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ahundredtimesover · 8 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of implied of domestic violence (PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii we're close to the end! I've been enjoying this journey with all of you; thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I continue to work and study. On another note, pls savour this! Hehe

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly.

You zone out while watching your variety shows the rest of Saturday. On Sunday, you do errands and clean your apartment. Whether you’re lying on the couch or moving about, you find yourself constantly stopping, wondering how Jungkook is doing.

You could say that the trip ended on a good note. The drive back home had you sharing both the silence and conversations about growing up with your friends and finding refuge in your favorite places. He was smiling as you narrated your stories and while he told his. He was engaged most of the time, drifting away for only some short moments before coming back to you.

There was a different emotion in his eyes when you said your goodbye after he dropped you off, though. You could see gratitude in them but also sadness, as if the memories from the night before and from 20 years ago lingered. You know enough about that, too. Good memories can override bad ones sometimes, but in some cases, they only do so for a while, and they can only do so much.

The image of him of looking afraid from that Friday night is etched in your mind. The way he heaved, how he gripped your wrists as if in desperation for the sounds to stop, and the emptiness in his eyes as the thunder continued to roar keep you up at night.

You felt so constrained at that moment. There wasn’t much you could do that would be appropriate, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t wish you could’ve done something more to comfort him, to tell him that no matter how scared he was, he wasn’t alone. That night and the morning after, you saw the most human side of Jungkook - the one that buries a lot of memories, that deals with pain and loneliness, the part that’s fearful of others seeing him stripped bare, that cowers in his own corner until the storm has passed. You saw him as someone who needs a companion but is too scared, maybe too stubborn to reach out. He looked familiar because he looked like you.

All you could do was hold him in any way, protect him from the monsters outside and maybe within, and show him that whatever hurt, gentleness could make it hurt less; hopefully it could slowly heal the ache, too.

That’s what you learned all these years - all the fear and pain you experienced as a child slowly turned into scars because of your mother’s grace and your best friends’ kindness. You don’t know who gives any of that to Jungkook, and you hoped that during that moment, you were able to give even just a fraction of what you received.

Even if he kept his distance, you stayed close because you knew that that’s when he needed you the most. And you won’t ever forget the way his eyes softened during that ride home; you won’t forget the smile tinged with apology and gratitude that accompanied the silence. You knew it was his way of expressing emotions he couldn’t verbalize and you could only wish that he knew that you accept them, that you understand.

You stop yourself from sending him messages a few times, not wanting to invade his space if he prefers to be alone. Maybe he’s figured out a way to cope. Maybe he’s moved on from the incident and wants to just forget about it. Regardless, the last thing you want is to push him away by being too close, so you do the hard thing and wait for the start of the week to see him again.

You enter the car that Monday morning with Mr. Ri’s soft eyes greeting you. You ask if he’s feeling better and he says he is, expressing his disappointment at not being there to drive you and Jungkook last week.

“How was he?” He asks, knowing that the weather was pretty bad.

“He wasn’t good,” you answer dejectedly. “I think he had a nightmare. I had to calm him down. And he… he told me what happened at that cabin when he was young. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was. He was just a kid. He was only excited about the trip because he thought his parents were joining him and his brother,” the elder man says. “And well, that was when they had to be separated for safety reasons. Then that incident happened. I think he’s carried that resentment towards them ever since.”

“Were you there?”

“I was the one who found him,” Mr. Ri answers, baring his own pain at having witnessed a young Jungkook being so scared. “I noticed he was missing and I searched for over an hour. It was a big area and the ground was wet and I couldn’t hear him because of the rain. When I finally found him, I carried him back and stayed with him until he woke up. He was so frightened and he… he wasn’t the same after. There was this constant fear and this desire to just be left on his own.”

You force the scene of a young Jungkook yelling for someone under the rain out of your mind. Perhaps the detachment in his eyes that you always see is a remnant from that time when he’d felt so helpless and alone. You don’t know how someone can carry that with them for 20 years. You don’t know how someone heals from that either.

“I know he’s not your responsibility, ___. You’ve done so much for him already,” Mr. Ri continues in your silence. “But no one has shown him kindness the way you have and he's learned to accept that now. He needs it the most during those times. If it’s not too much, I hope you can continue doing that.”

“I intend to,” you respond. It had been natural for you to be gentle, to be patient, and reluctant he may have been at the start, you know your persistence helped him as well. “He’s done so much for me and I don’t think I’ll ever get to thank him for that.”

“Is that why, then?” He wonders. “Is all this just to repay him for the times he was there for you? Or is there another reason?”

You meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and the sullen, almost guilty look in yours tells him that there's more. When you look away, he learns it’s something you don’t want to accept, something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, you know?” He says, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking and maybe he does. “We can’t help what we feel sometimes.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you sigh.

“I know it isn’t. But I just think that being honest about what you feel helps. It may not be easy but you owe it to yourself to find the happiness you deserve.”

“But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You do,” he insists. “Maybe you’re just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you’d need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you’re gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can’t regret any of it.”

You let his words settle, knowing that they come from a place of pain. But still, you ask a question you’ve been meaning to for a while now.

“Do you regret the decision you made back then?”

Mr. Ri prolongs the silence. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he answers.

“Everyday.”

Your heart breaks for him. You know what he did all those years ago, and knowing that it continues to haunt him pains you. You don’t want that burden. You don’t want one decision to determine how the rest of your life is gonna go with no way to make up for it. You suppose that’s what will happen to you, but you’ve got time to change all that. Maybe you just need the courage to do it.

“The debt I owed kept me from chasing my happiness,” he continues. “You’ve paid yours so don’t let it stop you. You just have to be brave enough for it.”

You nod, meeting his eyes through the mirror this time in understanding and gratitude, letting his words comfort you as you exit the car.

You walk towards Jungkook’s penthouse in anticipation, as the worry of how he’s been creeps in again. The moment you enter, you get your answer, as you hear the sound of leather hitting leather, the loudest it’s ever been. You could hear him heaving, almost breathless with every movement, but he grunts in between, and you hear the frustration in his every breath.

From your position in the kitchen, you can see him in the far right corner of his gym, throwing one punch after another, his face wincing in pain, his body gradually giving in as he slows down. He hugs the punching bag with one arm while his free hand continues to jab at it until eventually, that stops, too. He releases it then spreads his body out on the floor as he tries to catch his breath now. You can feel his exhaustion; there’s desperation, too.

He stays there for a while, and you wonder if he’s releasing whatever negative emotions he’s had these past days just now, or if this is what he’s been doing everyday since he got back.

He sits up, and you look away the moment he glances at your direction. He heads your way, nods at you in acknowledgment, then gulps down the energy drink that he takes from the fridge. His drenched white shirt sticks to his body, but it’s his bruised knuckles that catch your attention. You don’t know if these wounds are from this morning or from the days before but regardless, he acts as if they’re not there. You doubt if he even feels them sting.

Perhaps this is how he copes with anything - tiring himself out, expending all his energy until he’s numb, releasing his emotions in a way that doesn’t require him to be honest or to even say anything. Maybe this is how he accepts; maybe it’s how he moves on and forgets.

He drags himself towards his bedroom then you make your way to his closet to prepare his clothes. You return to the kitchen soon after and decide to make some fried rice. It’s the one dish you make that might make a difference to his mood this morning, so you get to work and cook with what you can, deciding that it’s definitely one of the most delicious ones you’ve ever made.

He finishes his morning routine later than usual. When you walk towards him to fix his tie, you try to hold his gaze, wanting to tell him in your own way that you’re there if he ever wants to talk, but he only glances at you before looking away. You’re unsure of the cause of his somber disposition but the sadness in his eyes causes a crack in your heart. It’s different, you think, and you don’t know how else you can comfort him.

“I made some fried rice,” you tell him as you walk to the dining table.

He follows, taking his seat then quietly eating his meal as you go through his schedule. He merely hums and doesn’t ask questions, only speaking up when you bring up last week’s site visits, with him saying that there’s no rush for that, and that you’ll talk about it some other time. It’s what tells you that what happened last Friday isn’t something he’s really gotten over. Maybe there are still remnants from that night - of fear, of discomfort; perhaps a bit of shame. And you don’t blame him. They’re what you felt after the incident at the restaurant and after your injury. Being helpless in front of someone is confronting; there’s so much of yourself that gets exposed, and you suppose it’s not something that Jungkook is used to.

You share in the silence, glancing at him to see if what you’ve prepared is affecting him in any way, and you don’t miss the subtle satisfied look he makes once he finishes his meal. It’s what prompts you to push it a little. You stand up, take an ice pack from the fridge, then retrieve the first-aid kit from the drawer. Taking a seat next to him, you lay your palm out on the table, gesturing for him to give you his hands to treat.

“There’s no need,” he says, turning away again.

“I let you push my wheelchair,” you remind him. “And I let you dress my foot.”

“You were injured.”

“And you have gashes on your hands,” you point out. “Which means you’re wounded and you can’t leave those exposed. So please, would you let me do this for you?”

There’s a hint of desperation in your voice, as if all you want is for him to give in and let you help him. You’ve been trying to meet his eyes since you arrived and he’s been the coward who avoids it every time. But the last thing he wants is for you to think that he wants to push you away because he doesn’t; he just doesn’t know how to act around you after what happened last Friday. It may have ended with your unspoken forgiveness and your smile telling him that he’ll be alright, that you’ll be alright, but the past days haven’t been good to him.

In an effort to show you that he’s not angry, he moves his hand towards yours ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at you when you take his left hand and put it over your palm, but he does feel his heart skip a beat at your touch. You place the ice pack over his knuckles, then you move it over to his other hand so you can put antiseptic cream on the one that’s free.

