#one minute I was fifteen swearing I’d never be cringe again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvknow · 4 years ago

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anything for you | lee felix

genre: rich kid!felix x reader | rich kid au ; friends-to-lovers au ; food ; swearing warning ; alcohol warning ; drinking and driving warning ; abuse warning summary: felix’s family owns the largest restaurant franchise in the country and your family works under them. you two have spent your entire lives together and somehow you’ve turned into mini versions of your parents with a boss and secretary type relationship. it wasn’t until last year on his birthday when he tells you he loves you while drunk that your friendship dynamic dramatically changes, and it’s not for the better when he pretends it never happened. wc: 11.2k

You and Felix were two peas in a pod.

From the moment you two were born until your last months at university, you were tied in this relationship for life. Were you two dating? No, of course not! Were you two friends? Well…

Your friendship with Felix was complicated because it was kind of… bought. There was no way to put it lightly, that was simply the origin of your relationship. It all started when Felix’s rich ass CEO of a Dad hired your Dad to be his right hand man in all decision-making aspects of the company he ran. You thought of your Dad as a Chancellor to the King, which I mean was still a high position in the company, but your peers around you thought otherwise.

You attended all the same schools as Felix (thanks to his Dad’s connections), attended the same after school activities (also thanks to his Dad), and even attended the same overseas summer camps (thanks to his Dad who owned the plane that flew everyone). Even then, after being on the same level as Felix for over twenty years, everyone saw you as Felix’s Secretary who waited on his every word. As a kid, your Dad was transparent about how all the privileges you had were all because of Felix and his family and that you should always treat them with respect. And as an impressionable kid, of course you took that a little too literal.

Your Secretary title started in Pre-School when Felix was crying because he forgot his toy to take a nap with at home, so you offered yours. Those small, kind gestures turned into getting him drinks and snacks whenever he wanted, to tutoring him in subjects he had trouble with, to completing essays he didn’t want to complete, and you did it all without ever complaining.

So despite receiving all the same opportunities as all the other inheritance-dependent kids, you were the bottom-feeder of your entire grade.

“_____ ~” Felix whined while entering your apartment. “I’m hungry.”

You exited your bedroom fixing the last couple buttons on your dress shirt. You’re not surprised to see him in the least, as you’re used to him coming in whenever he pleased since he owned the other copy of the apartment keys. “I have food in the fridge.”

“I don’t want a huge meal before the shareholders meeting.”

“You know where the snacks are, what are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted to ask just in case.”

The excited boy wasted no time invading your pantry and grabbing a handful of fruit snack packets, some he stuffed in his dress pants pockets and some he immediately tore open. He made himself home by flopping on your couch, also known as his second bed, and scrolled through his rotation of dating apps while waiting for his dear friend to finish getting ready.

“Don’t lie down like that!” you nagged. “Your pants are going to get all wrinkly!”

Rolling his eyes, Felix sat up straight, to which you immediately fixed random strands of hair that strayed away from the rest of his slick-back style.

“What are you, my mom?” he mumbled, swatting away your hands.

“Don’t you know how important this meeting is? We could land our internships today.”

“Do you really think I need to worry about that?”

“I guess not… You don’t even want to try out another company for a semester? Scope out your partners?”

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll look so shady! You probably shouldn’t be thinking about doing that either.”

A small pout emerges from your lips. As much as you owe the Lees and their company your life, you’d like to think the possibility of freeing yourself from their financial shackles was high, even if it was for just one semester. But Felix was right - in order to avoid any spying controversies, it was probably best to not even think about another company. Basically, you were trapped with this company for life.

“Ready to go?” Felix broke the silence. He was the first to leave your couch and head for the door without even bothering to wait for you to catch up.

When you finished locking your front door, you caught Felix looking at your business casual outfit a little too closely. If you weren’t so quick with your reflexes, you would have bumped right into his oddly bulging chest (has he been working out lately?). Still, his foxy eyes scanned you up and down, slowly and intimately.

“Wh-What are you doing…?” you asked nervously. “Is my outfit too bland? It’s ugly, isn’t it? I can’t really glam up for a business meeting, you know.”

“Chill, why are you being hella defensive right now?” he teased. “No, you look good. Honest. Good enough to stand next to me, at least. I wouldn’t stand next to Father if I were you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You kind of fit that secretary stereotype you like so much. Especially since you’ll be following me around all day.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, ok,” Felix tossed you the keys to his expensive black sports car, to which you were also covered as a driver by his insurance. For someone who owns several expensive cars, he sure hates driving them. “Shotty.”

“There’s only two of us…”

The car ride was mostly silent other than the deafening rap music that blared through the subwoofers. Felix could tell you were nervous depending on how talkative you were. If you were blabbering on about how you looked or something arbitrary for at least fifteen minutes, you were probably nervous about a date or maybe a quiz that was coming up in class. If you were silent, he knew that the matter was much more serious. Silence meant that you believed no matter what you did to change yourself or improve upon past mistakes, there was no hope and that whatever was coming was absolute.

“Don’t worry about today,” he reassured after reading your mind. “It’s not like you’re talking in front of hundreds of people at the meeting.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to this type of crowd.”

“Are you not? We have class with those good-for-nothing kids of theirs, it’s like the same thing!”

“It is definitely not the same thing! These people have power and they’re smart! The uni is full of idiots who got in with bribes!”

“And you don’t think our shareholders do their fair share of bribing?”

“Of course they do, and that’s what makes them even more terrifying, Felix! They have that kind of power to either buy my entire life or buy out and make sure I never see anyone’s faces again!”

“You say it like you haven’t been shackled to me for over twenty years.”

“That’s different ok, I was a commodity, I couldn’t change anything as a fetus.”

“And now you think you can?”

“I mean, I’d like to think so. Am I crazy?”

“No, not at all.” Gingerly, Felix patted your head like a little kid. “You’ll be just fine ~ I can even introduce you to the ones you want to talk to if you’d like.”

“That’s ok. I’d like to try on my own.”

He understood completely. How he wished he could have that little bit of freedom… To even think about leaving the company behind to work for someone else was blasphemous.

The shareholders meeting was a social event like no other - like, it might as well be a ball with all the people attending and all the press surrounding and being in the building. You pulled up to the normal valet guy who only chuckled at your shocked expression. Felix, on the other hand, wasn’t all that surprised and was rather annoyed at how something as simple as a meeting was getting this much attention.

After dodging all of the press and making it through several thresholds to reach the conference room, you helped Felix prepare for his opening speech.

“You seem more nervous than me,” Felix teased while you quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“I'm nervous all the damn time.”

“Well, can you quit it before I start sweating? This outfit was expensive. Do you have my speech?”

Searching through your trusty bottomless bag that held everything from tips from your part-time at the cafe to snacks in case Felix got whiny, you pulled out a medium-sized notepad with his opening speech written on it.

“Really, _____? Hand written?”

“My sentences sound better when I write them down instead of typing it!”

“At least it’s legible.” Felix’s Dad announced over the microphone on stage that the meeting will begin shortly. He saw the both of you standing off to the side and waved happily, to which you both could only wave back. The boy in front of you sighed, and it’s the first time today he seemed only slightly nervous. He turned to you. “How do I look?”

How did the most handsome boy you’ve come to know look this morning? Dressed in navy with a white button-down, ears bejeweled and shining in the bright lights, his eyes and his smile sly and foxy, so of course to you he was the only one in the room who you had your eyes on because no one else could ever compare. That’s how it’s always been.

Gentle fingers startled Felix, only for him to realize you were fixing his monogrammed silver tie clip. “You look just fine.”

“‘Just fine’? Not the sexiest man in the entire world?”

“I’d hardly call you a man…”

“Welcome to the YONGBOK Inc. Shareholders Meeting,” greeted your Father while on stage. Felix noticeably cringed at the sound of his birth name slash company name. “We will begin this meeting with an opening remark from Mr. Lee’s son, Felix.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whispered with two thumbs up.

A loud round of applause erupted from the audience filled with press and shareholders. Lee Felix was named one of the most influential people under twenty-five this year and has consistently landed spots on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list so yes, Felix was always highly anticipated as a guest to fashion shows and charity balls and even more so as a speaker for his future company. Though it was only less than a minute ago he was jittery with nerves, the second he stepped on stage in front of the podium, it was as if he was born to be a public speaker.

“Good morning, honored guests,” he began in his deep voice that startled unfamiliar guests..

His speech - your speech - wasn’t that long, since it was a simple welcome to all the rich people who gave the Lee’s their money. Regardless of its length, Felix somehow drifted his gaze towards the right where you stood. You, who always stood by him and was his friend through everything, stood at the sidelines giving him your unwavering support, even through this minor milestone. Despite this huge corporate building being the last place you want to be, still, you were here by his side.

In your eyes though, it looked like maybe his stage fright was worse than you expected, so you gave him two thumbs up again for reassurance. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because he seemed totally fine, in fact his execution was quite flawless, it was just… Why wouldn’t he look into the cameras? The stage lights that shined on him showcased the bright grin he gave when he saw how confused you looked.

“We will continue to work hard together so that YONGBOK will continue being the best restaurant franchise in the country,” was the motto of the company and how Felix ended the speech. With a deep bow and a wink for fan service, he exited the stage.

He fell into your arms clutching his heart. “Ugh, that was so scary!”

“You did fine,” you mumbled, quickly pushing him off before any cameras caught you. Still, he swung an arm around your shoulders unapologetically.

“All right, let’s ditch this popsicle stand.”

“You know we can’t do that or our Fathers will kill us.”

“You think I haven’t died and resurrected like a rising phoenix dozens of times?”

“Leave if you want, it’s your suicide.”

“You won’t come with me?” the handsome boy pouted.

“I’m not actually your secretary, you know.”

“I know, but I’ll be so lonely… Did you at least bring a snack?”

Felix decided to stay when he realized you weren’t kidding about wanting to sit through the entire meeting. Your right ear was focused on all the questions shareholders and the press had while your left ear focused on the child you were babysitting playing with the chocolate bar wrapper. Eventually the conflicting sounds merged into one when the lack of caffeine in your veins made it hard to concentrate for long hours.

“Bet you wished you left with me a couple hours ago, huh?” Felix teased once everything was over.

“Whatever. The important thing is that it’s over now.”

“Are you going to go talk with some of the shareholders?”

That was the original plan - to land an internship at a different company and slowly but surely escape the bubble that is the Lees’ world, but what was the use of making life harder on yourself if you’ll just be seen as a spy? What was the use in anything anymore when your life was determined the moment you came out of the womb?

You shook your head tiredly. “Nah, I think I’ll save that for another time.”

Felix linked his arm with yours like you were the gentleman and he was the lady. The warmth of another body so close to yours was only familiar when it was his, and you wished your body was unbiased and rejected anything within a five feet radius. “You wanna hang out with me that much?”

“Who said I’m hanging out with you? I’m driving you home.”

“No come on, let’s hang out today! Neither of us have class and when was the last time it was just the two of us?”

By ‘just the two of you’, he meant when was the last time you and him hung out without any business involved? When was the last time you and him had pizza together after a long week of midterms and studying, or the last time he picked you up from your part time at the cafe to have a cup of coffee, or the last time you talked about anything other than being ordered around by the Prince himself?

The answer to that question was last year on his birthday when he got too wasted and you didn’t have the strength to carry him up his multi-story mansion, so instead you carried him up to your humble apartment and let him crash on your bed the whole weekend (insisted upon staying the whole weekend because all the puking made him ‘weak’ and ‘dehydrated’).

Truth be told, you loved Felix’s company, whether it was business or personal. The hesitation was because you wondered if he truly felt the same way, especially since he never spoke about that night on his birthday. That night, a lot was said, but nothing was ever confirmed, so you were left in limbo while Felix managed to live in ignorant bliss.

It was better this way.

“I guess it’s been a while…” you trailed off.

“It’s been forever, love. Can we go to your cafe? I’m really craving the strawberry milk latte thing.”

“Anything for you, Felix ~”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Felix,” the haunting voice of his father echoed from behind. “Come here for a second -”

“That’s our cue!” The wild blond took you by the hand and sprinted out the conference room doors before his dad could catch him.

As if already predicting the time of events for the shareholders meeting, the valet already had the sports call pulled up and tossed you the keys for maximum efficiency.

“Hey, you’re hand-eye coordination is getting better!” Felix teased while hopping in the front seat.

“And your fear for your dad is not.”

“It’s not fear, it’s pure distaste. Completely different.”

The short ride to your cafe was anything but quiet as Felix filled you in on his most recent Tinder match. The story was something along the lines of ‘she was hot, but kind of stupid’, and you weren’t exactly sure what came after that because, well, you didn’t care. Hearing about the guy you were in love with slash your childhood friend slash the guy whose family bought out your family’s current dating app situation wasn’t exactly the most ideal setting, but hey, it beats sitting in that conference room for any longer.

The cafe was surprisingly not as busy around lunch time, even though it was Friday. Other than a few customers, the only other person in the cafe was your coworker Wooyoung who was busy dramatically singing to whatever drama OST was playing over the intercom.

“Are you making it?” Felix asked, referring to his strawberry latte.

“I wasn’t planning on it since I’m not working.”

“... Can you?”

“Are you serious!?”

“The last time someone other than you made my drinks, they tasted watery!”

He wasn’t wrong - a lot of the baristas here were a bit lazy with the job. You and Wooyoung were among the very few who genuinely cared for the cafe, the menu, and its customers. You supposed you could take a moment to step away from Felix - you sort of missed the barista behind the counter, anyways.

“Sit tight,” you told Felix, who obeyed happily at his favorite table.

Wooyoung with his cutesy cheeky grin chucked one of the ugly brown work aprons right at your face, to which you only whipped right back.

“I’m not working and you know that!”

“Can’t a guy dream to have the same shift with his favorite coworker? What are you doing here then?”

“Making a strawberry latte.”

“For yourself or for His Highness over there?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Wooyoung knew all too well what your relationship was like with Felix and that was because he was also one of the elite, also known as a trust fund son. Wooyoung and Felix were from the same side of a coin, reigning from families whose net worth could buy out entire towns. The circle of the elite had a lot of members, but it was tight-knit, so everyone knew everything about everyone else. You were included in Felix’s dossier.

“You know, _____, you are your own person,” Wooyoung tisked as he hovered over you making the fruity drink. It was as simple as pouring milk over some strawberry compote (Felix liked it when there was extra compote) and shaking vigorously.

“You telling me that whenever I come in with him totally makes it more valid than the last time.”

“You know I’m just looking out for you.” His soft fingers gently pinched your cheeks. “You’re so sour today, I kind of like it.”

“Aren’t you known for liking people who have zero interest in you?”

“Exactly, so you better watch your attitude or I’ll steal you away from Mr. Lee Felix ~”

“You’re so weird!” Even so, Wooyoung stole a kiss on your bruised cheek before helping the customer at the counter. The aftermath left your face burning up, even though you were used to his flirtatiousness by now.

Of course Felix saw the entire interaction. Though he tried to hide behind his phone, he made sure to still have a view of whatever you and that spoiled ‘I-own-a-yacht’ Wooyoung were doing. You were much different around him than you were with that cheeky bastard behind the counter. With Felix, you were strict, quiet, and pouty, but with Wooyoung you were able to smile more and joke around and even laugh when you flicked whipped cream in his hair. In those short five minutes, that was a type of you he hasn’t been able to see since high school.

But now? You were so cold and distant. He could barely hang out with you without it seeming like it was some business meeting. What changed?

Felix watched you walk back to him holding his pink drink with your cheeks to match its color.

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” he said bitterly after you both exited the cafe.

“We work together, of course we’re close. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You’ll take his happy humming as he inhaled the latte as a thank you. “You talk about how much you hate some of your coworkers all the time!”

“I guess I do… but he’s different.”

“Of course he is…”

The handsome and pouty boy beside you did his best to ignore your accusing glare. “Do you have some beef with him, or something.”

“No,” he said simply in between gulps. “I just don’t like him.”

“You don’t like any boy I talk to.”

“Exactly.”

“So what happens when I really like someone? Do they need your ‘Lee Seal of Approval’?”

“Yup.”

You sighed heavily. “Why do you enjoy making my life so hard?”

“Because I love you, that’s why!”

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Felix has said ‘I love you’ since his birthday party. With his special day coming up again, the words hit harder than usual, even when you knew he was joking, but no ‘I love you’ hurt more than the first time he said it last year before he passed out on your bed.

Speaking of which, “Sooo ~ Guess what next week is ~?” Felix sang cheekily after hopping in the car.

“Uh, midterms week?”

“No ~”

“Buy one get one free soju at the karaoke place?”

“No…”

“Oh wait, isn’t it Han’s birthday next week?” He knew you were trying to push his buttons, but it clearly worked by the way he was glaring at you. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“So mean…”

“Are you two throwing a joint party again?”

“Yeah, but I think we’re skipping the club scene and throwing it at his house instead.”

“Wow, the Lee Felix is tired of the club scene?” you scoffed. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“Maybe it’s just my eyesight getting worse - I’d like to see who I’m hitting on for once.” One sharp stab in your heart. “Will you help me plan?”

Did you really have any other choice? “Of course.”

“Yes ~ This’ll totally top last year’s party!”

You sure hoped so, and you hoped you wouldn’t remember a single moment of it.

Planning for the party didn’t start until a couple days before the big date. Since Jisung was hosting, it was Felix’s responsibility to come up with all the decor and the theme and literally all the smaller bits and pieces of the party.

“Honey, I’m home ~” Felix sang as he walked into your apartment. An aroma of fresh spices and cooked meat and roasted vegetables hit his nose upon entering. “Whoa, are you cooking!?”

“We can’t plan on an empty stomach,” you stated the obvious. Immediately, a bowl of rice and the fixings was handed to the grinning boy.

“I love it when you cook. I haven’t eaten your cooking in a while.”

“I didn’t know you liked my cooking,” you blushed. “I haven’t cooked for you that often.”

“It’s because we’re both always so busy or we just eat the restaurant’s food when we’re lazy.” A happy hum came from his lips. “You have a mad talent for this, you know.”

“Do I?”

“Of course! The Boy with the God Tongue himself said so!” Being the future heir of the country’s largest restaurant franchise meant ridiculous chef-related nicknames, to which Felix enjoyed whole-heartedly. “You know this means I’m never going to let you leave YONGBOK.”

“Can you stop, you’re so embarrassing, it’s not that amazing!”

“You stop! Quit undermining your talents.”

“If it’s so good, what do you like about it?”

“For one, there’s tons of balance between the flavors. It’s also not as salty, which is what some of the chefs in some locations are having trouble with lately. But the best part is that it feels like home when I eat your cooking.”

“Like home? Like… as if your in-house chef was cooking it?”

Felix chuckled cutely. “No, I mean it feels like someone who loves me very much made this with lots of care.”

You’re too stunned to say anything right away. It felt as if Felix caught you in his trap and was forcing you to admit something that he knew from the very start. But now was not the time nor was it the place. As a response, you turned away and chugged the rest of your glass of water.

“Right,” you cleared your throat awkwardly. “G-Glad you liked it.”

Felix wondered why you wouldn’t look at him. “S-So, let’s get started?”

You took a bowl of food for yourself and refilled Felix’s before settling down at the table. “Do you have an idea for a theme?”

“Ok, hear me out - casino themed?”

“Isn't that underage gambling? Sounds super illegal to me.”

“Right, right… Ok, how about, uh, a masquerade?”

“Not bad, but a little cliche, no?”

“But it’s so sexy! Classy clothes, bejeweled masks -”

“Choreographed waltzing?”

“Yes! For the first half of course, then we’ll probably bump the real shit after a couple of drinks.”

“Hm, I actually like that.” You entered the theme into your notes. “Cool, we have a theme down. Now for all the decoration…”

That itself took about an hour. Imagine, talking about banners and balloon arches, and personalized masks for a whole hour with the most indecisive human being alive. How he’s expected to make major decisions for a multi-million dollar company one day, you’ll never know.

“Ugh,” you were over it, at least for another hour. You couldn’t take comparing different shades of gold and different grades of champagne anymore. Your couch was supposed to be your safe space away from Felix, but he followed you like a puppy and laid his head on your lap.

“This weekend is going to be so much fun! Did you get me a gift yet ~?”

“Uh, maybe…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, silly.”

“Can I at least get a hint?”

“Probably the cheapest gift you’ll get.”

“Hey.” Felix silenced any doubt you had about your gift by taking one of your hands in his and holding it over his chest. He closed his eyes, tired from the day, tired by your constant doubts, tired of it all. “You know I don’t care about that kind of stuff when it comes to you.”

“I know, but I do.”

“Well, don’t. My favorite gifts have always been from you.”

“Even more than the diamond chain from Chan?”

“... Your gifts are my favorite after that one.” Your free hand poked his freckled cheek, causing him to laugh and smile brighter than the sun. Lying here with you made him happy. “I miss hanging out with you like this.”

“We hang out all the time!”

“Not like this. We never just chill out together and not worry about anything. We’re always worrying about something, especially since we started uni.”

“Uni sort of defines our future, so of course there’s tons to worry about.”

“Not for me. My life has been predetermined. If you think about it, uni doesn’t define your future, either.”

“I wish you didn’t tell me that,” you groaned. “You’re so right. What’s the point when the two of us are just going to take over our Father’s positions, anyways!?”

“Does our future together sound that miserable to you?” he teased. You wished he didn’t word it that way.

“Not miserable, but doesn’t it suck that we don’t have that sort of freedom? You and I have had our lives predetermined since birth!”

“Perhaps it was fate that you would be my Chancellor and I would be your King,” Felix snickered.

“Call it whatever you want, but where’s the joy we could get from spontaneity and disorder?”

“Good point. But I think you and I will find that joy just fine.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Life will always be a joy if I’m with you.” A tired smile spread across his lips. “You and I make a disorderly pair.”

You and him were definitely a disorderly pair. It was like you two were in a modern-day forbidden friendship that was only seen in royal fairy tales. Felix was the Prince, the apple of everyone’s eye, the boy with the highest ranking just below the King. You were the lowly common person who devoted their life to the castle and serving the royal family. Somehow, even with the drastic gap between your social classes, you both found each other and became inseparable.

Through childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, the time spent together naturally formed your feelings for Felix to nothing less than love. You were the number one witness of seeing him laugh, smile, cry, and scream through all his happiness, sadness, and anger. You were the only one who knew the exact number of freckles that dusted his cheeks. You knew what specific snacks he wanted for certain craving occasions, his favorite orders at every restaurant, how he liked his instant ramen (with egg, American cheese, and green onions), and especially his cafe drink orders. When they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, you supposed that was especially true for Felix.

After over twenty whole years together, how the fuck were you supposed to avoid falling in love? How were you supposed to look at Felix and feel with your whole chest that you were not madly in love with his beautiful face and his kind heart? When Felix told you he loved you with slurred words on his birthday last year, how were you supposed to let that go and live on like you didn’t cry in the shower for a whole month afterwards?

You put the blame for the disorder in this messed-up friendship all on Felix, but you couldn’t help but clean it up and do your best to keep it together. So when he forgot he said those magic words, you did your best to forget them, too, but the best you could do was bury the memory away and cover it up with work and school. It wasn’t the most ideal way to deal with the issue, you knew that, but the important part was that it was working even if it was just a little bit.

Felix was the first to wake up the next morning. You didn’t move a single muscle and ended up sleeping upright since he used you as a pillow. Still, your hand was in his and the other tangled in his messy blond hair and truly, being here with you was the only place that felt like home.

The day of the party was filled with chaos on your end, as you had to wake up at 6:00 am just to make it to Jisung’s pool house in time to set up the decorations for the joint birthday party. You ended up directing all the crews to where the cocktail tables needed to be set up, where the instagram photobooth should go, and where the Michelin-star chefs were going to set up for dinner. The most important part was the dance floor, which would be clean with nothing but some shoe scuffs for the first couple of hours and probably stained with different colors of liquor by the end of the night.

By noon you were totally wiped out having a stomach full of only coffee and a granola bar. The worst part was that you didn’t get a chance to buy a mask yet and would probably have to settle for some cheap recycled paper with sequins and feathers glued on it from the birthday party store down the block.

But as if the Gods’ translated your feelings telepathically to Felix, your Prince in shining armor came to the rescue with a sandwich, more coffee, and something in a matte black gift bag. The gesture, though small, made your cheeks burn the brightest of pinks. It was your first time seeing and talking with Felix since he left the comfort of your lap a couple of nights ago. Although you were unsure of yourself (as with any situation, am I right?), the Prince didn’t seem so phased.

“I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he grinned brightly, handing you all the goods.

“You are a blessing,” you sighed, chugging the iced coffee. “What’s in the black bag?”

“It’s a surprise. Open it.”

“I thought today was your birthday?”

“It’s nothing big, I promise!”

You shot him a skeptical look, but opened up the gift regardless. Inside was an intricately bejeweled mask for tonight, colored perfectly to match your outfit.

“I went to your apartment because I thought you’d be there,” Felix began shyly. “I went to your room and saw your entire outfit laid out, but no mask, so I figured you didn’t have one yet. I bought one to match your outfit and to match mine! Mine looks exactly like that, but black.”

“You really didn’t have to,” you pouted, though staring at the shiny jewels adoringly. It was gorgeous and you never thought in your lifetime you could own anything so glamorous. The gesture lifted an extremely loaded weight off your shoulders and you couldn’t help but hug the birthday boy as a thank you. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“Also, please stop going into my bedroom.”

“What, afraid I’m going to raid your panties?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fair.”

Felix spent the rest of the day helping you make the pool house perfect since it was also technically his job as the co-host. Holding the ladder while you hung up crystal decor was reminiscent of past Christmas parties that his family hosted. Your two families would come together and prepare the cookies, the eggnog, and the presents for the whole morning before the big party that started around dinner time, and you and Felix were in charge of the Christmas tree. He’s not too big on heights, so he always made you hang the ornaments on the top layer. It was a very adult networking and old people gambling games type of party, so you and Felix would always sneak off into his basement and play video games or watch corny movies with a stolen tray of sugar cookies.

The Christmas before uni was probably the last one where you two felt like kids and didn’t have to worry about what kinds of feelings would get in the way of your beautiful friendship.

“Ugh, my calves are burning,” you whined on your way down from the ladder. Your legs gave out on the second step down and the weight of your tired body pulled you down, causing you to drop to your death from a mere five feet above.

Luckily, your Prince had quick reflexes and caught you bridal style. As kids, it was surprising when Felix could carry anything even half his weight with his twiggy arms, but the fact that he could hold you without struggling or even breaking a sweat was the closest you’ve ever experienced a miracle.

A gentle, handsome smile came from his lips. “You ok?” he asked in his deep voice.

No, you’re definitely not, but lying was ok in this situation. “F-F-Fine! I am fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes! Uh, you can put me down now…!”

“Hm, but I kind of like holding you like this.” You hit his rock-hard chest lightly, to which he recoiled dramatically before placing you down gently. “Is that how you thank your hero!?”

“Thank you, My Hero.”

“That’s more like it.”

It wasn’t until around dinner time when you left Felix alone to be in charge of guiding all the caterers to their cooking spots while you sped home to get ready as fast as you could. You didn’t want to leave Felix in charge for more than an hour, otherwise there would be more room for error.

You must have had such little faith in him because he did as was told without any issues and was done well before the party was going to start. He took the down time to put on his satin black suit and fix his blond hair before putting on the matching mask. While looking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, of course he admitted to himself that he would be the sexiest one at the party, but something about the view didn’t seem right. He didn’t have you beside him hyping him up like always. The view in the mirror was lonely without you.

“Good job with the chefs!” you called into the dressing room unannounced.

Felix could see you jogging in wearing the full outfit he saw on your bed this morning, now complete with the mask he gifted you in the reflection of the mirror. The view of you was stunning, so much to the point that the Prince himself was too afraid to turn around and look at you with his own eyes. You reminded him of the story of Medusa, who would turn men into stone if they dared to look at you, and Felix thought that he was well past that point, already frozen in place with his jaw dropped and hands fixated on his crooked tie.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you stepped in between him and the mirror. The feel of your knuckles brushing up against his chest broke him free of his frozen state, causing him to hitch his breath in his throat. It was very un-Felix-like to be this nervous, especially before an event that circled around him, but perhaps it was his sobriety that made him jittery.

“You good?” you reciprocated after a long moment of silence.

Prince Felix cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you have to be nervous about other than being the center of attention in front of hundreds of people?” you teased lightly.

“It’s not like I know everyone, though.”

“What do you mean? You and Han invited all the people you normally party with.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m friends with all of them. I don’t hang out with them before 10:00 pm.”

Even behind the mask, you could tell his nerves were sincere. “Are you having regrets about this party?”

“I wouldn’t say regrets… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you put a lot of work into this.”

“Do you not want to go -”

“No! No, I want to go.” To ditch a party you worked on for forty-eight hours would be like slapping you in the face and he knew that. But he also knew if he said yes, you would follow him wherever he’d go in a heartbeat because that’s how much you loved him. He cleared his throat once more. “Will you stay with me?”

You raised a brow, unsure if you heard correctly. “Stay with you?”

“As in, will you stay by my side tonight?”

“You want me by your side the whole night?” Oh, how the tables have turned, in which Felix with his blushing cheeks couldn’t look you in the eyes as he nodded shyly. It was hard to believe what you were seeing with your own eyes and you wondered if you were dreaming. “Ok.”

“Really?”

Softly, you straightened his mask. “Anything for you, birthday boy.”

The anxiety from the claustrophobia of the party was replaced with the thought of being with you the whole night, but this is how he’d rather be. No longer did he want to stay in this room he filled with bad energy, so he took you by the hand and led you back to the main room where guests quickly filled in. Anxiety filled his chest again and you felt it through his hand squeezing yours tightly, as if afraid you would let go and slip away into the crowd where he’d never see you for the rest of the night. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him and you didn’t want to make it worse, so you led him to the tables of food hoping he could fill the emptiness in hopes of loosening up a little.

Even while eating food, Felix refused to let go of your hand, so you had to act as his free hand and feed him gourmet finger foods.

“You’re even more of a baby on your birthday,” you scoffed.

“But you love babying me, right?” he teased.

“I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right answer…”

The beginning of the night was nothing short of energy-draining as every single guest came up to greet Felix on his birthday and greeted you second. It was crazy that even in a room full of hundreds of peers, the crowd was still able to distinguish the birthday boys from everyone else, but you supposed it was easy because who else was blond and this handsome? The same way you looked at Felix, everyone else also had their eyes on him because he was truly that stunning in a crowded room.

It was occasions like these when you felt most out of place. You only ‘belonged’ here because Felix was your ticket in, but you would never become one of the elite. You didn’t have all the luxury of buying a new outfit or new jewels for every occasion like everyone else here. You were a simple person in your humble apartment living your predetermined life and getting by without any conflict, all thanks to him. That was what made you believe for twenty years that you had no right to fall for Felix the way you did - you were nothing more than the King’s hired Chancellor.

Even so, when the whole room was looking at him, he only looked at you.

The next song was a common waltz song that was played at every masquerade party on the planet. With a hop in his step, you found the birthday boy in front of you bowing with his hand still in yours.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked dramatically like he was playing a character.

“Why, of course, Your Highness.”

Waltz dancing was definitely not the first talent you’d think of while wondering what Felix was good at, but to your surprise, it was like he’d been taking classes for years. You knew little-to-nothing about it yourself, but it was easier when your date took the lead and you didn’t have to think, just follow. It was a ride, honestly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, even when the dance finished with Felix dipping you, faces close and noses barely touching.

You hardly noticed his eyes shift to your lips in the midst of all the giggles. “When did you learn to do that!?”

“Last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Then those three hours of Youtube tutorials were worth it.”

Your predicted cycle of food, dancing, alcohol, and back to food was correct. Several rounds lasted several hours to the point where you were at the perfect amount of tipsy, but still able to navigate, although if any more rounds of alcohol were going to happen, you might be in trouble. Keeping up with the birthday boy was so hard!

But you didn’t mind, because the poison made you forget about how much you didn’t belong there and swept any overreaction to Felix’s affection under the rug, though it was getting harder to do the latter, as each shot meant closing the distance between you and him. Somehow, you went from holding his hand to his hand never leaving your waste, with your bodies keeping close contact, a feeling you’ve always been familiar with even when sober, but this time was different.

“So,” he began in the middle of the dance floor. “When do I get my gift?”

“How about after your birthday cake?”

“Birthday cake?”

On cue, the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Jisung found his way next to Felix and all the chefs rolled out a giant tiered cake with candles on it, cueing all the guests to sing happy birthday. You made sure to keep the design simple, but the flavors immaculate and matching the boys’ palates because that was the most important part. Even from afar, you could smell the chocolate.

You tried to step away from him so that he and Jisung could have the spotlight together, but even then he didn’t want you to leave. He squeezed your side a little tighter, a silent gesture that said, ‘please don’t go.’

By now, you were starting to sober up a bit and that was a bad sign because now you were realizing that this whole night would be forgotten tomorrow, just like last year. Still, you stayed by his side because that’s what he wanted.

Why it had to be you, you’ll never know, but the feeling was too right to question it.

At the end of the song, the birthday boys blew out the candles and the cheers deafened your ear drums. What shocked you next was the feeling of soft lips on your cheek.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered with so much adoration. “For everything.”

You’ll never be able to recover from tonight. “Why are you like this all of a sudden? Have you had too much to drink?”

A cute giggle escaped his lips. “No, I’m fine. This day feels extra special, that’s all. You’re the reason.”

Felix was such a smooth honey talker when there was a little something swimming in his bloodstream. You should know better not to take these words to heart, but you can’t help it when they’ve all you’ve ever wanted to hear. A repeat of last year was bound to happen any second.

You did your best to avoid the compliment. “Do you want your gift now?”

“Ooh, yes!”

The gift was hidden in the room you find him in earlier today. You were too embarrassed to set it up next to the gift table that was dressed in bags with brands like Cartier and Gucci, so you stashed it away from the rest. The bouncy and excited boy had the widest grin on his face, impatiently waiting for you to present him with what you had.

