Crowley would be safe there: no longer hated and hunted by heaven or hell. Under aziraphale’s protection. The metatron made it very clear he knew what him and crowley had been up to for all those years, and there was a veiled threat in that, in my opinion.

Now aziraphale & heaven — it’s complicated. Aziraphale doesn’t like thinking about it. He likes living in blissful ignorance enjoying human delights such as books and theater. The last thing he wants to do is work. And over the past 6,000 years he has learned to see shades of grey but he’s also been unable to make real changes. And overall he considers heaven to be better than hell, still. There’s no real alternative.

His choice at the end of season 2, to me, makes a lot of sense. Let’s put it this way. Let’s say you’ve been working for a big charity for the longest time. There are flaws in the company: not everyone who deserves it, is getting help. The charity is being run really badly.

Then, they offer you a new position. You can run the charity. You can change it, but it’ll be hard and you’ll have to give up your current life. Your best friend says: we should just run off together and be happy together. Could you turn your back on the charity? Knowing you could’ve made a difference — or at least tried? That there are people who need help, that aren’t getting it, because you made a selfish choice?

Aziraphale and crowley both have their own flaws in their reasoning, their own motivations. I don’t think aziraphale is more wrong for choosing heaven than crowley is wrong for wanting to be cut off from everything.

The truth is this: the second coming is being put into motion. Aziraphale and crowley are humanity’s only hope.

Aziraphale thinks he can make a difference by influencing heaven. I don’t think he’s mean, or out of character, for that choice.

I do think he should tell crowley he loves him though.