You’re so gentle with him even when tending to his wounds. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially now, as he sees you make an effort in letting him know that everything’s okay and that you’re around in case he needs anything.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he needs right now. After last week’s incident when he blamed you for not checking the weather, he felt ashamed. He’d apologized for how he used to treat you right before that, and then he went ahead and did all that again over a fear of his that he couldn’t get over, one that came to light that night.

You saw it all - that part of him that he despises, that he keeps hidden, that he’s burdened by.

That was another thing - you were the one who woke him up and kept him steady. Perhaps it was a nightmare he was having, but it’s also always been the way his body reacted to the rain and the thunder because of what happened when he was a child. But you saw him bare and terrified, a side of him he wasn’t sure you’d want to see or be around for. You saw him weak and helpless, things he never wants to be in front of other people. You experienced him being honest and not in control, and that made him feel unguarded.

You held him steady though, grounding him when he was slowly losing himself to the fear. Your hands on his head kept him in the present, pulling him back when his mind would travel to that fateful rainy evening in the woods. Your calm and soft voice sounded like a lullaby to him, fighting away the loud sounds that have haunted him for years. It soothed parts of him that were hurting, and you’d done it so naturally, so easily.

It’s what prompted him to share with you the memory he just can’t erase. And you told him that he could call you when it happened again so you can both replace the bad memories with good ones. Maybe you want him to be brave; he thinks that’s not something that he is.

Maybe that’s why he’s been this way since he got home that day. There’s a lot of emotion he doesn’t know how to express nor even properly name. He’s sure they’re negative though, and somehow that makes him even more ashamed. He doesn’t like not being in control. He doesn’t like being that bare and uninhibited, especially in front of you, the only person he doesn’t want to scare away.

He spent the entire weekend boxing and running around the Han River parks in hopes that all the tiredness would help keep his mind off things. But somehow, it always ended up thinking of you. It wanted to hear your voice once more; it wanted your touch.

He has them again today and he feels undeserving. Yet you’re here, healing his physical wounds and everything else that’s hurting within in the ways only you know how to. And he just wants to pull you close. He realizes now that even on days when he hates himself, you’re the one he wants to be around. Somehow you make that hate a little less than before.

“All done,” you say after placing the fabric bandage on his knuckles. “Minimal movements, okay? And ice them when you can in case something’s swollen.”

“I will,” he says softly, retrieving his hand and feeling your touch still linger, knowing he wants more of it.

You proceed to discuss some events he needs to attend all the way to the office with no mentions of how either of your weekends went. He wonders how you spent yours, hoping it was better than his. He wonders, too, if you thought about him the way he thought about you. But you seem focused on work matters for today, perhaps thinking he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

He gets to his room where he sighs in relief once he sits on his desk chair. It’s now that he feels the soreness and fatigue, as all he wants is to go home and lay in bed for the rest of the day. But he can’t afford that, so he pushes on, surviving a morning meeting and slowly going through each of his emails. He’s surprised when you serve him his favorite beef brisket for lunch, and your soft smile as he thanks you is his bright spot for the rest of the afternoon.

He powers through reviewing documents right after but his eyes start falling, prompting him to just lean back on his chair for a good few seconds before getting back to work. You knock on the door not long after, and then you place a cup of chamomile tea on his desk.

“I need about five espresso shots, Ms. Cho, not this,” he sighs, the tiredness in his voice evident. But you don’t seem taken aback by his words.

“I disagree, sir,” you reply. “This is to help you calm down. There’s also a couch right there. There’s a reason why it’s big and comfortable.”

He picks up on what you’re suggesting, and he shakes his head in response.

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

“No one will know,” you shrug. “But you know it’s okay, right? I can’t imagine how tired you must be. You’re not Superman, Mr. Jeon. Plus, Mr. Jung would take naps here after long nights or during hectic days. It’s normal. And it might just be what you need.”

“I’ll decide what I need, Ms. Cho,” he says defensively. “I wouldn’t want my staff sleeping on the job so why should I?”

Jungkook regrets the words right as he says them, especially when he sees your face fall the tiniest bit. But you recover, saying that you understand then turning to head out. But you fix the pillow on the couch and place the blanket on the armrest before leaving, and he knows that your stubbornness is often a reflection of how you care.

So he takes a sip of the tea and eventually finishes it, indulging you in this way, but given the morning he’s had, his body gives in. He decides, like you said, that he needs a nap, and he doesn’t miss the victorious smile on your face that he sees from inside when he calls to instruct you not to disturb him for the next half hour.

With the dim lights and air purifier, he falls asleep right as his body hits the couch. When he wakes up 30 minutes later, he feels infinitely better; now he can focus and be productive.

You see the lights turn back on from outside and it’s your signal that he’s woken up from his nap. You wait a while before asking to enter his room to say that his father requested a meeting due to start in an hour. Jungkook’s putting his coat back on and you walk towards him to help.

“Was it good?” You ask, fixing the creases and aligning his necktie.

“Yeah,” he hums, not meeting your eyes again. “You were right, I needed that. And the couch really is comfortable.”

“That’s good. You should listen to your assistant more often,” you tease.

“I really should,” he smiles now, soft and reserved. “But I do feel better. Thank you.”

You exit his room and feel accomplished. You believe, like what others have told you, that showing him a bit of gentleness will prompt him to be a little gentler to himself, too. He works too hard sometimes, and taking a break when he needs it is one thing, but of course, it’s not everything.

The rest of the week goes by fairly similarly. Jungkook always looks tired, and it makes you wonder if he’s able to sleep properly at night or if he just overexerts himself during his morning workouts. He’s quiet when you’re not discussing work matters, making you miss your casual conversations. And though he acknowledges your occasional teasing remark, he doesn’t tease back like he’s been doing recently.

He has his moments of frustration but he’s mostly serious when you glance at him. He’s less engaging, too, and you suppose that’s what bothers you the most, as you realize that you enjoy talking with him, you enjoy getting to know him through your exchanges, allowing you a peek into his world that you know is reserved for very, very few people.

You suppose that whatever he’s dealing with is something he wants to go through on his own. Accepting your fears is one thing; accepting that you exposed all those to someone else is another. It’s why you try, in your own ways, to lift his spirits, wanting to let him know that he has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to you.

You get him lunch from his favorite restaurants everyday, you add sweets to his servings of coffee or chocolate milk, you smile at him more, encourage him frequently, and during the times when he seems distant, you don’t completely move away. You reach out just a little bit, hoping that he’ll know that you’re around even when he doesn’t feel much like himself. You don’t want to match his detachment with your own.

It seems that you got your point across. On Friday, he dismisses you after he insists that he wants to stay back to work on a few things.

“___,” he calls out as you’re about to exit his room. “Thank you for being patient with me this week. I… I needed that.”

You turn around and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from meeting your eyes this time. He’s noticed you try to hold his gaze all week; you always lingered, too. Maybe it’s your way of comforting him or saying that you understand him. He felt both of those but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them. There was a lot on his mind as he dealt with the frustration and shame of what happened, of how exposed and unguarded he was in front of you.

But you didn’t complain; you didn’t push him to engage or share anything. Even his moments of frustration were met with kindness and his silence was received with assurance. You tried to cheer him up in whatever way you could, and he could feel you just giving him time to be on his own.

He hopes he didn’t push you away. There were so many times when he just wanted you around so he could see more of your smile and hear the calmness of your voice; those always made him feel better. Whatever fears he had about how you would think of him after the incident have dissipated, as you look softly at him in understanding. He doesn’t need to say anything more, as you seem to know exactly what he means because this whole time, you seemed to also know exactly what he needed.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Jungkook,” you smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook returns to his usual self the week after. He says he went to one of their properties in Gwangju over the weekend where the weather was good and the long drive helped him stay focused and rejuvenated. He doesn’t say much of what he’s feeling and you expect that, but you’re glad his little trip gave him some peace somehow.

You, on the other hand, were left to deal with your growing feelings for him while downplaying them to your best friends. They came over for their regular visit on Saturday and while they were sympathetic with Jungkook over what happened, they still reminded you to be cautious. Once you cross a line, there’s no going back, and once you fully admit to what you feel, you can’t unfeel it; not acting on it becomes too hard and in your case, complicated.

The week is like any other but with much anticipation, given the upcoming annual team building that everyone’s excited about. This is one of the things that the support team was worried wouldn’t happen under Jungkook’s leadership, but you assured them early on that it was mandatory. And with him having loosened up and feeling more comfortable around them, you have high hopes that he’ll enjoy it as much as everyone will.

It’s why on that Saturday, you find yourself in the mall to buy the things that you’ll be needing for those three days that you’ll be spending in one of the Jeon properties in Gangwon. The venue changes every year and the villas by the lake are perfect for spring this time. Your shopping list includes all the materials for the activities and some other things Jungkook requested, like a certain book that he doesn’t have time to buy.

You enter a bookstore and as you try to find what you’re looking for, something else catches your eye. You may love the library for the space more than the books, but there will always be those that pull you in and make you curious. Even if you only read picture books when you were younger, there were a few short stories and poems that piqued your interest. You never finished them but you did manage to get through several pages.

The one right in front of you - with its pastel colored cover and simple yet intriguing design - feels like one of those. To your delight, it’s a short story collection, and your smile is immediate as you go through the pages, with each story being accompanied by illustrations that feel so personal. This would be a nice read while you’re lounging at the villa’s deck or even on your balcony, you think.

Another book catches your attention. The title is familiar, and you realize it’s one of the classics that you were required to read in high school. It has a new cover, and you see that it’s a new edition to celebrate its 30th year. You go through the pages as well, thinking back to when you had to force yourself to finish this some 15 years ago. It looks more fresh now, and definitely more enticing.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

You look up to find a tall man with deep-set eyes as the owner of the voice who’d interrupted your moment of book appreciation.

“I’m okay,” you dismiss him. “I don’t need assistance.”

You politely smile then return the books in their respective spots, ready to head out and search for what you came here to buy.