“Close your eyes,” you demanded.

Felix held out his hands with his eyes closed and expected something small, like a watch or a cupcake or some plush toy that he could strap on his keychain, but instead nearly stumbled forward holding something as heavy as a textbook.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

He wasn’t too far off, actually. In his hands was a thick, heavy book titled “Felix & _____” that you printed out on an embossed label maker. Inside were infinite pages of pictures, stamps, receipts, travel brochures, foreign currency, movie tickets, anything and everything from most if not all the memories you spent together over the past twenty years. The first few pages were filled with old film pictures and polaroids you had to steal from your parents and the later pages progressively got more crowded with trinkets and things when you two were old enough to hang out on your own.

For a while, Felix was silent as he flipped through all the memories. There wasn’t a smile on his face, no tears streaming down his cheeks, in fact he was emotionless and now you were confused. He told you he didn’t care about money or the cost of gifts when it came to you, but…

“You hate it,” you stated rather than asking.

Felix looked up at you, completely sobered up, with the most incredulous expression. “Of course not,” he reassured softly. “I love it. So much. You saved all of this…?”

“I saved every receipt that wasn’t smudged with barbecue sauce or oil and every movie ticket since the start. I had boxes full of it and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so I made you a scrapbook. It took forever, but luckily your family’s historian captured a lot of the earlier stuff.” Felix was listening, but his eyes were fixated on the last page, where you pasted a single picture of a selfie you two took just a couple days ago. “Happy birthday, Felix.”

Flipping through the scrapbook made him realize that yes, so much has changed between the two of you. There’s so much growth and care and love in between the pages and the fine lines that isn’t seen unless you look for it. As he looked at you, with your cheeks dusted scarlet and wearing your heart on your sleeve, perhaps him pretending he didn’t tell you he loved you last year was what was slowly drifting you away from him, because how were you going to deny to his face that you didn’t love him, too?

Perhaps it was best you would admit it to him on your own time. For now, he hoped a gentle kiss on your forehead would push you a little bit.

His rose petal lips left your forehead tingling. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

When Felix tried to close the gap in between, you took a large step back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes and now he’s confused and his heart hurts.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you asked.

“Doing what?”

“Holding my hand, holding me, kissing me…”

“Oh, I thought you were ok with all of that.”

You take a deep breath. You can’t let last year repeat itself. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“You can’t just do that whenever you feel like it.”

“Do what!?”

“Play with my feelings!” You took another breath to calm you down and prevent anymore tears that were about to pool. “I have feelings, Felix. You can’t just use me whenever you feel like it and take it all back like it never happened the next morning!”

“I have feelings, too. How the fuck else was I supposed to deal with the night I told you I love you and you didn’t say it back?”

You’re left stunned and speechless. Felix just admitted to you that he once told you he loved you. He didn’t have to say when for you to know that he was talking about the inebriated self on your bed mumbling those three words as you tucked him in on his birthday last year.

“You didn’t say it back and I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I pretended to forget all about it. But now I know you feel the same,” he begged desperately. “I just know. Tell me I’m wrong, _____. Tell me I’m wrong to think that after all these years together, I think you fell in love with me the same way I fell in love with you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t admit that he was right because he was drunk then and he’s still a little intoxicated now. But even if he’s right, even though you both knew how much you loved every cell of Felix, what if all this sweet talk was brewed by the mix of drinks that settled in his core? What if he forgets again tomorrow and you’re left in a worse state than you were last year? What if the alcohol just jogged last year’s memory that was stored deep in his cortex that only tequila was able to unlock?

The more you tried to make an excuse for it, the more ridiculous it sounded...

When you didn’t say anything right away, Felix was sure if he had his ribs broken that it would hurt less than the pain he felt in his chest right now. But that wasn’t your fault - nothing was ever your fault. This was all his doing because that’s what Felix did best - screw everything up.

The blond’s once hurt expression turned to stone before he dropped the scrapbook onto the cushioned chair next to his belongings.

“My mistake then,” he muttered before leaving you alone in the room.

“Felix, wait -” but it was too late, he was already out of the room to do something stupid to forget what just happened.

You ran after him, but the party room was so loud and dark and filled to the brim with guests that you couldn’t find him. In a room full of people, you were always able to find Felix no matter what, but it’s like he changed the makeup of the atmosphere to make sure that wouldn’t happen again for the rest of the night. You tried looking for blond locks from high ground, you tried snaking your way on the dance floor, you even checked the private rooms and men’s bathrooms in the whole house and none of them worked. You were afraid that after all the heartbreak, you wouldn’t see him again for a long while.

You bumped into Jisung in an empty hallway, who seemed out of breath like he was running a marathon just now.

“You have to come with me,” he gasped in urgency.

“What happened?”

“It’s Felix. He’s about to race Wooyoung.”

Those five words sounded like a terrible ad-lib in the newspaper, but when you followed Jisung to the front of the pool house, lo and behold half of the guests were gathered around the two boys who looked like they were about to get into a fist fight. In Felix’s hand, you could see that he was holding the keys to his sports car that was already parked out front.

Wooyoung’s the first to see you run to them from the crowd, with Jisung following behind you. “Hey, _____. Can you tell Prince Charming here that I’m not about to race him and go to jail?”

“That’s because you’re a pus -”

Jisung held Wooyoung back before he could get a swing in and you stepped in between. This was the first time you got a good look at his face, which was tear-stained and flushed red, all because of you.

“What are you doing!?” you muttered harshly.

“Trying to understand what you see in this guy. It’s not his looks, or his brains. Can’t be his car either, but I just wanted to prove my prediction just in case.”

His breath smelled like freshly poured alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I ridiculous, though? I think I might be onto something when I said there’s something that you see in him.”

“There’s nothing, so can you please give me your keys so we can talk inside?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Ouch. “Ok, we won’t talk. Let’s do something else -”

“I don’t want to do something else with you. I want to race and kick his ass.”

“You want to crash and burn that badly?” Wooyoung screamed over Jisung’s shoulders. “Fine, let’s drive!”

The crowd cheering only boosted Felix’s ego more, so he broke free from your wall and walked towards his car.

“Felix, don’t do this!” you cried out desperately, and for a second you could see the hesitation, but it was easily overcome.

“If you don’t want to be here, then go home. I don’t need you.”

The crowd oohed in unison and your left in the middle of the circle humiliated, watching the boy you loved the most get into his car and prepare to race your coworker. There’s a myriad of scenarios that fly through your mind of what could go wrong and you’re not sure if you should stay for the mess of the aftermath. But Felix said it himself that he didn’t need you, so maybe you should follow his advice and go home.

If something were to happen to him and you weren’t there to pick up the pieces and mend them back together, you would never forgive yourself. Your life’s purpose had always been to help Felix mend his pieces together whenever he needed it. But maybe this was his way of telling you that you were no longer needed for that - that you were free of all your duties as his personal fake secretary and since he thought you didn’t love him back that you served no purpose to him anymore.

When Felix said he didn’t need you, he meant that he didn’t need you to be the person you always were. He didn’t need you to be his babysitter trying to stop him from doing something stupid, he needed you as someone who wanted to stop him because you loved him and was afraid that he’d get hurt. And perhaps it was his mistake for saying it so harshly because you didn’t bother to stop him after that. But it hurt him to his core that you believed him when he said he didn’t need you anymore, that after twenty years you so easily believed that he could cut you out of his life, just like that. How many stupid mistakes could Felix make tonight? He was too far into this that he couldn’t back out, so all he had to do was race and make it out alive to see you again.

From the rear view mirror, he saw your distant figure fade away with the night.

It has been a long sixty-eight hours and twenty-four minutes since you arrived home from the birthday party. Hermit crabbing for the first twelves hours was stressful - you couldn’t sleep until 6:00 am, you only slept for a couple hours, you sent mass text messages to multiple people, including Felix, curious about his whereabouts and no one got back to you until twelve hours after that.

han solo [8:43 pm]: sorry darling, i like just woke up. he’s fine i guess.

you [8:44 pm]: what do you mean you ‘guess’!?

han solo [8:44 pm]: i mean they both came out unscathed and his dumbass won so physically he’s fine! but he didn’t seem too happy that he won. i think he’s back home with his parents atm.

That settled your racing heart only a little, but at least you knew he was fine physically, at least. Still, your hundreds of texts sent to him were all left on read, meaning he saw all your desperation and worry and didn’t bother to ease any of it.

You couldn’t eat for those long hours, but now it was getting unbearable and you needed to eat something. You had all the ingredients for Felix’s favorite soup, and as much as you didn’t want to constantly remind yourself of him, you couldn’t help yourself. The process was nice and slow, where you took extra care into washing the vegetables and bringing the broth to a gentle boil before dropping everything in. You could imagine the look on his face if he smelled what you made with your own hands.

Cooking for Felix was a very rare occasion because you were still self conscious about your abilities, especially as someone who was going to work for the country’s largest restaurant franchise. But the times he’s tasted your creations, his reaction was nothing but sincere bliss, cleaning his plate or bowl or several every time. He was the only one who truly believed in your talents and far-off dream when your parents wanted you to follow your Dad’s footsteps. You always cared about what Felix thought about you and your actions and nearly everything, but what he thought about your cooking was one of the most important things and his constant support for your craft was what made you fall for him so much harder than you already did.

The aromas of the soup made you miss him even more. If you didn’t hear back from him today, you were going to take drastic measures and find him yourself.

A quiet, eerie knock came at your door. You hesitated, wondering if you should just pretend you weren’t home, but then a voice spoke up.

“I know you’re home,” Felix said. “I can smell you cooking my favorite soup.”

You dropped your wooden spoon and hurried to open the front door. Behind the door revealed a tired Felix with one bruised up eye and cut up lip. Though the tears quickly fell from your eyes and you covered your gaping mouth, he still gave you a weak smile in hopes of easing any worry you now had.

“I kind of need you,” he admitted softly. “I really need you.”

Speechless, you took Felix by the hand and sat him on your couch before grabbing your massive first aid kit. He’s not surprised that you took him in with open arms without any hesitation because that was the kind of person you were. He loved that about you, but there’s guilt in his heart because he’s the last person who deserves this treatment. He knew you didn’t exactly forgive him yet because you still haven’t said a word, even as you were wetting a cotton swab with isopropyl alcohol.

“Is it going to sting?” he asked. You didn’t bother answering and let him feel the pain for himself. “Motherfucker!”

Through all the cleaning and wincing, though your facial expression didn’t move much, a waterfall of tears fell from your eyes at a constant speed. Since you were kids, Felix’s Dad was big on spanking and physical discipline, but this was a whole different level than you’ve ever seen before - this wasn’t discipline, this was intentional. Even so, Felix still smiled, even through all the stinging.

“Stay still,” you whispered, voice shaking. Your free hand held his face in place by pressing your palm into his nonbruised cheek. The wound still stung, but the wincing at least lessened. When the cotton swab dried up and you weren’t sure what to do, Felix calmed your racing thoughts by placing a hand on top of the one you had on your cheek.

He liked the way your thumb gently brushed across his cheek. Your touch always left tingles in its absence.

“What happened?” you finally asked.

“Dad found out about the racing because it was in the tabloids as ‘Future YONBOK CEO Caught Racing Under the Influence. Is the Future of YONGBOK in Good Hands?’ and, well, you know how that turned out.”

You said nothing while shaking your head. You took your hand back and stood up to get something and the fear of you leaving him again left Felix sweating and tears of his own pooling in his eyes. But you came back with a bag of frozen peas to press against his bruises and swollen lip.

“Are you hungry?” Felix nodded silently. “I made your favorite soup.”

“I know. Did you know that I was coming?”

“No. I guess I’m lucky.”

One of his hands is on top of yours holding the frozen peas and the other grabs hold of your other free hand. Felix wanted to hold you in every way possible, but for now this would have to do until you accepted him.

“You know I love you,” he told you. “And you know I will always need you. I’m sorry I pretended to forget about telling you last year and I’m sorry if that made you think I was insincere the second time. But now you know for sure that I love you. Was I really that wrong to think you felt the same?”

“It seems like you already know my answer.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

You sighed heavily. By now the tears had stopped, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they started up again. This was the first time you would admit aloud that you loved the stupid boy who tried to hide his smile sitting in front of you.

“I love you, Lee Felix. I always have.”

“Knew it ~” he sang. “Tell me when you fell for my handsome looks.”

“Remember Prom night?”

“Prom night!? Seriously?”

“My date standing me up and you offering to dance with me the whole night sounds like the perfect formula to fall in love with you, does it not?”

“I guess! I just thought it’d be longer than that!”

“I’m sure it has been longer than that.”

“Really?”

“Prom night was just the point of no return - that no matter what I did, my feelings were absolute and I couldn’t be in denial anymore. But I didn’t feel any different… And that’s when I assumed I just always loved you.”

“Even when I do stupid shit like this, you still loved me that much, huh?”

“Even with a busted lip, I still think you’re the most handsome.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled. “Do you know when I knew?”

“Uh, last year?”

“Nope. On your tenth birthday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. When you shared your birthday cake and gave me the corner slice with the most icing flowers on it, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Can you be serious for once!?”

“Baby, I am dead serious! Look me in the eyes - well, my good eye.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Felix pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then rested his own up against it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“And being an ass.”

“Yes, and being the biggest ass.”

You dared to kiss his lips, but just enough for them to touch, too worried about hurting his bruise. Felix didn’t care - this was the only time you’d have your first kiss and he wanted it to be long and slow, putting his all into your very first kiss even if it hurt a little. His lips were hungry for yours and so were his hands, making you drop the frozen peas on the floor so he could pull you into his lap to deepen the kiss. Wandering hands traveled your waist and your own in his hair and all your worries about wondering if love was truly real melted away with every second. Even when you broke free to come up for air, Felix refused to loosen his grip on your waist, holding you so close that he buried his face in the nape of your neck. He short breaths tickled your skin and when you giggled, he peppered kisses all over. Your laugh was music to his ears.

“Do you forgive me?” he said in between kisses.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Just don’t leave my side again.”

“Never again. I promise you.”

“Well… Where do we go from here?”

“Hm… I get to eat my favorite soup with the love of my life?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And then straight to bed.”

“But it’s only 9:00 pm?” A playful, naughty smirk spread across Felix’s lips. “Lee Felix!”

“What!? I won the race, can’t I get a prize!?”

“Stop.”

Soup was always better with your love and a cup of frozen peas.

#lee felix #felix lee #skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #felix scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #i wrote this in less than a week so if it sucks that's why #bleh finally a felix fic......................... it's been like a year LOL #ok lemme know how u like it mwah

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

Dean Winchester (and the script leaks last night) possessed me to write this.

Dean happens upon Chuck's latest book: Carry On. Except it ends differently than it really went, and the ending? It's really fucking bad.

tw: suicide mention, transphobia (quickly shut the fuck down)

Dean doesn’t make a habit of going to bookstores. Not because he hates books, contrary to what Sam might think; he just prefers to buy used books. There’s something comforting about a book that has already been worn and read over and over, that already shows how much the previous owner loved it. Plus, y’know, big corporations are evil and all that. And Dean only allows himself to overlook that when his stomach or his wallet wins over his hatred of the shitty mass-produced products.

This time it was Jack who won; he’s obsessed with this new fantasy series and the new book just came out, so there’s no way he can hunt it down on Ebay. He makes his way to the fantasy and sci-fi section, eyes roaming over the displays of new releases, and his eye catches on something that turns his blood cold.

“Supernatural: Carry On, The Final Book of the Winchesters’ Epic Journey” takes up a whole table, the generic and overly serious cover jeering out at him.

He storms over to the display, anger covering up for the way his body feels light as a feather and like lead all at once, and picks up a book. “Why is Sam always fucking shirtless?” he mutters, the only thought that allows itself from the mess inside his head to his mouth.

“Book sales.” A voice behind him says. He turns to see a teenager with their arms crossed over their work polo, pierced lip fixed into a customer-unfriendly frown.

“People want to see that?”

They snort, a small grin turning up the corner of their lips. It reminds Dean of Cas. “No. But that’s what advertisers think all ‘women’ want,” They use air quotes.

He raises an eyebrow and asks. “Women?”

They shrug and uncross their arms, leaning back against the display table behind them. Their nametag says Jadyn. “Supernatural’s biggest block of readers is queer. I’d go out on a limb and say a lot of those the marketers think of as ‘women’ aren’t, or if they are, they aren’t itching to see Sam’s six pack.” Jadyn smirks.

Dean takes a second to digest that, then grins down at the book, thinking past Sam’s apparently badly-received nudity now. “So how’d they like it?” he asks, waving the book a bit and looking up at Jadyn. Apparently they know a lot about the fans of the books, and for once, he’s proud of the way the story ended.

Jadyn’s face sets into all hard lines. “Most people fucking hated it.” they say bluntly, then, probably remembering that he’s a customer, correct. “Sorry. I mean, it got some good reviews, mostly from people who like Wincest, but beyond that, it had some problematic plot points.”

Dean winces at the reminder of the ship between him and his brother, then scrunches his whole face together in confusion. “Wait, what? Why?” Why would Wincest fans like it? What was problematic about their end?

Jadyn shifts from foot to foot. “I don’t wanna spoil anything for you-”

“I don’t care about spoilers, just give me the short version.” Dean says quickly. A quiet panic is rising in him, and suddenly he has a horrible feeling that he’s not holding the truth in his hands anymore.

“Uh, okay… Well, the most obvious thing is the bury-your-gays thing, then there’s the fact that it completely contradicted the rest of the lore. And it was ableist, misogynistic, and messed up, like, every character’s arc.” they take a breath, clearly worked up by it. “Even if they changed any of the details too, it was all built on Dean’s death, and that’s just bullshit. Sorry.” they apologize again, apparently mistaking Dean’s stricken expression to be in reaction to their rant and swearing.

“No, nah, you’re… you’re okay. Uh, thanks.” he waves a hand and wanders away from them, only remembering Jack’s book when he’s almost to the register. He manages to make his way back and find the damn thing, but he’s still in a fog when he gets to the register.

“Did anyone help you in the store today?”

“Huh?” he looks up and meets the middle-aged cashier’s gaze for the first time. Brent, from the nametag, looks at him impatiently. “Oh, yeah, uh… Jadyn. Jadyn helped me.” Brent scoffs and starts typing with a shake of the head. “Uh, is there a problem?” Dean asks, a little annoyed at this cashier’s unnecessary attitude. He usually doesn’t care if an employee’s rude, because they have to deal with assholes all the time and honestly Dean isn’t much better, but this one gives him a bad feeling.

“No, no, sorry. It’s just - “Jadyn’s” got this idea that he’s a girl. Makes everybody call him that name now too. Just-” Brent shakes his head. “I mean, you get it. Their generation, everybody wants to be special.”

Dean glares. “No, I don’t get it, Brent.” He says through gritted teeth. “Seems to me like Jadyn probably deals with enough assholes like you that her asking for a little basic decency is the exact opposite of special. Sounds pretty normal, actually.” He can see the fear creep into Brent’s eyes, and he knows the cashier is reacting to the murderous look in his eyes more than his actual words.

Brent hands Dean his bag of books with a quiet, “Here you go.”

Dean snatches it away. “Oh, Brent?” he checks over his shoulder to make sure they’re alone and then leans across the counter into Brent’s space. “You should find a new job, one where you don’t have to interact with other people. At least until you learn how to stop being a piece of shit.” He starts to ease away but thinks better about it. “And if you think that’s a suggestion, it’s not. My husband likes this book coming out next month that I’ll need to buy, and if I see you here when I come, well… it would be really embarrassing for you to tell all your little friends that you got your ass beat by a ‘special’ guy, huh?” He pats Brent on the cheek condescendingly and leaves with a huff.

Damn transphobes.

He only remembers the book once he’s back in Baby, and he takes the time to drive out of town before he pulls over to read it. It’s an old abandoned church, the cross long since fallen from the roof and the doors hanging off their hinges. He sits on the steps just because being in Baby seems claustrophobic for once in his life, and going back to the bunker to look at this is just… not happening.

Dean only skims the beginning to see that it starts the same. The ground erupting with bodies, hell spitting out its most-conveniently placed nasties, Rowena sacrificing herself, Cas leaving. His throat closes up at that, at Chuck’s description of Cas’s heartbroken expression as he climbs the stairs of the bunker. He clears his throat and skips to the end, right past Cas’s death that he doesn’t have the time to think about right now, past them defeating Chuck and then stops. He goes back a few pages, trying to find the disconnect.

The story’s different.

After Jack takes on God’s power, in the book, he’s totally fine. Not almost vibrating out of his skin or anything, not crying like the three year old he is because he’s scared. Not like it really happened. He just smiles and leaves him and Sam, and they let him go.

Dean scoffs, skimming over the story as it just gets more ridiculous.

In the book, he doesn’t even try to save Cas. They barely even mention him. And they never mention Eileen, either. In fact, Dean notes disbelievingly, practically the only characters in the last few chapters are him and Sam. They’re hunting again.

“What, is Chuck trying to keep the series going?” he whispers to himself, anger flaring through him. They let Chuck live, and he decided to write obnoxious fanfiction about them? He’s gonna kill that shameless little fucker. For real, this time. He deserves it.

In the book, Sam and Dean torture some vampire mime, and they enjoy it. Dean cringes; this is really what Chuck thinks of them. Then they tussle with more vamps in a barn and-

Dean’s brain stops working. He rereads the scene again and again.

“There’s something in my… something in my back. It feels like it’s right through me.”

Dean Winchester dies in a dirty barn, on a piece of freaking rebar.

More than that, Dean realizes on his fourth read-through. This Dean? He tried to drag out his speech, Dean can tell by the way he pauses for fucking drama. He would never do that. He would never talk to Sam for fifteen hellish minutes when he could be trying. Trying to live, so he can actually get his life back on track, get his family back. No, he made that speech stalling. He made that speech so Sam wouldn’t try to save him.

“You gotta admit, I had one helluva ride.” He was strangely calm.

Chuck made him kill himself.

Dean reads the rest of the book through blurry eyes, reading an ambiguous and nothing-ending, one where he’s somehow happy to be dead and driving around in heaven alone while Sam raises a kid into hunting and cries about Dean decades after he’s died. Eileen isn’t mentioned. Cas is mentioned once, and Bizzarro-Dean doesn’t even think about seeing him, apparently. The whole book ends with a hug between him and Sam, both dead. Both alone.

Dean rips the ending up. He tears through the stupid paper covering and keeps ripping the pages up until they’re the size of confetti. His lower lip wobbles. He throws the whole thing against the side of the building, and it tumbles through the broken doorway and drops into a pile of dust and dirt. “That isn’t the fucking ending.” he grounds out, knocking his hand against the flimsy handrail. It gives a little under his fist and he kicks at it. “That isn’t the fucking ending!”

He’s having a panic attack. Again. He tries to take deep breaths, but they’re gulping, too big, they’re making him panic more. He scrambles back to Baby and grabs his phone, presses the first number on his favorites list and waits for him to answer on speaker phone.

“Hey Dean, what’s up?” Sam sounds like he’s been laughing. There are voices in the background, and Dean tries to convince himself one of them is Eileen.

“Hey Sammy.” he chokes out, trying to sound normal. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and then the sounds in the background. “Nah, Rowena’s just over.” he says casually.

“So those voices in the background were-”

“Rowena and Eileen, yeah. They’re trying to convince me we need to go to Mexico. For the beaches.” A smile in his voice. Dean lets out a sigh of relief. What’s up, Dean? You need something?” The smile drops, and Sam’s worried.

Sam’s okay. Sam’s okay. “No, nah. Hey, you heard from Donna lately?” Dean just needs to triple-check.

“Uh, no, not since Sunday dinner… Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah, she just- she hasn’t been answering my texts. Just wanted to make sure.” Dean lies quickly. His breathing is still uneven, but his body is settling into uneven shakes.

Sam sounds skeptical. “Yeah, well, she did tell us it’s been pretty busy at work lately. Y’know, everybody going out for the first time with COVID, getting stupid. Plus, y’know, nowhere’s drowning in EMTs right now.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dean takes a deep breath, a distant memory of Donna talking about that coming back to him.

“Pretty sure you were setting up a D&D session with Charlie while she was talking about that,” Sam laughs. Dean knows he means it as a subtle jab, but there’s too much relief flooding through him to care. Still, a string is pulled taut in him, and Sam can’t fix that completely.

“Gotta go, Sam,” Dean hangs up before Sam can say anything else, and goes to his next contact. It rings for far too long, and Dean’s heartbeat picks back up to thundering.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean breathes out. “Cas, you know I love you, right?” He needs to test all the bounds of this, to make sure, just to make sure. Make sure Chuck isn’t still fucking with him. Because apparently, Chuck won’t let him be queer. Not in his story. Not out loud.

He can hear Cas’s eyebrow raise through the phone, and his chest is overcome with stupid fondness. “I would be a little worried if you didn’t.”

Dean grins widely. “Like, romantically. I’m in love with you. Because you’re the love of my life and I’m bisexual.” He says it all like it’s a checklist, like he expects some cosmic being to slap a hand over his mouth before he gets each next phrase out.

“Yes, Dean. We’ve been married almost two months.” Cas is smiling. It happens everytime he talks about their wedding. Dean adores it. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, now it is.” His whole body relaxes, still vibrating with leftover panic, but satisfied. “I got Jack’s book.”

“Oh, good. He’ll be so pleased.” Cas pauses. “Dean, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean eases off the ground and sends a last look at the dilapidated church before climbing into Baby. “Just- read a bad book. I’ll tell you about it later. When I get home.”

#i fixed it #god fucking damn it #dean winchester #destiel #saileen #saileena #sam winchester #castiel #eileen leahy #castiel winchester #jack kline #roweena #my writing #ficlet #deancas #trans dean #trans woman OC #tw: transphobia #tw: suicide mention

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mikauzoran · 3 years ago

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Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Eight

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Eight

Once the sun rose, Adrien gave up on getting any more fitful sleep and rolled out of bed to get dressed for the day.

Plagg grumbled groggily at being disturbed, but, instead of resettling and drifting off again like he would have done back in the day, Plagg relocated to Adrien’s hair, doing a little circle before curling up to resume his slumber atop Adrien’s head.

Adrien smiled fondly at his kwami as he took care not to jostle Plagg too much.

Plagg had definitely been more clingy since their reunion. It used to be that Plagg would go off exploring on his own or stay behind in Adrien’s room or bag while Adrien showered or ate dinner or attended class or practiced fencing.

Over the past few days, Plagg hadn’t let Adrien out of his sight. He’d even gone so far as to follow Adrien from one room to the next in the small flat, even when Adrien just went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

It was reassuring in a way. It warmed Adrien’s heart and really drove home how much Plagg cared.

“Marc’s probably still here, so you’ll have to hide when we go out into the main room,” Adrien cautioned as he went to his closet and picked out clothes for the day.

Plagg hummed disinterestedly but obediently phased into Adrien’s left shoulder to hide when they exited Adrien’s bedroom.

There was no sign of life in the apartment, so Adrien quietly brushed his teeth and combed his hair before heading to the kitchen. He took inventory of their supplies, made a shopping list in the notes app of his phone, and then left a note on the counter informing Luka and Marc that he had gone to the store.

When he got back, the flat was still silent and devoid of movement, so he took up residence in the kitchen. He snacked on the mediocre croissant that he’d picked up at the store and missed Marinette more and more by the second as he prepared big batches of three different kinds of soup.

Adrien figured that they could have some of the soup now and freeze the rest in individual portions for later, if and when they were feeling too drained to cook. He reasoned that it would be good to have something healthy and nutritious on hand if Adrien were ever out and Luka needed something quick and easy to eat.

Marc emerged from Luka’s room a little after eleven o’clock and sheepishly greeted Adrien.

“Looks like you’re being industrious already. It smells like an Indian restaurant in here, and it’s got my mouth watering,” Marc chuckled.

Adrien blushed, using his wrist to sweep a few stray hairs back out of his face. “I’m glad you approve. I know my cooking can be a little fragrant, but I’ve always loved ethnic food. Cumin and coriander are two of my favourite things, and Luka’s liked the dishes I’ve made so far, so…”

He shifted nervously, feeling a little awkward and out of place.

“I just want to be helpful,” Adrien hastened to explain. “I feel really anxious when I’m sitting around being useless.”

Marc crossed the living room into the kitchen and rested a reassuring hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “You are far from useless. Don’t ever think that about yourself, Adrien.”

Adrien gave him a tentative smile, not sure whether he believed Marc was right. “Thank you. …How’s Luka doing?”

Marc winced, pulling away to rock back on his heels. “He’s…been better. He’ll live, though. I’m going to get him out of bed and up and dressed.”

Adrien nodded, turning again to the pot on the stove and pointedly avoiding Marc’s gaze. “I’m so sorry. I should have done a better job looking out for him last night. I said I was going to watch him until you got there, but…I guess I didn’t realize I’d let him have too much.”

Marc’s hand was back on Adrien’s shoulder in an instant, giving it a bolstering squeeze. “Adrien, no. Seriously. That wasn’t your fault, so please don’t blame yourself.”

Timidly, Adrien met Marc’s gaze. “You’re not mad at me?”

Marc shook his head, giving Adrien a tired smile. “Listen, Kid. Luka…”

He took a deep breath and slowly sighed it out, shaking his head. “Luka has problems. Maybe you’ve noticed, but he puts all of his energy into taking care of other people and never bothers to take care of himself. He’s been imploding for a couple months now, but this is just the culmination of years of unhealthy behavior and putting himself last.”

Adrien cringed, recognizing what Marc was describing because Luka had been that way for as long as Adrien had known him, but having Marc spell it out like that put it in a new light.

“You can’t make him care about himself, and you can’t make his problems your own responsibility,” Marc explained gently. “Try to save someone from drowning, and they might pull you down with them. All you can do is throw them a life raft and try to tow them in. You get what I’m saying?”

Adrien’s teeth sank into his bottom lip as he tried to absorb Marc’s words.

Hesitantly, he nodded. “I think I understand what you’re getting at.”

Marc smiled and gave Adrien’s shoulder a pat. “You’re a good person with a big heart, and I know it can be hard to say no when someone asks you for something, but you have to know your own limits. If it ever gets to be too much for you to handle, please call me or Jacob or Josie. You don’t have to go it alone to be useful or pay Luka back for giving you a place to stay or anything like that. Okay?”

A grateful smile slowly stretched across Adrien’s lips, and he nodded again, more certain this time. “Thank you, Marc. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good,” Marc affirmed, giving Adrien’s arm a pat before stepping back and making to return to Luka’s room. “Well, I’m going to go get Luka up. Happy cooking.”

“I can start on breakfast, if you’d like,” Adrien volunteered, sensing an opportunity to be helpful. “Do you have any food sensitivities? I was reading up on good hangover foods. Do you want me to make some coffee?”

Marc blinked, surprised, before bursting out into a hardy laugh. “You’re wonderful. Thank you so much Adrien. That would actually help out a lot. Coffee would be fantastic, and I eat anything so long as it’s not green pepper or olives.”

Marc gave a shudder at the mere mention of the foods.

“Got it,” Adrien confirmed with a chuckle. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes and then start so that it’s not cold by the time you’re ready for it.”

“I am so sorry for anything and everything I said or did last night,” Luka blurted out, hanging his head as he took a seat at the island.

Adrien waved away Luka’s apology. “You’re fine. I promise you didn’t do anything embarrassing, so don’t worry about it.”

Luka was about to protest and apologize again, but Adrien cut him off. “How are you feeling?”

Luka grimaced. “Like a freight train ran over my skull. I guess it serves me right for drinking so much. I swear I’m not normally like this.”

Marc focused his attention on his coffee and kindly refrained from calling Luka out for stretching the truth.

Adrien, mercifully, didn’t press the issue either. “Here.”

He set an egg, spinach, tomato, bacon, and avocado sandwich down in front of Luka.

“I looked into hangover cures a little this morning, and the internet said that this should help you feel better.”

He next fetched a cup of coffee, a glass of water, and some pain killers.

“The articles I read said you should make sure to hydrate too, so hopefully something here helps.” Adrien finished with a tentative smile, still feeling uneasy and desperate to be useful even after Marc’s pep talks.

Luka’s bloodshot eyes filled with warmth and gratitude as he gazed at Adrien.

“Thank you, Angel. You’re amazing,” he breathed, humbled by Adrien’s thoughtfulness and the amount of care Adrien had put into the meal.

Adrien perked up at the praise, and a bit of the edge came off his anxiety at this affirmation of his worth.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help,” he insisted.

“Luka’s lucky to have you,” Marc added approvingly, nodding towards his own breakfast sandwich. “And it’s a huge relief to know that I don’t have to worry about Luc eating anymore. You make some delicious, nutritious food, Adrien.”

A pleased blush spread across Adrien’s cheeks as he took a seat and started in on his own meal. “Thanks, Marc. Like I said, I’m really happy to be helpful.”

As breakfast wound down, Marc turned to Luka. “I need to head home. Are you going to be okay?”

Luka started to nod but stopped when it made him feel dizzy. “Yes. Thanks, Marc. I really appreciate you, and I’m sorry that that happened.” He lowered his voice to shamefully add, “again”.

Marc rolled his eyes and gently tussled Luka’s hair. “You’re good. You’re always there for me, aren’t you?”

Luka frowned. “Yes, but—”

“—No buts,” Marc tsked, getting to his feet and ghosting a quick kiss against Luka’s temple. “I’ll text to check on you later. Take care, all right?”

Marc turned to Adrien and raised a hand in parting. “I’ll see you Tuesday for practice. Thanks for everything, Adrien. Just text if you need anything, okay?”

Adrien nodded, waving back as Marc made his way to the door. “Thank you, Marc.”

Suddenly, the flat was awkwardly quiet.

“…He’s not the Marc you dated before, is he?” it suddenly occurred to Adrien to ask.