“Are you not going to get those?” The man presses. “You seemed to be interested in them and—”

“Were you watching me?” You ask, taken aback.

“Uh, no. I mean, not in the way you think,” he answers in panic, seemingly nervous at how it looks. “I wasn’t being creepy or anything I just… I…”

“Do you even work here?” You interrogate him, your alarm bells ringing at this man’s odd behavior and the absence of a nameplate that the other staff have on.

“I actually work for the company that published those books,” he says, his head down as if in embarrassment. “And we just put those out this week and I’m checking around to see people’s reaction and I realize now that it’s incredibly foolish of me to stand around and observe customers because it’s not only creepy, it’s also terribly disrespectful. I’m so sorry.”

There’s guilt in his eyes and it’s something you can recognize. You decide he’s being sincere and engage him a little.

“So… you work at Rkive Publishing?” You ask as you glance at the books. “As what?”

“I’m an editor, actually,” he answers, revealing his shy smile and dimples. “I’ve spent months on these books and thought, what better way to know people’s impression than to see them for myself? It seemed better in my head. I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“No, not really. I was kinda having a moment but then you popped out of nowhere,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. “But uh, the covers are stunning. I liked the personal touch of the short story collection and this classic looks a lot more interesting than I remember.”

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he grins, mostly to himself. “Our production team did really well in putting them together and to see the final products is incredibly satisfying, even more so when customers feel the same.”

“I don’t really read books but these just caught my eye. It’s a good way to pull people in,” you admit.

“That’s nice to know,” he smiles again. “I feel pretty fulfilled just knowing they got your attention. Even if you won’t buy them.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s guilt-tripping you but he still apologizes for how it sounds.

“I just… feel really strongly about how these pieces connect with people, even if it’s fleeting,” the man continues. “I just got over excited but thank you for not shunning me away.”

“I don’t think connections are fleeting, though,” you remark, surprising him and even yourself. “Even if it’s a thought or a memory or an impression… they stay with you in one way or another. I mean, every time I enter a bookstore, I’ll probably think about those covers and remember these books and maybe the excitement I felt. That’s still something, isn’t it?”

There’s appreciation in the man’s eyes as he takes in your words.

You may not be a book nerd nor an artsy person but you’ve been more introspective lately about the things around you. You don’t know if it’s the desperation to relate with anything and everything but if there’s one thing that working on the Arts Center has pushed you to do, it’s that pursuit of connection - with your surroundings, with people, and with yourself. You suppose that’s where all this is coming from, and the stranger in front of you whom you’re somehow connecting with right now understands that.

“It is something,” he flashes a smile again, the joy in it radiating and softening his very manly features. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

He steps aside and nods, perhaps giving you the space that he thinks he invaded, which in hindsight, you’re glad he did.

You bow in acknowledgment and head towards another aisle to look for that leadership book that Jungkook asked you to get. You immediately find it then make your way home, all the while thinking about your earlier encounter and how the briefest conversations can make you reflect about things and as you learn, lead you down a path you didn’t expect.

To appease your curiosity, you research about Rkive Publishing and learn that it’s a ten-year old company that works with up-and-coming local authors. It has also taken on special projects such as publishing classics for their milestone releases and some translated works. The man you met, who happens to be the editorial director, is a poet as well but apparently finds as much happiness in putting pieces out for people to enjoy as he does in writing them himself. He doesn’t seem that much older than you but he’s seen the world and in the eyes of an artist, you can’t imagine how beautiful and heartbreaking that must be.

You go down a rabbit hole of reading some of his poems and even some interviews he’d done when he set up the company years ago. You learn that he loves to write about the complexity of relationships, the fragility of human emotions, and the search for permanence in an impermanent world.

His words are captivating. You want to pick apart his brain to know more about what he thinks about humans’ need for connection despite our fear of them. You want to know what makes love the way it is, why it creates and sustains and ruins those who feel and have them. You want to know if he thinks that each person is capable of love, if that’s what makes us human, or if our humanness derives from the inadequacy of love - of what we give and what we receive.

You read a bit more about the books they’ve published and the authors they’ve worked with over the years. It’s midnight by the time you finish, and other than deciding that you’ll go back tomorrow to buy that short story book collection, one other thing fills your mind - the thought that there’s a reason for that encounter earlier, and it’s probably to lead you to finding this company and the production officer position that happens to be currently vacant.

The soft eyes that greet you from across the table where the books are placed is a welcome sight this time. The man from yesterday flashes you a shy smile and you greet him with your own.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad that you’re here,” he says as he approaches you.

You raise the book you intend to buy. “Connections aren’t fleeting,” you remind him. “I couldn’t really stop thinking about this since yesterday. And uh, curiosity got to me and I looked up Rkive Publishing. You’re doing great work. I read that you’re working on translations of several books, too.”

His eyes light up as he talks about wanting to attract a wider audience, given the increasing interest in Korean culture. The story of your people appeals to many because it’s shared, and he says that’s one beauty of art in whatever form - the meanings are endless, and they weave together to form something enduring and constant. That’s what he and his mother hoped for the company when they founded it a decade ago, he narrates, and he has the tough task of creating that avenue for such art to affect more people without diluting its meaning.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,” he shakes his head. “I just get so… yeah. I’ve just never met a buyer who actually searched us up after seeing our books on the shelf. I’m trying to engage more people. Our sales team said that’s one way to establish our presence.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “I may not be as passionate about anything as you but I understand feeling strongly about something. And if I’m being honest… there’s another thing that caught my eye about your company.”

“What is it?”

“You have an opening for the production officer position. I… I was impressed and looked up career options.”

“Ah, so you’re interested then?” He asks excitedly.

“I am. Although I don’t have any experience in publishing or anything related to books or literature for that matter.”

“Relevant experience is the qualification,” he hums. “I’d ask more but I can do so during the interview. What do you say?”

“That’s if I’ll make the shortlist,” you laugh. “Although I suppose my executive assistant experience is relevant enough.”

“Oh, it definitely is. That is no easy task.”

“Well, I hope meeting you like this won’t make any future application inappropriate,” you say.

“Not at all. That position has been vacant for a while. And we’re looking for two. It’s not always the role that those in the industry go for. I suppose it’s made for those looking for a career change,” he playfully winks. “But seriously though, think of this encounter as part of the process. You’ve done your research about us anyway, which kind of means you’re already a step ahead. It’s only a matter of actually applying, which I hope you do.”

“It’s an option,” you hum. “This wasn’t something I initially considered but it’s amazing how certain moments shape our decisions, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not really fleeting.”

“Of course,” he nods, thinking back to your comment from yesterday. “It’s all about being open, so please think about it. I may not know anything about your credentials but talking with you has already given me insight into what you think about our work and the power of stories. And that’s very important to me.”

“I still have a lot going on but I’ll definitely keep you in mind. I hope the position is still open when the time comes.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will be,” he assures you. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking the business card that he hands out. “And I’m ___. I’ll see you around.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you head out the store with your purchased book in hand. And as you lay in bed that night, the possibilities of taking on a new journey play in your mind.

There’s the connection to the good memories of your childhood and the unloading of the burdens you carry. There’s being around people you’re not tied or indebted to and there’s forging your own way towards a path that you deliberately chose.

But there’s also Jungkook, whom you can’t stop thinking about and who happens to be a hindrance when it comes to pursuing your own goals in life. Those goals include happiness and freedom even if ironically, those are the things he also gives you. There’s the new emotions he makes you feel, the connection you can’t deny you have with him, and the desire that constantly eats you up inside.

You’ve always had your feet inside your walls with your hand on the door, just waiting for the courage to finally step out. The only thing stopping you is Jungkook and all the other possibilities with him. They may remain unrealized but they’re there. You just hope that one day you’ll convince yourself that walking away from him was exactly the thing you had to do.

You watch in awe as Yohan loads the last crate of food in the rented van you’ll be using for this weekend’s team building in some lakeside property in Gangwon. The trunk is filled with all sorts of meat and vegetables, chips, and alcohol that seem to be good for a tribe of more than 10, way more than your team of seven.

“You do know we’re only there for three days, right?” You remind the younger man. “I don’t think we eat this much.”

“Don’t you know Do-hyun?” Yohan says. “She’s half my size but she eats twice as much as I do. And I eat a lot. Plus, the guy she was seeing ghosted her so she’s probably gonna eat even more. Heartbreak shit, you know?”

“I don’t,” you chuckle, although you can’t help but feel bad again for Do-hyun whom you had to comfort not long ago because of her boy problems. “But are you sure these are all within budget?”

“Yes. Chin-sun is a master at bargaining. And, because we’re such a good team, Mr. Min and Mr. Jung gave us some of their favorite liquor,” Yohan hums satisfyingly. “Those smell expensive. So yeah, we didn’t have to spend much on alcohol since Mr. Jeon brought some, too, which is why we got to buy all this food.”

“Fine, but we can’t have drunken shenanigans, okay? I don’t have the energy to babysit you guys. And Mr. Jeon is no weakling; he’ll be awake to see you misbehave if you do.”

“We’ll go as far as incredibly out-of-tune karaoke singing, we promise,” Yohan laughs, learning his lesson after last year’s midnight swim in the freezing cold river where he almost got swept away.

Hoseok was thankfully passed out and did not witness the almost-emergency. You had to remind your team that though you’ll be going on a team-building - which is really just an excuse for the staff to eat and drink in some scenic venue - there are still rules in place, and it would be best not to give Jungkook any problem, given the progress that you’ve all made.

You enter the car then leave the office - your meet up place - to take the long drive to your destination. You just got the message from Mr. Ri that they’re almost there; they left much earlier so that Jungkook could make it to a virtual meeting with Hoseok and his father.

The ride starts off peaceful, as everyone is still slowly waking up. Halfway through, it becomes chaotic, with Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about who’ll be on cleaning duties on which days as the youngest ones on the team. You laugh along, knowing you’ll end up helping them anyway, but you look out the window and wonder how Jungkook is doing.

He’s been incredibly busy leading to today, with several site visits to the Arts Center and meetings with the project teams multiple times the past two weeks. He’s been staying late in the office, too, and working on the weekends. You know, because you get the odd-hour emails and find portfolios on your desk in the morning. Despite the work that he still has to squeeze in during this weekend, you hope he gets a bit of rest. More than that, you hope he finds time to be with the team and bond with them. Only you know this may be your last, and you want to keep the memories of these three days and make sure they’re good ones.

You arrive at the place and look around, amazed at every corner and every space you set your eyes on. You know that the Jeon family has dozens of properties in scenic locations that they escape to or put out for rent. This lakeside estate is one of a few you haven’t been to yet, and there’s a reason why Jungkook wanted this to be your venue this year. It’s spacious with lots of things to do and the view is absolutely stunning. Lush mountains frame the sparkling body of water, and with the breeze of spring, it’s every bit relaxing as you hoped.

It’s quiet as the rest of the team walks around in awe. The main house boasts of a large kitchen and living space and it’s surrounded by four two-bedroom villas with their own decks. You, Chin-sun, and Do-hyun head to one while Yohan and Manager Lee head to another. You give yourselves half an hour to fix up before reconvening and when you do, you immediately smile upon seeing Jungkook already waiting.

He greets the team, formally welcomes you all, then talks about the property and all its amenities. He discusses what’s in store for these next three days, then he proceeds with the first activity, which is really the only work-related thing you’re all required to do.

Jungkook facilitates the session, and he starts by asking everyone to reflect on all the gains and challenges this past year. He instructs each of you to share your team highs and lows, what enabled you to achieve the successes and overcome the difficulties, what caused you the most stress, and what you’re most thankful for. Every answer is met with confirming nods and statements, and it seems that everyone is on the same page about how the year went.

The session highlights your team dynamics - you’re all very encouraging of each other, but it doesn’t stop the young ones from bickering and teasing the rest of you. It’s fun though, as you end the hour with laughter and more memories to take with you. You glance at Jungkook who seems satisfied with every response; you hope he’s proud of how he managed everything, too, and you make sure you mention it during your turn. The smile he makes when everyone agrees warms your heart in a way you don’t expect, even more so when he holds your gaze when he thanks the team in return.

You’re rewarded with a hearty lunch an hour later, and not long after, you find yourselves near the deck of the lake, discussing how to spend your two hours of free time before the next activity.

Chin-sun and Manager Lee decide on just laying on the lounge chairs to soak up the sun. Yohan gets on a jet-ski while Do-hyun flounders about in the lake. Sipping your beer, you lean on one of the tables and savor the fresh air.

There’s not much of this in the city, and the silence - save for the young ones’ laughter in the background - is definitely worth the long ride and the backlog you’ll be having once the weekend is over. You’re not really one to stay outdoors. You’d much rather stay inside, under the covers where you could watch movies or variety shows. That was always how you preserved your peace. Being outside always intimidated you, and you think now it’s probably because you just haven’t seen that many beautiful views like this in your life. If this is what’s outside your window everyday, you’d probably be out all the time.

“___, are you just gonna stay there? The water’s amazing,” Do-hyun whines as she approaches you. “Or sunbathe if you don’t want to get wet. Just get out there.”

“I’m content just watching you enjoy yourselves,” you say. “I can see the view just fine from here.”

“It’s much better up close,” she counters, standing next to you now. “Come on, this is your time to let loose since you have the permission to do so. Mr. Jeon isn’t gonna be a killjoy and watch your every move, you know? If he will, then I will…”

“You will what?” You laugh.

“I will tell him he’s being a killjoy. How often can we be in a place as beautiful as this?”

“Do-hyun’s right,” Jungkook says as he appears to your left, catching both of you off guard and prompting Do-hyun to sweetly smile at him. He’s in shorts and a loose long-sleeve shirt, perhaps ready to enjoy the outdoors as well. “The place is too beautiful for you to just sit back and watch.”

“And what will you do?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sit back and watch,” he shrugs, earning him a laugh from you and Do-hyun. “And enjoy my beer. That’s how I relax.”

“Please don’t be boring,” Do-hyun pouts at him, embracing that little sister energy that you’ve all come to love. “You should know, Mr. Jeon, Yohan is being all cocky, saying that he’s the best jet ski rider among all of us here. I have a feeling that he’s wrong, so please show him who’s boss. I mean, you are, obviously. But, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Jungkook chuckles, putting down his drink and looking out into the lake. “But sure. I haven’t ridden one in a while but let’s see how I go.”

Jungkook walks towards the water then unknots the other jet ski. He removes his shirt and wears the life vest before riding towards where Yohan is. The view of him half-naked triggers memories of all the times you’ve seen him like that, times when you’d look away and keep yourself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. It’s no different this time, but somehow, it’s much harder to keep your heart from racing this fast.

“Holy fuck,” Do-hyun gasps next to you. “Please don’t report me but shit, ___. Whoever’s doing Mr. Jeon is one lucky woman. I mean, look at that. And who knew he had a full sleeve of tattoo? That is so freaking hot.”

From your periphery, you could see her shocked face but you merely hum in response. You don’t want to get carried away by your own expletives because there really aren’t enough curses in the dictionary when it comes to describing Jungkook’s body.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she looks at you curiously. “And you’re not affected. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I’m with him everyday,” you say nonchalantly.

“In clothes, I would assume.”

“He works out every morning and he’s in sleeveless tops sometimes,” you clarify. “Obviously I’ve seen his arm.”

She furrows her brows as if she doesn’t believe you, even if you’re telling the truth. There are just other parts of that story that you don’t want to share.

“Hmm, fair enough,” she gives in. “But I’d probably be constantly flustered or even crushing on him if I were you. So how have you managed being around him and not being attracted all this time knowing he looks like that?”

You’re forced to look at Do-hyun, as you try to find the words to say, when she answers her own question.

“Right, he can be quite detached and too serious and he’s a playboy and—”

“You also forget that I am his assistant and he is my boss,” you remind her. “Thoughts like that—”

“Are perfectly normal,” she interjects. “And totally understandable. He’s a hot bachelor, ____. I wouldn’t be able to function professionally if I were in your shoes. Which is why it’s great that I’m here and you’re the one in that position.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might lose this job if I lose my shit every time because my boss is so hot,” she reasons. “And it’s not just me. I’ve seen the female staff lose their cool around him just because he spoke to them or looked their way. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I guess the broody, asshole-y vibes add to that. And then there’s you who’s in his apartment every morning and heavens know what you’ve seen or heard since we all know that the rumors about his dating life are true and you seem fine and totally unbothered.”

You want to laugh at how completely off Do-hyun is with her observations. Sure, you tried to be cool about it at the beginning and you mostly succeeded in being calm whenever you came close or saw any part of his body exposed.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. When you saw the layers underneath, he wasn’t just attractive physically; he was suddenly so much more. That somehow made it harder but it also made all the restraint worth it. But that’s not something you want to divulge to Do-hyun. No matter how difficult, you know you need to keep yourself together and stop the feelings from going any deeper.

“Well, just like you, I can’t lose my job and I will if I let it affect me,” you say. “But if I may say so… there’s definitely more to the broody, serious man we met almost a year ago.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. He’s definitely more thoughtful than I expected. Maybe a little funny, too. But that’s really all I know. He just seems too reserved, you know? Seeing him do something like ride a jet ski or laugh with us feels like such a luxury for a man like him,” Do-hyun adds. “It must be hard to get to know him beyond all this. I know it sure is hard to love someone like that.”

You know that Do-hyun’s merely projecting. The recent guy she was seeing was a lot more shy and private than the ones she’s dated before. But she got him to open up and she thought that was it, that she’d broken through his walls and they’d be permanently down for her, only to realize it wasn’t the case. He was distant for a few days and she tried to get through again only for him to completely shut her out; she hasn’t heard from him in weeks.

It’s probably why you agree. People who keep their distance and disengage whenever they want are hard to love. You’d know because you’re like that. It hits you hard knowing that Jungkook is probably the same.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you and Do-hyun watch Jungkook and Yohan outride one another, splashing each other with water and screaming in excitement when they speed up. Seeing this other side of Jungkook does something to you again, and the sight of his smile as he dries his hair while teasing Yohan triggers the butterflies in your belly.

He approaches you - thankfully with his shirt on this time - and you suddenly feel too hot. He tells you that the water��s nice and you should get in, but you’re too self-conscious now, so you compromise and say you’ll just dip your feet in the water while you sit on the steps that lead down to the lake.

That’s how you spend the rest of the hour, as Chin-sun, Manager Lee, and Do-hyun join Yohan in swimming while Jungkook stays back, watching you all from afar. You glance at him a few times and he catches your eyes. He lifts his can in cheers and you do the same. He heads to where you are some time after with five cans of beer then walks back to his room, and you suddenly miss his presence. You wish he was next to you, perhaps laughing or talking about something random or just sitting with you in silence. You’ve learned that last bit brings you a lot of comfort and peace; the view somehow isn’t as beautiful when you aren’t sharing it with him.

It’s an hour later, after having dried and fixed up, when you’re all on the basketball court to start the next activity that Mr. Ri prepared. Divided into teams of two, each pair is assigned a path that leads to either the mountain, the woods, or the stream to find bags of coins needed to “purchase” materials to create a science experiment-type water rocket. It’s meant to practice your communication and problem-solving skills with those you work most closely with, which is why Chin-sun and Do-hyun, and Manager Lee and Yohan are paired up respectively while you, of course, end up with Jungkook.

“The caretakers and I spent all morning preparing this game, so please take it seriously,” Mr Ri says. “And bond with each other while you’re at it.”