He wasn’t sure why he abruptly felt threatened by Marc, but he did. He was jealous of the way Luka trusted Marc implicitly while Adrien was kept at a bit of a distance. Adrien wanted to be able to take care of Luka the way Marc did.

Adrien understood what Marc had said about Luka wanting Adrien to respect him and think he was cool and not see him as a mess, but…Adrien couldn’t help but long for Luka to rely on Adrien. Adrien wanted to be trusted like that.

Luka winced. “No. The Marc I dated was a different Marc. Our Marc is straight, and he’s only had eyes for his wife Wakana for a little over a decade now.”

“Oh. Okay. Just wondering,” Adrien explained, trying to shrug it off like an inconsequential whim as he set about cleaning up from that morning’s cooking binge.

“The only person in the band I’ve dated is Jacob—a youthful folly of mine,” Luka attempted to excuse himself. “A lapse of judgment.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “I remember you talking about him when we were teenagers. You slept with him.”

Luka crumpled, his ears starting to glow red.

“You only sleep with people you’re in love with,” Adrien pressed, finding a strange pleasure in making Luka squirm.

“What is love but an extended lapse of judgment?” Luka muttered.

“You don’t actually believe that.” Adrien sniffed indignantly. “You told me once that being in love lifted you to a higher plane of existence.”

“I say a lot of dumb things when I’m in love,” Luka grumbled into his coffee.

“I thought it was beautiful,” Adrien hummed softly. “Sixteen-year-old Adrien swooned when you said things like that.”

Luka choked, spraying coffee onto the counter. “Seriously?”

Adrien peeked back over his shoulder with an impish grin. “Mmhm. You were my biromantic awakening. I thought everything you said was so cool and wise and suave.”

“And now you know better,” Luka chuckled darkly, sopping up the coffee splatter with his napkin as he internally mourned the missed opportunity to sweep Adrien off of his feet.

“Not necessarily.” Adrien smiled as he grabbed a damp cloth and helped with the cleanup.

Luka quirked an eyebrow. “How could you possibly still think I was suave or cool or wise after seeing me last night?”

Adrien shrugged. “After all this time, you’re still the you I remember from back then. You haven’t changed much…and you saved me last week by taking me in. That buys you a lot of grace with me, so I’m willing to overlook last night’s indiscretion and give you a pass.”

Luka winced, squeezing his coffee mug reflexively as he bowed his head. “Thank you, Adrien. Again, I’m really sorry that you had to see that.”

Adrien leaned across the island to tip Luka’s chin up.

“No apologies needed.”

Luka’s eyes widened as his gaze flicked back and forth between Adrien’s eyes and mouth.

Adrien pulled back with a soft smile. “I know you’ve been suffering since The Breakup, so I’m proud of you for keeping it together all week while I’ve been here. You’re doing a good job, Luka.”

Luka dropped his gaze once more. “I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

“You’re biased, so my opinion is the only one that counts,” Adrien announced, going back to rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher.

Luka chuckled and drained his coffee mug. “I’m not the only biased party here. At some point in time, you actually thought I was suave.”

Luka got up, disposed of his trash, and came over to the sink to rinse his plate and cup.

With some trepidation, Adrien turned to look at Luka. “I still think you’re suave. Like when you told me the other day that I deserved to have nice things and that I deserved things I didn’t necessarily need just because I wanted them and when you bought me my Chat Noir the Third plushie so that I’d have a reminder that I was loved.” He swallowed and reiterated, “I still think you’re amazing, Luka.”

Fighting down a rampant blush, Luka stepped in and pulled Adrien into a hug.

He couldn’t be sure if Adrien was just projecting onto Luka because Luka had given him a home and food and luxuries Adrien had been denied the past four years, so Luka didn’t want to read into what Adrien had said. He didn’t want to get himself hurt by allowing himself to misinterpret Adrien’s feelings.

“God, you’re so sweet,” Luka sighed into Adrien’s hair. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re my friend,” Adrien replied simply, like it was obvious.

Adrien pulled back and looked up, finally asking the question that had been bothering him since the previous night: “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Luka’s mouth dropped open. “What? No. P5, why would you think I was mad at you?”

Adrien went back to the dishes, shaking his head. “I just…last night you said that I was going to hurt you. It was kind of confusing. You didn’t seem mad. You seemed more sad than anything, and you kept telling me you loved me, but…I’m sorry. It just bothered me.”

He looked searchingly at Luka. “Do you have any idea why you would have said that I was going to hurt you?”

Luka scrubbed at his face with his hands, mentally kicking himself while simultaneously thanking his lucky stars that Papillon and akumatization were a thing of the past because he was so mortified in that moment that he’d surely register as a target.

“I am so sorry, Adrien,” Luka replied through the spaces between his fingers. “I was drunk. I have no idea what I was thinking, but I promise you I didn’t mean it, and I’m not mad at you. I probably thought I was talking to someone else. I’m really sorry.”

He held his breath and hoped that Adrien bought it because Luka couldn’t bring himself to admit what he had told his other bandmates about his doomed feelings for Adrien and Adrien’s impending relationship with Marinette once they were reunited.

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “…So…you’re not mad?”

Luka dropped his hands from his face and shook his head. “Adrien, you’ve been an absolute blessing. Why would I be mad at you?”

Adrien pursed his lips. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t either,” Luka assured. “…So…are we okay?”

“…Yeah,” Adrien decided. “Yeah, I think we are.”

“Good,” Luka sighed in relief, feeling like he’d avoided an apocalyptic catastrophe.

“…So…what happened with you and Jacob?” Adrien easily slid back into their former topic of conversation. “You were in love with him, and then…? What? You two seem cool now. Like, not awkward or anything.”

Luka shrugged, grabbing a plate and rinsing it off before handing it to Adrien to put in the dishwasher.

He didn’t exactly relish discussing his love life with Adrien, but it was better than having to explain his drunken indiscretions of the night before.

“Nothing really happened with me and Jacob. We were young teenagers in love…and then we weren’t anymore. We grew up a little, started wanting different things, grew apart… It was a mutual breakup. We decided we still cared about each other and wanted to stay friends, but it wasn’t working romantically anymore,” Luka explained with a shrug. “It happens.”

Adrien nodded, happy to finally understand the dynamic between Jacob and Luka. It had been one thing when Jacob was just a name casually mentioned in Luka’s stories, but now that Jacob had a face to go along with the name, it felt different, and Adrien was glad to be able to fit Luka and Jacob’s relationship into a clearly defined box.

“Have you kissed him since you guys broke up?” Adrien inquired, continuing to air his morbid curiosity while they were on the subject of Luka’s love life.

Luka groaned. “A handful of times? Not recently.”

“How about Josie? Have you kissed her?” Adrien pushed his luck.

Luka exploded in laughter but quickly got it under wraps when it made his head feel like it was exploding. “Josie is aggressively lesbian. She would be insulted you even asked.”

“She’d forgive me, though,” Adrien snickered. “She likes me.”

“She does,” Luka confirmed with an affectionate smile. “…Do I get to ask you questions about your love life now?”

“I don’t have a love life,” Adrien snorted. “I have no updates to report since the last time I whined at you about how my love life was nonexistent four years ago.”

“Have you ever kissed Nino?” Luka asked with a smirk.

Adrien’s entire epidermis lit up like a Roman candle, and he pointedly avoided Luka’s eyes.

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camelliacats · 2 years ago

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written in your blood (part 3/6)

One last visit to Rowle's—and Flora's—saga with the Carrow siblings, written as my entry for the Death Eater 2022 Fest. Set primarily after this oneshot and this story.

Ch3: "Now: Flora, ally" [FFN] [AO3] | ← → | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Thorfinn Rowle & Flora Carrow (mentions of Thorfinn/Alecto & Flora/Amycus)

Rating: T

Words: ~3,490

Additional info: gen fic, angst, hurt/comfort, violence (minor), Dark magic, Harry's era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Thorfinn's made the same promise twice over already…and he'll make it again, if it means new ally Flora will be instrumental in getting his love and his best mate back. Ch3: Thorfinn swears his third oath to Flora, because the second war has ended and not in their favor, but she's his best hope if he wants to see the Carrow siblings again.

…more than fifteen years later, so close to twenty, Thorfinn Rowle awakes with memories of his younger self, of starting out as a Death Eater, of past promises in blood, and he wonders where he went wrong.

Actually, that's his second thought. His first thought is one of awe as he marvels how in the hell he's still alive after the battle.

Thorfinn wakes to dull noise from under the rubble of some part of Hogwarts Castle. He struggles to move and shimmies cautiously out from under a blanket of debris. He daren't hustle—who knows what characters lie in wait for him on the other side of his stone prison.

Five minutes pass, and he gets his left foot free. Another two minutes, and his whole leg emerges, followed by his hip. There's enough space by his torso and head to allow air to flow, so no wonder he's kept breathing this entire time, but still…! So much rubble. And he hadn't been crushed?

Thorfinn gets two–thirds of the way free before he senses someone approaching. He stills for a heartbeat and then grapples for his wand in a panic, finding the bit of wood wedged uncomfortably under his right armpit. He doesn't want to imagine the war is over, that they've lost, that something terrible has happened to the Carrows, but he knows he's not going out without one more fight—

A dim light blinds him since he's not expecting it in the late dusk. "Sweet Salazar. You're alive."

Thorfinn swallows the offensive spell on his tongue and waits for the wand in his eyes to be lowered.

It isn't, but at least the person—witch, he presumes by the lilt in her voice—Levitates the rest of the debris off him.

He hesitates to get to his feet, first sitting up and catching the witch's eye. "Do you have any idea who you've just helped?" It's not exactly an empty threat. Thorfinn's glad to be free, but he'll gladly turn on her just the same.

The witch holds her wand higher so he can see her better. She's a pale, slip of a thing, maybe half a head or so taller than Alecto, with straight, brown locks that stop above her shoulders and sharp eyebrows above eyes darker than the Carrows'. Her tailored robes are dirty and lightly torn from the battle, but they don't speak of time spent with the Death Eaters…or, rather, within their ranks, Thorfinn thinks as a more recent memory of her with one Death Eater in particular floats to the surface.

"Hold on. I've seen you around the castle." He grunts as he stands. Thorfinn snickers when he eyes her up and down. "Never got to speak with you, although I bet Amycus preferred it that way. But Alecto mentioned you, as did others. You're Amycus'…what were they calling you? Ah. His 'dark flower.'"

The moniker must come as news to her, for the young thing's face flushes with healthy color, making Thorfinn snicker again. "My name," she insists, her words clipped, "is Flora Carrow."

His amusement dies down to confusion. "…Amycus would've told Alecto if he married, that I'd stake my life on."

She turns away and begins to pick her way through the rubble, leaving Thorfinn to clamber behind her. "We're not married," she grumbles.

Thorfinn cringes. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Alecto and Amycus have had a couple decades dealing with stupid incestuous jokes, but just what is Amycus thinking…? Of course, that's if this Flora wench is telling the truth, but Thorfinn sets those thoughts aside for another day. "Well, Flora Carrow, you never did answer me. Do you know who you've helped?"

"Judging by your size and the thinning blond hair, you're Thorfinn Rowle," she says nonchalantly.

His hand flies up to his scalp and he growls. "It's not thinning!"

She shrugs. "Amycus' words, not mine."

He pouts at her back. Unfortunately, he really can imagine Amycus rattling off such a description of him to another person… But Thorfinn doesn't want to dwell on that, so he focuses on the path she cuts for them. "Where are we, anyway? Still Hogwarts, I see." At least a few parapets stand in slightly discernable silhouette against the darkening sky.

"The steps down to the boatshed. I thought I'd escape this way, but…" She pauses, and Thorfinn can all but hear her frown. Flora shakes her head. "Watch your step, Rowle. It's mostly stone, but there's so much busted armor mixed in. I nearly impaled myself, looking for exits."

"Then why retrace your steps?"

"Because the boats weren't my means to escape, and the boatshed ended up decimated by flying debris, more so than I thought, so it's no place to hide." Flora points her dimly lit wand up and behind the entrance courtyard. "We might be able to sneak away through the main entrance shortly."

Thorfinn squints at the back of her head and snags Flora's upper arm. "Come again?"

She struggles, but her arm is like a twig in his unyielding grasp. She scowls at him. "The teachers are still exhausted from the battle. It's been barely half a day since it concluded, Rowle. Not all the enchantments are back up."

Oh. That…actually is not bad. He releases her, and they carry on.

Part of the short wall leading to the stone steps for the boatshed is intact, so they spy from there whether there's much of a detail around the castle entrance. Turns out there's not. Either Flora's summation about Potter's side being exhausted is dead-on, or the other side is so full of themselves that they don't feel the need to hurry with protective spells just yet. Either way, things are in Thorfinn and Flora's favor.

Thorfinn eyes Flora again. She's not too short, around average height, but he likely could hide her in his shadow if need be. He moves her behind him before he attempts to lead the way—but pain shoots down his right side, now that they're on even ground and moving faster. He bites down a gasp. "Fu—!"

"Just get behind me and we'll get out of here in no time," Flora insists.

"Don't order me around, you damn witch…!" Still, Thorfinn grits his teeth. Why now?! Even doing it slowly, climbing over all that rock should've hurt more than moving along packed earth…! He slides his bleary blue eyes Flora's way. Unless…

But Flora's wand is still alight, and he has no idea whether she knows the Unforgivables. For what it's worth, though, she gives him a sympathetic frown. "Look—any pain, I can help. I know some Healing. When we're safely away, I can Heal you."

Thorfinn purses his lips, but he nods. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

She might not be the Carrow he wants, but she's Carrow-adjacent, and he's short on allies, so Flora will have to do for now.

"That was too close a call," he mutters when they settle into the shack Flora chooses after Apparating.

"You're a chickenshit," Flora retorts, conjuring candles and setting them around the empty hovel. She lights them with Bluebell flames and turns back to Rowle, who stretches out on the filthy floor with his back against a wall. "No one was going to catch us."

"That Weasley nearly did…!" Thorfinn huffs, already tired of this argument. He can't even remember all their names, but this one was Potter's best mate, he's certain. He did a double-take as Thorfinn and Flora rounded the main gates and vanished around the remains of one of the hog statues.

"Trust me, Ron Weasley is not the fastest broom on the field—he won't know what he saw," Flora insists. She kneels by his right side and pokes and prods him, gathering information about his injuries.

Thorfinn takes the chance to evaluate her. "You talk as though you know him and Potter's crew personally."

Flora exhales. "Not quite. I know of them."

"Same year?"

"Merlin, no. Slug Club."

Thorfinn blinks. He honestly thought that was a myth. Not to mention Horace Slughorn is still around, without Flamel's alchemy… "Slug Club," he echoes.

Flora spares him the briefest glance. "I'm nineteen, since you're so clearly curious. I was in the year above them. Slughorn only brought my sister and me in because of my father's business." But, just as suddenly as she's coughed up personal details, her hands stop, and Flora rolls back on her haunches, putting space between them, realizing what she's spilled.

Oh, for crying out… If he had a Sickle for every time he recognized someone with the surname Carrow who was afraid of opening up, he'd have the largest vault at Gringotts. "I'm curious," Thorfinn admits, "but I'm not judging you on Slughorn's interest or your parents' history, if that matters. I don't even know your parents." The last part he adds on, partly in the hope she might sate that bit of curiosity.

Alas, Flora doesn't…that night. Flora seals her mouth shut about herself tighter than a Sealed doorway, and she focuses the next few days on Healing the broken bones and bruises and cuts Thorfinn sustained in battle. She also ventures out for food, procuring some meager items for them to eat but always plenty of water to drink, so Thorfinn can't complain. Much.

What he can do is bellyache about the fuzzy details that start to come into focus from the start of the month. "This war shouldn't've ended the way it did," he bemoans for the umpteenth time as he peers between broken shades on a window in the main room. He grimaces at the thought and as a lance of pain reminds him that Flora's got one more rib to Heal, tomorrow, once she's gathered her strength. She's not shabby with this Healing thing, but she's obviously not used to the work.

"The war's not really over," Flora says as per usual.

He rolls his eyes. "You wouldn't know. Last time, we scattered like dust, thinking the Dark Lord was gone. This time he is—you said you eavesdropped. You overheard Potter's side discussing—" Thorfinn stops there. He doesn't want to say or even think the words "the Dark Lord's death," because it'll make it too real this time. Thorfinn redirects his attention outside through the shades. "…this time feels different," he finally settles on.

Flora doesn't get up from the spot she cleared on the floor for herself. She's been taking inventory of the things in her cloak's Expanded pockets, as she does each day; it's something akin to meditation for her, Thorfinn surmises. "The war's only over when every follower is dead or gives up the cause," she insists.

Her words pierce him and cause him the tiniest bit of shame, which makes him scowl. He hasn't declared he's giving up…yet. So he returns to reminiscing about the start of May, though he releases the shades and leans against the sill. He sighs, softly. "Things might've been different, you know. If Alecto and Amycus had gotten to fight."

The morsel snatches Flora's attention. "What do you mean, if they'd gotten to fight?"

"You weren't at the castle when things started?"

Flora rolls her jaw while she debates what to cough up. Her stiff shoulders drop while she worries the strap of her purse in her hands. "…no. I'd been living in Hogsmeade, so I came when the Caterwauling Charm went off." Her volume drops. "I searched for Amycus as the battle started."

Thorfinn frowns. "It was too late by then, Flora. The other side caught him and Alecto first thing. I got word they were tied up in Ravenclaw Tower, but fighting my way to them was easier said than done."

"Oh."

They've had bouts of silence between them the last few days, but this one hangs heavy. Thorfinn's mind keeps straying to Azkaban, wondering if Alecto and Amycus can handle it.

Judging by the shadows beneath Flora's eyes, no doubt her thoughts stray there, too.

Still, nearly a full week passes since the end of the second war. Thorfinn stretches his limbs and tests Flora's handiwork, but everything seems to be in working order. So, with her Healing done, he questions why the hell they linger in this shack. He questions a lot, actually. "You claim to be a Carrow, and you've aided me, yes, but I know next to nothing about you. And yet you're keeping me around—why?" Thorfinn prods on a warm, rainy Saturday afternoon.

Perhaps Flora has tired of this abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere, too. She prowls the perimeter of the main room, a slow pace back and forth, never nearing him too much. And the hardened, determined glint in her dark, gray eyes puts him in mind of the Death Eaters with whom he used to murder and maim. "You're an ally," she states.

Thorfinn dwells on it and shakes his head. "Try again."

"Fine. You're a tool."

He snarls at her. He's no Greyback, but Thorfinn's pleased to see that hard part of Flora flinch in response, in the slightest. Thorfinn's been called worse, but still. "I'm a means to an end," he corrects.

Flora nods.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. It doesn't hurt anymore, now that he's recuperated. And drawing to his full height, filling the space with as much of his boxy build as possible, has its uses. "You're only creating more questions, witch."

She frowns, and she falters in the motion. "I want to free Amycus."

Thorfinn loves the idea—but it's a pipe dream. "The breakout from Azkaban two years ago was one thing, orchestrated by many of the Dark Lord's followers in tandem. The same goes for last summer. You've a silly wish. I've begun to wonder if I mistook you for someone else, because surely even Amycus has his fans."

The comment hits where it hurts most. Flora's eyes flash like steel.

He should've been more prepared, just as he always wishes to have the final word when someone (usually Dolohov) gets their digs in on him. But then Thorfinn crumples on the floor in the next instant, convulsing, his muscles spasming as invisible stings and shocks cascade over him, wave after wave. He gasps, barely. He can't speak and hardly thinks.

"I am no fan," Flora corrects, her heels thudding on the wooden floor as she looms over Thorfinn's puddled mass. "But I've had one of the best teachers for proficiency in the Cruciatus Curse."

He doesn't doubt that. What those who've never had the curse performed on them don't know is that the spell carries with it a little flavor of each spellcaster and their source material. So the shocks are new to Thorfinn, but the stings are a familiar echo of the time spent practicing the spell with Amycus during their late boyhood. (Amycus once remarked that Thorfinn's version of the spell was laden with bone-crushing gravity.)

Flora holds the curse for another minute and backs off just as Thorfinn's eyes begin to roll back into his head. She dares tuck her wand up her right sleeve; she's not frightened in the least of retribution. "I want to free Amycus," she repeats, as if what transpired was but a brief interruption.

Thorfinn comes to his senses and regains control of his tongue. "I want both Alecto and Amycus free and safe and sound," he declares.

Flora nods. "Then our wishes align. And they are not silly."

This time, Thorfinn keeps his mouth shut.

Thorfinn and Flora leave the abandoned shack late at night, and he doesn't protest as she Disapparates with him to another unfamiliar place. He dislikes that it's closer to a Muggle village this time, with nothing ramshackle or abandoned in sight, but at least they're just passing by it (nevertheless, he conjures a façade for himself, just in case there are Wanted posters of any sort down here in this southern part of Scotland).

Flora is quiet as she leads the way. She reminds him of Alecto in this manner, but he doesn't persist in looking for comparisons. Flora has mentioned Amycus and Amycus only. Alecto has rarely parted with Amycus; if there's a solid chance to save them both, Alecto will take it, Thorfinn's sure.

The longer he lingers on these ideas, though, the more he realizes Flora's gotten a bargain, having Thorfinn helping her, and he potentially stands to gain nothing.

How the hell is he supposed to turn the tables to his own advantage?

The duo leaves the village behind them and continues on foot for a bit longer. Thorfinn's mind strays to the time when he, Alecto, and Amycus kept hidden after the first war before Thorfinn himself got captured, sometimes skirting hamlets like this, and briefly wheedling a favor from the siblings' father, Akillios, in one of his drunken stupors, so they had a small off-the-beaten-path property to use for a while. Ah, Alecto, Amycus…

…ah, of course.

It comes to Thorfinn in the wee hours, when they travel by starlight and are accompanied by the sounds of small creatures and insects still awake. He clears his throat. "Flora."

"Hmm?" She doesn't glance back at him.

Thorfinn walks beside her, then, and stares down at her. "I can help you rescue him."

Flora peeks up at him, but that sparkle in her eye isn't the reflection of a star. "So you've come around to my insane idea?"

He can hear the excitement in her tone, no matter how well she attempts to quash it. "Enough so that I'm willing to make you a blood oath," Thorfinn says.

Her eyes are round, but her brow pinches. Aha! She isn't familiar with the magic. "A…blood oath."

"I imagine you've debated trusting me much as I've debated trusting you these last several days."

She frowns.

"But a blood oath is as good as a promise. Better, really."

Flora drops her gaze to the sparse grass of the well-trod local path they walk. "Like—an Unbreakable Vow?"

He shakes his head. "No. Nothing quite so grim. No death involved."

Flora comes to a halt. "Tell me what I have to do."

Thorfinn smothers his smirk. Finally, something breaks his way. "Well, I know the spell, and we'll need a stone taken from flowing water. But you speak my given name, outline the oath's conditions, and ask if I swear the oath. Then I accept."

Her rigid posture relaxes. "That doesn't sound so bad. I'm a little surprised I never heard of it in school, although the term certainly it off-putting."

Thorfinn shrugs. "Anything with 'blood' or 'dark' typically is in that blasted place." He sets the pace now, pricking up his ears for animal noises. They grow larger off to the pair's right, so there must be water not far from here.

Flora's silence is easier to handle this time, possibly because Thorfinn is busy planning his duplicity, and she assists him in searching for a worthy, flat stone. Thorfinn finds one in the end, but Flora curiously watches while he preps their ceremonial tool. At the same time, he informs her of the literal blood exchange coming next. Flora doesn't even bat an eyelash.

"You are quite the unexpected one, Flora Carrow," he remarks when everything is set.

Flora actually preens, taking it as a compliment. Then she holds out her left hand.

Thorfinn considers his left palm. He prefers it this way, too; he carries Alecto and Amycus in his right, so this new oath with Flora ought to be made with his left. The incisions are short and sharp, just below their thumbs. With their hands clasped, Thorfinn points his wand at their unity and mumbles, "Veritate Sanguinem."

The familiar crimson light burns bright in the dead of night and becomes almost too hard to behold as it pulses and brightens. Flora's panic flashes across her features.

But Thorfinn nods her on.

She visibly swallows. "Thorfinn, with this oath, you promise to risk your neck and to do everything possible to get Amycus—"

"—and Alecto," he interjects. He doesn't know if the magic will accept his interruption or if Flora will add it, but he has to try. He has to make this old magic work for him.

Her grip on his hand tightens. Oh, she's mad…! "—out of Azkaban. Do you swear this oath?"

"I swear our oath, Flora." One final change, just in case the magic doubts the inclusion of his clause as well as hers.

The magic burns bright and hot, sealing over the fresh wounds. Flora releases his hand, and she scowls at him.

But Thorfinn doesn't think twice about it, really, because he knows you can't have one without the other—the Carrow siblings come as a set, and Alecto and Amycus truly wouldn't have it any other way.

And now we see the blood oath in its entirety, incantation included! The spell, Veritate Sanguinem, is just the Latin literally for "truth blood" (using online dictionaries, *lol*); you'll see why soon enough… And some hcs I developed for the Cruciatus Curse—that was an unexpected nod to at last, with you, truth be told. But if you want the full backstory for Floramycus, then I encourage you to read "bad blood," btw.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this! (You know you're curious to see how the oath will behave~)

~mew

And if you want to support written in your blood, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions to review/comment/fav/leave kudos and like and reblog these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr!

#hp #harry potter #thorfinn rowle #flora carrow #no ships #<5000 #gen fic #angst #hurt/comfort #violence #dark magic #rated: PG13 #trio era #3rd POV #thorlecto: written in your blood

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justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years ago

Text

forgive me

anon request: “I really love the way you write angsty stuff so if u want, can u write a scene where jungkook is like involved in illegal stuff like drugs or maybe he's a hitman, Y/N and Jungkook have a conflict about that because she's not happy with what he does, he gets hurt a lot but he enjoys his job and doesn't wanna give it up cuz he loves the thrill. It can be an emotional scene where Y/N tells him that she's afraid of losing him because of what he does. Honestly come up with anything, I don't mind 😂”

prompt: Jungkook is a druglord, you’re a waitress at a shabby burger place. He loves what he does and even though you try to ignore it, it scares you. You fear you’ll lose him if he doesn’t quit and he’s all you have. Your so called family are full of lies and if it wasn’t for Jungkook, you don’t know where you’d be. You wonder every night if the sirens you hear are for him—you pray it’s not for him. Secretly, he feels the same about you.

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: angst, drabble, mental health issues, mentions of murder, mature subject matter

author’s note: For the anon who requested this, this is for you! I hope you enjoy~ did i watch Truth be Told and decide to make the OC a twin? yes, yes i did

When you opened your eyes, you started to feel around for your cellphone. When you couldn't feel for it, you rolled over and yawned, it's probably under the bed. That's where its gonna stay too. As soon as you got home from work, you fell face-first into your bed and taking a shower was the last thing on your mind. But now you're feeling the stale department store smell on your clothes. It takes about two minutes for you to roll out of bed and realize you that Jungkook should have been here by now. You grab your phone and see two missed calls and a text from 2 hours ago.

jungkook💖💫: im sorry ill be over a little later baby, something came up

jungkook💖💫: i miss you angel

You smile, he always misses you. And you miss him too, but you know he's probably out there in the slums of the city, doing what he does. How you lucked out with him, you have no idea. One night you were trying to call an Uber to get home from a birthday party at the club. It was around midnight and you had to work so you couldn't hang with the hardcore crowd. You went outside to call for a ride but you were being watched. Some guy kept catcalling, just outright harassing you. It was the scariest night of your life. You were telling him to leave you alone but he was drunk or high, either way, he wasn't all there. He snatched your phone. Just when you thought he was going to grab you, a black sports car, one you would have had to work two lifetimes to afford, stopped at the light. And before you know it, the man trying to get you is being dragged into the alley where he probably would have taken you. You remember being frozen, all you could hear was cursing and blunt force. The mystery man, whose car is still in the middle of the road, emerges from the dark corner between the buildings.

You were completely taken. The smile, the hair, the tattoos, and dangling earrings, paired with a striking gaze—he was an angel. He was so beautiful and he was just looking at you stand there with your mouth open.

"If there's one thing I hate, oh here you go," He hands you your phone and you get a nice look at his hand tattoo, "it's motherfuckers who can't leave women the fuck alone. Sorry you had to deal with that, but he won't be bothering you or anyone else after tonight, or use his hands again," He sighs, fixing his clothes a bit and wiping the blood from the corner of his lip, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, thank you," You slip the phone in your bomber jacket pockets, "not a lot of people would stop a stupid guy from bothering a girl they don't even know."

"Yeah, I'm Jungkook by the way," He introduces himself with a smile, situating his nice clothes, "do you- Um, did you need a ride? I'm not a creep I swear," He holds his hands up in surrender when you furrow your brows at the suggesting—great, now she thinks I'm a pervert.

"I didn't stop that guy as blackmail to get laid, I just-" He pauses to grapple for the right words, "I saw you just standing on the curb and I know it's not safe out here-"

"If it's not any trouble," You interrupt his rambling, "I live about 15 minutes away, I was gonna call a ride but if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it. My name is Y/n, by the way."

That night changed your life forever. It was the first time you had wanted to kiss a stranger, the first night you ever came close to a soulmate. He confesses to having seen you in the club, he was at the bar, refusing offers from every girl from the bartenders to cougars out on the town, at least that's what you always thought. In that little fifteen minutes, you got to know very little about him but you felt so comfortable sharing things about yourself when he asked. He dropped you off and said if you ever needed anything, to give him a call.

You never got to use the number because you ended up seeing him again. He showed up to your job, but he wasn't there for you, he was there for one of your money laundering and pill-popping associates. You were taking a break and for some reason, the break room was eerily empty. After you heard gunshots and the whole store went into chaos. You remember trying to leave and suddenly being swept away and into an outside electrical room apart of the building. You calmed down enough to realize that it was him but you were baffled.

"What're the odds that you would work at the same place as that bastard," He fiddles with the gun, tucking it to his side and flipping on the safety and pulling off his mask with a toothy grin, "do you remember me?"

"You?... Jungkook, how did you- Why are you-..." You make a small step back and swallow, scrambling to think of something to say. "Have you been following me like some creep?!"

"No! this is just a run-in by fate, I swear I didn't plan it. I'm not even supposed to still be here but I couldn't just leave, not without saying something to you."

"Okay...What do you want to say? I have to get back on the clock." You look him up and down, his all-black clothes and heavy boots intimidating but alluring in many ways.

"Wanna grab a coffee?"

For some reason, you said yes to the familiar stranger.

"Sure- I mean no! No, I can't Jungkook, I have to get back to work-"

"Trust me, just come with me," He extends his hand for you to take and smiles, "you won't regret it."

You took his hand and never looked back.

* * *

Nights like this.

When it's too early to ruin his life and too late to pretend like he wouldn't care. So when he shows up to the lounge to enforce an unpaid debt from a client, he leaves with bruised knuckles, two grand, and a rush of adrenaline. He went a little hard on the guy, but can you blame him? He messed up his plans. Tonight is date night, also known as 'crash at your place' night. It worked out though, you had to work late so he wouldn't be too tardy. Judging by the fact that you haven't answered your phone, you must be knocked out.

He slips his hand into his pocket and fumbles with his keys until he finds the one to your apartment. When he walks inside he hears the sink on and smiles to himself, you must've just woken up.

"Baby, it's me," He announces himself, "how was your day?"

"Fine," You step out in your work clothes, still trying to get your earrings out, "as fine as a day working for the devil could be."

"That bad?" You take note of the silk black shirt that's rolled up to his elbows, letting you see his beautiful sleeve of tattoos. When he comes dressed like this, and smelling like smoke you know he's been out into high-end clubs. The way some of the women look at him makes you feel small and a little self-conscious. But he always reassures you that you're who he wants, not some woman who sees him as an experimental one-night stand. When he tells you to meet him in the restroom because he needs to tell you something, you're reminded that you're all he wants.

"She screwed the schedule. My only day off was taken because her favorite, Kasey, has to go out of town."

He unbuttons the buttons on his shirt with deliberate fingers. "You walked out on a job for me before, remember that?" He smiles, letting his shirt fall from his shoulders like a dream. A bruise on his upper arm catches your attention but you don't say anything. "If you're not happy, just leave. I can take care of you, you can be my sugar baby."

"Yeah, my step-mom would love that, I could see it now," You cringe at the thought, "Hey, just a heads up, I'm not working or married but I have a sugar daddy who pays all my bills and lets me use his money for free, oh, he's also a drug lord. She'd really think highly of me then."

"Fuck Carol, she's a judgmental priss anyway," He comes up to you, hands finding your waist, "why do you care what she thinks about you?"

"I don't care what she thinks, but if she finds out she'll tell my dad and I don't want to hear it from him. If he pretends to not be disappointed by the lesser-twin one more time, I'll actually cuss him out...He's such a liar, he lied to my mom and he lies to me.”

"Quit saying that," Jungkook grabs you under your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so he can sit on the edge of your bed, "you're not the lesser-twin, you're the cute and sexy twin." You sit back on his thighs and you both laugh at his attempt to lighten your mood.

"Well, I'm not a successful surgeon and I'm broke as hell, but at least my boyfriend thinks I'm cute." His hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, revealing a disappointing tank top.

"See, this is disappointing. Why are you wearing a tank top? It's a hundred degrees outside." He sighs, looking up at you like a pouting little kid.

"Because I want to," You grin, brushing his hair from his brows, revealing a scratch, "you're cut."

"Yeah, had a run-in with an old friend, we're obviously not friends anymore."

"You should take me with you on these deals and stuff, I'd make a great bodyguard for you," You joke, "if you showed me how to use a gun."

"You?" He giggles at the image of you secretly acting as a bodyguard, a dagger, and a gun in a garter under a skintight dress. "That's not a bad idea, they'd be too distracted looking at how fucking beautiful you are to see you as a threat."

"Yeah, I always saw as the Bonnie & Clyde type of couple," He leans up to kiss you and you smile through it before he pulls away, "eh, you need to shower, you smell like weed."

He furrows his brows, a snarky smile on his mouth. "And you smell like French fries, but I still kissed you.”

"Touche." You can't argue with that, the French fries smell gets to you too.

He picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom with a beaming smile.

"Let's shower then."

* * *

A deal went bad, he got grazed by a bullet and spent a few hours at the emergency room.

When he pulled in to the driveway and saw your car, he sighed in relief—he was hoping you'd come. After work, you had come by earlier to clear your head and take a breather from your cramped apartment and rowdy neighbors. Ever since his 'new position' he was put up in this huge mansion, equipped with a full staff. Luckily, they were off tonight so no need to keep quiet.

It's getting late and you've been trying to watch a baking show to stay awake but it was getting difficult. He hadn't called or answered any of your calls or texts. When you hear the garage door open, your heavy lids lift and you yawn, trying to wake up so you can tell him how your day has been.

He opens the door with a deep sigh and he's glad you can't see the thick white bandage on his upper arm and tired shadows under his eyes because of the dim lights. "Jungkook, it's so late..." You mumble, sitting up. "what took you so long?"

"Yeah, baby, I just had a mix up with someone who owed the group a lot of money, they, uh- They opened fire and we had a lot to clean up." He offhandedly mentions that and goes to the bathroom to change and you just wait for him.

The painkiller is wearing off but he manages to brush his teeth and slip into some sweats and a t-shirt. After flicking the light switch off, he falls into bed with a heavy exhale. Glad to finally have him close so you can tell him about your terrible day, you turn to hug him, and instantly a wince of pain leaves his mouth.

"Sorry," You giggled, thinking he was just kidding until you see the bandage on his arm, "Oh my gosh," You sit up, hand reaching for his bandage with concern in your brows, "what happened?"

"It's nothing baby, I was grazed by a bullet and had to go to the ER," He spares you a weak grin, hand rustling through his damp locks, "but it's nothing, I feel fine."

It's always nothing to him. You lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead, one he would normally place on you. Nights go by and you know he's out there risking his life, not thinking how devastated you would be if one night he doesn't come back.

He caresses the apple of your cheek, lips parting when sits up to try to kiss you, but you pull away.

"Hey, I've had a long day I just want to kiss you," He sits up now, "talk to me."

"Talk to yourself, I'm going to sleep."

"Where the fuck is this coming from?" He glares at you, tone firmer than before. "Y/n, cut the crap. What's the problem?"

"Jungkook, there's no problem I just worry about you."

"I don't mean to make you worry," He speaks softly, "but you know this is what I do, I can't stop now, even if I wanted to."

"I know," Sadly, "but you're all I have."

He tilts his head, a bit confused. "What happened?"

"My sister called when I got off of work. My dad isn't doing well, his liver is in terrible condition and he needs a transplant...He's on a wait-list now."

Knowing the severed relationship you have with your family, he treads lightly when requesting this. "Do you want to go see him?-"

"No!" You snap. "Why would I want to see him? This is what he gets for killing my mother."

"Y/n, you don't mean that..." Jungkook gets uncomfortable when you enter that head-space, you become ruthless in your words and your eyes glaze over with something he has yet to understand.

"Why not? It's true. He was cheating on her, that's why he never came home and she thought something was wrong. So drove out in the middle of the night during a storm and ended up crashing into a tree, because of him. My sister has always defended him, but I think it's because she didn't like mom either...The two of them may have cried at the funeral but I know them, they were glad she left us. That's why I need you, Jungkook, I don't have them or want them..."

"Y/n, you have to learn to forgive them for whatever you think they did, it's going to drive you insane if you don't...Fuck them, spend your energy on us, okay?"

"I'm already insane, I'm with you, aren't I? You come close to being killed every week, and it bothers me to think you might not come home...But I'll go through that if it means I get to have you, I love you, I only love you..." You lay your head on his shoulder.

He’s your angel.

You aren’t sure what you are to him.

#jungkook scenario #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #Bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook mafia #jungkook hitman #bts hitman au #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #this wasn't supposed to be a murder mystery but idk #i was getting unhinged vibes #like the oc #shes a little crazy

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jamkookies · 4 years ago

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤. ♡

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑱𝒐𝒋𝒐. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆? 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚.

Pairing: OC X Barista!Jungkook

Contains: humor, mutual pining, fluff, cuddles, vine references, hurt and comfort, sexual tension.

Warnings: swear words, angst, dark themes, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, starvation, binge eating.

Word count: 30k+ (don’t ask)

A/N: I spent almost a year working on this, during which time I went on and off from writing. It’s finally here and my excitement is through the roof. Special thanks to @keopitae for sharing her thoughts on the fic and for her continuous support. Eli out.

____________________________

"My name is Jojo and I suffer from an eating disorder."

The words echo across the small bathroom walls, crashing against the mirror I so passionately detested. Punching the mirror as hard as I can, blossoming cracks scatter in every direction. The pain in my right knuckle screams, blood already oozing out of the peeled skin.

Fucking cringe. What was all this for? Was there a camera up my ass for acting all dramatic and shit?

"Good job, Jojo, you just ruined another one." I sigh and let the running water wash the blood off my hand. This was the third time this month and honestly, I think I deserved a slap across the face for the amount of money I was spending on fucking mirrors.

Heh.

That made it sound like mirror prostitution.

I grab a bandage from the stack I kept on the drawers and wrap it around my injury. Talking to your reflection first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way to start off the day, but it had been a mere attempt at self-therapy. Well, since I can't go to a real one, anyway. Too bad it didn't work.

I sigh one more time for good measure and pull a hoodie over my head.

Ah yes, a hoodie. The ultimate piece of clothing.

Feeling cold? Wear a hoodie. Your bra is cutting your blood circulation and you can't keep it on anymore? Wear a hoodie. You feel self-conscious of your body and try to hide every curve and shape? Hoodie is your best friend.

I put on a pair of sweats to complete the look because let's be real; everyone loves a baggy outfit. Not even sparing a glance at the mirror anymore, I unplug the charger from my phone's ass and sit down for a second to scroll through some memes.

Yup.

That's exactly what a person does after losing their job.But come on, I mean who fires someone just because they went to take a piss? Yes, it took fifteen minutes and yes, I was in the middle of working, but my dude, I drink three bottles of water a day. I need to let it out somewhere.

I take a deep breath as if to clear the disarrayed thoughts in my head. As much as I tried to make it sound funny, it wouldn't work because, at the end of the month, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Living on your own had its pros and cons and up till now, if I was completely honest, I had only seen the bad side of it.

Supporting my hands on the sofa, I try to stand on my feet but almost flop back down. Every time I get up, black spots dance across my vision. I can even see whole galaxies and not in the pretty sense of the word. One time I think I witnessed the glory of the Milky Way itself.

The pills that are strewn across the floor remind me of the impulsive decision I'd decided to make last night so I collect them one by one and put them back in the bottle.

Maybe some other time, I think to myself. Another day.

I'm perfectly fine, after all. I did lose my job yesterday and now I'm hanging on a thread for dear life but it's fine. I can make this work. A small green apple on the counter is the only promise of a so-called decent breakfast.

"Well hello there, little guy," I say before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh of the innocent fruit.The apple doesn't respond.I take my phone out of my pocket and tap on the Notes app.

52 calories are way too fucking much for an apple, I think to myself as I aggressively type the number down.This was about the only positive side of this disease. I was more educated on the nutritional values of food than a real dietitian.

This was how it all had started in the first place — from wanting to make healthier choices to cutting on particular groups of food. Just a slight change. Nothing too alarming. But then, I had to know what I was eating, right? So I start counting.

And that's how it all went to shit.

After I finish eating the apple and throw its core into the almost empty trash can, I wash it down with a tall glass of water. At last, my animalistic hunger was sedated and I could finally move on with my life. Indeed.

I grab my keys and shut the door behind me, wanting to go out for a while, maybe clear my head a little bit. It's not like I had to feed my kids or anything. There was nothing holding me back. So, I exit the apartment building, my keys clinking in my right pocket, and I hop on my beloved bike, parked right on the corner of the street. Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was that going to stop me from strolling around like I didn't have a pile of shit waiting to be dealt with? Hell no.

I start pedaling like crazy from the moment I put some distance between my apartment and the main street. Maybe it was because I needed to let off some steam, maybe the amount of calories I would burn excited me. Either way, that doesn't justify the high pitched scream coming from a girl that I almost run over.

I skid to a stop, the hands on the brakes stopping me from a fatal mistake. The girl's face has gone pale and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, terrified.I notice the way her flawless make-up matches her porcelain foundation, the fitted jeans hugging her slim legs like a second skin, and I feel sick.Sick for the fact that I'd almost killed this girl and all I could think about was how skinnier than me she actually was.

"Watch where you're going, fatass!"

Scratch that.

The Regina George flashback turns it all around.This bitch was going down.

I throw the bike aside in the middle of heavy traffic and shoot daggers from my eyes at her ridiculously perfect form. Any shred of remorse I'd felt up till now dissipates like a wisp of smoke on the wind."The fuck did you just say?"

She flinches from the humorless tone of my voice and I can see from the way her eyes widen that she's starting to regret her poor choice of words.

"I–"

Before I can blink, she's out of my sight, scurrying away like a frightened little mouse and I can't help but huff an incredulous laugh right there in the middle of the street. A car honks loudly behind my back and I don't hesitate to flip the guy off, the hint of a smile still lingering on my lips.

I wasn't taking any shits from people today.

So I hop on the bike once more and round a corner in search of a place to cool down a little bit. My eyes roam over the long line of stores and shops decorating both sides of the road in a flourished aesthetic and pause on the frame of a particular coffee shop, the strong flavorful smell inviting to my senses. I don't have to think twice before leaving my bike on the sidewalk and entering the shop with curious steps, scanning the interiors in a quick once-over. I sit by the window since it faces the street and make myself comfortable enough to attract a few pair of judging eyes.

A woman seated on a table close-by looks at me disapprovingly, staring at my clothes for a little longer than needed. She was probably wondering why was a tomboy wannabe man-spreading with an arm thrown across the chair like she owned the place.

Look, ma'am. It's the twenty-first century. No one gives a shit about girl mannerisms anymore.

"Didn't anyone tell you staring is rude?" I say, not bothering to make myself look somewhat presentable. She looks appalled by the bluntness of my words, probably not used to being called out so straight-forwardly but it seemed to have worked as she just turns her head on the other side, pretending to not have heard anything.

That's what I thought.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll down mindlessly. A distraction more than anything. But I don't even get the luxury of having a moment's peace when a pair of black stomper shoes slow down to a stop down my line of vision. I raise my eyes deliberately, following the two long legs protruding from them that connect with a bulky chest till I finally reach the top.

A boy.

No, a man.

Well, a mix of both.

His well-built figure screams "I've never skipped a day at the gym", the veiny muscles tight against the black shirt he's wearing. A swirling black tattoo makes an appearance on the side of his neck, disappearing inside the collar of his shirt, peeking again at his biceps and then snaking its way down his arm. There are multiple piercings on both of his ears, the silvery dangling pieces curtained by a mass of black messy hair reaching past his cheekbones and falling in front of his eyes carelessly.

Those eyes...

His whole physique resembled that of a fully grown man but his eyes were the ones who gave him away. Big and round and boyish.

I wasn't sure why I had spent more than a minute ogling at a stranger coming up to my table. Maybe it was the dark, mysterious aura radiating off of him or the way he was looking at me expectantly. Still, this motherfucker was too handsome for his own good. And he still stays right in front of me, unmoving, waiting for something.

"Are you lost, child?" I ask, looking at him dead in the eye.

He scoffs, clearly offended. "Child?"

"Your fly's down." I deadpan.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes slightly dip down to the front of his pants.

"Ha! I made you look!" I proclaim, a spark of amusement making the corners of my lips upturn.

He, on the other hand, doesn't look so happy, his curled up fists shaking by his sides, trying to keep himself in control."Can I take your order?" he grits the polite words through his teeth, even though he looks like he's about to strangle me from any second now.

"You're the waiter? Where's your uniform?"

"I don't have it with me." The boy's expression has turned angry, irritated even by the consistency of my questions.I decide to take it down a notch or two for the sake of the bulging vein on his throat, threatening to pop off. "Kay, chill. I was just asking."I lean closer and put my elbow on the table. " Soo...You come here often?"

It's his turn to deadpan. "I work here."

"Whoops. Silly me, I forgot."

"Are you gonna order or not?" He can't help the slight raise of his voice, more than enough proof that his patience was wearing thin.

Uh oh. Hoe's mad.

I throw a leg across my knee in the most arrogant way possible and lean back on the chair. "Aren't you gonna write it down somewhere?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"I can remember it." he simply answers.

Fine then, pretty boy. Let's see how you remember this.

"I'll have a quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla."

Oh, I've definitely made him mad now.

With a look of pure hatred on his face, he clenches his jaws together and stomps off in the opposite direction with God knows how much memory of the order in his head but before he can go further, I shout for him to stop. I was starting to feel bad for the boy with the long hair flying behind him dramatically. Not to mention, there was no way in hell I'd let that much sugar enter my body.

"Wait!"

He pauses and slowly turns around."I changed my mind. Just a cup of dark coffee will do. No sugar."

Surprisingly, a subtle smirk creeps its way on his lips, throwing a whole new light to his features. "Aren't you gonna tell me to make sure it's darker than your soul?"

Hmph. The little puppy can bite back, after all.

"Nah, that's overused," I say. His eyes scan me from head to toe and then he pivots on his heel, disappearing behind the multiple tools of the counter, probably communicating the order to someone else. It doesn't take long for him to come back once again, his long elegant hand gently picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and putting it on the table.

In that fleeting moment I can make out a messy layout of tattoos; a smiley emoji on his middle finger, four small crosses in the spaces between and a bunch of other symbols I don't recognize. All that, gracefully completed by a gorgeous black flower and a bunch of other patterns wrapped around his forearm.

How contrasting it was, the way his appearance clashed with his personality. Did I actually know him? I think so.The guy was obviously kind enough not to spill the thing all over my clothes in an act of rebellion and I had to say it was an admirable thing to do considering how far I was pushing his limits. I am almost ready to hold out the olive branch to him.

Almost.

"I thought I said no sugar," I say, noticing the small white pack by the side of the cup."I guessed you would probably change your mind again." he teases, but the displeasure is still quite evident on his face.

Interesting.

"Next time, just make sure to do what I say." I retort, very much aware that I was prolonging the situation more than needed, but I just couldn't help it. I was really enjoying the reactions I got from him every time I pushed his buttons.

He's practically fuming with anger but still doesn't fall prey to my relentless attacks, instead choosing to walk away like a civilian.

Pity. I wish he'd stayed a little longer.

The coffee is absolutely disgusting. Its bitter aftertaste almost makes me gag.

This is what happens when you refuse to add sugar to any kind of drink, Jojo. It basically tastes like shit.

I forcefully down the last gulps and rise from my table, leaving a tip for the emo kid even though I'm running low on money. He deserved it after putting up with my bullshit for that long.

The woman staring at me earlier goes wide-eyed when I lift two fingers to the side of my brow, offering her a salute before making my way out of the coffee shop.

I don't eat lunch that day. Not even dinner. I just stare at the black screen of the turned-off TV, sipping water from my mug like it's the most flavorful thing in the universe and not having the energy to even cry myself to sleep anymore. I do that every night. Cry and cry and cry like there's no tomorrow. It feels relieving somehow— like I've let something off my chest, even though momentarily.

I grab my phone and type down the stupid number anyway.

2 calories. I write 2 calories for a fucking cup of coffee like it's gonna make a shit ton of difference.

Fucking ridiculous.

I want to sink deeper into this misery, let it consume me whole till there's nothing left, but like a beacon of light, the image of that boy's face emerges into the surface.

"That guy was cute." I voice the words that have been on my mind all day before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

There she was. That girl again.

In all my three years of working here, I'd never encountered someone so rude, shameless and utterly irritating. She's sitting on the same spot from yesterday, looking out the window and throwing casual glances at her phone. She also has the same baggy hoodie and sweats, probably too lazy to even bother change into something else.

However, what attracts my attention is the bandage wrapped around her hand, a pink hue visible where her knuckles should be. I'd noticed it the first day too, wondering where in the world would she get that kind of wound. She did seem like the type of girl who would get into fights actually, judging from her boyish clothes and brash personality but I wasn't sure if–

Whatever.

It was none of my business and I had work to do, anyway. I couldn't be bothered with the antics of a rebellious teenage girl. The glass I'm wiping almost slips out of my hands. Bold of her to call me a child when she couldn't be more than five feet tall. I wondered if her feet even reached the pedals of her bike.

"Hey Jungkook, you got a customer." Kwan's voice shakes me out of my thoughtful state as he flicks his chin towards the girl.

"Can't you get this one for me?" I grimace."Why? Are you afraid she's gonna bite?"

"Seems like it."

His eyes narrow into slits as he glares at me suspiciously.

"Come on man, just do what I say for once," I insist, not really wanting to deal with her shit for a second time. Kwan raises his palms up in surrender and goes to take the girl's order, but not without mumbling a "kids these days" on his way out.

The girl looks up from her phone upon Kwan's arrival but then her eyes quickly roam around as if searching for something. They exchange a few words too quietly for me to hear amid the general bustle of the shop, and then my coworker is by my side before I can blink.

"Nothing to be scared of, Jeon. She just asked for a green tea," Kwan says and grabs a number of items from the counter.

"So, she didn't say anything rude?"

"Nope."

"Not even an insult?"

Kwan tsks with his tongue.

Hmph.

Maybe she just hadn't been in the mood yesterday because there's definitely something different about the way she's just sitting there–

Barbecue sauce on her ti—

A snort accidentally escapes from my lips and I lower my head further to hide the embarrassment of the uninvited thought.

"Something funny?" Kwan asks, looking up from the tea he was brewing. I click my tongue just as he'd done.

It takes about a minute or so until the order's ready and I note the way the girl's face contorts with each sip of her tea as if someone had actually put a gun to her head to drink that horrendous beverage. She still drains the cup to its dregs, though.

Gets up.

Sways a little.

The hand wrapped in bandages holds onto the table for support and she finally pushes herself up to her feet. A little light-headed, if you ask me.

That confident image I'd created of her yesterday, crumbles into pieces when I observe the vulnerable state she's currently in. I wasn't sure why I was paying much attention to a complete stranger who I would probably never meet again, but I just couldn't stop myself. It was like being pulled into a black hole and finding yourself secretly enjoying it even though your gut tells you that it's wrong.

It was weird but true.I'd experienced it before.

The brief moment of realization had been enough to make me get lost in my thoughts so I snap my eyes back to the girl's table only to notice that the seat was empty.

She'd left.

~JOJO ~

Discipline. I need to practice discip–

Fuck. Is that a hamburger?

The delicious treat from the glass showcase of a fast-food restaurant winks at me and my mouth waters just by looking at it. When was the last time I ate anything decent? I rack my brains out, calculating the number of calories I'd consumed for the last two days and the only results are an apple, a cup of black coffee, green tea and maybe a tank of water.

Wait!

I did lick that spoon of peanut butter this morning, so in total, 144 calories. Might as well call it a fast for all I care.

My breath quickens with every push of the pedal, thighs burning with the strain. It's been almost three hours since I left the coffee shop and I'm pretty sure the tires of my bike must be deflated from going through every damn corner of the city.

Why would I do that? Because I'm a stupid ass bitch who likes to push herself to her limits and who doesn't know what rest means.

I know I'm going too far. I know it won't be long before all of this comes crashing down on me, sending my progress back to the starting point, but I can't seem to stop. Not when the ecstasy is so overwhelming, filling me up with a fake sense of achievement. This was probably the reason why this disorder was addicting. It made you feel like you had the reins in your hands, not it.

Not her.

Oh, Ana. How much I wanna fucking kill you right now.

It was all her fault, after all.

No. It wasn't her fault. It was the people's fault.They were the ones that said things. Things that hurt me. And their words didn't affect me directly but they fed my insecurities.

It was confusing, actually.They said I was fat. I tried and built some muscle by working out.They said I looked too manly with my muscles now. It didn't suit me.I dropped ten pounds starving myself.

What did they want?

What was the right body?

I didn't know anymore.There would always be something not right, not good enough.

I grip the handlebar tighter when the flood of old memories engulfs me without warning, making its appearance like an uninvited guest. I'm not even sure how it all started in the first place because believe it or not, I was the biggest body-positivity enthusiast.

And then suddenly I wasn't.

And then I find out that there's a whole community out there with people just like me but so radical, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. At first, I was outraged, disgusted even, by the naive statements of young girls saying they wanted the thinnest body possible, fantasizing about skin and bones, but as time went by and as I delved deeper and deeper into the swirling vortex of these intoxicating thoughts, I started succumbing to them. They suddenly seemed appealing.

I let out a sigh between heavy breaths.

Did it matter now? Besides, that guy didn't even show up today. Maybe it's his day off or something.

The brilliant rays of the afternoon sun make the glass panes of the cars passing by gleam like a swarm of fireflies.It would've looked pretty if it weren't for the way it made me shield my eyes. I was already having a hard time trying to keep them open as my strength started to run out, the view in front of me doing half–circles and then turning back to its optimal position. My legs feel like lead and I stop pedaling altogether, letting my bike guide me instead.

Tired.

So, so...tired.

A familiar face swims into my line of vision. It's the emo kid.

And he's....falling?

The handlebar spirals out of my control and my knee hits hard concrete. That face is the last thing I see before a black cloak of darkness swallows me whole

~JUNGKOOK~

Never in a million years would I have thought I'd have to carry a random person to the nearest hospital on my way home. Yet here I am, sitting on a chair for the past hour, staring at the girl's chest rise and fall with slow, rhythmic breaths.

There are fresh bandages wrapped around her scraped knee and multiple bruises all over her body. I'd seen the slightest look of surprise cross her face before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell off the bike, hitting her head in the process. It had been a chaotic situation, that one. People had kept gathering around, trying to sneak a peek at the accident but still not doing anything to actually help. So I'd taken things to my own hands, done my duty as a normal person would.

Then why are you still here, Jungkook? my logic reasons with me. The doctor said she would be fine so why are you still sitting over here, waiting for her to wake up?

That's right. I should be going.I lean my palms on my knees but before I can fully rise from the chair, the girl's eyes crack open. She takes a look around the room, analyzing her surroundings, and then her eyes stop on my face.

"Who the fuck are you?" she croaks.

Here we go again... I internally sigh."We met at the coffee shop. Or don't you remember?" I answer, praying for her life not to get my anger rise so fast.

"Right," she says, even though something tells me she had known exactly who I was in the first place. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I saved your life."

"Why bother?"

"You should be grateful, you know."

"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?"

I had to admit I was slightly taken aback. The girl swore and cursed worse than a sailor. As if on cue, a jumble of profanities spill from her lips as she struggles to sit up, suddenly finding herself tangled in tubes and needles trickling colorless liquid into her veins.

"Get this shit off of me, " she says and rips the said piece from the inside of her forearm.

"You should keep that for a little longer." I protest, hands already reaching for the needle laying on the sheets but she flinches from my touch and throws a leg across the bed, attempting to get up.

"Sit down!" I say a little harsher than I intended but it was impossible not to.

Unbelievable.

Her nonchalance and irresponsible behavior made me want to punch her in the face, regardless of her being a girl. At last, she has the dignity to actually do what she's told. "Someone's cranky, " she mumbles as she leans back on the pillow.

This girl must have a split personality disorder because only two seconds later her legs are crossed comfortably despite the nasty injury on her knee and she's leaning forward with her cheek on her palm, staring intently at me with a curious smile hanging on her lips.

"You never told me your name, " she says.

"You never asked, " I reply.

She scowls. "Stop trying to play the smartass with me, child and just tell me your fucking name."

"It's Jungkook."

Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

"I know, it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" I tease.

"Actually, it sounds like a chicken dying, but okay."

My lips twitch in amusement, trying to suppress the silly smile demanding to make an appearance.

"To be honest, I'm kinda disappointed, " she continues. "I was expecting something more special, like Sebastian or Gabriel or something." She scratches her chin while her eyes still stay rooted on my face. "You know what, imma call you Juan. Yeah, Juan's better. Got that Latino vibe to it."

Her never-ending shenanigans were pure torture so I decide to turn the tables for a change. "And what is your name?" I ask.

For once, she doesn't try to make fun of me. "Jojo."

Cute.

"It fits you."

Her eyebrows scrunch themselves together as she carefully observes me. "Hmmm....Anyway–" She crawls to the side of the bed and grimaces when her left foot leans on the floor. "Thanks for spending your precious time with me, Juan but now I gotta blast."

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down, please," another voice is heard and the doctor I'd talked to earlier steps into the room. He stares the girl, Jojo I remind myself, down but she doesn't relent, staring right back with the same intensity.

"I'm perfectly fine—"

"Your blood sugar levels are at their lowest point, that wound on your knee needs to be changed continuously or else you'll get an infection and you might have a concussion from the way you hit your head. I'm surprised you're still even talking."

There's a slight tremor in her pupils, which I 'm pretty sure is caused by the panicked state she's trying to hide. She plasters a smile on her face. "Come on now, Doc. I'm sure you can let me off this one time. The fact that I'm still talking proves I'm better, right?"

"Miss—"

"I'll accompany her, " I blurt without thinking and both of them snap their heads in my direction. No turning back now. "I'll make sure she gets home safely," I assure him.

"I don't need your—" Jojo starts, but her words falter when she meets the doctor's glare. "I mean... sure, why not?"

The doctor seems satisfied enough as he turns on his heel without a moment's hesitation. However, he hasn't even made it past the threshold when he pauses, turns halfway around and looks at her dead in the eye. "And by the way, miss. You should eat something. Your heart's gonna fail at this rate."

I could have sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes but she doesn't show it, choosing to keep that sad smile on her face like an anchor linking her to sanity.

"Son of a bitch." I hear her mumble under her breath.

~JOJO~

Son of a bitch I repeat in my head over and over again till the words start to sound foreign to my ears, suddenly losing their meaning.

That damn doctor just had to point out the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for the last couple of days. He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from mentally sending a series of curses his way.

I have never felt so shitty in my life. Both physically and mentally. My head feels like it's going to split in half, the stinging of the wound on my knee is crying like a bitch and there's not an ounce of strength left in me.

Powerless.

And if that wasn't enough, Juan's endless questions only add to my misery.

"For the last time, no, I don't live with my parents," I say for what felt like the gazillionth time, still refusing the hand he kept offering my way. I might be on the verge of collapsing but under no circumstances was I to let myself be held like a damsel in distress.

Nuh-uh.That's a line you can't cross, mister.

"That sounds kinda hard to believe," Juan says and sticks his rejected hand back in his pocket, probably to get rid of the awkwardness.

"Bitch, I don't need your approval to say something. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Suit yourself. "

His shiny black hair glints in the darkness, catching the beams of moonlight as he flicks it away from his face. "How can I be a bitch? I'm a male." he retorts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Man whore." I reply, putting a clear emphasis on the last syllable.

He scowls, seeming genuinely offended by my words, especially when he says " Swearing is rude, you know."

"You know what else is rude? Asking people too many questions."

"But can you blame me, though? I mean you pretty much look like a high-schooler who ran away from home."

I stop dead in my tracks. "You have a strong sense of guessing."

He blinks. "Wait. You're really a high-schooler who ran away from home?"

I resume my walking, using the concrete wall on the side of the road for support. "For your information, I did finish high-school so suck on that."

"But you still ran away from home, right?" he insists.

"Oh for fuck's sake— yes, I did run away from home. Are you happy now?"

The blank look on his face, combined with the slight shrug of his shoulders almost causes me to snort. "Cool, " he says, unbothered."Aren't you gonna ask why I did it?"

"Not interested, " he states and looks straight ahead, completely ignoring my presence."Liar. I can see that you're one of those assholes who are dead-curious about everything."

"Am not!" he whirls on me.

I scrunch my nose and sniff the air around me like a wild dog hunting on its prey. "You smell that?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Smells like bullshit to me."

Even in the darkness, I can see the dramatic roll of his eyes, causing their whites to stand out. He had pretty big eyes, this guy. They softened that edgy aura he gave off, all muscles, tattoos, and black clothes. And the fact that he tolerated my irritating behavior, which I was deeply aware of, made him look even more appealing to my eyes.

"Why did you volunteer to take me home, Juan?" I quietly ask, glancing at him through the corner of my vision.

He seems to mull the question over in his head for a moment, eyes staring his shoes down. "I don't know. You seemed like you needed some help." He throws a look at me. "Which by the way, is still valid. You look like hell."

For some reason, that makes me retract my hands from the wall and I try to keep myself stable on my own two feet, limping heavily on the process.

"What exactly happened with your bike?" he continues, unaware of my recent action.

"I was busy stalking hot guys all day, so my bike got tired. Guess she just couldn't handle it anymore."

The boy doesn't seem to fall for any of my lies, narrowing his eyes till their nothing but slits. "Do you tend to not eat when you stalk hot guys?"

This little shit...

"Nah, it's just that I'm so fucking forgetful." I immediately reply. "I forget to eat all the time.

"He doesn't relent, still boring holes into my eyes.

"Hey, what's with all the questions, anyway? I thought you said you were not interested?" I repeat his own words.

"Right, " he admits.

My apartment building comes into view, the looming structure now as familiar as the back of my hand. "We're here, " I announce. My eyebrows raise in wonder as his legs keep heading for the entrance of the building instead of pausing.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To your apartment, obviously."

"What the fuck makes you think you can come to my apartment, boy?" I did not want him to see anything personal of mine, yet for some strange reason, I found myself hoping he would stick around a little longer. A little controversial, considering the fact that my words proved otherwise, but I couldn't just say that to him, could I? Like, hey, kid you're nice. Let's have a little chat before you go.

Ridiculous.

"I'll just escort you to the door, " he assures.

"No need for that."

"But what if you fall down the stairs?" he insists.

"You got me there." I punch in the code at the main entrance and hurry up the stairs as much as my limp would let me, Jungkook's eyes never leaving me for a second. After what felt like an eternity, I grunt heavily and lean on the doorstep of my humble apartment. "Okay, you've done your service, soldier. You're free to go now."

Jungkook throws a quick glance at my mustard-colored door, probably weirded out by it but then his eyes flick to my empty hands. "Where's your keys?" he wonders.

My mouth gapes open and my eyes go the size of tennis balls as I frantically pat my pockets. When I notice the way Jungkook's lips part slightly, I burst into hysterical laughter, jiggling the retrieved keys in front of his face. "You should've seen your face!" I laugh. "Hilarious."

He exhales, relieved. "I thought you'd lost them."

"Nah, Juan. I forget a lot of things but not my keys. Besides, these bitches stick up my ass like fucking glue."

The door's lock clicks with a flick of my wrist but I resist the usual temptation of kicking it wide open, in fear of letting emo-kid sneak a peek. It's not like I was embarrassed of the mess in my apartment or anything like that but it felt weirdly intimate to let someone else get a glimpse of my domestic life. In fact, I hadn't invited anyone over since...

Yes, it had been that long.

Jungkook notices my reluctance and clears his throat. "So...um...you're all good now, so I better leave. You should–you should take care of your wound."

How weird to see an overgrown, muscular dude stutter and not know what to do with his hands. I usually didn't have the tendency of stereotyping but this definitely struck me as odd.

I smirk. "Getting shy, Juan?"

He almost flinches at my words. " What? No!"

"Are you waiting for a thanks then?"

A stray hair falls in front of his eyes but he doesn't move it away from his face. "That's not something you ask from people."

I bite my tongue and try not to let the pain on my leg get to me as I squeeze into the room through a thin sliver of space. Still, his words bring a smile to my face and as much as I try to suppress it, it just keeps floating on the surface again. "I'm not an asshole, Juan. So thanks."

"Actually, you refused to say thanks from the start—"

"Okay, now you ruined it," I interrupt. "Get outta here."

He slowly starts to back off and his lips stretch into a barely contained smile. "Good night, Jojo." And then just like that, he's climbing down the stairs with his long legs taking two or three steps at a time.

I shut the door and lean on it for a moment, sighing deeply through my nose.

"Little shit, " I whisper.

Rise and shine.

That's exactly what my alarm tune doesn't say. Even after so much time hearing it pierce my ears every single morning with its shrill screech, I can never stop myself from wanting to smash the damn thing into pieces. However, that's the only thing that can actually get my ass up from the bed. All the other gentle-sounding melodies had proven to be absolute failures, dragging me even further into the sweet crevices of sleep.

The numerous late arrivals to work had made me suffer more shouts and scoldings than I could remember from my boss. The guy was a total dick. Good thing I don't work there anymore.

My room is still coated in patches of darkness here and there, the bright rays of the morning sun nowhere to be seen. It is about 5:30, an unholy time to wake up, but since I was now unemployed, I had made an oath to force myself every day into going for a run outside.

There was no overwhelming hustle and bustle, no moving crowds of people. The city had yet to rise from its slumber and the only activity on sight included slow, quiet movements of passers-by.

I finally kick the blanket off and swing my legs over the bed. The cold surface of the floor awakens my senses as I prepare to go over the usual ritual: Stretch, pee, step on the scale.

The number has slightly changed from yesterday but not to the point where I want it to. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It happens every day yet I can never get used to it.

I decide to go easy on the breakfast. A cold glass of water, an apple, and a boiled egg.

I probably should've thought about putting some pants on first, I say to myself as a crumb of egg yolk smears my bare thigh. I use the pad of my finger to wipe it off and cringe intensely. These thick bitches turned three sizes wider when sitting down and it only spurred on my body dysmorphia.

Disgusting.

Not forgetting about my daily dose of green tea, I hurry up before the sun rises and put some sports clothes on, which wasn't really that hard since they were the only thing in my closet. I shut the door behind me but it feels like something is nagging the back of my mind, demanding my attention.

Did I forget anything?

I rack my brains out in search of a clue but nothing makes it into the surface.

This stupid obsession...