You see the competitiveness in the young ones’ eyes, especially when it’s announced that there’s a prize for the winners, and you like the energy. Being Jungkook’s partner, you know it’s just about completing the task and somehow, it’s the bonding bit that makes you nervous. You already know you’re going to like it, which is precisely why it terrifies you.

“There are ATVs for each team which you will ride to the start of the path. You’ll have to go by foot when you get there or else you’ll miss the bags of coins,” Mr. Ri instructs. “You have walkie-talkies to reach me in case you get lost but please don’t. And try to be back here in an hour. All clear?”

You all express your acknowledgement and he signals the start. The other teams rush to their rides and quickly drive off while you and Jungkook stroll to yours.

He takes the helmet and puts it on you, and he laughs again like he did at the Arts Center months ago before riding the vehicle.

“I should’ve expected that,” you pout.

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

“It looks cute on you,” he says casually before riding the vehicle.

Your eyes widen at his words and you’re glad he has his back turned on you. That way he can’t see the way you’re trying to hold your smile and suppress the giddy feeling at his remark. It makes it that much harder for you to climb up behind him though, but you manage, and you ensure there’s some distance between you and him, knowing how you tend to be when you get close.

Jungkook, on the other hand, internally smacks himself after he says the words. He didn’t mean for the thoughts in his head to actually come out. He’s glad he didn’t see your probably awkward expression, and that right now, he needs to focus on the road. That way, he can preoccupy himself with your safety and not his embarrassment.

He means it though. There’s something about you in a helmet that gets him, or even in anything oversized, like his jacket that he made you wear once. There’s also something about you wading in the water and laughing so freely that make his insides melt. Anything you do actually triggers something in him - a protective side, a care-free side; a side that wants to take a pause and bask in the scenery that includes you.

Now he has to act like he’s not affected with you sitting behind him as he drives the ATV down the rugged path. He feels you far from him, sitting close to the edge and holding onto the handles behind you. But as the road gets rockier, he starts to get worried.

“You should hold onto me,” he says, turning his head to the side so you could hear him before slowing down. “It’s safer that way.”

It takes a few seconds but he feels you move closer to him, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso. It’s a bit loose but it’s enough for his breathing to quicken.

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s a bit rocky out here so be careful. You can, uh, you can hold on tighter if you feel unstable.”

You hum in response but you maintain your position. He supposes you don’t know how bumpy it could be. It makes him worry and he wishes you’d grab onto him more only because he’s afraid you’d fall, and that’s exactly what happens after the first big bump.

You yelp, tightening your grip around him immediately. He feels his heart stop, unprepared to have your arms around his waist and your chest flushed against his back even if that’s what he’d suggested you do. He’s felt you close in several instances already, but each time feels different. It affects him the same way though - all he wants is to have you even closer.

But that’s not something he can think of right now, especially when you’re both alone, in a place that’s conducive to letting his inhibitions go.

It’s calm and peaceful out here. There’s a lot of open space but he enjoys it more when he’s looking at it from the comforts of the balcony or the deck. He always prefers to stay indoors because the outdoors somehow make him feel more constricted; he supposes that being trapped in the woods as a child would do that to anyone. He’s always just been a spectator, watching everything from behind the safety of his walls, knowing that he could feel a bit unsteady out there.

But ever since you got here and he’d seen you enjoy the surroundings, all he’s felt was the stability of having you near him. That, ironically, scares him, too. The more he’s comfortable with you, the more worried he becomes. So he settles on what he knows how to do - keeping you at a fair distance but creating moments here and there, only so you don’t think he’s pushing you away or detaching himself.

You decide to just hold onto Jungkook for safety purposes. You didn’t realize that the path towards the stream is this rocky, but you suppose it should be since you’re in the undeveloped part of the property. It's probably why he asked you to hold onto him; he’s your safety precaution and you know enough that he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He’s steady and skilled in navigating the ATV, avoiding the big bumps and alerting you when there’s going to be one. It’s actually quite attractive. He feels so nice like this, with his soft hoodie and natural scent, and you have to pull away every once in a while so as not to get too comfortable. You can’t let yourself imagine this to be a possibility beyond today, you remind yourself. He can’t be someone you constantly seek, that you could fall into, even if that’s pretty much where you’re at at this point.

You reach the end of the road and Jungkook lets you get down first, instructing you to hold his arm for support, before following right after. You walk towards the mark that signifies the start of the path where you’re supposed to find the bags of coins, and you look around to see that there are more shrubs than trees. It feels a little less constricting compared to if you were in the mountains or the woods, which is why you think Mr. Ri assigned this to both of you.

You and Jungkook start searching, and with the topography of the place, it’s easy to spot the bags that are hanging from the tree branches. You point one out and Jungkook steps on the hollowed out trunk to retrieve it. You stand by watching, reminding him to be careful. And though you tell yourself to focus on the bag, you can’t help but glance at the sight of him - in his light gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, looking casual and comfortable and even more attractive.

It doesn’t help when he reaches out towards the branch while you stay on a spot below him, and the view of him from this angle leaves you quite breathless. Not only does his hoodie rise up to reveal his waist and that lower half of his torso that you’d held onto earlier, but you also get a peek of the band of his underwear, too. Your mind short-circuits for the briefest moment, even more when he stretches even more to pull the bag towards him, and you’re able to snap out of it in time, as you watch him slowly make his way down.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” You call out.

He easily descends, and with his smug face, he lifts the bag for you to see.

“Do you not have faith in my tree-climbing capabilities?” he asks you.

“It’s just not something I’ve seen you do before,” you shrug, acting nonchalantly as you return to walking down the path.

“So, were you worried?”

“Uhm, yes? I can’t have an injured Vice President on my watch,” you exclaim, earning you a laugh. “How am I gonna transport you out of this dirt road and back to the house? I can barely keep still as a passenger on the ATV.”

“Well, I could get hurt but I definitely won’t be immobile,” he points out. “I won’t be a hard person to help.”

“Right… I’m the one who gets injured and then can’t walk.”

He frowns at you at the reminder, and you counter that it’s okay for you to make fun of your injury but that he’s right, he probably won’t be as injured as you. You wave him off, hoping that you don’t have to deal with an incapacitated version of him during this game. You also won’t be able to handle worrying about him without giving too much away.

You return your focus on finding the other bags. There are those hidden behind rocks and in shallow holes; you know because of the shovel next to them. There’s another one tied around the trunk of the tree, and you have to hold your breath again when Jungkook climbs up to get it.

As expected, you have good teamwork. You section off areas to search at and quickly find what you’re looking for. You go for the ones you can get and then ask him to reach for the ones you can’t. There’s some bickering in between, with him pretending that he’s stuck or caught on something while you panic and then pout at him for scaring you. But there are some moments of silence, too, where you walk side by side and bask in the scent of your surroundings. Either way, it’s time that you enjoy just being around him, taking in the environment that you often stayed away from. With him, it’s a lot less scary and definitely more freeing.

When you’re down to your last one, you and Jungkook think that Mr. Ri would hide it somewhere near the end of the path, so you both decide to just take in your surroundings as you stroll towards the stream.

“So, nature smells like this, huh?” you hum. “It’s quite comforting.”

“It is,” he says. “I forget sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

“Don’t you spend a lot of time outdoors?” You wonder. “You’ve mentioned driving out to some of your properties with views like this. I’d assume you stay out and enjoy the scenery.”

“I do enjoy the scenery… just from inside,” he chuckles, knowing the irony of his words. “It’s just more comfortable that way, I guess. So I appreciate being forced to go outside this weekend.”

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the same,” you say. “I don’t go out much. I mean, I’m often on my own so I just stay indoors but I do enjoy the scenery when I’m with others. It feels too lonely when you’re by yourself. To be something so small in a world so big… It's kind of scary.”

“Well, I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You don’t think Jungkook will ever know the weight of his words and just how wrong he is. To be in a place so beautiful with him next to you… it’s everything you’re scared of. You’ve come to appreciate a lot of things because of him. You’ve come to want more when you shouldn’t because of him. You always find yourself in a state of push-and-pull with your emotions when it comes to him, knowing that he’s someone you can’t have. He’ll always be out of reach no matter how close he is. He’ll always hinder you from the kind of life you want to have even if that includes him.

The logical part of you wants to keep your distance, to not create any more memories that will haunt you and that you’ll miss. But the stubborn part of you wants you to hold onto this to remind you that beautiful things are tangible and he’s the one thing you can see and hear; maybe he’s something you can touch, too.

The latter one wins, so you slow your pace, take in the sight before you, and decide that this is a memory you’ll want to keep. You take the disposable camera from your pouch, something you bought the other week specifically for this trip, knowing it might be your last. You take a photo of the sky, then of the path ahead of you, then of the stream, making sure there’s a bit of him in there - a mop of hair, a portion of his arm, his shadow.

It’s then that you see the last bright red bag on one of the big rocks near the water’s edge.

“Oh, there it is,” you say, immediately walking towards it.

You look around and strategize how you’ll get to the rock safely but Jungkook insists that he’ll be the one to get it.

“You’ve gotten all the tricky ones,” you argue, given that he’d climbed the tree and crawled under the shrub because your leggings were too thin and wouldn’t be able to protect you from the thorny branches. “I can get this.”

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

“Uh, I clearly remember that you don’t.”

“Hey,” you pout at him, knowing he’s referring to that time you tripped on yourself during one of your Arts Center visits. “It was the heels. That’s clearly not a problem this time.”

You step on the wet stones and balance your way as they lead towards the big rock, with Jungkook repeatedly telling you to be careful. His voice just gets louder and louder, but you turn around and see that he’s actually just following you. It’s your mistake, as your loss of focus causes you to slip on one of the rocks and almost lose your balance. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you fall on your ass. Your foot merely slides to the side, barely missing the water, which is really fine, but Jungkook doesn’t think so.