Making sure my shoelaces are tightly secured and my earphones plugged in, I climb down the stairs and burst out of the entrance of the building. I welcome the sharp sting of fresh air that fills my lungs with a deep breath and waste no time to sprint into a run, the loud music already blasting my ears in full force.The wound on my knee does not approve of this but I don't give two shits. It can cry like a bitch for all I care.

It's easy at first, obviously. Your body is rested and unspent so you relish those twenty minutes with pure adrenaline flowing through your veins. But then, the run takes its toll on you. It's unavoidable.

The sky switches from dark blue to a pastel pink, announcing the official start of the day and reminding me of my tiresome condition. I'm panting like an asthmatic by now and my clothes stick uncomfortably with sweat so I slow into a light jog. The sting on my knee grows stronger and stronger til I can barely stand it. The clean sidewalk grows hard under my feet and it's all I can do not to faint from exhaustion. Running tires you out? Try running with not enough food in your system.

I scan my surroundings in an attempt to distract myself from the fatigue. A few trees lining up the street, a grey car hurrying to God knows where, hair—

Wait, what?

I redirect my eyes to the spot I was staring at and notice a mop of dark hair swinging wildly. The body they belong to is in fast-motion, arms shifting from side to side as the legs make long, speeding strides.

No fucking way. I guess it's not such a bad day after all.

I smirk as I gain speed, now heading straight towards the boy with newfound strength. As I maneuver from side to side with a few random strangers, I can't help but stare at the way his sweatpants hug every curve of his butt. He had a nice butt, this guy. I'm kinda jealous. And as if that wasn't enough, the material of his loose T-shirt turns darker from the collar down to his back, marking a trail of sweat. He'd ran just as hard from what I could see.

The music in my earphones dies out as I quickly catch up to him and slip by his side, matching his constant rhythm. He doesn't notice at first, but after the numerous glances I throw from the corner of my eye, he finally flinches and stops abruptly. "Jojo?"

His hair is completely drenched in sweat. The dark strands form wet tendrils on his forehead and numerous trails that drip from his temples and down to his chin. He almost rips his earbuds off and I have to say I feel slightly endeared. As a person who preferred not to be disturbed while listening to music, I could appreciate the fact that he removed them in the blink of an eye. If a person does that, he respects you. Simple as that.

He gives me a look of mild curiosity, which for a surprise makes him look ten times hotter. I also slow down to a stop as a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. "Oh, hey Juan! Didn't see you there."

He looks behind his back for good measure and turns to stare at me. "Are you stalking me?"

I scoff in feigned annoyance. "What the fuck? Am I not allowed to go for a run now? Do you own these streets or something?"

"No, but—"

"Hey, hey, " I quickly interrupt him. "Less chatting, more running."

I will my feet to start moving again and he immediately catches up. "So...how are you feeling?"

"Tired, " I reply.

"I meant from last night."

Well that's a surprise. I didn't think he would remember it, let alone be worried about my condition. "Oh. I'm fine. It's nothing, really, " I wave a dismissive hand.

He stares at me for a moment too long before turning his head straight. "That's good."

After that, neither me nor him try to elaborate on the topic. For some moments, the only thing heard is our combined panting and heavy breathing and it doesn't do much to tame my wild brain from going places. I push the dirty thoughts aside for later reference and give my head a slight tilt to peek at him."Tell me more about yourself, Juan."

"What do you wanna know?" he asks without looking.

"Everything."

He laughs delightedly. "Ok but you're gonna have to ask me questions, though. I don't know where to start."

"Perfect. Where do you live?"

His neck does a ninety-degree turn with such a lightning speed that I'm scared he broke a bone or two. "I knew you were stalking me!" he exclaims as if he had made a scientific discovery.

I smack my lips impatiently. "Just answer the damn question!"

"Two blocks from here."

"That means the coffee shop is close to your house, right?"

"I live in an apartment, " he adds and gives a curt nod before his attention is back to me. "Okay, my turn now. Did you ever go to college?"

Not this shit again. If I hadn't been attracted to his ridiculously good looks, he would be rubbing at a sore spot in between his eyeballs. "Goodness, child. You really are stubborn."

"Hey, it's only fair if you keep asking me questions, " he protests and instead of angering me, the harmless expression turns my insides into jelly. I was finding it hard to keep up with the constant appearances of his duality. It was weird. I barely knew this guy and I still told him things so strictly personal that I'd never thought I'd say out loud.

" I dropped out of college after the first year. Couldn't afford it."

And just like that, the jolly, playful countenance disappears to be replaced by a darker one. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I dropped too, " he continues. " Guess studies weren't exactly my thing."

"Oh wow. We have so much in common."

A pause.

"Where's your family?"

I was starting to think this kid was more interested in my personal life than me as a person. "Back home."

He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to explain further and unfortunately, I fall prey to his puppy eyes staring at me intently. An uncomfortable ball of imaginary yarn settles at the base of my throat. I try to gulp it down while fighting to keep the slight tremble in my voice from showing. " They...did some things to me. Bad things. I'm never going back."

He notices my discomfort, bless his soul, and decides to drop it. "My parents live far from here and I don't visit them as much. So yeah, that sucks."

His poor attempt at sympathizing with me makes my lips crack into a subtle grin. "Are all parents bad or are we just awful teenagers?"

"Both, I guess, " he chuckles.

Just when I assume the twenty-one question game has finally come to an end, he proves me wrong for the bazillionth time. "Is there anyone you hang out, at least?"

"You, " I answer.

His eyes widen twice their original size and I laugh through my nose. "Just kidding. I have a friend called Anna. Such a nice, caring and sweet girl." My lips twitch on the side to impersonate a somber smile but I had the feeling it looked like I was having a nervous tick. "She's to die for."

Time is cruel to us, swallowing up each patch of daylight until the sky has turned into the purest baby blue and let the rays of sunlight fall astray into our poor backs. The heat and the exhaustion makes us slow our pace. Then, suddenly a sharp pain stabs me across my knee and I wince discreetly.

"Do you go to work?" Juan asks, oblivious to my current torture.

"No, I quit, " I say, refusing to admit that the reason for that hadn't really been my choice. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, it's just that—" He abruptly stops and his eyes shift their attention to my legs, staring hard at them.

"What?"

"You're bleeding, " he states, matter of factly.

I snap my head down and take note of the way my knee is soaked in a dark red stain, slowly webbing its tendrils along the fabric."Aw shit, " I curse under my breath.

"You need to go to the hospital, " Jungkook quickly intervenes before a long string of profanities can spill over my lips.

"No. No more hospitals. I'll just go home and put some fresh bandages on it."

"Okay, well let me come with you."

I take a step back and shake my head from side to side. "For the last time, I don't need your help, Juan. Here are my key—" I frantically fish my pockets but they're completely empty, save for that stupid paper towel that I had somehow forgotten there. "Fuck no! Fuck no!"

Juan's brow bunches up in distress as his judging eyes give me a hard stare. "You already made that joke once."

"I'm not joking around, you idiot!" I snap, probably a bit too harsh but the panic seems to have gotten under my skin for me to care at this point. "I forgot my keys!"

So, that's what kept nagging me in the morning. I mentally slap myself for being such a careless mess and vow to not make the same mistake again.

"Let's go to the hospital, " Juan calmly repeats, seemingly unaffected by my sudden burst of anger. I wonder if he was hiding his hurt on the inside. If that was true, I'd have to give him a round of applause because he was sure doing a hell of a good job.

"No."

"Do you want to bleed to death?" This time he can't help the hint of anger from seeping into his voice.

I say nothing.

"If you don't want to go to the hospital then come with me back at my place. I have some bandages too."

"Absolutely not!" I protest, outraged. If this kept going on, we would end up at each other's throats.

"Look, it's either that or the hospital. You pick."

Shit. He had me cornered. Well, what was I to say? I liked hanging out with him but I also didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state and make me feel indebted to him. It had already happened once and I hadn't liked it not even one bit. "I can't just come at your place, " I say with a lilt of playfulness in my voice. My figure was already frayed at the edges and he was quick to catch sight of it. "What if you're a murdering psychopath in disguise?"

He smiles in earnest, as if I'd just told him he was the nicest guy on the planet. "Then you can always stab me with a kitchen knife."

This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn't just go to his house, dammit. I was letting my guard down way too much. No way I was doing this.

"Fine, " I finally surrender and wish I'd bitten my tongue in time before the word made it past my lips.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.

I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.

I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.

"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.

I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.

"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.

I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?

I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.

I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?

"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.

"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.

At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."

"I—"

"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.

I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.

I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."

She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.

"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"

I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.

After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.

"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."

"But it looks really ba-"

"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."

I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...

After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?" "I don't do drugs, " she yells back.

"As in the drink, Jojo."

"Oh. What kind?"

"The regular one."

"No diet coke?"

"No. Sorry."

"Okay, just get me a glass of water."

I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.

"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."

A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."

"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.

"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.

"My place or my personality?"

"Both."

She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."

She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.

"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?

She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."

Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."

I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.

"Wait!"

She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.

"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.

She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."

"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."

She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm serious."

"Forget it, " she says without turning around.

"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"

For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."

"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"

"I like helping people, " I simply reply.

"Some people don't like to be helped."

"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."

Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.

She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."

The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.

~ JOJO ~

There's no way I'm doing this, I say to myself as I take a hot shower. No fucking way, I repeat as I get dressed and tighten my shoelaces. I felt like a mere sheep heading to meet the butcher's axe. But the sheep was making this choice herself. She was willing.

I was afraid the boy had put a spell on me. I'd never been so weak-hearted and obedient to someone's requests. Here I was, going to that cursed coffee shop even after all the fights with Anna last night. She kept persuading me to stay inside, lock myself up in my room and not talk to anyone for the next week or so. She'd never been the social type, the bitch.

Most people said it was like a voice in your head urging you to do whatever it wanted, but that was not the case at all. If the concept of Ana was that unrealistic it wouldn't be so hard to label it as just another link into the shackles of mental disturbances but the thing was, there was that doubt that made you hesitate on whether these were actually your thoughts that made you behave this way or something actually real and tangible. The feeling of something not claiming its existence but still lingering like a shadow on your every step.Is it me or her?Who said that?

I shake my head violently to clear my thoughts as I find myself in front of the shop's entrance.The floor seems to wobble beneath my feet and I doubted whether it was just because of the fact that my stomach had crumpled in itself like a sheet of paper.

I clear my throat loudly to capture the attention of the man hunched on the counter.He slowly lifts his head as an automatic smile appears on his face. “Yes?"

I steady my posture. "I'm looking for someone named Jungkook. He works here."

His eyebrows almost touch his hairline but he's quick to recollect himself. "Oh, sure. He's in the back fixing some stuff. I'll go get him for you."

He disappears behind a door and comes back two seconds later with the reason of my sleepless nights by his side.

"You're here!" Jungkook exclaims, a little too loud for my liking. He seemed slightly surprised, as if he hadn't thought I would actually come. Couldn't blame the guy. There were times when traces of bipolarism would make it hard for people to understand what I actually meant.

Jungkook's open-lipped smile is almost contagious. He tramples his way forward and stops just an inch further, towering over me.The all-black outfit was present even today but this time an apron adorns his slim waist.

"I am, " I simply add.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Kwan, " he says as he gestures toward the smiley man. "We've been working together since I can remember."

I flick my eyes to the latter and nod a salute at him. "You should've called this place 'Juan and Kwan'. Quite catchy, if you ask me."

The man named Kwan chuckles. "She's funny. Where did you find her, Jungkook?"

"Oh, I'm the one who found him, " I intervene. "Besides, we've met before. I'm the green tea girl."

His eyes slightly widen with a sense of realization as he nods along. Ironically enough, my stomach whines so loudly to the point where even Jungkook hears it. He points a finger at it. "You really need to shut that thing up."

I look down to my stomach and talk to it as if it were a real person. "Hey thing, shut up. Juan doesn't like the way you sound."

"Did you even eat anything on the way here? There are some cupcakes if you want, " Jungkook insists with the tone of a concerned mother.

"I'm not hungry, Juan. Must be uhh... my seven month-old baby."

Jungkook shakes his head in surrender and asks for me to follow him behind the same room he came from. My nervousness raises tenfold as a bunch of unpleasant thoughts immediately rush into my brain. If I didn't get this job, I could say goodbye to normalcy. I would fall down the hole dug by my own hands and never come back out. All the hard work of these past months out in the trash.

"Don't worry, " Jungkook reassures. "You'll do great."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

She was bursting with joy. It was like her face had been washed in the late afternoon sunlight, illuminating its every corner. She wasn't ridiculously beautiful or anything like that but there was something so captivating about watching that smile brighten up her features like a glorious sunrise, I could barely keep myself from staring.

However, one thing I learned about her was that she really knew how to celebrate. Her hands are struggling to hold all the groceries she'd gotten at the supermarket. Well...if you could call them groceries. All I could see were tons of candies and deserts and all sorts of sugary stuff able to furnish a dozen sweet-toothed five year-olds.

But the thing that baffled me the most is that she'd invited me at her place to thank me for the new job. I thought after all the fights she'd put up to keep me far and away she wouldn't give in so easily. Guess I'd been wrong.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry. " I watch her chew on a chocolate-covered donut that gave me diabetes just by looking at it.

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, Juan, is that I change my mind way too often, " she mumbles in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah I can see that, " I add.

"Hey, shut up now, will you? We need to celebrate!"

"By eating trash?"

"They say you are what you eat, " she replies.

I angrily grab the grocery bags from her hands and let her lead the way to her apartment. "Don't call yourself that. "

The jokes she constantly jabbed could be hilarious to someone else but they just did not sit well with me. I only found them as extremely self-deprecating and dark. It was the go-to type of thing for the depressed and people were so used to normalizing them, it was hard to point it out from time to time.

Her mouth pauses chewing as she gives me a hard but harmless stare. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

"Do what?"

The deep sigh she lets out through her nose tickles my eyelashes. She stops in front of the door and leans her back on it. "You keep being nice even when I annoy you."

"You don't annoy me, " I say quietly.

"Yes I do. I annoy everyone." Another sigh. "You know, Juan, all my life I've been treated like a joke. Yeah, I joke around a lot so I'll get joked at. Understandable. But like, no one has treated me the way you do before. You listen to what I have to say and give me honest answers and most importantly, you are serious when you need to be."

"Isn't that how everyone is supposed to be?"

"No. If I told someone I'm feeling sad they'll laugh at my face 'cause they think I don't have the right to feel anything."

"Well, fuck them, " I snap.

Her jaw almost drops to the floor. "Woah! I've never heard you swear before. That was low-key hot. Do it again."

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and fumble with the edge of my T-shirt. Out of all the things she could've said..."Um...shit?"

The disappointment washes over her face as she scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Fucking rookie".

It is quiet for a few moments, save for the slight creak of the yellow door opening wide enough to finally offer me a front seat view of her apartment. I'd been strangely curious about what it would look like, eager to get to know more about where she lived, where she slept, what things the was interested in and no matter the weird turn my thoughts had taken I couldn't help but crave for more.

She lets me pass the threshold and takes the grocery bags from me to put them on the kitchen counter. The place reeked of lemons, their acrid stench filling the air to the point where it made my nose itch. I spot a few loose skins and other remnants by the table.Except for that, everything looked pretty much normal. Plain and bare of excessive decorations but I could see that she'd made efforts into putting her own preferences out in the open, littering the walls and ceiling. She liked minimalism, I could see.

"Did you throw a lemonade party last night?" I ask with the tiniest bit of chuckle tumbling from my mouth.

Her eyes flick to the evidence and I sense something I'd never witnessed so boldly in them before. Panic. "Oh, t-that..." she nervously stutters but it's gone in a blink as she quickly gains her composure. "Just an experiment. I love science." I hum in agreement and eye the couch on my right. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Make yourself at home. But I have to warn you there's nothing on the fridge so you're left with these, " she says, giving the sweet goodies a single heave.

"Oreos, please." I stretch my hand across and a huge grin pulls at the edges of her lips.

We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, munching cavities away like they were our last meal. It was surprising to say that it did not for a moment feel weird nor awkward. We barely knew each other and yet we seemed like two old pals seeking comfort into each other's presence.

"My place sucks, doesn't it?" she suddenly asks.

"Not really, " I reply. "I think it's pretty."

A confused frown appears on her face as she keeps munching on a chocolate bar. "How come?"

"Well, beauty is subjective, Jojo. What looks pretty in my eyes may not be the same for you."

"Deep words for a teenager, " she mumbles.

"Look who's talking."

"Yeah, yeah..." She waves her hand dismissively but I don't miss the tiny smirk hidden in her cheeks.

The grocery bags start to slowly empty. I was worried she was gonna make herself sick with all the sugar already flowing in her body.

She suddenly gets up and stretches, reaching with the tips of her fingertips up to the ceiling. Her hoodie rides up and I almost gasp in surprise. There are several marks littering the thin stripe of exposed skin, some dark, some purple and some turning yellowish. They made such a stark contrast with the pale white complexion that didn't exactly match the tone of her face. She'd obviously never worn anything too revealing, the sun rays far from tanning the skin. Before I can gawk my eyes out, it's gone in an instant when the hoodie falls back in place.

"This shit's addicting, " she says pointing at the leftovers on the table.

I could only wonder if she really had more problems than she let on. From what I'd gathered, she'd subtly admitted to being a victim of domestic abuse but that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Why were there still fresh scars on her body? As if to add on to my assumption I take notice of her bandaged hand.

"Where's that friend you mentioned?" I ask. "Was it Annie...Ann?"

Her eyes flick back to mine. "You mean Anna? She's always here for some reason. I consider more like family, to be honest. Never leaves my side. Just not today."

There was something fishy about the way Jojo's eyes turned glassy and distant every time she mentioned her friend. It kept rubbing me the wrong way.

I ask her to use the restroom and she shows me the way in a few curt gestures. As soon as I get inside, I am met with my distorted reflection on the mirror. A huge web blossomed into the side. Someone had cracked it, that part was fairly obvious.

What the hell was wrong this girl?

I wash my hands mindlessly and return to the living room. Jojo sits on the couch, man-spreading like a fourty-year old man on his second divorce. She winces once or twice and exhales through her nose. " I think I ate too much, " she whines.

"You think?"

"It's all your fault. You're the one who convinced me to eat, " she accuses.

"Well, I certainly didn't tell you to eat junk." I join her on the couch from a fair distance as she sulks away the nausea.

"What happened to your mirror?" I softly ask.

"I punched it, " she answers without looking.

"Why?"

"There was a fly on it and it kept buzzing while I was taking a shit."

I didn't believe that for a second but I nod my head nonetheless. From that moment on, she only adds to the dark jokes and I pretend to fall for them. All until the moment I require permission to leave with the excuse of having to work again tomorrow.

I can't deny the sick, empty feeling at the pit of my stomach when I watch her follow me with her sad stare as I leave the apartment .

~ JUNGKOOK ~

The days go by smoothly. It took a while for Jojo to get the hand of it, but soon enough, the orders look like mere tools in her hands, bending to her will. Thank goodness, she had the conscience not to lash out at rude customers even though I could see how hard she strained the muscles of her forearms by her sides. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave the coffee shop. All that and she still kept to her strict schedule, running every day at the crack of dawn. Every single day. Even I didn't work out that much.

I had to admit that my interest for her kept increasing more and more with every new detail I noticed. I was intrigued to find out more about her and I strangely found myself being pulled to her presence like a magnet. We'd continued our shared runs and conversations on each other's apartments more often than I remembered but there was still no progress on our status. Well, I once called her my friend and she didn't object to it so that must be a start.

"Well, someone's got a new crush."

I rip my eyes off Jojo's figure and come face to face with Kwan's amused stare. "What?"

"You like her, don't you?" Kwan teases further.

I sigh deeply and put my apron on the counter, ready for my lunch break. "I don't know, honestly, " I admit. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly."

"Listen, I know a crush when I see one and yours definitely is . Why don't you ask her out?"

"It's complicated."

Before Kwan can torture me with his long string of questions, Jojo stomps her way toward us with closed fists. "I swear to God if that bitch asks for a menu one more time..."

"Hey, hey we talked about this, " Kwan interferes. "Deep breaths. In and out."

She does what she's told a couple of turns and then rests her hand on her hip. "Nope. I'm still angry. I have to punch something."

"No violence in our workplace, Jojo."

She pouts in distaste and then suddenly her eyes land on mine. Her hand reaches out and points at my chin. "You got a little something.."

I dip my vision down only to be met with her index and middle finger giving my head a hard flick. She erupts in teasing giggles, soon joined by Kwan's booming laughter.

"Gotcha! Bro, I feel better already, " she says and gives Kwan a manly fist bump. I shake my head in surrender, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips and head for the room on the back. I hear the swish of Jojo's apron on the counter as she soon falls into my steps. We had a ten minute break everyday and Jojo was never one to miss it, always deciding to share that precious time with me. She kinda ruined it with the jokes sometimes but I didn't really mind.

She offers me a slice of cucumber trapped on the sharp edge of her knife and I politely decline. She always did that, sharing food left and right even though most of the times it wasn't even that much to begin with.

"Wanna hangout after work?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't planned this at the slightest. It was like the words jumped right out of my throat. Sure, we'd hung out before but only on days off and certainly not on evenings.

She hesitates for a moment before chewing on the cucumbers. "Sure, why not? It's Sunday tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, " I admit.

"Cool."

I try not to let the excitement show on my face as I finish the last bits of my lunch. The late afternoon takes longer than usual to arrive. By the end of the shift, I'd been itching to get the apron off. Jojo, on the other hand seems unbothered. For her it was probably just another day with the bane of her existence. She nudges her elbow into my side as we exit the doors together, throwing a glance at the bike by the side of the road. She would ride that thing here everyday even though the memories of the accident were still fresh. "I'll just leave it here tonight, " she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't wanna make your sorry ass struggle to keep up with me."

I give her a teasing light push and pull at a string on her hair. "Fuck off."

We go for a series of playful kicks and thrashes that turn milder and milder with every inch we come closer to my apartment. By the point we've reached the door, my poor hair is being twisted like a rope in her cruel hands. She really liked touching my hair. She kept saying she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail at least once before she died. Me on the other hand had scolded her for mentioning death in the first place.

"Ok, but you have to let me style it for you, " she insists, never dropping the issue.

"No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is, " I reply in feigned smugness.

"Asshole, " she mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"I said Casserole. I'm craving some."

My eye creases soften on their own. "I can make it for you if you want."

"You know how?"

"No, but I can look it up online."

At that, a shy smile brushes her features. "Nah, it's alright. I think about all sorts of food all the time. I'd probably change my mind after five minutes."

She plops down on the couch comfortably and groans when the bones of her back click to let her unwind. The way she'd grown more and more comfortable around me gave me this weird sense of satisfaction, as if I'd been seeking for that validation from the start. In fact, our whole situation was weird. I enjoyed her company and hopefully the feeling was mutual but there was still something missing. I didn't know exactly what but I certainly knew that deep down she was hiding a whole different personality.

My apartment had become so familiar to her, she doesn't hesitate to let me know without much further ado that she'd be using the restroom. But just before fully rising, she types something down on her phone with the utmost concentration. The only reason why it attracted my attention was the excessive amount of times she'd done that for today. And yesterday. And days before that. It would take one bite of her food and she'd immediately reach for her phone.

Did she use a calorie tracker?

I curse myself enough to damn my soul to hell for the rest of eternity but it still doesn't stop my hand from shakily grasping the phone lying on the couch. I draw the pattern I'd memorized from watching her unlock it all those times and just like that, the Notes app lights back into life. My eyes widen with every single line I read.

Day 35 I fucked up today. I had three donuts for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The cravings are fucking horrible. Total : 1560 cals

I scroll down to some days back.

Day 34 I wouldn't say it's bad. I went for a run and had an apple afterwards. Take that Anna, you whiny bitch! Total: 78 cals

There's a visible pattern in the notes; wins, losses,relapses. My eyes scan the screen speedily, fleeting through each letter and word.

Guess what? I fucked up again—

I hate myself—

I did not eat anything today! Nothing, I tell you! Haven't felt this empty since—

I so wanna die right now—

Please make it stop—

Day 71 No comment

Day 72 No comment

No comment

No comment—

"That's my phone, you know."

I raise my head to level my blown-out pupils with her calm ones. Unperturbed. Smooth like waves in a gentle breeze. She doesn't look angry to witness my shameless snooping, just disappointed. She knows that I know. It all makes sense now. The scars, the small meals, the excessive workouts...I feel a pang in my chest for being such a fool all this time.

I muster whatever courage left within me and rasp out the words. "Who exactly is Anna?"

~ JOJO ~

"She's a bitch."

"An imaginary bitch, " Jungkook emphasizes.

"Doesn't make her less of a bitch, " I mumble.

He has been giving me a cold yet sympathizing stare for the last five minutes but I knew that deep inside he was bashing himself for not knowing.

"It's short for Anorexia, " I clarify.

"How long has this been going on?" Jungkook continues. He didn't seem like giving up on the detective role anytime soon. Little did I know that he would fully embrace the title.

"Three years."

His head drops in his hands. He gives his pretty face a hard rub before turning it back towards me, eyes now laced with something similar to compassion.

"Why aren't you looking at me like that?" I ask him.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some sort of freak."

"You're not a freak, " he grits between his teeth.

"But that's what everyone would say if I told them. I know they'll look at me differently."

"I'm not everyone."

He was right. He wasn't everyone. That's why I kept dropping hints on him with every chance I could get. I wanted him to know but then again I didn't want him to know. It was hard to explain.

Jungkook keeps his piercing stare on me, hoping to get a reaction. Then he pats the spot next to him on the couch as a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It made him look so adorable, I decided right there and then I would do whatever he said. Just asking would be enough.

"What's it like?" he asks as soon as I make myself comfortable.

"My disorder?"

He nods.

I think for a few moments before answering. How was I supposed to to explain it? It had been by my side for such a long time, I didn't know how to tell my disease and myself apart.

"Well, to begin with, I'm fat."

Come on. Say it. Come on.

His eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. "No, you're not."

There you go.

"You look pretty normal to me, " he continues.

"Normal is just another word for "you're fat but I don't wanna say it in your face, " I spit and it only makes him look more confused. "Oh, come on. I bet the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about anorexia was a skinny pale girl looking at a mirror. See? I knew it. In people's eyes anorexia and non-skinny people do not correlate."

Jungkook looks embarrassed to say the least. I know he's trying his best to find a gentle way around me but the deep crimson of his cheeks doesn't make it any easier for him. "I—"

"Look, Juan. I don't wanna overwhelm you with my bullshit. I'm sick in the head, okay? The things I do are not cool and I don't want you to be part of it."

"I thought we were friends..." he whispers in a low voice.

"We are but—"

"Just explain it to me, please. I'll help you get rid of it."

He really had no idea. His gullible self couldn't understand that this was not just a disorder. It was a lifestyle and the only way I knew how to survive. I release a sigh of defeat and try to muster the most joyful tone. "Fine. You wanna know what it's like? I'll tell you what it's like. Every day, I get up from that bed with the sole purpose of starving. I don't want to eat. It's that simple. Now you're probably thinking: ' why the fuck aren't you dead yet?' That's because I can't starve correctly, Juan. I can't do shit."

Jungkook keeps his unwavering stare directed towards my face and hands that passionately make weird gestures from time to time. I notice something sparking within me, a small flare of anger and pent up frustration finally getting some release. Saying the words out loud was unnerving. I'd never imagined them anywhere but on the interiors of my head.

"Numbers are important. I can't tell the difference even if I lost some weight. That's why I use the scale everyday."

"What do you usually eat?" Jungkook carefully asks.

"Anything that has low calories in it. But it doesn't last long and I'll immediately eat junk food three times the amount. Starve. Binge. Starve. Binge. It's a vicious cycle."

"Why don't you try a healthy diet?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're richer than I thought."

He blinks. "What? Why?"

"Healthy diets are expensive, dumbass. Ever wondered how rich people have those avocado diets and that type of shit? But that's just an excuse. The real reason is that I lack will."

"If you lacked will, you'd be dead by now."

"That's where I'm heading."

His head falls in his hands again and those pretty smooth lips mumble under his fingers. "You're not satisfied with your body?"

"Not satisfied is an understatement. I hate my body. It's hard to explain actually. I don't want to be sick to the point where I can't even stand but I don't want to be curvy either , you know what I mean? Its like I want a thin body but then I see a muscular one and I'm like ooh I want that one too and I don't know..."

Jungkook's eyes seem to sparkle on that. "So, you want a lean muscular body?

"Yes."

"That's not so hard to achieve."

I put up my best fake surprised-expression. "No shit, sherlock. Why didn't you just say so? You would've saved me from a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you, " he grumbles.

"I'm already fucked for life my man."

His deep sigh tickles my face. "You're impossible. How can you joke about this?"

"Then what am I supposed to do? Cry about it? Trust me, I've tried that a lot of times. It won't do shit. If I laugh about it, it won't be as shitty, " I add. "But jokes aside, it's not just about being thin. Its also about being in control, being aware of your own body. I feel so angry and frustrated every time I lose my streak."

To my surprise, he smirks in such an inappropriate way, it paints his face in a whole new canvas . "Don't worry. There are some situations where control just isn't needed."

I almost choke on my spit. Jungkook, being audacious? Well that was new. "Feeling bold, Juan?" I tease.

"Maybe, " he admits but now it had turned into what seemed like a shy smile. I try to latch onto that glimpse of humor and normalcy in hopes of taming the wild turns and takes of our conversation. But just when I thought I'd taken hold of it, Jungkook jumps into a new question. "What else can you tell me?"

I highly doubted I would be able to spill the contents of my soul in such a short time but if he was so hellbent on knowing more, knowing he would get." I can tell you a lot of things but I can also guarantee they're not pleasant."

He doesn't even blink.

"Fine. You asked for it." I pause. " I've been like this for three years now and it has only gotten worse as time passed. I already know what you've seen online and what you think eating disorders are. Trust me, it's bullshit. Don't believe the shit they give you. Do you know how many overweight people are anorexic? A whole bunch of them but if they tell anyone about it they'll get laughed at 'cause apparently anorexia exist only for skinny white girls. A lot of guys have it too. But they call it cutting back some pounds when they hit the gym. No way that's unhealthy, right? Totally justified. It's all just a big pile of shit. There's nothing cute or romantic about it. You know what's funny? I can go for days without taking a shit but I'll pee every two hours. I drink so much water to the point where it makes me sick. I never get warm. I take every single bite counting numbers in my head and wondering how I'll burn it off later, I spin in circles to make myself sick just so I won't be able to eat, I measure my waist three times a day and I feel like fainting every time I get up. I hurt myself 'cause I don't like what I see."

I feel that familiar ball of imaginary yarn settle to the base of my throat but I push it back down just as fast. Not now. Anytime but now.

Jungkook's eyes glint with sadness. He gulps once before lowering his vision and choosing to stare at the hands resting on his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, " I reply. " It's not your fau—"

His hand shoots out to capture my own. A thousand tiny electric sparkles tingle up my arm. Maybe it's the lack of contact or just the knowledge that it's him but the way his warm palm fits into mine feels so right and I can't move it away for the life of me. His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. "I'm not pitying you, okay?" he says in a gentle voice. "I would never pity you. I just don't want to see you like this."

I lift my eyes to his own and stare at him like he was a glass statue, pouring some of his brightness on me. I didn't understand why he hadn't kicked me off yet. And to think that I was enjoying it...

Jungkook observes the slight tremor of my hand in his, which I'm desperately trying to hide and a subtle smile graces his lips. "You're touch starved, " he murmurs. Not in a malicious way. Not mocking me for it. Just stating things out in the open. It was the quality I liked the most about him.

"Physical contact is a luxury to me," I admit.

"It shouldn't be. You're human."

"I'm not even sure about that anymore."

The smile stretches wider as his nimble fingers intertwine with my trembling ones in a gentle, yet firm grip.

"Is this okay?" he questions, eyes set on the motion.

"No, but carry on."

It all felt like a guilty pleasure, like those sweet candies your mother keeps hiding from you and when you do find them, the taste is but absolute bliss. A forbidden fruit. I knew I shouldn't be leading him anywhere and spoil his peaceful life with my problems but I couldn't make myself pull back either. I was all of a sudden caught up between two fires that would scorch me and themselves in the end. Pushing people away or letting them in the confines of my chaos. I would lose either way.

I put on my best unperturbed mask to make it known I wasn't affected at the very least but just like that, his other hand slides up to my elbow and locks it in place. His deep look burns with something I can't quite decipher. "Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asks.

I freeze for a split second but try to shake it off with an intentional raise of my eyebrow. "Why?"

"I want to, " he breathes.

I was torn between slapping some sense into him and laughing my ass off but I do neither. My posture stays unmoving, waiting. "Do you really want to?" I ask again.

"Yeah, " he confesses and I catch his eyes glancing down to my lips.

I shrug. "Okay."

I've barely gotten the word out when he closes the small distance in a matter of seconds. A hand latches onto my jaw to angle it better and that's where I feel the soft, plushy texture of his lips come into contact with mine. They're so delicate and move so gently, I feel like I've ascended into time and space. I let his bangs tickle my cheekbones because it obscured his eyes from view and I didn't want to witness the reality of it.

Before I can dwell longer on them, he pulls back, forming the smallest of distances. His pupils are blown out, dark eyes staring with something more than just interest. I take notice of my fist bunching up the T-shirt he's wearing. Apparently, I hadn't been able to block out all my reactions. I release the material immediately and rise to my feet. A quick glance at the window showed that it was already dark.

"Good night, " I chirp and grab my phone resting on the table, heading speedily for the door.

Jungkook panicks and stands up just as fast. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Home," I reply.

His eyebrows bunch up in confusion yet again. "You can't just go like that after I kissed you."

"Watch me."

In less than four strides I've crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me with a thump. People were right when they said you couldn't see yourself blush but you could feel it. My whole face felt like it was on fire, an uncomfortable warmth spreading equally up to the tips of my ears. Who the fuck even blushes anymore?

I smack my lips in annoyance as I make my way down the stairs in a newfound rush. I cant deny it. I liked the kiss. Maybe a little too much. In fact I wanna go back there and steal the breath out of his lips. But I can't. It was a one time thing. And it will remain that way. Or at least I hoped so.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

Anorexia nervosa, often referred to simply as anorexia, is an eating disorder characterized by low weight, food restriction, fear of gaining weight, and a strong desire to be thin. Many people with anorexia see themselves as overweight even though they are, in fact, underweight.

Sleep is far from reach as I keep scrolling down page after page of the same generic description. Countless of pics of young girls with ribs and bones sticking out of their pale skin had been more than enough to make my own skin crawl, the after-images blazed forever behind my eyelids. She was right— they all said the same thing but I'd always known that no matter what what was said, you couldn't really understand something without experiencing it yourself first hand.

I put my laptop aside and lay down on the warm comfort of my bed. Even though I'd willed my eyes shut, sleep just wouldn't come. She kept busying my head with all kinds of thoughts— thoughts of her disorder, thoughts of what she was doing right now and the memory of her soft lips on mine. I keep replaying that exact moment like a loop, feeding off my imagination like a middle-schooler. She'd acted like she barely gave a shit but there was no mistakening the furious blush that had fallen across her nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. It looked surprisingly adorable on her, different from any type of reaction I'd gotten in exchange.

I roll over the other side of the bed and smash the back of my head on the pillow. I'm such an asshole. And she's no better either. How can you just leave after someone kisses you?

I leave my mind pondering to these thoughts as my eyelids slowly start to weigh down on me. But just when I'm about to pass out cold, a dark figure intrudes the corner of my eye, causing my body to turn upright.

Jojo's standing by the threshold, dressed up in what looked like loose see-through sleeping clothes. The material fell in graceful waves from the hems and pooled around her ankles. It felt weird not seeing her dressed up in her usual tomboy look but I was enjoying the view nonetheless. Her hair drapes over her shoulder and hides a part of her face, the rest of it, illuminated by the moonlight seeping from the drawn-back curtains. It looked like she'd just awoken, eyes mussed up with sleep but still focused on my form. She stares deeply at me, as if waiting for something.

All traces of exhaustion now wiped clean, I push myself up on my elbows and return the stare. How had she gotten here this late? Did she know my password?

She saunters over to the bed in such a seductively delicate manner but yet it was so subtle, I doubted whether she did it on purpose or not. Her left knee touches the duvet first, making the bed dip slightly under her weight. Then she leans her palm facing down and proceeds to come closer and closer on all fours like a predator targeting its prey. I was like a deer caught in the headlights in the most cliché sense of the word. I kept observing her movements with silent adoration and the more I tried to look away, the harder my eyes seemed to fixate on her approaching form. At some point she's sitting so close to me that I can feel her soft breath fluttering my eyelashes. She slowly tilts her head and gives me a look of mild curiosity, as if puzzled by my existence there altogether.

"Can I touch you?" she softly asks. Her dark orbs bore into mine, waiting for my answer. Such a sheer persuasion is held inside of them that I find myself gulping audibly before nodding without a moment's notice. She comes impossibly closer, almost attaching her body into mine and then raises a hand up to my hair, the small fingers playfully twirling the dark locks. I then notice her own hair falling in curtains in front of her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from view. It makes her look even more mysterious and alluring, I can barely resist the urge to tuck a string back behind her ear.

"Can I do more than just touch you?" she asks again and this time the movement of her hand slows into a halt. The edges of her lips pull slightly in a teasing manner and seem to merge into a coy smile.

My heart starts beating like crazy. I can feel it accelerate into a manic pace as it pulses with an unfaltering heat underneath my fingertips. I muster whatever air left in my lungs and whisper the words in a breeze. "Whatever you'd like."

That's all the approval she needs. She tilts her head on the side and lets the tip of her nose brush my earlobe. The breath she lets go draws from me an involuntary shudder that washes over my body; from the top of my head and down to my toes.

I fist the sheets to the point where it hurts. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her and to breathe her in. But I don't. I decide to let her be the one in control, to let her know that just a word tumbling from her lips would be enough to give her all of me. All that I had.

She drags those sinful lips along the side of my neck painfully slow and then puts her legs on each side of my hips, straddling them. And then she kisses me. Even though barely a peck, it burns scolding hot and causes my lips to burst into a heap of tingles.

My hands find their way into her waist, digging through the material but she stops me with her own and gives my chest a light push. I try to relax and let my back lower till it finally makes contact with the sheets. She hovers above me, graceful strings of hair tickling my neck as she attacks my lips again with bruising strength.

That's when I feel it. My shirt being lifted. Her cold fingertips, in stark contrast with my ridiculously hot skin, leave goosebumps in their wake. I try to reach with my hands and help her get it off but she grabs them and puts them back down. "Don't. I'll do it for you."

She resumes her previous action and sweeps my shirt completely off but not before making sure those nimble fingers slide along my skin with an added pressure. I let her. I let her do whatever she wants with me. She can have me.

I pray silently with my eyes for her to kiss me again and surprisingly, she understands. But this time I can't help the small whine coming deep from the back of my throat as she dips her head down and lets her tongue swipe a sensitive stripe on my neck. I'm scared the sheets will rip into shreds from how hard I'm twisting them.

She doesn't stop. Only goes lower and lower with open-mouthed kisses, down my chest, through the ridges of my abs, all the way to my navel. She stops there and the hard muscle of her tongue moves in a way that makes me gasp out loud. I shut my eyes tight.

When I open them again, the pressure on my tummy slowly dissipates. I drag my eyes to my front but there's no one there. Just the open window swaying the curtains and the entirety of my room swallowed by semi-darkness.

She's not here. It was just a dream.

I sit up on my bed and drag a hand to my face, rubbing it hard to pull myself together. What the hell just happened? I hate myself even more for the fact that I wish it wasn't a dream. I let my head fall back with a thump into the pillows and notice the uncomfortable heat at the bottom of my stomach. "Holy shit, " I whisper.

~ JOJO ~

Sometimes even the most colorful butterflies in your stomach cannot stop the tears from falling. Me, like the miserable human being I was, had cried myself to sleep last night instead of hopping cheerfully around my room. Jungkook's shut eyes and the serene expression on his face when he'd put his lips on mine had only made me wallow into self-doubt even more than usual. Did he actually mean it or had it just been a reflex, something to pass the time? I felt as if I didn't deserve any of the things he offered me, regardless of his intentions. But fuck, did I want to have him. Fuck. I'd never met a more perfect person with all of those tiny imperfections that actually made him real and whole.

That perfect smile that puts all of his pearly white teeth on display shines bright even know as he notices me entering the shop but I don't fail to detect the eyes that shy away in embarrassment. How cute.

"Hey, " he tries to hold the grin from spreading across his face as he scratches his neck awkwardly.

"Hey yourself, " I reply with forced nonchalance. It doesn't work. I fall under the scrutiny of his eyes as he can tell something's off.

"Your eyes are red, " he states matter of factly.

"Last time I checked they were brown."

His face falls. "Don't give me that shit."

Wow. That kiss had definitely given him some confidence. As far as I remembered, swearing was something he found hard to do unless absolutely necessary. Was I getting to him already?

Preparing to start the work, I click my tongue and move into an arc around his back. I let the silence fill the empty slots, too tired to come up with some lame excuse when suddenly, the presence of warm fingers greets the skin of my elbow. I look down to see Jungkook's hand on it, eyes brimmed with genuine worry, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "Is everything alright?" he questions and the words alone make the butterflies in my stomach almost turn into pigeons. "You left all of a sudden last night."

The angle on which he bends his neck to level his eyes with mine makes them stand out so adorably, so bright and full of life, I can barely hold a squeal from ripping out of my throat. He was just standing there in all his glory and looking at me like I was the thing he cared about the most. Maybe I was. Did it sound too far-fetched?

I slowly reach up and twirl one of his dark locks on my forefinger, letting it drag to the side of his cheek as I give it a small poke. I hear the breath that hitches on his throat and it only spurs me on even more. "Why? Did you miss me?"

He doesn't back down, eyes boring into mine with an intensity that deserved some recognition. They occasionally flicker down to my lips and I already know what passes through his mind at this moment.

Someone clears their throat.

I immediately put some distance, eyes dragging to the new intruder only to find Kwan staring at us both with a shit-eating grin. He was gonna use this to blackmail us, I was sure about that but I couldn't care less. Not when Jungkook's eyes follow me without failing as I backtrack a few steps.

"He had something in his hair, " I explain with a faint gesture. Kwan's grin grows impossibly larger but he doesn't say anything, deciding instead to grab one of the glasses and wipe it raw, a habit more than out of intention.

I ignore his teasing remarks for the rest of the day and watch Jungkook's prying eyes from the corner of my vision. He'd throw a glance my way with every chance he got and without even being subtle about it. When it's time for our lunch break, his stare becomes so bashful, I can't help but stare back with an offended glare.

"You're doing it again, " he says before I can part my lips.

"Doing what? " I ask.

"Putting a mask on your face. It's funny but it's bullshit."

More swearing. Was it really possible to change someone for the worst with a few words? The last thing I wanted was for him to follow into my steps.

"There's no need to act cool all the time. If you're not okay, you can just say so." His hands fumble with the edges of his lunch box, fingers scraping at it out of nervousness. "You can say it to me, " he adds more softly. " I'll listen."

"Hey, its not that big of a deal, " I wave him off.

"Not that big of a deal?" he mimicks. "You can die."

"So? What's it to you?"

Jungkook sighs deeply. "Jojo—"

"Are you gonna feed me the classic love yourself bullshit?" I interrupt him before he has the chance to say the words I've heard being trumpeted so many times. "Cause there's no need for that. I already love myself. I mean, sure I would jump off a cliff if I could but I love living. I love life to death."

I'm pretty sure that so called mask he mentioned was glowing with pride right now. Even though deep down I knew it felt wrong, I still—

"You do this on purpose, don't you?" I turn my eyes to him only to see a smug expression that looked so foreign and uncharacteristic on his face. "I know what you're doing. You act rude and sassy and uncaring to fend people off so they won't get attached to you because you think your presence alone harms them." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face floats mere inches from mine. "Isn't that right?"

When I don't answer back, his hands cup my knees as he leans so impossibly close that I can count all the dark brown flecks in his eyes. "Hate to break it to you but you can try as much as you want. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

His husky voice brings a smile on my face and I still make no move to put his hands away. "Oh, I can get rid of you. I just don't want to."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

"What do you mean you don't want to? I thought you liked hanging around with me?"

"It's late, Juan."

Jojo grabs the handles of her bike and turns it around in a semi-circle but before she can hop on the seat, I give her hoodie a pull and take over. From the moment I start pedaling, she sighs in exasperation. "Dude, come on, give it back."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, " I quickly reply. "I'm making chicken breasts tonight. Low calorie. You have to come over."

Jojo slowly catches up and we move like that for a while; her walking and me on the bike. It felt strangely relieving to have a moment of peace after a long and exhausting workday. I close my eyes and let the sun rays bask on my face with their warm texture. From the silence that follows, I suppose she's left with no other choice but to give in.

"Watcha thinking about?" I hear her ask after a few moments.

I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "You."

She snorts. "You've stepped up your game, my man. Glad to see some progress."

"I learned from the best."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were already popular with the ladies way before you met me."

The soles of my feet touch the concrete and I force the bike into a halt. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, " Jojo grins, "there's a girl behind us staring at your asscheeks–"

I choke on my spit.

"–and I mean like I can't exactly blame her because your ass is really looking pretty puffed up in that seat–"

"Anywaaaays, " I drag the word long enough to make her stop and proceed to flick my chin on the side. "Let me give you a ride."

Jojo's whole face dismorphs as her lips twist into a barely contained smile. It takes me a while to get the dirty reference. "Oh come on, " I yell out of frustration. "A ride. On a bike. Here on the street. Out in the ope–"

"Yeah, yeah. Just scoot over."

I do as I'm told and not a moment longer, Jojo tries to get comfortable on the back seat. However, I had a better idea. "Hey, why don't you pass to the front?"

Jojo peeks over my shoulder. "No. We'll fall if I do that."

"No, we won't, " I insist. "Just trust me. I'll keep you safe."

I don't know if those words struck a cord within her because she looks genuinely caught off guard with those big sparkly eyes staring at me in earnest. That's where I understood.

Words have power.

I could help her turn things around for the better. I could help her get back to normal. I could do all of these things and more if only she would crack the door of her soul open just an inch to let me in.

"Okay, " she finally answers in a tone much softer than usual. I scoot back and let her sit on the bike's supporting rod.

"Ugh, my ass is gonna be bruised like hell by the time we get there, " Jojo whines and squirms in discomfort.

Chuckling, I give the pedals a push and soon fall into a constant rhythm. Unfortunately for Jojo, it is hard to keep the balance so she is forced to hold onto my shirt. She barely touches it though. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Don't tell me this is one of those cliché supposedly romantic moments where the girl almost falls and they look into each other's eyes and shit like that."

I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, it's not so dramatic to begin with. We're just chilling. And for the record, we did kiss so I don't see how just looking at each other can be such a big deal."

"Can't believe you pulled that card on me."

"You deserved it, " I reply in a smug tone.

After another moment of comfortable silence, Jojo's arms snake around my waist and the side of her head leans back on my chest. It feels like holding a baby, warming my body up with the presence of blood and life flowing underneath the skin.

For fear of scaring her away, I decide not to add any teasing remarks on why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds, despite how tempting it was. If that loneliness she constantly felt was reduced even by a fraction, my job was done.

"Are you sleepy?" I carefully ask.

Her arms squeeze me even tighter. When she rubs her cheek affectionately on the front of my shirt, I fight the urge to erupt into giggles. "No, " she answers. "Just tired."

It would only take some time. Just a little bit more time and all her exhaustion would ripple away with no traces in her body or mind. This was my job from now on.

~ JOJO ~

It wasn't exactly his job to nurture me like a newborn baby but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked this new attention. I'd always tried not to feed my narcisstic side too much but it was a pleasant surprise to find out that someone other than Ana acknowledged my existence. These are the thoughts spinning round my head as I stare at the tiny bow of Jungkook's apron tied up at the small of his back. Or at least that's what I was supposed to be looking at because for the past fifteen minutes, my eyes had been trying not to drag down on the voluptuous planes of his ass that stuck painfully tight to the black jeans he was wearing. It's like the sucker was doing it on purpose, keeping his back to me the whole time.

"I really can't blame that girl for staring at you earlier, " I wonder out loud after the uncomfortable silence becomes unbearable. "With jeans that tight, you're asking for it, my man."

Upon hearing the words, Jungkook turns around with a spatula on one hand and a look of confusion on his face. "Isn't that what men usually say to women?"

"Exactly. But there are way less chances for a man to be sexually harassed by a woman, now isn't there? So don't come at me with that equality bullshit."

A small, understanding smile creeps up on the side of Jungkook's lips and in contrast to my words, it really seems genuine. "True. But that still doesn't make it okay." He turns back to flipping the chicken breasts on the pan.

I sigh. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for complimenting your ridiculously gorgeous butt—"

A snort.

"— but I won't hesitate to slap that shit if you piss me off, Juan. And I won't do it in a kinky way."

At that, Jungkook fully turns around, places the fresh meal onto the table and hurriedly takes a seat. "You're into that sort of thing?"

"Nah, man. I like being normal."

"Normal? You?" Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the emphasis on the word clearly intentional. I understood that something like that was to be expected from people but it didn't mean it didn't secretly hurt my feelings. Being always ousted as the weird one took a mental toll on you and if you ever tried to blend in, it would only make you stand out more.

I let out a noise of impatience. "Listen, here Juan. I might be sick as fuck but my life doesn't revolve around my disorder. I have favorite hobbies and colors and that kind of shit."

"Is it black?" Jungkook jumps in, suddenly curious.

"Navy blue, but that's not the point."

"I know it isn't." He sighs wistfully. "Sorry, Jojo. The only reason I said that is because every five seconds you try to assert your dominance so I assumed your preferences on that particular side were a bit...freakish." His expression is halfway between apologetic and entertained and he seems torn between the two.

Curse my dumbass brain for ever acting on impulse.

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and avert his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I jumped too fast to conclusions–" I lean my elbow on the table, "–but that's because I'm very athletic."

Jungkook deadpans.

After another uncomfortable silence settles in and after Jungkook realizes he's not getting another word from me, he absentmindedly taps the table with his fingertips. " By the way, same for me, " he mumbles.

"Huh? " I logically reply.

"I have the same preferences as you." He raises his head and looks at me dead in the eye. "Normal."

At this point, I had no idea why we'd decided to reveal our sexual preferences for absolutely no reason but it had come to that. Crazy, right? Me and emo-boy pouring our hearts out to each other...

"So, " Jungkook interrupts my train of thought as he starts chewing on the fresh chicken pieces. "You seem like a competitive person."

"I guess you could say that, " I hum in agreement.

"Well, I have another proposal."

"Like I said, it's too early for me to get married."

The expression he makes as he tries to keep the food from spilling almost causes me to burst out laughing. Even after he's successfully managed to breathe in some air, the faint traces of a phantom smile are still visible.

"I meant a challenge. For you. A bet, to be more exact. Do you like bets?"

"I do, actually."

"Well then. We'll play a game of tic-tac-toe. The rules are simple. If you win, I'll do everything you want for the rest of the day. Now....if I win....." A devilish grin stretches on one side of his face. "You'll practically do whatever I ask you to. It's the same for both cases."

"What's the catch?"

Jungkook leans back in his chair and links his hands on the back of his head. " There's no catch. I like games, that's all."

The satisfied, confident expression he was wearing made it clear that this was not just a simple game. I was sure as hell he had something up his sleeve but that didn't turn me off nor made me back down. Why not let the guy have his own fair share of fun? However, that didn't mean I couldn't at least give things a little twist.

"Okay, then. Take your shirt off."

This time Jungkook really can't help but choke on his chicken breasts, sputtering pieces of food everywhere. One of them barely misses my face.

"What the fuck! Why?" he screeches, hands wildly attempting to clean the mess.

I slowly drift into a smile. "Relax, pretty boy. We're playing the game on your abs.

~ JOJO ~

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid. Now shut up."

Jungkook gives me one last incredulous look before pulling the shirt completely over his head. In all honesty, the sight was to drool for. That swirling tattoo I'd always caught a glimpse of, is now clearly displayed on one part of his chest and on his left side, reaching up to his neck and down to his hipbone. I try to keep my composure as best as I can but some of my facial expressions must have been on point because Jungkook seems to start feeling uneasy. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. I almost feel bad for lightly snorting but then I think better of it. After all, I was allowed to have some harmless fun, right? No biggie.

The ridges of Jungkook's magnificent abdominal muscles come into view as he slowly approaches. His posture is a bit stiff, however. The guy was trying his best to suck his stomach in, in hopes of flaunting his slim waist in the most perfect angle.

"Stop flexing, Juan." I say in a monotonous voice. "I already know you're ripped. "

Caught in the act, he shyly smiles and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

The smile only grows further when I use a marker to draw the lines for the game on his stomach. He squirms and twitches with every flick of my wrist. Apparently, ticklish was another adjective to add onto the dictionary of my names for him.

After a rough sketch is drawn on his tummy, Jungkook gestures for me to make the first move. "Ladies first, " he says with a grin that almost looked pained. His eyes follow my hand that had been finishing the last touches.

I draw an X.

He draws an O.

We move back and forth, exchanging the marker every time, until I realize.

I'm fucked.

He had me cornered in both rows. Wherever I put my next mark, I would still lose. It was an old technique that everyone had used at some point but my dumb ass had fallen right into the trap. But was I really to blame with him looking at me like that?

Jungkook chuckles. "I win."

Fuck. I'm screwed.

"Looks like you're gonna be my servant for the rest of the day. " He throws a careless glance at the windows, pitch dark background already behind them. "Or should I say, night?"

I sit back down on the chair and man-spread in defeat. "Fine. You won. Congratulations. Now what do you want me to do?"

He doesn't even hesitate, his voice as clear as glass. "Kiss me."

I stare at him in disbelief but it didn't seem like there had been a slip of the tongue. He was dead serious with those hooded eyes and the fact that he hadn't even put his shirt back on was for some reason unnerving.

A scoff escapes from me. "Out of all the things you could've asked.... I thought you were gonna make me clean your kitchen or something."

"Oh ,we have plenty of time for that, " Jungkook replies with a newfound smugness.

I mull it over in my head for a second before slowly rising from the chair. He leans forward in anticipation and it's as if his every fiber feels ready to pounce in action.

I honestly found it hard to comprehend the concept behind all of this. Out of all the nice looking girls out there, he found a dirty looking rag called me? Me?!

I give my head a slight shake and reach up with the tips of my toes. I listen to Jungkook's breathing stagger for a moment, only to be released with disappointment when I touch my lips to the side of his cheek, furthest from his two plumps of pink rosy flesh. Jungkook's expression looks slightly annoyed as I pull back, observing the ruins left in my wake.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking, " he laughs to himself, half out of disappointment half out of disbelief.

"You never specified where to kiss you, " I explain.

There had been nothing forcing me to act the way I did. Absolutely no one but myself yet I still felt like something was missing. Like I wasn't enough for him or any other person. My mind kept lying to itself, in the hopes that if I could avoid being too touchy, he probably would forget about me altogether.

Jungkook, bless his soul, gets rid of the awkwardness in a moments's notice, his cheeks puffed up in what resembled a pout. "You played me good, huh?" he huffs and I hold the urge to laugh like a little girl. It felt weirdly cute to see him so worked up over a small rejection when he could make any girl fall in his arms with just a snap of his fingers.

I lower my voice in a mockingly deep baritone. "What are your next orders, my lord?"

Jungkook smiles.

* * *

After that, it's hell hours for me.

It's like he had been waiting for this chance all this time and now that the flood gates were open, he couldn't afford to waste any buckets of water. From cleaning to organizing to heaps and heaps of orders, Jungkook had been vastly generous. And the worst part was that I had to eat my next meal with him and not even dare think about counting calories. He would purposefully mess up the portions and make it impossible for me to calculate. As if I didn't already have a hard time doing that on the daily...

At one point I was even scolded for counting in my head because apparently, the genius had noticed my eyes moving upwards in circular motions as the food lay down in front of me.

In other words I was utterly fucked. The anxiety of not knowing what I was putting inside my body, of having no perception of numbers or weight scared the shit out of me and if it hadn't been for Jungkook's appreciative glances or encouraging words, I would've said goodbye a long time ago. With him it felt a little less guilty, less of a sacrilege.

"Just don't think about it, " he'd said to me and even though it was one of the most conventional phrases you could think of, coming from him felt different. As if there was an actual purpose behind the words.

"What's next?" I ask in a dead-sounding voice after finishing the rest of the dishes. " A hand-job?"

Jungkook raises his eyebrows in sudden amusement, his expression shamelessly entertained. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll settle for a massage for now."

I drag my eyes to his still bare torso and motion for him to lay down on the couch. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't give you a hand-job even if you threatened to throw me off the balcony."

Jungkook's laugh is muffled by the pillows as he turns his sculpted back to me. "I like how you have no shame."

"Shame is for the weak, " I add.

My fingers work tirelessly on the smooth planes of his skin, pushing and pressing on specific points which I knew would grant him relief. The way he tries to hide satisfied grunts makes me feel light-headed but I bite my tongue and will my creative mind to take it down a notch, focusing on the task at hand. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had so much physical contact in a long time. Who knew? It was still an enjoyable sight, what with all the tattoos gracing his beautiful bronze skin in long shapes and lines.

"You're really good at this, " Jungkook grunts after a particularly hard press of my hands on the small of his back, even though to me it sounded more like a moan. He folds his arms at his front and leans his head sideways.

"I am?" I question as a smile already pulls at the corners of my lips.

"Yeah, " he agrees.

"Well, to return the compliment, I really like your tattoos."

Jungkook turns around and lays on his back, staring at me under his long eyelashes. He doesn't utter a single word, just keeps looking at me like he would a statue in a museum, his fringe falling between his eyes but leaving enough space for him to see. My hand is left to linger on the velvety skin of his stomach.

"Most people say they look scary, " he says in a low, raspy voice.

"They're not, " I add and trace a curved black line with the tips of my fingers in reassurance.

Jungkook gently grabs the said hand, still not losing eye contact. "Are you scared of me, Jojo?"

"No. I'm not."

A silence falls in the room, its echo almost deafening but this time there's no discomfort, no weird looks, just the consoling presence of each other that hangs in the air like a halo of light. Then–

"Juan, I think I'm starting to catch feelings for you."

He stops himself from smiling, but it's useless. The smug grin had already made it past his lips. "Yeah, me too."

"Hmmm, " I mutter. "How do we make it stop?"

Jungkook slowly rises in a sitting position, that damned expression still visible on his face. "I don't– I don't think it's something you can stop."

" Aw shit man, " I scoff.

"Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow."

I'm positive there's a subtle irritated look on my face, which to Jungkook apparently looked hilarious. This had never happened before and I didn't know what exactly to expect. Was it normal? Was I going to be hurt again? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"You're overthinking it. There's no need to put a name on your feelings." Jungkook cuts like a knife through my jumbled thoughts. "Besides, I thought we were talking about my tattoos."

"Right, " I confirm. " Is there a meaning behind them?"

"No. They're just for aesthetic purposes." The hooded eyes and dark expression is back on his face. "But–" he takes one of my hands and guides it on the side of his torso, "– this one does." He slides it a little further, on the underside of his forearm, tracing what I recognized as a tiger lily. "This one too. I'll tell you about it someday."

His stance is crouched. Even though he's a good feet taller than me, I somehow look towering over him. This position is suggestive enough in itself but it becomes even more so when Jungkook's knees cage around mine. Our eyes now levelling, I drag the line of my vision upwards, refusing to break the eye contact. And then, my eyes focus onto his lips and specifically the tiny little mole under them. It had caught my eye dozens of times before but for some strange reason, right now it looks like it's inviting me. By impulse, I gently meet his lips with mine and surprisingly he doesn't pull back, peppering me back with pouty kisses that are interrupted only by quick pauses for breath. I take the chance and discreetly lick that very mole with the flat of my tongue, feeling his lips' softness with a quick swiping motion.

It's like his gears are put into action. The sweet, gentle Jungkook is utterly forgotten from the moment he slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, wrestling his own tongue in full force. But then his hands reach up and slip under my sweater to feel the skin underneath and that's all it takes for me to flinch and push him off.

He immediately stops himself from going further and lowers his hands down by his sides. His hooded eyes turn back to alertness as he tries to comprehend what just happened. I feel bad for a moment.

"J—Jojo?" His eyebrows raise in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just—" A deep sigh leaves my lips as I try to keep myself from panicking.

He was about to touch my tummy. My fat, squishy tummy. Just the idea of him touching me there gives me chills.

"I remembered something I have to deal with."

I rip myself off from the couch and drag a hand through my hair in distress, about to turn on my heel and get the hell out of here.

"Wait!" Jungkook yells after me and he grabs my forearm. Not harshly, just strong enough not to let me go. "Did I upset you?"

"No. I–"

Calm down. Deep breaths. One, two. One, two.

"I just have to–" I rush with my words, but Jungkook's hands are made of steel, such a stark contrast with his pleading eyes.

"Stay. I'll take care of you. " He's begging me now. " Please."

I give in–

~ JUNGKOOK ~

–but at what cost? She's been acting distant ever since the panicky incident and I don't know what else to do to get her back the way she was. She barely touches me, barely comes close and I wonder if it's a shame to admit that I miss her kisses too. However, the jokester in her has never left. She'll crack dark jokes from time to time, acting like nothing ever happened and I'll pretend to play along for fear of not making her leave.

It pained me to see her like this, to see her crumbling apart day by day while my hands were frozen in place. A soldier stuck on quicksand. Someone had to tell her this was toxic, that she was poisoning herself and was fully conscious of it.

Weeks and weeks under her presence had trained me to notice all the changes, all the little shifts in her demeanor. Today was no exception. At least not with the incident that had made me do things I'd never imagine doing.

It had all started when a new employee had joined us on the coffee shop, courtesy of my boss, whose relationship with him was rather close. It was one of those cases where you had to make favors for the sake of family relations, et cetera, et cetera. So far, so good. But was one really to imagine that the guy had the audacity to act like he owned the place? I tried to ignore his antics up until the moment he fucked with the wrong girl. My girl.

Despite my disapproving glances, Jojo had been making comments on her weight, constantly seeking Kwan's opinions on the matter.

"But I'm fat!" she had exclaimed, exasperated. In Kwan's eyes, this was just another one of her lame jokes but I knew the sting behind the words.

Then, completely out of line, the new employee had chirped. "You're not fat, you're just thick."

I'd whipped my head in his direction and jumped off the table I'd been sitting, my hands suddenly itching but Jojo had been quick to secretly wave me off. "Well then, you're not stupid, you're just dumb, " she 'd snarked, earning a whole-hearted guffaw from Kwan. The joke had been let at that, or at least that's what Jojo thought. My fists hadn't stopped til the itching sensation was satisfied.

"You okay, Jo?" I'd asked at lunch break, the new nickname making her lips barely twitch. She was upset. I could tell.

"Yeah, why?" she'd replied, eyes trained on my face. For once, she'd given me that warm, old look that went beyond friendship. I'd tried to cherish it for a few seconds before adding, "That asshole was rude to you."

I'd unconsciously rubbed my knuckles and that hadn't skipped past Jojo's eyes. "Nah, he's just– wait a second! Did you do something to him?"

I'd adverted her eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly. "I kinda beat the shit out of him." The image of the guy's swollen face and broken nose flashes into my memory.

She'd gasped but there'd been a mix of amazement and incredulousness in the tone of her voice. "That's my job!"

I'd smiled. "No one messes with my Jo."

She'd smiled back but her eyes had still been sad.

Now I ring the bell on her door, impatiently carding my fingers through my hair as it remains shut. Where the fuck is she? She hasn't been answering my calls for a while and I'm worried sick.

I torture the bell button again and slam my palms on the door. "Jojo, are you there? Come on, it's me! Open up!"

What if something had happened to her? What if– I slam my shoulder repeatedly on it and the lock busts open with a loud clang. Rubbing the sore spot, I quickly scan the room and finally, my eyes find her crouched form on the floor.

There's a pile of junk around her, chocolate wrappers, plastic bags, food splayed apart chaotically and vomit on the floor as well as traces of it on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are fixed in space, staring at nothing. Dried tears have left moist streaks on her cheeks. She looks lifeless until the moment she takes notice of me and does a double take.

"Jungkook? What– what are you doing here?"

I fall down on my knees next to her, worry written all over my face, but she immediately closes in on herself, her body language radiating fear and protectiveness. "No! Go away, please!"

I don't listen, scooting further till my hands are on her arms, trying to find a way in but she only keeps resisting. "No! Please, don't look at me! Not like this!" Her body shakes with convulsions and quiet sobs rip through her throat.

This was the first time I'd seen her cry.

I grab a towel from the kitchen and dip it in the streaming water. Jojo tries to keep me at bay but I set my mouth on a straight line and force it to her lips. Cleaning her eyes, her face as if I wanted to exfoliate her from any traces of sadness. "Please, " she's begging me now. "Please, go."

I keep my hands on a steady pace, gently rubbing the towel where needed. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just some spilled food. You're okay."

She quiets down at the words and it only goades me further. "Shhhh. You're my baby. My baby, " I lift her up and clean the rest of her, whispering other sweet nothings in her ear until at last the storm passes.

~ JOJO ~

There were two options left when someone made comments on my weight. I either starved myself for two full days or binged on everything I could see like a fucking cow because hey, I'm still gonna be fat, right?

Unfortunately for me , I'd picked the easier way out and emptied the contents of my kitchen in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things I hated the most; stuffing myself till I couldn't breathe. However, what I hated even more was people seeing me in my own misery. Even if that person was none other than the dreamy-eyed boy who had cared for me more than anyone ever had.

I stay silent as Jungkook cleans me thoroughly, making sure to also get rid of the mess on the ground and give me enough privacy to slip out of my nasty clothes and brush my teeth. I just keep staring at him and wonder to myself if I had done any good deeds in this life to deserve him. It pissed me off.

"Do you need another pillow?" Jungkook asks under his dark curly fringe, his back crouched as he stands on the side of my bed.

"No, I'm good, " I rasp, my voice strained from bawling for a good couple of hours. I avert his eyes once more. The guilt and the anger keeps bubbling up on the surface.

Jungkook abandons his chair and sits on the bed, his outer thigh barely touching my forearm. The springs creak and whine under his weight. He takes my hand in his, rubbing comforting circles with the tip of his thumb. "You okay, baby?"

I lash out in a second, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt and pulling it inches from my face. "Call me baby one more time and I'll rip your throat out."

To my surprise, he's not even fazed. A dark chuckle falls under his lips as he grins widely for me to see. Then, as if it couldn't get any more intense than this, he lets himself fall backwards on the bed, taking me along with him. My legs escape the cover of the sheets and straddle his waist, trying not to fall over and crush him. In that particular order. What a typical movie-like moment. I'm wearing pajama shorts and the pale skin of my thighs is completely exposed. As if on cue, Jungkook's eyes flick towards them, drinking in the view. Had he ever seen this much of my body?

"Do it, " he says in a low voice.

I slide one of my hands upward and gently wrap it around his throat. "You really want me to choke you, Juan?"

The bastard doesn't even say anything. He raises the hands laying by his sides and traces the outline of my thighs higher and higher till they settle on each side of my hips. Goosebumps chill my skin like flowers after rain. I'm torn between punching him and kissing him senseless.

"Who knows, I might actually like it, " he says. He hasn't even tried to wriggle out of my caging body, going as far as even baring his throat at me.

I smirk. "Are you always this submissive?"

Uh oh. Wrong move.