“Don’t move until you’re stable,” he instructs, holding out his hand for you to take, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “That’s the foot you injured. You can’t risk spraining it again. Just take my hand or hold my wrist so you can safely get the bag.”

You do as he says, grabbing his forearm so you can stabilize yourself. You let him go once you do, then you turn and take a few small steps to get what you need. He stays close to you though, and once you retrieve the bag, you turn towards him with a proud smile and announce that half of your task has been completed.

“You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?” He says instead, his firm voice a contrast to his playful frown.

“And you are quite the nagger,” you hit back. “I wouldn’t have slipped if I hadn’t turned and I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Sure, it’s my fault. Sorry for caring about your safety,” he shakes his head.

“Well, you were underestimating me,” you frown now. “I could’ve done all this without your help.”

“Really?” He challenges.

“Yes,” you stand your ground. “Although I would still need your help to get back to land.”

It’s what makes him laugh, and the way his eyes light up and crinkle makes your heart race. He has such a sweet sound, and you wish you could hear more of it.

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” you stop him and check your watch. “We still have time. Can we stay for a bit? The water’s quite nice and the view of the mountains is prettier from here.”

Jungkook looks around. The mountain range from far away looks majestic from this angle, and with the sun about to set soon, the way the light shines on the water is just as beautiful.

“Okay then,” he says, wanting to savor this as well.

You just said you don’t go out much, and maybe like what he feels, being with him makes you want to take it all in; maybe it makes you feel less scared.

You both find dry rocks to sit at and it’s the perfect spot for you to take more photos, so you take out your camera and see which angles look best.

“Did you buy that for this trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I knew the sights would be beautiful. I just wanted to keep something from here,” you explain.

“Give it to me then,” he says, reaching out his hand and gesturing towards your camera. “Let me take one of you so you’ll always remember.”

You hand it over to him then suddenly feel awkward at how you’re supposed to pose. You stay seated with your legs just slightly bent but are unsure of where you’re supposed to look. It feels a little too tense if you look at his direction, even if that’s what you should be doing.

“It’s free to smile, you know? That’s what people usually do for photos,” he says, causing you to giggle. He takes the photo right then, and you have an idea he caught your smile at the right time.

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

“Sort of. I knew you were gonna think of how bold it was of me to say that, considering that I barely even smile.”

“Wow, I can’t even tease you anymore because you already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know sometimes you can’t help but just tease me like that. I know you too well,” he smugly says. “But I think I got a good photo. You’re welcome.”

You laugh at his playfulness, knowing it’s rare for him to show that side of him. So you ask for your camera back and decide you want him to be part of this particular memory. You hold it out and turn towards him.

“May I?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he hums. “I just don’t know how to smile.”

You giggle again and you’re quick enough to catch the brief moment when he lets out a short laugh.

You look at him softly, as if there’s more you want to say - that you’ll keep this close to you so you’ll remember what his smile looks like, that he’s something beautiful you can hear and see, that you feel so safe out here with him, and that you hope he’ll remember this, too.

But you look away before any of the words make it out.

You think to just quietly savor this, as you bask in the sounds of the cicadas and the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves. You’re so small in this big world, but being with Jungkook makes things a little less scary. With him, you don’t feel so alone.

A bit more time passes before you both decide to head back. He reaches out his hand which you mindlessly take, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his palm. You’re too focused on your steps that you only realize you’re still holding him once you both safely make it to dry land. But it’s also at that moment when he lets go. Though a part of you wishes he’d drag the illusion a bit more, you’re also glad he didn’t; you would’ve probably held on longer if he didn’t pull away.

The silence continues as you both walk back to the start of the path, but he stays near you, occasionally asking if you’re tired or cold. You make it to the ATV and you hold onto his waist again with no instructions needed this time. He drives a bit faster than earlier but you feel safe and steady, and there’s something natural about the way you’re clinging to him for support. Part of the illusion as well, you think, but that ends, too.

You’re the last one back to the villas but you and Jungkook quickly make up some ground in assembling the water rocket. It was mostly him, though, as he says that he tinkers around and easily figures these things out. Do-hyun and Chin-sun feel the pressure as you catch up, and they shriek as they slowly feel the win slipping away from them. But then Jungkook holds onto the last piece and lets them win instead. The way they celebrate after their rocket successfully launches makes it feel worth it; you don’t feel bad about it at all. If anything, you expected he’d let either of the other two teams finish first.

After the winners are handed out hotel accommodation gift cards, Jungkook excuses himself to get a bit of work done while the rest of the team prepares for dinner. The team works on your assigned tasks of preparing the grill and slicing the vegetables, while you cook your famed fried rice after Do-hyun convinced you that it would heal her broken heart. Seated outside with the cool evening air, you all wait for Jungkook before starting.

“Mr. Jeon said he’ll just message me once he’s ready to eat,” Mr. Ri says as he takes his seat. “We can start without him.”

“But it’s not a team dinner without him,” Do-hyun whines. “He should take a break from working and spend time with us.”

“I’m sure he wants that, too,” you say. “Let’s just give him some time, maybe there’s something urgent he needs to do. Let’s just enjoy our meal and leave some food for him.”

Everyone dives in once the meat is cooked, and there’s a consensus that your fried rice is definitely worth all the hype. The laughter and teasing immediately start, and you wish Jungkook was here to enjoy it with you. You constantly glance at his villa, noting the dim lights, and you wonder what has him holed up inside this time, knowing he didn’t plan on working too much while he’s here.

It’s one hour later when you decide that he’s gone too long without having dinner, so you take portions of everything and set them on a tray.

“Wait, let me make him a drink. Hopefully that’ll convince him to come out,” Yohan says.

Managing to carry everything, you head towards Jungkook’s villa, and when he opens the door after your constant bell-ringing, he looks at you in surprise.

“The team’s been wondering when you were coming out,” you say. “You might be in there because of work, but I’m not fully convinced. Whatever it is, the food’s too delicious for you to not have a taste, so I brought you some.”

You raise the tray that you placed on the small table outside and flash him a smile. He nods in acknowledgement and takes it from you but you don’t leave just yet.

“I hope you’re not working anymore,” you say.

“I only did for a while,” he replies. “I… got a bit tired.”

“I’ve seen you workout in the morning and work all day after only having three hours of sleep, Jungkook. You wouldn’t get tired from just a jet ski ride and some scavenger hunt,” you raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a dry laugh before heading to the dining room. He leaves the door open so you follow him inside.

“I mean I’m socially tired. Isn’t that a thing?”

“Gee, I didn’t think that spending time with me outdoors drained your energy so much,” you frown.

Your playful pout tells him you’re teasing. He sure hopes it’s not what you really feel. It’s the opposite, in fact. He felt relieved of a lot of things during that hour that he walked around and breathed in the fresh air with you. And you both had moments - comforting glances, the shared silence… the fleeting touches that made him want more. You’re everything new and familiar and he wants to know how it’s like to have you close to him.

He knows it’s a desire he can’t act on, not just because he’s your superior but also because he can’t imagine you feeling a fraction of what he feels. It’s tempting to mistake your kindness for something more, and he’d fall into it if only hoping didn’t lead to disappointment. But like what Yoongi had said before, it’s how you naturally are, even as someone who prefers to be alone. Whatever type of friendship you offer is all that it is - friendship.

Jungkook clearly doesn’t deserve you. It’s not just because of the way he treated you at the beginning but because even until now, whenever he pulls away, you’re always the first one who reaches out. He’s scared that anything he does might push you away, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’ll keep you at a distance for as much as he can and for as long as you’re around. He can handle that, but losing you in any way has become his biggest fear.

That’s why he needed to be on his own after your time together in such a casual and comfortable environment. It’s easy to want that with you and to think that he can have it. Pulling away has always been his default when dealing with things he can’t control, and earlier, he just couldn’t control his mind and his heart.

But you’re here now, having knocked on his door like you always do, wondering if he’ll come out.

“I brought you dinner but I purposely gave you small servings so you’ll want more and leave your villa,” you explain.

“Half a cup of your fried rice?” He scowls. “That’s a crime.”

“I know. And you’ll run out if you don’t go outside,” you warn. “Are you planning on just staying here? Do-hyun’s right. It’s not a team dinner without you there.”

“I… I was planning to go out a bit later. It’s a different setting and I’m a little anxious,” he admits.

He looks away and you feel for him. You were the same in the beginning, too. It’s one thing to share meals with people in a work environment but it’s another when it’s more casual, where people are less filtered and guarded. But you had to try, and after spending time getting to know your colleagues, things got easier.

The team has adjusted to Jungkook but you suppose Jungkook hasn’t fully adjusted to them. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking in much later in the evening or using work as an excuse. But this is part of his function, and like you promised him early on, you want to help him with this aspect of his role.

“I’ll help you loosen up a bit,” you suggest. “I can have dinner with you here first and then we can go out once you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, even if he’d decided earlier that he’d keep his distance. “You can get your food outside. I’m not sharing mine.”

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

“I know,” you say. “And by the way, Yohan made you that drink.”

“How’d he know I like highball?”

“A little birdie told him,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

You smile before walking out, with Jungkook reminding you to set aside some fried rice for him.

You take your plate and reason to the team that you and Jungkook will just discuss some work stuff and they buy it, saying they won't get drunk until you’re both back outside.

You return to the villa with your dish and a bottle of beer, immediately realizing that it’s new territory for you and Jungkook, too. Sure, you’ve spent some time together out of work, but not in a place and situation like this.

But you want to be there for him. You like that he looks to you for energy and support. On days when he’s distant, you want moments like right now to remind you of the times he needed you, that he wanted you around, even if it’s for a different reason.