In a matter of seconds, I'm pushed backwards, the soft texture of the sheets smoothing the land on my back. Just like that, the positions are completely switched. Jungkook's grin never leaves his face as he's on top of me, his curly locks swinging like a crown on his head. He takes both of my curled fists and pins them on each side of my head.

"I was actually letting you in charge but now that I think about it ; I also deserve to have some fun right?" he states with a smug expression.

For a moment, I'm left speechless. My limbs too, have nothing to say. At least not with the way they're frozen in place, too caught on the spot to dare move.

Jungkook takes the chance and nuzzles his nose on the gap between my neck and jawline. On another situation I would have felt ticklish but not right now. A heavy weight on the pit of my stomach is proof enough for that. He starts leaving small pecks on the skin of my throat, making a beeline for the collarbones.

I honestly don't know what to do with myself. We've been playing around for a long time now but things have never gotten so serious. Not at this point. Only recently had I pushed him off and now here I was, the one turned into full submission.

"Do you plan on ruining yourself every time someone upsets you?" he mumbles, smooth lips barely grazing against my skin.

The image of that new guy flashes behind my eyes and my face sours, all those butterflies in my stomach crushed to dust, just like that. "Can we talk about something else?"

Jungkook pauses his administrations and pulls back just an inch, his eyes staring at mine in full concentration. "No."

I huff in frustration. "You're on top of me."

"So?" he raises one eyebrow.

"So, get the hell off!"

My wrists are suddenly pinned harder against the sheets, Jungkook's hands forcing them further down until they form little dips.

"No, " he repeats, almost mechanically.

I'm about to protest again when his tongue swipes at the vulnerable skin of my throat and that's all it takes to throw all caution to the wind. My back arches off the bed without my permission and I think I must've let out a sound because Jungkook is laughing that quiet laugh of his that makes his shoulders shake.

His lips are on mine, silencing whatever literate thought that tries to make it out. My hips are now straddled by his own knees and oh- my wrists are free because he lets them go gently and puts his hands on my cheeks, kissing me even more deeply, threading them through my hair and its suddenly too much, too much for me to handle.

I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet off the ground and buried under layers and layers of earth at the same time. My breath shudders violently when his lips drag across the side of my face and nudge the sweet spot below my ear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper but it comes out so broken, so desperate. I'm practically begging at this point and I don't even know why.

Jungkook's hands settle on my clothed waist. His fingertips twitch in hesitation as he bunches the fabric and just like that–

"I'm sorry, "

–and lets go.

I feel relieved and disappointed.

His body peels off my own with reluctance that rips me apart in a million different ways and I feel my skin grow cold from his absence. He leans back on the heels of his hands, staring me down with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, " he repeats and rises from the bed, disappearing into the living room.

* * *

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. My body has not even moved an inch, too shocked, too frozen. My legs feel like lead, two slabs of heavy stone that pin me into place.

If it weren't for Jungkook's presence snapping me out of my empty reverie, I would've probably stood there like a dead body for days. He comes back (from the bathroom, apparently) his wet hair still trickling droplets of water on his shirt, eyebrows shining, and stands on the middle of the room.

"It's midnight, " he says, as if in a trance.

My eyes flick to the window. Pitch black. Indeed.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he continues, and I can swear the tips of his ears go spicy red. My heart melts into a hot buttery mass. He's blushing like crazy. I can see it! A guy, blushing in front of me. I suddenly can't contain my smile, all things forgotten in a blur.

"Yeah. I would like that, " I breathe.

He locks eyes with me and breaks the contact almost immediately, looking anywhere but in my direction. "I can take the couch–"

"No. Sleep here, " I say and my eyes close of their own accord. "With me, " I slowly add.

"Are you sur–"

My eyes fly open. "We just made out five seconds ago. Why is that such a problem now?" I lift my neck just an inch, to glare at him but there's no real malice in it.

His lips crack into a smile and I'm glad for the tension that dissipates like cigarette smoke. "I sleep without a shirt on, " he confesses.

"Okay."

He slips it off his torso in a swift motion but it's too dark me for me to make out any details expect for his dark silhouette and the wide planes of his shoulders.

"You can take off anything you want. I won't touch you, " I say and roll over on my side of the bed.

"I wouldn't mind it, " I hear him mumble but he complies, the sound of his belt unbuckling echoing against the room.

The bed dips under his weight as he occupies its other side and I feel more than hear the fall and rise of his chest, the labored breathing coming to a steady rhythm.

Two strong hands clasp around my waist and I'm pulled backwards into his chest. I don't push him off. I let him hold me to himself, caged by his body, by the feeling of him; his bare chest, his bare legs, his long hair tickling the back of my neck.

Everything is going to be okay.

I'm okay.

"Jojo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you care about me?"

I smile. " More than I'd like to admit."

He kisses the nape of my neck and pulls me harder against himself. It's not long before sweet, calm sleep sneaks its way into into our bodies.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.

I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.

I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.

Oh God.

I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.

"Good morning."

Shit.

Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.

"Morning, " I manage.

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.

I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.

At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."

I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.

She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."

I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.

She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."

This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.

I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.

"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."

I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."

The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.

"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."

I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."

She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."

It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.

"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."

"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"

"This is killing you!"

"I don't care!"

I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."

Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.

"You're right, " she says. "I don't."

Silence.

"Maybe you should go now."

I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.

I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.

I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.

What an ugly mustard -yellow door.

" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."

No answer.

The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.

"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"

"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.

The door never opens.

~ JOJO ~

The door opens easily with just a push of my fingertips. I try to look uninterested but my restless eyeballs betray me in an instant, scanning the coffee shop in all four directions within seconds. I'd spent the whole night spacing out while sitting at the foot of my bed on the floor. I'd never felt so much regret, so much of it that it had felt like I was drowning–

"He's not here." A voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around to find Kwan looking at me with something that looks similar to pity.

I blink. "What?"

"Jungkook, " he explains. " He's gone."

My heart falls into the bottom of my feet and I suddenly can't keep the panic from tainting my voice. I grip Kwan's shoulders. "Where?"

"Woah, calm down! I think he's gone to his parents or something. Boss already gave him permission."

My grip loosens. "Oh."

Kwan blanches but soon a look of genuine concern flashes behind his eyes. "What's the matter? Did you two get into a fight?"

"No, " I deny.

I can faintly make out Kwan's rambling but it sounds so, so far away because soon my ears are thundering.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

"Jojo."

I'm shook awake, courtesy of my man-handler. He looks truly worried but I just can't seem to care. All I know is that I need to get out, distract myself, do something–

The indecisive old bitch lady steps foot into the shop and I curse her existence and mine altogether. This is so not the time to be arguing over extra menus.

She takes her usual seat with an excessive amount of unnecessary grace and looks at me pointedly, waiting to be tended to.

I smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Park."

* * *

Everything feels empty, blurred around the edges.

Meaningless.

I finally realize how important purpose is and how everything we do is driven by it.

Lately I've been walking in circles, wandering like a fly trapped inside a jar, not knowing where I am or what I'm doing.

I'm just there.

I never eat anymore. I never drink. I savor my body like an untouched temple and hope against hope that I'll get better.

It's okay if I'm not. I can't make the difference anymore, anyway. I've spiraled into the bottomless pit of oblivion and the process is slow. It makes me feel numb.

I stare at the rumpled apron laying on the floor along with the rest of the garbage and Ms. Park comes into mind. She hadn't really appreciated my spilling hot tea right onto her chest. The dumb bitch had gotten me fired but it doesn't really feel like a great loss. I'd only worked there because of him, anyway. Him and only him. I never cared about anyone else. But he's not here. He'll never be here anymore.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and make use of the sudden memory to type down his number. I have it memorized by now. The line beeps.

"Hey."

My heartbeat spikes in excitement. "Hey yourself," I reply hastily but my voice cords haven't been used for days, so it sounds more like a rasp. I clear my throat.

"How's it going?" he asks. Casually. Like he would a friend. I missed hearing his voice.

"Good. You?"

"Same."

I bite my lower lip anxiously. I don't like his answers. I don't like how short and clipped they are. Clipped. Nipped. Chipped. Ripped. Zipped–

"So, the guys have been wondering when you'll be back, " I lie.

I hear him release a subtle sigh. "Oh. I don't really know, honestly. I've been hanging out with my parents and they plan on keeping me here for a while longer."

I nod my head slowly then remind myself he can't see me. "Right. Right, you must've missed them."

White noise.

Hmmm.

What else rhymes with noise?

Choice.

Boys

Toys

Turqoise–

"Well, have fun."

"Thanks......um, are you oka–"

I end the call.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

i told you he doesn't give a shit

"I never said I did, " I reply without looking.

you hoped, though

"Shut up."

laughter

you do realize you're pathetic, right?

I turn my head to the mirror. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch! Shut it!"

I spit and throw whatever I can get my hands on it but there's a smile there that I just can't see.

what rhymes with smile?

aisle

bile

rile

guile

worthwhile–

I scream and yell. I rip the sheets of the bed, swipe off the contents of my desk, punch and punch the mirror till my hands are raw and bleeding a waterfall. I kick and thrash with every ounce of strength left in me but there's no use.

She's still smiling at me.

* * *

I'm sitting down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of my own insanity. I can't tell how many days have passed and my cheeks feel surprisingly moist. Have I been crying?

There's no one else around here.

It doesn't matter. I like being alone.

It feels nice to just be with your own thoughts, not having to fear being overheard when you scream ideas and screenplays in your room. You can just be yourself and enjoy doing the things you like the most. But still, sometimes it gets really lonely and not just in the literal sense. I'll always check the dark corners to see if someone's there, I'll always feel like someone's whispering, saying bad things about me, that coat hanged on the rack will always look like a person and then I'll even start getting scared of my own shadow, my head will always shake uncontrollably when I'm crying because there won't be anyone to hold it for me, anyone to assure me that things are gonna be okay.

I don't like being alone. It's not nice.

I glance at the broken mirror, bloody cracks and lines making up the whole of it. There's only one spot in the corner that remains clean and untouched. A smile attached to it.

I realize now. Why she wouldn't go away. The reason why I could never win this war was because the enemy I was fighting against was none other than myself. She was no stranger. She was me. No matter how much we tried, me and my own resemblance would still be standing at the end of the day. If i was alive, she was alive. It was like a symbiotic relationship, a Yin to the Yang. We kept each other afloat and neither could exist without the other.

he's happy.

"I know, "

without you

"I know, " I repeat.

is that enough proof for you?

"It is."

then do it

"yes."

I rise from the floor and blindly look for my phone in the midst of all the trash. It's nowhere to be found. I then turn around and grab hold of the old telephone hanging on the wall. It stands out, an ancient relic hard to be found these days. I roll the numbers by memory. The line crackles for a couple of seconds before a familiar voice breathes into it. My chest constricts as I let out a pathetic whimper. "J– Jungkook... I'm sorry."

I don't give him time to answer, slamming the phone down with a loud ring.

it's over it's over it's over it's over i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

Big, fat tears trickle down my cheeks and chin and I do nothing to stop them. I whimper and whine as I head for the bathroom, reaching up with my toes to get the pills I'd hidden all these weeks. They're still here.

Waiting for me.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

I'm running as hard as my legs can take me but it's not really me doing it. It's my impulses being triggered with full force, struggling for survival. I'm completely detached from my body, my mind going through only one simple rule : I have to make it on time.

I don't even notice the heavy torrents of rain blurring my vision, making my feet trudge with difficulty. I don't even notice the people I push harshly out of my way or the red stoplights blinking past me. My eyes are focused inwardly like a camera, set on breaking through the sea of umbrellas.

please please please please

I repeat the word like a mantra in my head, praying against whatever odds that she will be okay when I get there, that she won't do what I think she intends to do.

please please please just not that anything but that please make her be alright

If only I could've hurried earlier, she wouldn't have had the chance to say those things. To say my name.

It was the first time she'd said my name. My actual name. Those few seconds hearing the syllables tumbling from her lips had been pure bliss to my ears, only to be ripped apart with the realization that she was pleading.

She doesn't answer the phone. I curse myself to hell and back. I should've told her I was coming today. I should've told her I was only two blocks away from her apartment and that all this time far from her had been nothing but torture. There hadn't been a moment when I didn't feel her absence or when I didn't wonder what she was doing. I should've told her I regretted every single word I'd sa-

Something slams against my arm. I fall onto the rough asphalt but I'm on my feet in seconds. The man I'd run into stares at me in anger but I can't deal with his shit right now, so I push him blindly, my feet already finding their footing. "Out of my fucking way!" I yell at him without looking.

I run and run and run until I can't feel my calves and my jacket is soaked through.

Drip

please don't die

drip

Her apartment building zooms into view. I punch buttons and take the stairs by four.

please

stay alive

please

Mustard yellow door.

I don't wait to check if it's open, kicking the lock open immediately.

Things happen in a blur, straight out of a dream. I kneel to the ground, forcing her mouth open. Her tear-stained face spits the pills reluctantly and then she tries to push me off as hard as she can. I knew she'd do this. I just knew it. I had seen the pills standing on the drawer for days, weeks. I knew how she gave those bruises to her body, how she tortured herself by her own will.

"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I hold her hands down and bend them behind her back but she keeps screaming and it's like all hell has broken loose. "FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I squeeze her hands tighter and I can suddenly hear myself crying, fully sobbing my heart out and then she's crying too and we're both sitting on the floor like two poor beggars with our limbs awkwardly splayed out.

"That's my decision, Jungkook. You can't take that away from me, " her muffled whimpers are heard as I lean her head on the crook of my neck.

I release her hands, which soon find their way around my neck, hugging my body till we fit perfectly together.

"Jojo."

I pull back just a few inches, capture her face with my palms and kiss her like there's no tomorrow.

~ JOJO ~

Do you know that feeling of finally getting home after a long trip, of how your body relaxes upon finding its lost familiarity? That's exactly what courses through my body right now, except that it's multiplied tenfold, to the point of numbness. I'd missed sensing his body beside mine. I'd missed his dark locks tickling my neck, his soft lips, but more than everything, I'd missed having him here. With me.

It's hard to believe the number of things that have happened today. It feels like I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me like a spectator and wonder if it's just a figment of my imagination. And the way he is kissing me..... It feels brand new. Desperate in more ways than one. He morphs our lips together as if they are made of clay and his hands start feeling around my body, begging for some purchase.

I don't realize the fact that I have started crying. Silent tears tumble down my cheeks, wetting his own face with their saltiness. I can't control them. I can't stop them. And Jungkook understands that. He pulls roughly at my bottom lip and suddenly lets go, creating a gap between our bodies. I can't help but feel that I must look like a little child in his eyes right now; grubby, disheveled, teary-eyed...

And then he's looking at me dead in the eye, beyond my appearance, beyond my outer core, cutting through weeds and vines growing inside my soul. "I know none of the things I say will ever convince you. So, I won't be using any words."

He slips my left sleeve from my shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. His head lowers down to it and gives it a feather-light kiss.

I stare at him in confusion but he chooses to keep silent. His eyes never leave my face, even when he starts repeating the action with my other sleeve, rolling my whole shirt up and off my body. He discards each piece with surprising gentleness and that's what makes my tears fall even more violently. He's so kind.

So good to me.

And he's taking off my pants.

I instinctively tense and Jungkook makes an obvious pause, letting me make my choice. The rigidity dwindles away and a flash of relief passes behind his eyes. I close my eyes and then he moves on with his graceful touches. I'm lain down into the bed, my hair fanned out behind me like a halo, and he slowly crawls on top, observing his work of art with a look of genuine satisfaction. His clothes are gone before I can blink and he slowly dives in for the sensitive part of my neck, breathing it in.

"Beautiful," he mumbles against my throat. My body convulses with whimpers. He nuzzles his way up until his lips are meshed against mine. "Touch me, " he whispers.

My breath hitches but I raise my hands that had so far lain on my sides and put them on each side of his face. "Jungkook."

He smiles and my heart bursts into a million fireflies. "I like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I repeat.

He drags those sinful lips down through valleys and crevices, leaving soft kisses in their wake, tracing every inch of my skin, tracing every bruise, every wound, every trace of self-harm. I am nothing more than a hot pool of lava. I do not own a body anymore. Or rather, I feel each sensation being magnified into infinity and I can no longer tell where my body starts nor where it ends. I feel too much. I feel everything. And I am not ashamed of this mundane mass of flesh and bones and blood.

I kiss back.

That's all it takes for him to finally let himself go freely. No obstacles. No barriers. I am free of the voices in my head, free of my fears and judgment. It's like we want to devour each other, drain every single drop until it is the only thing our tongues can taste. I don't really care about anything else right now. I wanna forget about it all and just focus on the soft texture of his lips ghosting the skin on my neck and then going stronger and wilder and swallowing it up till I can feel the delicious sting of pain. We fight. We love. We pour our hearts out like a warm waterfall. And as our bodies tangle restlessly with each other, sticky with sweat, I go through an indescribable ecstasy. Something I've never experienced before.

Acceptance.

_____________________

EPILOGUE

I'd never imagine the storm would go on all night but it somehow did. As I lay in my bed, feet tangled up with someone else's, I hear the distant rumble of faraway clouds first thing in the morning. If it weren't for my daily habit of waking up early, I wouldn't have even bothered cracking my eyes open. The sun remains hidden in some corner as the dark gray sky salutes me instead.

I like it. This mood. It's cozy and warm and safe .

I turn my head on the side and almost melt. He's sleeping like a baby. Eyelids relaxed, lips slightly open, an angelic expression on his face. Pretty.

"That's bold, coming from you, " his lips spell.

I lightly gasp as I realize I've said the word out loud. "I thought you were asleep." As if by instinct, my hand slides up into his face, gently caressing it.

Jungkook grabs my whole arm and pulls me towards him, giving the edge of my jaw a kiss. "I was kinda faking it."

I kick his butt with the sole of my foot. "You prick! Stop playing!"

The whole bed shakes from his laughter as he massages his poor backside. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.

I smile. "Mhmm."

Jungkook mirrors my expression, but it somehow looks more devilish on him. "I'm sure you did."

"Shut up, Jungkook."

He smiles again, genuinely this time and turns, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. "I really like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I whisper. A pause. "Jeon Jungkook."

His eyes open. "Yes?"

"You know, the night before I met you, I was about to kill myself."

His body goes rigid, but I continue. " I don't know why I didn't do it. Then, the next day I met you and it was like it just slipped my mind. The thought was no longer there. So I came at that coffee shop every day, hoping I could see you. You weren't some kind of prince charming or anything. It's not like I looked at you and knew we were meant for each other or that kind of bullshit. I just liked looking at you. One glimpse was enough. It made me feel better somehow. It felt.... nice. But the moment we stopped looking at each other it all came flooding back. That longing to die. I turned back to my starting point."

Jungkook's arms envelop me and I feel my bones shatter. "I'm sorry," I whisper, barely a breath.

He caresses my bare shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay now. I'm here. It's over."

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

We stay like that for a while, holding each other in our arms and relishing the sweet silence of early morning. Until-

"Hey Jungkook, you know how you're hot and cute at the same time?"

"Don't do it, Jojo. I'm telling you, don't-"

"Hute."

My obnoxious laughter annoys the hell out of him, but he eventually joins me. I smile to myself.

The old back me is me but more different than ever. I want to go through a deep cleansing. I want to throw away all the trash that has been accumulating in my house and my very soul.

A new person.

A new life.

A new me.

I can't promise I' ll make it in the end but I can promise I'll try.

"You know, " Jungkook says, "you turned out to be much more different than I thought you'd be."

I turn his face to him. "Did I meet your expectations?"

He smiles. "No. You exceeded them."

166 notes · View notes

sodamvelvets · 5 years ago

Text

“cherry blossoms”

bae joohyun x fem reader

word count: 4,386

warnings: some swears

a/n: wow, I suddenly got really motivated and was able to write this one in just a day :D, a Seulgi one will be coming next followed by either Joy or Yeri! I hope you guys like this one, I tried out a different writing style for it.

Irene’s gaze falls out the window as she rests her chin in her palms, peacefully watching as the breeze gently brushes against the towering cherry blossom trees that line the streets, causing their blooming flowers to slowly float downwards in wide spirals before settling amongst the bustling pedestrians. Irene sighs contentedly, April has always been her favorite time of year, even before she moved to Seoul five years ago. The brunette has always had a special appreciation for the cherry blossom season, the pink flowers taking her back to the times before her debut, where she’d spend the small two week period bounding through the winding Buk-gu district parks, her older sister just barely trailing behind as Joohyun occasionally stopped to collect the delicate blossoms, her giggles echoing through the warm spring air.

But she realizes, almost bitterly, that those times have long since passed, and by now, Joohyun, South Korea’s freshly turned thirty-year-old it girl, is much too refined to spend her days playing amongst the flowers.

“Joohyun?” Irene jumps in surprise as she feels a hand lightly grasp her shoulder, turning to see Red Velvet’s maknae, Kim Yerim, smiling apologetically at the older girl. “We have to go.”

Irene nods, watching as Yeri runs to join the rest of her members who are currently animatedly chatting away as they await alongside her manager and bodyguard at the café exit. Joohyun stands, stretching her limbs out before reaching for her face mask and black baseball cap, quickly adjusting both around her face.

“Did you enjoy your alone time?” Wendy teases as Irene approaches the group, Seulgi, and Joy both quietly snickering beside her, while Yerim silently types away on her phone. Irene rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it’s much easier to properly think without mosquitos buzzing in your ear.” She says dryly.

Seungwan cackles, pinching her leader’s cheek and quickly stopping as both girls notice their manager whose eyebrows are narrowed in an unamused expression. “Are we ready to hear the schedule for today, or are we going to continue acting half our age?”

Joohyun’s cheeks redden as she mumbles out an apology, and her manager begins to drone out a long list of today’s activities. Irene’s eyes begin to wander back outside as her manager speaks, her focus moving to the two young children chasing each other through the blossom laden roads, the sounds of their sweet laughter being left in their wake. “I’d like to go for a walk before we leave.” Irene suddenly says, and her manager lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Joohyun, we don’t have time for-“

“I want to as well!” Seulgi chirps with a crescent eyed smile, cheerily holding up her camera. “The weather is really good for pictures.”

Seungwan waves her hand in the air excitedly. “Me too! Plus we still have time before our photoshoot.”

Joohyun giggles softly as Sooyoung and Yerim join in on the chorus of begging, their high pitched whines causing their manager to rub his forehead in thought and irritation.

“Fine!” He finally exclaims, checking his watch. “You have ten minutes.”

The Red Velvet members cheer, splitting off into their own groups as they file outside with Irene politely declining Wendy’s offer to check out the boutique across the street, instead opting to walk aimlessly down the busy Seoul streets, enjoying the faint scent of the cherry blossoms drifting through the air.

It’s times like this she misses most, Irene thinks as she pulls her hat just a little lower, the times when she wasn’t one of Korea’s most famous celebrities, but rather just Bae Joohyun, the shy and quiet girl from the Daegu providence, able to wander the city whenever she wanted or even just sleep in past seven. But even as she watches the children play and the rowdy teens jostle each other around, Joohyun knows she wouldn’t have it any other way. She likes her life now, as different as it may be from the peaceful one she once had.

“Look out!” Irene’s eyes flick upwards at the sound, eyes widening as a girl looking around Sooyoung’s age comes bombing down the sidewalk on a skateboard, slamming her foot into the pavement as Joohyun quickly steps to the left, watching in shock as the sudden force of the stop causes the girl to go flying off her board, landing with a loud thump in the spot where Joohyun had just been standing.

Irene blinks, before moving to grab the girl’s skateboard and rushing to her side. “Are you okay?” She asks worriedly, helping the girl stand.

Irene is surprised when the girl, who is only a couple inches taller than Joohyun, only laughs heartily, brushing the dirt off her knees, and patting down her shirt. “Never better!” She says with a large smile, taking the board from Irene’s hands and tucking it under her arm. “I’m really sorry for almost hitting you and I’d love to make it up to you but I gotta go, my shift starts in five minutes.”

Joohyun gapes at the young girl, slightly put off by her almost puppy-like personality, and for the first time noticing the girl’s unique beauty, her sparkling brown eyes and slightly mussed hair helping her achieve a certain type of gorgeous that Irene feels outmatches her own and reminds the brunette of a female classmate whom she used to frequently admire back when she lived in Daegu.

“It’s okay,” Irene finally manages to say, tearing her eyes away from the girl and cringing as her voice comes out a little more shaky than she would’ve liked. “Maybe you should walk the rest of the way through.”

“Will do!” The girl says, making a saluting motion that Joohyun notes is eerily akin to something Seungwan would do, but unlike when Wendy does it, Irene finds it oddly charming and even a little heartwarming.

“You know,” Joohyun says with a chuckle, feeling that same fluttering feeling in her stomach that she used to feel when she was near her Daegu classmate. “You’d better go before you’re too late.”

“Oh!” The taller girl exclaims, a look of embarrassment coming to her face as she bashfully rubs the back of her neck, a toothy grin spreading across her lips, which Joohyun realizes she’s been staring intently at. “Right! But If I ever see you again, I definitely owe you a coffee.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Joohyun says kindly, pushing down the saddening thought that she’d most likely never see the younger girl again, before urging her to hurry along.

Irene watches the girl with a smile as she takes off, waiting a few moments before uttering a few choice swear words, realizing that just like the girl in Daegu, she finds this new one insanely attractive, and can already feel herself developing a crush on the stranger.

For a second, Joohyun stands, soaking in the warm sun and admittedly, thinking about the girl’s warm smile, before finally deciding to set off again, her eyes almost immediately falling upon an object laying on the ground around where the girl had fallen earlier, and perhaps foolishly Irene bends down to pick it up, quickly identifying it.

“Hey! Your wallet!” Joohyun calls, but by then the girl is so far away that Irene can’t even see her, and with a humored sigh Irene decides to follow after the girl’s general direction, only to be cut short by the feeling of her phone vibrating within her pocket. Joohyun’s eyes widen as she pulls it out, reading the caller ID and instantly recognizing her manager’s name. Hastily she hits the accept call button.

“Hello?” She says, tucking the wallet into her trench coat and mentally noting to find the gorgeous girl later (something that definitely excites her) as she begins to walk at a brisk speed back towards the way she came.

“It’s been fifteen minutes Joohyun!” Her manager cries, and Irene can already imagine his distressed expression as she quickens her pace to a light jog. “You have a photoshoot in less than an hour!”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll be there in a minute,” Irene promises, hanging up as she dodges a pedestrian, spotting the café up ahead and swiftly closing the gap between her and there, arriving with her cheeks only slightly red from the exertion. Her manager simply shakes his head when he spots Irene, motioning for her to enter the transportation van before walking around the vehicle to get in the passenger side.

“You’re late,” Sooyoung remarks with a smirk as Irene climbs in, her breath already having evened out by then.

“As if you don’t hold us up ninety percent of the time,” Joohyun snaps, sitting down beside Yerim and taking off her hat to fix her windblown hair.

Seulgi laughs as Sooyoung feigns offense, the two beginning to get into a friendly argument, Irene’s tardiness seemingly already forgotten.

“What took you so long?” Yeri asks after a few minutes, her eyebrows raised in question.

Joohyun turns from the window to face her maknae, a small blush spreading across her face as she’s reminded of the gorgeous girl from before. “I ran into,” Joohyun bites her lip. “Someone.”

“Someone you know?”

“No,” Irene says quietly. “She was a stranger.”

“Was she pretty?” Yeri questions with a mischievous look.

Irene huffs, beginning to get annoyed by the younger girl’s antics. “Yes.”

Yeri’s eyes widen and she lets out a loud and boisterous laugh, clapping her hands together, and Joohyun gets the feeling that Yerim has already figured out about her tiny crush. “Quiet down Yerim,” Irene hisses.

Yeri rolls her eyes but lowers her voice nonetheless. ”Do you know her name?”

Irene frowns as she realizes that no, she does not. “No,” Irene says, suddenly becoming aware of the weight in her pocket, and pulling it out. “But I have her wallet.”

“Did you steal it?” Yerim asks excitedly.

“What the- No!” Irene scowls, sparingly slapping Yeri on the back of her head. “She dropped it and I didn’t have time to give it back to her!”

“Lame!” Yeri teases, snatching the wallet from Joohyun and beginning to rifle through it, harshly elbowing the older girl when she tries to take it back. “Quit it Joohyun,” Yeri exclaims. “I’m looking for her ID, don’t you wanna know her name?”

“Whose name?” Wendy chimes in, Yerim’s sudden shouts having attracted her attention.

“Some hot girl Joohyun met earlier,” Yeri answers, causing Seungwan to chuckle, and Joohyun briefly buries her head in her hands.

“And her name is,” Yerim smirks, proudly holding up a driver’s license. “Holy shit, she is hot-“ Wendy peers over Yerim’s shoulder, nodding in agreement, and Irene pinches Yeri’s side causing her to squeal. “Sorry, her name is Kwon Y/n.”

Joohyun grabs the license and wallet from Yeri, and she smiles slightly as she sees the younger girl’s face, instantly deciding she likes the name Y/n, and feeling it fits the girl perfectly. “How am I even going to find her though?” Joohyun says with a sigh, putting both items back in her coat pocket.

Seungwan raises a brow, pulling out her phone. “You said her name was Kwon Y/n?” She presses her phone into Yerim’s lap. “Is this the right Hangul for Y/n?” Yeri nods.

“She works at the coffee shop a couple blocks away from the café we were just at,” Wendy says after a few minutes.

“How did you even figure that out?”

Wendy grins at Irene. “I’m the search king Joohyun!”

“Just call and see when she’s working,” Irene sighs.

///

Joohyun blinks wearily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she looks out the car window, watching as the cherry blossoms blend into one long pink stream, her head slowly bobbing along to the guitar riff of Molly Burch’s Downhearted, a song chosen by Seulgi, who had happily volunteered to take Joohyun (and Yerim) to the coffee shop after Yeri told her about Joohyun’s encounter last night.

“So are you excited?” Seulgi asks, reaching to turn down the music volume. “You haven’t liked a girl for like seven years.”

Joohyun glances in the rearview mirror, eyes landing on Yeri, who has her earbuds plugged in and seems to be blissfully unaware of everything around her. “I guess,” Irene says, crossing her arms. “And I’m going to graciously pretend you didn’t say that last part.”

Seulgi snickers. “As if it’s not true.”

“Whatever,” Irene mumbles, cranking the volume up and drowning out Seulgi’s laughs, choosing to focus on the passing scenery for the rest of the car ride, and doing her best to ignore the bubbling anxiety in her stomach.

“We’re here,” Seulgi says ten minutes later, and Irene laughs as her bandmate turns to throw a one hundred won coin at Yeri.

“What the fuck Seulgi!” Yeri exclaims, ripping out her earbuds and rubbing her head.

“You didn’t hear me when I said we’re here.” Seulgi smirks, unlocking the car doors and getting out with Joohyun following closely behind, clutching Y/n’s wallet.

Irene hears Yeri mumble a few more swear words before exiting the car, running to catch up with the two older girls, wearing a scowl on her face as Seulgi holds the door open for her with a teasing smile, and Yeri, in retaliation, stomps on the older girl’s foot, and the two instantly begin to bicker.

Ignoring the two girl’s antics, Irene slips into the shop, the faint smell of vanilla instantly entering Irene’s nostrils. For a second Irene looks around, admiring the creamy yellow walls that are covered in abstract paintings. Irene is pleased to see that no other customers inhabit the shop, the only visible person there besides the three Red Velvet members, being the blonde-haired female worker whose back is currently turned, and Irene silently observes her as she works, noting that they look to be shorter than even Wendy.

“Is that her?” Joohyun doesn’t get a chance to respond as Seulgi brushes past her, confidently walking up to the counter, and waving at the barista, who seems to have gone into shock, clearly having recognized the trio, all of them having decided earlier to not wear their face masks.

Irene’s eyes widen, rapidly shaking her head no and Seulgi’s cheeks redden as the barista lets out a high pitched squeal and grabs Seulgi’s arm, causing Yeri to laugh aloud as she sneakily pulls her phone out to film the moment.

“Minseo! Why are you screaming?” Joohyun‘s eyes flicker in the direction of the voice, a tall figure appearing from the back room wearing a frown, swiftly moving to remove her coworker from Seulgi with an apologetic grimace. Seulgi glances back at Irene, her eyebrows raised in silent question and Joohyun mouths a yes, her eyes falling upon Y/n, and she swears her heart flutters a little as she takes in the younger girl, who is wearing a low hanging bun that peeks out of the back of her hat, a look that Joohyun definitely appreciates.

“R-red Velvet!” The girl, Minseo, stutters out pointing first to Seulgi, then to Yeri, and finally Irene.

Y/n’s glances around at the three girls, her brown eyes briefly landing on Irene, a hint of recognition seeming to flicker in them before she turns back to her coworker. “Ah they’re that idol group you like, right?” Y/n says with a grin, patting Minseo’s back gently.

The smaller girl nods meekly, and Y/n chuckles, her gaze once again returning to Irene, who smiles gently in response. “I recognize your eyes,” She says suddenly, beaming at Joohyun. “You’re Joohyun, aren’t you? The girl I almost ran over yesterday and called about my wallet.”

Irene nods, holding up the wallet tossing it to the taller girl who catches it with ease, and Joohyun’s eyes widen as Y/n literally jumps the counter almost knocking Irene over as she is swept into a tight embrace, that Irene melts into, breathing in the girl’s scent, instantly relaxing and Joohyun decides there and then that her new favorite smell is whatever fabric softener Y/n uses.

“Minseo, please get these three any coffees they want.” Y/n says, releasing Irene, and Seulgi and Yeri who were taking a photo with Minseo high five, cheering loudly.

Joohyun shakes her head at this, watching in amusement as her two younger members excitedly order two dalgona coffees.

“What about you?” Y/n asks Irene, gently grabbing the older girl’s hand, and Joohyun jumps.

“I don’t like coffee,” Irene says, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Y/n cocks her head, seemingly confused before her face turns back to a large grin. “How about tea?”