It takes half an hour for Jungkook to ease his nerves. In that time, you talk about random things, like his favorite hawker centers in Singapore and the variety shows you watch on which days. You both tease each other, then compete on who gets less affected. You tell him it’s good preparation for when the team, in their drunken states, does the same. You assure him, though, that they won’t go below the belt but he also assures you that he’s a big boy and can handle it.

When he says he wants more fried rice, it becomes your cue to head outside. You’re thankful that other than Mr. Ri subtly smirking at you, no one else reacts uncomfortably. You and Jungkook just came from his villa alone, after all, but you suppose everyone’s too tired or too careful to say anything.

“I hope no one’s eaten my share of the fried rice,” Jungkook says as he sits across from you. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Here, all yours, Mr. Jeon,” Yohan says as he hands him a bowl. “If it isn’t enough, just know that Do-hyun took one last scoop before we set this aside.”

“Traitor,” Do-hyun scowls at the younger man. “I couldn’t help it. It’s so good, right?” She turns to Jungkook now. “___ gatekeeps this! She says she’s too busy to make it and I only got her to do it now because I’m heartbroken.”

Jungkook smiles internally. You’ve made this for him a few times and it’s heartwarming to think that you had your reasons for doing so, knowing now that it’s not something you easily share.

“It’s way better than the one I make,” Jungkook says, glancing at you. “I can have this everyday.”

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells.

“Uh, yeah. I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?” Jungkook asks.

“Paying people to do things for you,” Do-hyun shrugs.

It’s a line he’s heard you say before and neither of you are wrong. It’s normal to make that assumption and it’s also true. He had people to do pretty much everything for him when he was in Singapore. He has that option here in Seoul, too, but he’s found himself wanting less people in his space for long periods of time. You’re really the only one he doesn’t mind being around him.

The conversation shifts to what happened in the afternoon, and you all end up talking about each team’s scavenger hunt experience and the anticipation for the next day’s obstacle course and relay games. A few more shots and bottles of beer later, the vibe turns more serious, as Manager Lee’s question to Do-hyun about how she’s feeling turns into an emotional session where she asks what she’s supposed to do about the man she was seeing, wondering if it’s worth reaching out or just moving on from him.

Chin-sun shares a piece of her mind and so does Yohan. Manager Lee says that sometimes, people don’t know what they want and isolate themselves in response. The pieces of advice are a mix of being patient and forgetting about the man, and you choose to observe rather than give an opinion. It’s always easy to say something but things could be totally different once you’re the one experiencing it. You think Jungkook feels the same, as he stays quiet but listens earnestly.

“What do you think, Mr. Ri?” Do-hyun asks. “You’re the oldest one here and would probably have a lot to say.”

“I wish I did but I wouldn’t say I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to my love life,” Mr. Ri laughs. “I mean, I’ve only ever loved one woman but I let her go. And that was over 20 years ago; I haven’t loved anyone that way since. I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

You watch everyone’s faces turn from shocked to somber. Mr. Ri, having been CEO Jeon’s right-hand man for a long time, has a stable and commanding presence. Everyone knows him to be loyal and firm, yet there’s a warmth about him with how protective and dependable he is. They all know about his commitment to his job, but his faithfulness to one person is perhaps surprising; he was never one to show much emotion, after all. But then again, people make sacrifices in the name of love - sometimes they give everything up for it, sometimes it’s what they let go of.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Do-hyun sighs. “And you never stopped. Where does all that love go?”

“I have people I care about,” Mr. Ri answers. “It goes to them. Obviously it’s different but I learned that if I keep all that love to myself, it hurts even more. That’s how I learned to live with the decision I made. It’s how I learned to let her go.”

“That’s so sad,” Do-hyun sniffles. “Here I am, heartbroken about a guy I was dating for only a few months while you’ve been harboring these feelings for decades.”

“It’s not about the length of time you were together or apart,” Mr. Ri shakes his head. “When you give a part of yourself to someone, losing them always hurts. That part of you is gone because they took it with them and you can’t take it back. So your pain is valid. We all love and grieve and move forward differently,” he says. “It’s all terrifying but that’s the irony of life, I’ve learned. The thing we all want and can’t live without is the same thing that hurts us the most, whether we have it or not.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the elder man’s words. They cut deep, as you know they come from a place of deep pain. You don’t want to ever go through something that hurts that much.

“I’m too emotional,” Do-hyun sighs, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening crying and having everyone feel bad for her, so she shifts her attention to something else. “I want something juicy.” She briefly looks at Jungkook, who looks blankly at her, so she turns to you instead. “I don’t know much about your love life, ___.”

“Yes, because I don’t have one,” you chuckle, masking the nervousness you feel because talking about its inexistence in front of the man plaguing your mind was not something you planned for this trip.

“But I know you did,” she insists. “I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

“I think what Do-hyun means is that you’re a highly capable, kind, and attractive woman,” Chin-sun chimes in. “Surely there have been prospects for a relationship, yes?”

“Like Mr. Min!” Yohan says now. “I always thought you two were cute together. Do-hyun and I would bet on it since she says you’re not the type to date co-workers.”

“And she’s right,” you say, glancing at Jungkook whose face you can’t read. “Yoongi and I are good friends. That’s all we ever were.”

“Well, I think he’s very nice and he’d treat you well,” Yohan sighs. “But I guess it might be weird to date someone you work with. I have friends I can match you with!”

“That’s not necessary,” you laugh. “I don’t think relationships are for everyone.”

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

You contemplate on whether or not you’re ready for this conversation, especially since it’s the type you usually just have with your best friends. You suppose it’s why your colleagues claim they don’t know much about you other than the way you work because you don’t really share much about your life, your dreams, or the things you wonder about. You’ve always preferred to keep things to yourself, always worried about how they will be received.

But everyone’s allowed themselves to be vulnerable tonight, and given the distance you’ve created between you and them all these years, you think the least you could do is be honest. It’s a team building thing anyway, and people bond over shared experiences during these times.

“I’ve… dated people but it was never serious,” you start. “I never really saw myself committing to them. Sure, I’d give my time and energy but nothing more. There’s so much courage in loving another person. I just don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough for that. I mean, it’s just hard to control. Once you start, you can’t stop; once you do it too much, you can’t pull back.”

“Sounds to me like you’re afraid that you won’t receive as much as you give,” Manager Lee states. “It’s how love is, though. It’s not always equal. But that’s the risk you take, that’s the trust you build. That even when what’s given isn’t the same, there’s still love there.”

“But isn’t that the scary part of it all?” You counter. “Like what Mr. Ri said, you give a part of yourself to someone when you love them but what if they don’t want that specific part of you? Or they did then one day they decide they don’t anymore? So they just retreat and leave you out in the open. They’re safe but you’re not, because you broke down your walls for them but they didn’t do the same.”

“That’s the thing about finding the right person, ___,” Manager Lee says, with all the wisdom of a man who’s loved and lost and loved again. “You either trust that they won’t do that, or you accept that they could and you’d still think that loving them is worth all the pain that losing them would cost. In the end, you get to decide. If you keep yourself from feeling it, how are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t?”

You’ve heard versions of these words before, too. Soomin and Jimin, whose respective relationship ups and downs you’ve witnessed, have said themselves that committing yourself to someone takes a whole lot of faith in the person and in yourself. It’s because you’re giving them an opportunity to hurt you but you have to trust that they won’t. A lot of times, they do, so you then have to trust in your own ability to get over them.

The thoughts swim in your head and with your silence, Chin-sun gives you an encouraging smile. She’s a few years older than you and has experienced a lot when it comes to relationships, and you can sense that she understands your hesitation and your fear.

“It’s scary but when you find someone who makes you feel brave, that can make all the difference,” she says.

Admitting all this makes you feel exposed, especially when your eyes flit to Jungkook and you find him gazing at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. You’re worried that any other move you make or things you say will lead him to uncovering your feelings that you acknowledge is beyond just physical attraction at this point.

You find yourself worrying about him constantly, wondering what he’s doing or if he’s getting proper rest. You’re always thinking about his smile and the sound of his laugh, and you imagine how much sweeter and softer they could get. You want him to be happy, to find his peace, to have something to look forward to. And you want to know what his touch feels and how it’s like to have him close.

You know all this is wrong because of who you are and who he is in this world, especially as you realize that you’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The fear makes itself even more known as it is embodied in the man across from you - so palpable and overwhelming that you can’t help but want more, and the more his eyes bore into you, the closer you are to giving in.

How are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t if you don’t let yourself feel all of it? And if Jungkook makes you feel brave, then what if he’s the person you’re willing to break down your walls for?

You shake your head, knowing you can’t fall into the trap of your own mind. You need to be logical about this, but you also think that you’ve been that way all your life and it hasn’t brought you much happiness. At this point, you question what that looks like.

Maybe it looks like him. Maybe it’s also life without him.

How do people make decisions like this? You wonder. How do they know how much pain they can bear? And when does it become worth it?

“Wise words,” you manage to say after a tense silence. “You make it sound simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Chin-sun says. “Human beings are complicated, ___, so are our emotions. Love makes people stupid. But it also makes us brave and happy and complete. And when it’s shared with the right person, god it feels so good.”

You’re able to get her to share about her own experience and remove the spotlight away from you. Manager Lee narrates his serendipitous love story as well, and the serious tone of the conversation turns into a giddy, enjoyable one. You find yourself constantly glancing at Jungkook, liking his soft smiles and giggles as the stories are told. He briefly meets your eyes during some moments though, and that’s when you look away.

The night ends when he announces that everyone should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s activities, so you all clean up and wish each other a good night. Your eyes linger on Jungkook as he walks back to his villa, and you turn away before he does the same, the yearning for him getting stronger as each day passes.

The sun shines beautifully over the lake as you lean on the railing overlooking the water. The clouds over the mountains look like the fog that cleared earlier, and the majestic way that the scenery is framed by the blue skies is absolutely stunning.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jungkook hums from several meters next to you. “I never really bothered to appreciate this view before.”