“That would be great,” Irene says softly, her lips beginning to curve upwards as well.

“Oh, by the way,” Y/n says, leaning into Joohyun, and whispering into her ear, causing the older girl to shiver. “I hope this makes up for yesterday.”

Joohyun laughs at the taller girl, lightly poking Y/n‘s side and making her yelp. “It’s a start.” Joohyun jokes.

Y/n chuckles, her sparkling brown eyes moving to her blonde haired coworker who seems to be struggling with the coffee machine. “I should really go help her.” She says, directing Joohyun to a table. “Let’s talk more when we’re finished though.“

Irene nods, seating herself and watching as Y/n leaps back over the counter, joining Minseo and making a teasing remark at her coworker’s efforts.

“Yerim was right,” Seulgi says as she and Yeri sit down beside Joohyun. “She is hot.”

Joohyun’s cheeks go red as she kicks Seulgi under the table, the two swiftly beginning to fall into a friendly argument, all while Yerim watches, occasionally making witty comments of her own before quickly shutting up when the two older girls send her a warning glare, all of them suddenly coming to a silence as Minseo and Y/n reappear, drinks in hand.

“So you guys are idols?” Y/n asks as she sets Irene’s mug in front of her. “That’s so cool, I wish I had the talent for that!”

Irene glances at the younger girl, noting to herself that the girl definitely had the looks and body for an idol, but bites her tongue as she begins to open her mouth and say that, deciding it would be too straight forward.

However, to her left, Yerim smiles proudly, starting to tell Y/n all about Red Velvet and their latest comeback, while Joohyun silently listens along, watching as the steam rises from her tea in long, billowing, swirls, her thoughts returning to the feeling of y/n’s arms wrapped around her. Irene sighs, a feeling of contentment filling her as she takes a sip from her cup, realizing that from this angle she can once again smell Y/n’s flowery scent.

“What fabric softener do you use?” Irene asks suddenly and Yeri chokes on her coffee beside her, Seulgi begins to laugh at both girls before her phone rings and she politely excuses herself.

Irene sinks into her chair, feeling embarrassed, but Y/n simply smiles at Joohyun, and the older girl finds herself once again at ease. “I don’t know. I can see when I get home though.”

Irene beams at the younger girl appreciatively, and Joohyun swears she hears Yeri coo teasingly.

“Hey, you two” Seulgi says pointing at Joohyun and Yerim as she returns to the table. “We have to go, we have an interview in an hour.”

Yerim makes a whining sound, and Irene smiles sadly at y/n, swearing she can see a hint of disappointment lingering in the other girl’s brown eyes, and Joohyun’s stomach drops. Perhaps against her better judgment and knowing full well her manager would chide her for this if he found out, Irene pulls a pen from her purse, quickly scribbling her number on a spare napkin and pushing it towards the younger girl with newfound confidence. “Text me when you find out.” She says, following Yeri and Seulgi out.

And a couple hours later as Joohyun is getting her makeup retouched for a post-interview photoshoot, she receives a text.

I use Pigeon btw :)

Joohyun laughs and her makeup artist scolds her to keep still.

///

It’s a couple months later that Joohyun finds herself in Red Velvet’s shared dorm room, alone with Y/n, the rest of her members having agreed to go out for the night and leave the two alone to watch a shitty chick flick that only Y/n was really paying attention to, Joohyun being more focused on stealing looks at the gorgeous girl, who is currently allowing Irene to rest her head upon her shoulder.

Joohyun has come to realize that the twenty-four-year-old girl loves skinship and cuddling, something that Joohyun definitely doesn’t mind, and happily obliges to. But as Joohyun stares at Y/n, admiring her delicate features, Irene can’t help but feel a certain sadness.

Since her time at the coffee shop, Irene has only fallen harder for Y/n, and every day it seems to get more difficult for the brunette to ignore. With each melodic laugh of the younger girl or relaxed half-smile, Joohyun only wants to call Y/n her own even more, a fact that Y/n remains blissfully unaware of, despite the constant urges of Joohyun’s members who have also come to enjoy Y/n’s company.

Irene remembers her conversation with her bandmates last night, when she had first asked them to leave the dorm for the night, recalling how all the girls, even the troublesome maknae, seemed to agree that Y/n liked Joohyun just as much if not more. But still, Irene is unsure, not even knowing if Y/n likes girls.

“Rene!” Joohyun flinches as Y/n flicks a piece of popcorn at the older girl, smiling slightly at the nickname Y/n had begun to call her a couple weeks ago. “The movie is over. Should we watch another?”

Joohyun only looks at the younger girl, resisting the urge to reach out and trace Y/n’s soft-looking lips.

“Joohyun?” Y/n asks, brows furrowing as she waves a hand in front of Irene’s face. “Are you alive?”

Irene’s eyes widen. “Yeah,” She mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Alright,” Y/n says, moving so she’s facing Irene, taking the older girl’s hand in her own. “What’s wrong, you’ve been acting weird this whole week and your fingers are doing that twitching thing you do when you’re upset.”

Irene bites her lip, realizing that she has been acting off the past few days, a little more spacey than usual, and as she gazes into Y/n’s worried eyes, she sighs looking down into her lap. Joohyun‘s thoughts drift to the Daegu girl, who she had spent years pining over, simply because she was too afraid to do anything, and maybe it’s time, Irene thinks, to just get it over with and ask Y/n what she desperately wants to. To see if there is a chance, for Joohyun who has never had intimacy before, aside from a few quick flings, to find lasting love and comfort with Y/n, who could like girls.

However, Joohyun also knows the crushing side of that equation, realizing that there is also a chance that the younger girl does not like girls, and Irene is just a friend to her. But as Irene closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing, she pictures herself with Y/n, and she wants it so bad, her heart swelling with courage as she squeezes Y/n’s hand.

“Y/n,” Joohyun finally whispers after a long silence, glancing hesitantly into Y/n’s sparkling brown eyes. “Do you like girls?”

Irene can’t quite decipher the look Y/n gives her, but she can definitely feel the dread budding in her stomach as Y/n softly let’s go of Joohyun’s hand, moving it to rest on Joohyun’s thigh. “I like guys. But-“

Joohyun freezes at the younger girl’s words, wishing she could just disappear as a sudden iciness spreads through her body. Abruptly, Joohyun sits up, cheeks filling with embarrassment as she hurriedly moves away from Y/n, her body suddenly jerking to a stop as Y/n grabs her wrist, pulling the older girl close and pressing her lips against Joohyun’s. Irene hesitates at first, before beginning to kiss Y/n back, her fingers moving to tangle themselves amongst the younger girl’s hair. Joohyun bites down on Y/n’s lower lip, her tongue moving to explore Y/n’s mouth, causing her to let out a moan, a sound that makes Irene’s heartbeat quicken. Joohyun visibly frowns as Y/n slowly breaks away from Irene, a small smile beginning to spread across the younger girl's lips.

“You didn’t let me finish Joohyun,” Y/n laughs softly, her hands move to gently cup Irene’s delicate face. “I like guys, but I also like girls.”

And for some reason, Joohyun starts to cry.

///

Irene feels like a child again when she’s with Y/n. She feels that same joy she felt when she lived in Daegu, the happiness and innocence that she found herself missing last year finally found again, something she especially feels as she walks through the winding paths of her favorite park, hand tightly clutching Y/n’s.

“Thank you for coming,” Joohyun says as she and Y/n take a seat on a bench, Irene sighing contentedly as she watches the cherry blossoms trees shaking in the breeze.

Y/n nods, grinning broadly and reaching out to catch a falling flower. “Of course, you know I love visiting your hometown.”

Irene smiles at the taller girl, allowing Y/n to gently place a blossom behind her ear.

“I love you,” Y/n says, running her fingers through Joohyun’s hair which has been recently cut short.

Joohyun tilts her head, pulling Y/n into a soft kiss just as the April wind begins to pick up, sending the fallen cherry blossoms into a whirlwind of pink that seems to magically encapsulate the two girls, hiding them in their own world, even if only for a moment.

“I love you too,” Joohyun whispers.

And who better, Irene thinks, as she presses her lips to Y/n’s again, to share her favorite time of year with.

#girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #red velvet scenario #red velvet imagines #irene x reader #red velvet x reader #red velvet #irene #irene imagines #irene scenarios #red velvet fluff #bae joohyun #bae joohyun x reader

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fanfalc-616 · 3 years ago

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The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Thirty-One: Colors

(Previous Chapter Here)

Wow I posted a chapter yesterday and didn’t even get yelled at you guys really are giving up huh-

Original glances around the room. It’s been left alone for a while, but it wasn’t given any instructions or orders, so for now all it can do is… stand there. Maybe it’s some kind of test, but the lack of a task is making it increasingly uncomfortable.

Still, it doesn’t dare move, staying absolutely motionless as it stares blankly ahead.

Eventually, it finds its focus wandering, unable to prevent itself from thinking of something other than the empty room. Unfortunately, it seems to have been built to have constant stimulation, so it has a difficult time with a lack of it.

Almost against its will, it finds itself trying to think back, back to before the facility. It knows it’s not supposed to, but with nothing to occupy it, there’s not much else it’s able to do.

It can remember… colors. Colors, and important things about them.

Red is fire. Hot-tempered and dangerous, but only to those who are unfamiliar with it. Red is a dangerous enemy to those against it, but a powerful friend to the ones it trusts.

Blue is electric. Like the power that runs through Original’s systems, it’s constantly in motion, always brimming with excitement or another strong feeling. Blue is pure, bright, and alive.

Black is sturdy. It’s a solid constant, something that can always be relied on, a grounding force in a chaotic world. Black is loyal and unwavering, consistently proving that it’s trustworthy.

And then there’s white. White is… cold. But not unfeeling like that would imply. It’s calm, friendly, helpful. It’s valuable, cared for. It’s important. It’s loved. It’s… it’s everything Original wishes it could be.

Ignoring the odd programmed response that shows up at the thought, it tries to remember if there are others. It thinks there’s… green, maybe. Green and… cyan? Those colors are important too, but the other three somehow seem more… personal.

With a start, Original pushes those thoughts away. Personal? No, that implies that it can feel, that implies that it has human-like qualities, and Original knows that it’s not human.

Still… the colors seem to tempt it. They seem so important, they- it can’t- no, that…

It takes a deep breath, pushing the fake, digital imitations of emotions down. It’s not allowed to feel- as a matter of fact, it’s incapable of it!

With a sudden surge of determination, Original figures out a simple solution.

It will just have to tell its Masters about the colors.

They’re human. They can make decisions.

They’ll know what to do.

——————————————

Eventually, a Master comes back. The prioritized master who had left it there; Martha.

When she walks in, Original hesitates a few moments. It decides to not speak until she talks to it. Technically it shouldn’t speak at all if it’s not asked a direct question, but this seems important enough to share.

“Original,” she greets it with a curt nod. “I trust you behaved in my absence?”

Although it’s thankful it has the opportunity to speak and explain, it hesitates again. Technically, trying to remember its past is not allowed and would be defined as misbehaving, but should that really be the thing it leads with?

Biting back the coded fear, Original turns its gaze to the floor. “N- no, Master,” it admits. “I disobeyed an old instruction. I…” it takes a deep breath. “I remembered some of my past.” Cringing some, it quickly tries to elaborate- maybe it can lessen the punishment that way. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to- it was just some colors, some colors that seem important, but it wasn’t intentional, the memory of them just-“

“That’s enough, Original,” Master snaps. “Don’t try and justify your disobedience.”

But then she pauses a moment, seeming to consider something. She looks hesitant, as if she’s not sure of herself.

“… however, you did do well in confessing your mistake. Your honesty is appreciated.”

The digital code of relief floods its systems. It did the right thing, then. It’s not very often that it’s told it did something right, usually it’s only told when it does something wrong, so this must be an important thing to keep doing. Admitting to mistakes even if Master wouldn’t have found out about them.

“Yet you did still remember. Did you continue to think about it even after it first showed up?”

Resisting the wince that wants to form, Original gives a hesitant nod. “Y- yes, Master,” it answers, barely able to keep the pseudo emotions out of its voice as digital dread starts to settle inside.

The glare it gets is piercing, a clear threat behind it. But then she sighs, looking off to the side.

“Very well then, Original. I once again appreciate your truthfulness. But that still doesn’t mean you don’t need to be disciplined for this.”

Original gives a reluctant nod. It would have preferred to avoid that, but it did do something wrong- it needs to be punished as a reminder not to do it again.

Being punished hurts, but it knows that it’s necessary. The reprimands will help it do better and be more useful to it’s masters, which is its overall function: to be helpful and able to assist humans. It-

“But since you admitted it, I’m going to give you a choice here.”

Tilting its head ever so slightly, Original waits for her to continue. What does she mean by ‘a choice’? It’s not supposed to have opinions or make decisions… right?

“Normally, I’d be taking you back to the training room for a few hours of shocks; likely alternating between hot and cold.”

Original resists a grimace at the thought, even though it wouldn’t be very noticeable with the lack of a face plate. Switching between two extremes tends to wreak havoc on its sensors- it’s not quite as bad as the sensory room, but it’s a pretty close second.

“Or, we could go to the workshop. There, for about fifteen minutes, I would have you do the discipline yourself. Perhaps manipulating your sensors or removing some circuits- nothing essential to your systems, of course.” She pauses a beat. “There would likely be some residual pain, but you would be repaired about another ten minutes after.”

The code that mimics the human emotion of confusion forms, but Original brushes it aside in order to look at the options with a more logical point of view.

While it’s thinking, something suddenly clicks. Of course. This is a test!

“Whatever my Master would prefer,” it returns evenly, cursing itself internally for even considering choosing something for itself.

Martha shakes her head. “I would prefer for you to make this decision- though I do appreciate your self-awareness.”

That… doesn’t make sense. It’s not supposed to have opinions or choices, but Master wants it to now?

Well, then it should choose what seems more likely for her to want. Typically, and as she confirmed, she would simply take it back to the training room. Since she’s giving it a choice, she likely wants it to choose the new option.

Silently hoping the answer is correct, Original nods its understanding. “I would take the workshop, then.”

For a moment, Original could swear the ghost of a smile on her face. But just as quickly, it vanishes, and she turns towards the exit. “Very well. Follow me.”

“Yes, Master,” it replies, the words almost instinctual at this point. Trailing behind her, Original makes sure to look straight ahead to avoid any unwanted eye contact with a human working there.

It’s memorized most of the halls of the facility, which will hopefully be helpful when it no longer needs to be supervised. They’ve left it alone in rooms before- like today- but never with permission to go into the hallways.

When they reach the workshop, Original calmly waits for the instruction to sit on the work table- usually it’s implied that it should go there without waiting for an order, but this situation is different than the inspections or punishments it’s normally given here.

With a simple wordless gesture, the order is given, and Original quickly takes its place. It- it’s never been allowed to touch or manipulate its own systems, so this is unfamiliar territory. Of course, that won’t excuse anything it does wrong here. It should be able to figure out what’s expected of it, even if not directly told.

“Wait here,” Master instructs, turning back towards the door. She doesn’t explain where she’s going or why, but Original doesn’t ask. If she wants it to know, she’ll tell it.

“Yes, Master,” it answers, not really paying attention to the words. Responding correctly to orders is automatic now- it’s hard to believe that it ever had trouble with that to begin with.

Tensing, it quickly shoves that thought away. No, it’s not allowed to think about before. Even if that was still at the facility, it’s still from before it knew that it’s below humankind, and therefore something it’s not supposed to think about.

It needs to think about something else, before it remembers something else it shouldn’t. It- it should try to think of something relevant, something that will help it better serve its Masters.

Well, it knows that it’s going to be working with it’s own innards… a mildly disturbing thought, but this is what Master wants, so it needs to ignore the digital version of fear in order to follow the instructions given to it. The programmed response it has to anything they do doesn’t matter; the real thoughts and emotions a human has are more important every time.

After a moment of hesitation, it decides to scan itself- perhaps it’ll be able to find which parts of its system it’ll be working with.

Hmm… well, the central support- its equivalent to a spinal cord- seems to be the place where its sensors meet together, much in the way the nerves of a human do- it appears that whoever had built it had attempted to make it similar to a human in design.

As a matter of fact, most of its systems seem to be based off of the human body.

The internal cooling fans imitate lungs, in the same spot as them and even allowing it to breathe in a similar manner to an organic life form.

The power source is located in the same space as a heart, and the wires that transfer energy from it through its body mimic the circulatory system.

Like it had noticed before, the sensors meet in the same place as human nerves- the entirety of them a copy of the nervous system.

It even has a digestive system! And from what it can tell, it's capable of actually digesting and processing food- as a matter of fact, doing so may even improve its functions.

Something about all of that seems… wrong. It’s not supposed to mimic humans in any way or form- who would design it to be so similar? Why?

As it’s mulling over that, it recognizes Martha re-entering the room. Quickly, it pushes the thoughts to the back of its processor. With any Master present, its concentration needs to be on how to serve them best.

Another human enters with her- Original doesn’t recognize him, but he looks to be a mechanic of some kind.

Ah. So he will likely be the one showing it how to properly discipline itself.

Taking a breath, Original mentally braces itself for what’s to come.

It remembered something it shouldn’t have. Even if it was an accident, it wasn’t allowed- making a mistake is no excuse for disobeying orders. Therefore, it needs to be reprimanded to prevent itself from doing it in the future.

It deserves this.

And that it should remember.

#ninjago fanfiction #trauma #psychological torture #torture #angst #zangst #the rights of a nindroid

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years ago

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The Winter Ghost - Part 5

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/n

Warning: language, PTSD, anxiety, violence, fluff.

W/c: 3.5K ish

A/n : oooh getting serious. Im having so much fun writing this you guys! Shout out to @cutie1365 for all her support! Go read her fic A Kid From Queens, but dont say I didnt warn you. Its addicting!

Everything happened really fast after that day in the common room with Wanda. Shuri worked tirelessly in the lab trying to develop a softer approach to bringing back your memories. She believed if she could restore them fully, we would have the last piece of the puzzle.

Becoming the perfect war machine seemed like the most obvious use for the serum, but Steve reminded you Hydra always had something up their sleeve.

You really enjoyed living in Wakanda. Most days were spent in the gym training. Trying to harness the team's abilities was not so enjoyable. You worked with Wanda most. It helped that you were only 4 years older than her. She was younger than most of the team and had a dark past that seemed to mirror yours.

Most of your nights consisted of you, Wanda and Nat settling into the couch and cheesy eighties movies on the plasma TV. Bucky would often come out of his room and sit with you.

You really enjoyed Bucky's energy. Something about him just drew you to him. Maybe it was his smile, or the way he smelled like mint and nicotine, or that he read the newspaper and drank black coffee in the mornings. You weren't sure. One thing was for certain, the more time you spent together, the harder it became to leave him. Bucky would tell you about his past and how he used to have to bail little 'Stevie' out of bar fights and ally brawls every other day. He made you laugh like no one really did. When he told you about his time with Hydra and how they would control his mind you would rake your fingers through his hair and whisper to him he wasn't alone anymore.

As the days melted into weeks, the horrific nightmares began to grow legs. It was one of the many side effects from Shuri’s digging. Some days it felt like Hydra knew you would try to remember and this was their fail-safe. Every time you began to drift off you'd see Tommys pale face, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. You swear, right before he stumbled off the edge of the bridge you saw him say something. You could never remember when you woke, nor could you recall any other detail other than Tommy. It felt wrong. You felt wrong. Like he wasn't yours to grieve.

One particular bad night, you remember waking up screaming. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as your tears seared down your cheeks. The only thing that grounded you after that was the small knock that echoed from the other side of your door.

“Hey, doll. Let me in?” His voice was soft and smooth and the only thing that seemed to bring you back to the dimly lit bedroom. You stared at the ceiling for a solid minute before slowly rising and crossing the room. Gently, you opened the door just a crack and looked up. There stood a sleepy-eyed Bucky. He sported a baggy pair of grey sweats and an old beat up tank, his arms on full display. In normal circumstances, you believed that that was enough to knock you out of any state. You wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on people. Or worse, if he knew the effect he had on you.

“Can't sleep, keep me company?” He spoke, huskily. You could tell he had just woken up. Sleep still clouded his eyes, and the yawn he tried to stifle gave him away. You appreciate what he was trying to do, so instead of calling the man out, you opened the door, and welcomed the Super Soldier in.

You talked for hours that night. He didn't ask about your nightmare, which you appreciated. You had recited the images to Shuri about thirty times in the past week. It was the only memory that seemed to come back. It replayed over and over on a continuous loop through your mind. This moment with Bucky was a welcomed break.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” You finally spoke. Bucky and you had found your way onto your bed at some point. His right arm draped around your shoulder, as you leaned on his chest. He cracked his neck to look down at you.

“Of course.” He offered, shifting onto his side so he could really look at you.

“Does it ever stop? I’m so exhausted, all I want to do is sleep but I- I'm so scared. I don’t want to see it again… What if it never-” Your voice broke off, shutting your eyes tight to stop a tear from escaping.

“Hey, hey. You're not alone anymore. Remember? I went through it and came out the other side. And look how well adjusted I am.” Bucky smirked, sarcasm laced his last remark. You couldn't help but smile at that. You didn't know if anyone but you and Steve really knew how funny he was. Maybe he liked it that way. Maybe he was only that way with you? You knew it had been awhile since Bucky had really been this way around others. It warmed your heart how quickly the two of you got along.

“Listen to me, doll.” He started, seriously, lowering his stare to meet yours.

“I’ll be here. Whenever you need me. I know what it's like, to feel out of control. To feel like a prisoner in your own body. To answer your question, yeah I think it gets better. I mean,” He paused then, looking you up and down in a way that made you blush. He started again, words laced with that old Brooklyn charm the ladies used to love. Granted, that worked back in 1940 - something and he had been out of the game for quite a while.

“I’m in bed with a smart, complicated, frankly beautiful dame. I’d say it gets better, wouldn't you?” He gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch sent shivers down your spine. Bucky's stormy eyes bore into yours making your breath hitch in your throat. There was a moment, so brief that when you recanted the memory you weren't sure it really happened. But you thought maybe for just a second he wanted to-

“Up and at it, Y/n! Training starts at 0700!” Caps voice droned through your bedroom door suddenly, knocking you out of your thoughts and back to the bed you resided on. Your hand reached out for Bucky, who since that night spent most beside you. He would stay with you until you fell asleep and more often than not, when you woke, he’d be beside you, fast asleep. His side of the bed was cold, however. He had been up for a while.

You looked at your phone on the nightstand. 6:15 am it read. You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face and slinking out of bed. Pain screamed from your muscles as you opened the bathroom door. Carefully, you started the shower, steam quickly filled the room and calmed your aching bones. You stepped in and autobly signed.

Fifteen minutes later you met the rest of the team in the kitchen. You couldn't help but notice Bucky wasn't in attendance. Everyone looked like they had been awake for hours while your wet hair was pulled up in a messy knot on top of your head. Nat was pouring herself a cup of coffee when she noticed you come in. She smirked, instantly grabbing another mug and gesturing to the pot in her hands. You nodded quickly. ‘Coffee fixed most everything’. That's what Your Dad used to tell you before he left for work and you lived by that.

“Look who's finally up…” Cap announced. You had no idea how he was so chipper in the mornings. Even the sound of his booming voice made you cringe. The man must have coffee running through his veins. Maybe that should be Hydra’s next serum idea…

“I have risen. Just for you, Rogers.” You muttered sarcastically, taking the mug of coffee from Nat. You smiled and mouthed thank you, taking a big swig. Ugh, you grimaced, swallowing the brown substance much to your dismay. You didn't know what this brown water was but it definitely wasn't coffee.

Wanda laughed at your disgusted face, "It's decaf, Y/n '' she rolled her eyes, "Cap thinks decaf is better for the team. That coffee will mess with our 'performance' or whatever." She shrugged. What's even the point? You thought.

“Excuse me young lady.” Cap began, scolding Wanda like she was his teenager. Wanda smirked, turning towards his voice.

“Young lady?” Nat mocked her friend, nudging him out of the way as she reached for the piece of toast she had put in the toaster. She took a bite and over chews laughed, “You're really aging yourself, Cap.” She finished, hoisting herself up onto the kitchen island beside you.

You really liked Natasha. You thought she must have been the most beautiful person you'd ever met. Her red hair always curled around her soft features perfectly. You honestly didn't know how a human could look that perfect and be so deadly. Over the past few weeks, Nat had taught you a lot. You mostly trained with Captain Rogers and Wanda, but occasionally Nat would step in. She was small in stature, but she helped you learn how to use that to your advantage.

“What’cha say we go get some real coffee, babe?” Nat nudged you with a small smile. You looked up at her with a wide eye gaze. She truly was a hero.

“God, yes please.” You beamed as she jumped off the island.

“If you're skipping out on training then count me in! I” Wanda chimed. Rogers looked frustrated as the three of you started towards the door.

“Nat, you heard what Shuri said. Y/n cannot leave the premises until we know what she's fully capable of. She’s dangerous.” Cap stated firmly, but unmoved from the kitchen. You looked at the floor uncomfortably. He was right. You were a ticking time bomb. You all knew it. Shuri explained with the presence of the nightmares it was only a matter of time before something snapped. And no one really knew how that would look when it happened. For the most part, everyone treated you like a normal person. An honorary member of the team. But Rogers often reminded you that you were anything but. Just an experiment and a means to an end.

"Comeon' y/n. I know a place we can get some real coffee." Nat spoke, louder than Cap. Venom seeped from her words as she glared at the Captain. She shook her head disapprovingly. Wanda took your hand, pulling you gently out of the kitchen. When you touched you felt your skin sizzle, absorbing the power that surged through her body. You made a conscious effort to steady your breathing and push her power to the back of your mind. As you left you heard Natasha’s booming voice coming from behind you but decided to ignore it, as the two of you headed for the garage.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Steve?” Nat snapped at him. Steve opened his mouth and closed it trying to find the right words. “She’s a person, you ass! You can't keep treating her like some unhinged science experiment. She’s just a person. Just like me. Just like Bucky.”

“She’s nothing like Bucky!” He thundered. Nat took a step back, snaking her head disapprovingly. “I can’t keep thinking, what if we had it wrong. I mean, she can’t remember anything. What if her memories come back and she's not really on our side. I don't think we thought this through, Nat.” He huffed, running his hands over his face in frustration.

“I trust her, Steve. Bucky trusts her.” She started, taking a few steps closer to him. He shook his head in annoyance and scoffed.

“Bucky thinks the girl’s a doll. He’s totally smitten, that doesn't count. I think the guy would trust anything she said at this point-”

“Do you trust me?” Nat snapped, a brow arched, hands on her hips. Stever huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know I do, but-” He began.

“Then it's settled. You gotta’ let the girl out. She's been locked up here for weeks. I promise, I’ll keep her safe. Besides, I’m getting pretty tired of her stealing my clothes. Coffee, and shopping and then we’ll be back, yeah?” Nat offered, voice dripping with sweetness. She knew she had won this battle. She always did.

“Two hours, Romanoff. That's all you get.” Steve grumbled. Nat smirked, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heel to meet you and Wanda in the garage.

“See ya later, Grandpa. Don't wait up.” She offered over her shoulder. Steve only shook his head and chuckled, hoping desperately he hadn't made a huge mistake.

Nat strutted victoriously out of the kitchen, and almost ran right into Bucky's large frame. She stumbled back, regaining her balance quickly. Bucky raised one brow curiously.

“Where ya’ going in such a hurry?” He asked, watching her carefully.

“I’m taking your girl out for a much needed shopping trip. Anything particular you'd like to see her in?” She quipped, sarcastically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Bucky choked on a cough, clearing his throat and trying to turn it into a laugh. He failed, of course.

“I- ah, I don't know what- uh, what?” He finally got out. Nat smirkled, and patted him on his stiff chest. It was literally too easy. The man was such a ball of stress. Nat thought it was honestly cute. She’s never seen Bucky like this before. Nervous and blushing. She thought you were really good for him. Maybe you’ll finally take that stick out of his ass. She thought with a smirk.

“Have a nice day, Sergeant.” She cooed, pushing past his rigid body leaving Bucky in shock.

“You ready, babies?” Nat grinned, putting the key in the Jeep’s ignition. You sat in the back seat while Wanda sat in the passenger, both nodding vigorously.

“For the love of coffee!” You shouted, pointing forward. Both women laughed and with that you took off.

……………………...

You practically skipped through the Wakanda market. Beautiful earthy colours melted into the scenery practically taking your breath away. Wanda and Nat had stopped at a small coffee shop, but you wandered around, looking at the beautiful handmade clothing. The smoky smell of something cooking from a nearby street grill filled your senses. It was complex, sweet and spicy and sour all at once. It made your mouth water. Foreign and delicious. You followed the smell to a small hutch where people gathered around, eating and laughing.

“Beautiful isn't it? How food brings us all together.” A man spoke beside you. You recognized him as T’Challa, Shuri’s older brother and also the man who is letting you and your new friends stay in Wakanda. You had only really met him in passing, but never really spoke. Bucky always describes him as a kind, gracious friend. You smiled up at him.

“It is… Really beautiful.” You repeated.

“How are you liking Wakanda, Y/n?” He asked. His voice was deep and rich. Almost melodic. Just by speaking he had commanded the attention of the people around you. The new eyes on the two of you made you feel uneasy and small, but you took a deep breath and relaxed yourself.

“It's so gorgeous here. Thank you for having me, T’Challa.” You spoke his name and it made him smile. You froze unsure if that was the right thinking to call him. He was the King, sort of, but Bucky had always referred to him by his given name.

“Breath, my friend. You have nothing to fear here. You are with good people. Your friend Bucky speaks very highly of you. And any friend of the Sergeants is a friend of mine.” He voiced, placing a warm hand on your shoulder as you relaxed. From behind him you could see Nat and Wanda walking towards you. Wanda waved chaotically making you smile.

An old beat-up SUV made a loud popping noise as it pulled up somewhere behind you. The noise made you shudder. The familiar sound of gunshots rang through your ears as you grabbed your head, trying to make the noise stop. You looked to T’Challa who seemed only concerned, reaching out a hand to steady you.

“Is everything okay, Y/n?” He spoke, trying to gage what was wrong by your actions. The loud deady blows echoed through your head, unrelenting as a scream erupted through the crowd. You weren't sure if you had made the noise of if it was someone else. Everything seemed to fade away and your vision became blurry.

“Y/n, Y/n! Can you hear me?!” You heard a woman yell over the crowd. You tried to focus on her voice, but it was too late. Everything suddenly went black and you felt your body go numb.

You woke up in the dark cement room that plagued your nightmares. A man's eerie voice echoed off the walls.

“Еще раз!” Again! He shouted. Usually when you relieved these memories you didn't know what the man was saying. But for some reason, this time your brain was translating for you. You didn’t question it as you looked around the room. You felt your body scream as an excruciating electric shock ripped through you. Tears burned down your face as you begged incoherently for it to stop. As fast as it came on, the shock stopped, and you could breathe again.

“Ты сама во всем виновата, дитя мое.” You brought this on yourself, my child. The man cooed, wiping a bead of sweat that ran down your forehead. You winced at his touch, the feeling of him on you making you nauseous.

“Если бы ты только сделал то, о чем тебя просили. Если бы вы только слушали. Может быть, все было бы по-другому, хотя я сомневаюсь в этом.” If only you had done what you were asked. If only you have listened. Maybe things would be different, though, I doubt it. He spat, chuckling as he motioned for the other outside of view to start again.

“Please, don’t do this, Zemo. Обещаю. Возьми мою память. Заставь меня забыть, только не делай этого.” I promise. Take my memory. Make me forget, just don't do this. You begged. You tried to move your arms but they were secured down. The man only laughed at your feeble attempt, building a rage inside of you.

“Oh, don't you worry, мой ребенок. All in due time. When I’m done with you, you won't remember your own name.” He grinned a crooked smile as the machine you laid in whirled on again, sending a volt of electricity through your body. You clenched your teeth and stifled another scream.

Your eyes burst open, scolded by the sun and the tears that now streamed down your face. Gasping for air you tried to sit up, but your body shrieked with pain. On your left Nat sat beside you, Wanda was on your right holding a phone to her ear yelling something you couldn't quite make out. Your breath slowly began to return and the sunspots in your vision cleared. You looked around, the market was now almost empty but the small street grill was now billowing with smoke and flame. Nat helped you up, body still aching. You looked around, horrified by the mess that was once the lively market.

“Are you okay, Y/n” Nat started, her hands on either side of your arms. You blinked at her, terrified.

“What happened?” You asked, horrified to actually know the answer. She gave you a nervous look and tucked a loose hair behind her ear.

“It wasn't your fault, Y/n. No one was hurt, everyone got out. It’s going to be okay.”

“It most certainly is not going to be okay!” Captain Rogers' voice boomed from behind the three of you. Wanda spun around startled, while you just hung your head low. Whatever lashing he was going to give you, you deserved. It couldn't be any worse than what Zemo had done… You paused, eyes a gape.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, alerting the others. Steve looked at her angrily, impatient for your next words.

“I remember something… I think- I think I remember who did this to me.” You choked out, eyes glassy as you remembered for the first time the man who made you a monster.

................................

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope all have a great weekend! As always, feel free to leave me feedback! My inbox is always open!

@projectcampbell

#bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #buckybarnes #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #shuri x reader #captain america #steve x reader #steve rogers #bucky barns imagine

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glynnisi · 4 years ago

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ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020 FOR @ava-rosier

At Ao3: Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :) But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange. I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier . I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED. Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy. He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday. That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it. Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it. Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other. They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more. Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust. Darcy closed her eyes. It was futile. Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year. In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind? Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What? You okay?”

Darcy nodded. “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Fin

#glynnisi #shieldshock holiday fic exchange 2020 #avarosier #mcgregorswench #shieldshockficchallenges #shieldshockfanfic #darcy lewis x steve rogers #avengers au #thor #captain america #darcy lewis is a queen and don't you forget it #christmas shieldshock #starcy #ava-rosier

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