“It is,” you say, turning to him as he continues to gaze at the scene before you while you gaze at him. If he notices from his periphery, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s breathtaking. I could take a picture but that wouldn’t give this justice.”

“I can try,” he says, reaching out to ask for your phone. “I’m good at this.”

You indulge him and watch as he finds the right angle to beautifully capture the surroundings. He asks if you want him to take another photo with you in it this time, and though you��re a little shy, you let him.

You warm at how natural your smile looks, realizing that you were focusing on his smile while he was taking the picture. The view looks surreal but you’re in there, and it’s a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. Jungkook remarks that it’s a nice shot before turning back to the water, and while you wish you were braver and had asked to take one with him so you could hold onto this memory, you know you’ll look at this photo of you and also remember what you’re feeling. There’s so much calm and clarity, and you know it’s not just because of the mountains.

The tension and fear that filled you up last night have slowly turned into a sense of relief. The distance that once bothered you about Jungkook now gives you comfort. No matter how far or unattainable he may be, you still feel his presence - his warmth is in the peacefulness of a park at night, or in the calmness of the lake, or in the safety of your neighborhood library. You never imagined that one Jeon Jungkook would ever make you feel this way, and if he’s someone who makes you be brave to feel something new, maybe you owe it to him and to yourself to be brave to pursue that, too.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Yohan yells that breakfast is ready. You all gather in the common dining room for some dumpling soup before a short planning session to give you time to digest. At 9:30, the first activity begins, with all six of you divided into two teams to finish an obstacle course.

It gets competitive when you’re teamed up with the younger ones, as Do-hyun and Yohan attempt to trash talk the others. They give it their all, especially when they see Jungkook dominating the kayaking part of the course, but the three of you manage in the end. A part of you feels that the other team just wanted to make the younger ones win only to use it against them later on, but the fun and excitement are what matter.

You enjoy some meat and stew for lunch and have another planning session before doing the afternoon games, which has Jungkook on the losing team again. He comes up with a last minute individual game that gives Manager Lee the chance to win this time, and the afternoon ends with all of you, excluding him, winning prizes you can enjoy after this.

The free time before dinner has you reading your book by the lake and then talking with Chin-sun in the hammock while the rest of the team enjoy the sunset and some beer. You’re thankful that this time, Mr. Ri was tasked to handle all the activities instead of you, and so you’re able to focus on spending time with your colleagues.

You grill meat again for dinner, roast marshmallows over the campfire, and passionately sing off-key in the karaoke. But unlike last night, people decide to go to bed early, definitely tired from today’s physical activities.

You’re exhausted as well but somehow, the pull of the cold evening air is too strong, so you decide to walk to the main house and grab a bottle of beer. When you walk out to the deck, you’re surprised to find Jungkook seated on a lounge chair outside of his villa, glass in hand as he looks up at the sky.

Jungkook savors the crisp breeze, knowing that once he gets back to Seoul, all he’ll have is the musty air and the buzzing sounds of the city. He wants to remember this weekend and the peace he felt. Maybe he should’ve taken a photo of the view this morning like he did for you; he at least has the one of you in it that he took ingrained in his mind. You looked so calm and happy; he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face then.

He’s trying to keep as much of today in his memory as he can, knowing how hectic it’s going to be when you all get back. Other than the amount of fun he didn’t expect to have with the team, he enjoyed seeing a different side of you.

You were competitive but encouraging, probably not the most athletic but definitely capable. He could pick out your squeals and laughter and he thought they were sweet and hypnotic, and he appreciated how thoughtful you were during dinner, making sure everyone had enough to eat, especially him. You would catch his attention to ask if his meat is okay or if he’s feeling comfortable; he hated that it all ended so soon. Though he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with you. It’s different being out here than it is in the office or even in his home. Here, he’s unguarded and a lot more free, and he’s able to make more sense of how you affect him; in a way, he’s able to truly feel all that you make him feel.

There’s so much of you in his mind but you’re not around, so he stands up to head to bed already, hoping he’d at least see you in his dreams. But when he turns towards the door, he sees a silhouette in the main house’s deck. And as if the universe is giving him some sign, he finds you there, standing by the post with a beer in hand. You lift the bottle in cheers and he lifts his drink in return, sipping every last drop he could.

He sees you grab another bottle from the outdoor fridge then place it on the coffee table, an invitation to join you that he’s glad you make. He would’ve been too hesitant to make the move, unsure of your willingness to be in his presence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask as he nears the couch.

He sits next to you, the short distance a little too tempting to close.

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

“Not really. I don’t get much of the outdoors back in my tiny apartment,” you chuckle.

“Fair enough. The weather’s been nice, fortunately. Not like the last time we were out of town, yeah?”

“Yeah, fortunately,” you shyly look at him, not saying more, perhaps unsure if it’s something he’s ready to talk about.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I’ve accepted you having witnessed my extreme moment of weakness. You were patient and understanding even when I was angry and I… I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

“You have, and I understand it all. But Jungkook, what happened at that guest house is not weakness,” you insist. “That’s… dealing with a painful memory.”

“That wasn’t dealing, ___. I was suffering. That's… that’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to move on from something.”

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder.

“Well, the nightmares tend to happen when the thunder is really loud,” he says. “Otherwise I just get really anxious, like when it rains, my brain just expects things to get bad.”

“What do you do when it does?”

“I don’t know how I manage, actually,” he answers. “I usually forget and just remember that I wake up dry in my bed. I mean, I’d be sweating but not soaked. I guess that night, I was just too nervous because the rain was so strong, we were on the road. And I was somewhere completely unfamiliar with you. I… I think that made it worse.”

Your silence prompts him to clarify. “I mean, I didn’t want you to see me that way, that’s why it was worse,” he states. “It’s not a side of me I’m proud of. Which is silly thinking about it now because you’ve seen a lot of sides of me that I’m not proud of. All of them, actually.”

“So you’re not proud of the side of you that protected me? That made sure I was safe? That rushed to find me when I was stuck in the rain?” You ask.

“It’s what any decent human being would do,” he dismisses. “Those just probably stand out because I wasn’t exactly one in the beginning.”

“Well, you had Mr. Ri drive me. You’d make me go home early sometimes, too.”

“___, again, that’s what a decent boss should be doing. It’s the bare minimum. You deserve more kindness than you’re receiving. I… I should have been that to you from the start.”

“We’ve moved past that, remember? It’s all okay. I managed, I stayed. And I’m glad I did. I got to learn so much from you,” you assure him. “And you deserve more kindness than you’re receiving, too.”

Jungkook hums. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to freely talk to you about all this - about how he was before and how he’s been recently. And like always, you’re gentle with him. He could only hope you’re as gentle as you are with yourself, something he doesn’t know how to do.

“I… I hope you’ve found ways to cope with all that you went through,” he says, turning away from you in shame. “I… I’m still learning.”

“It’s a process, and it’s not an easy one. No one really tells you how to do it. You kind of just… find your way,” you share. “But just think that the thunder doesn’t last long. It’s going to pass. So maybe when it starts raining, you can do what I did. Just cover your ears to block out the sounds. All we can do sometimes is shield ourselves from it, you know? It would scare us a little less.”

“I don’t even remember how you did it,” he admits. “I felt so out of it that night.”

“But did it help?” You ask.

He nods in response. “I wasn’t alone. I think that was the first time in a long time.”

“When you are, just do what I do,” you say, turning towards him and closing the distance to cover his ears with your hands. “Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly. The hollowness will drown out the sounds until they stop.”

Jungkook’s eyes swim in yours. He can’t tell you that he doubts it’d work without you, since your comforting look and your calm voice are what made him pull through. But still, he knows that imagining you’re there would definitely help.

“Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly,” he repeats, almost like a whisper. “Got it.”

You smile and it’s like a spell for him, as he mindlessly puts his hands over yours and slowly brings them down. He’s so lost in you that he only realizes he’s still holding your hands when you look down, so he immediately pulls away.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks, masking his embarrassment.

“My mom,” you answer, shifting back on your seat and looking out at the horizon. “My dad copped out before he knew I existed and she was too heartbroken to ask for him back. It took a while but she eventually found another man. I was pretty young then. He was okay, but then he lost his job and things went downhill from there.”

Jungkook sees the way your face falls and he already knows his heart is going to break for you.

“He would drink a lot and they’d fight all the time. He’d yell and yell, and then yell some more,” you narrate. “Mom would make me hide in the closet or under the bed just so I’d hear less of it. Thunder used to scare me, too; it sounded like his banging on the wall when he’d scream at her but eventually, I realized the roar drowns him out so I welcomed it. But I would just cover my ears and think of happy thoughts like she said. Sometimes she’d come to me and do it like I did with you. I always liked that better.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to take your hand back and comfort you in any way. “You shouldn’t have experienced that.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” you sigh, having accepted the hand you were dealt. “My mom and I got out and she found someone who loves and respects her. And we just found ways to deal with the pain, you know? We could only bury it for so long. And so covering my ears just became a habit as I grew up. It was a way to battle all that.”

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

“It’s like a general coping mechanism of some sort,” you explain. “Sometimes the loud sounds come from inside, too. Thoughts of not being good enough, of being selfish, of not deserving of happiness… I mean, they come from others but they stay in my head. I have to cover my ears to stop them from overwhelming me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking away in shame when you turn to him questioningly. “You did that several times during my first weeks. I know I… I said things that hurt you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was hard for everyone and like I said, I forgive you. But I've been told worse things,” you shake your head. “You’ve heard some of them.”

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

“I know. That’s why I walked away. It’s easy to do that when you don’t give much of yourself to them. And I do it all the time,” you say. “I never really stay.”

“Would you stay if you found the right person?”

You remember a conversation with him months ago, about people being temporary and how they’d only stay if they had a reason to. It’s safe to say that finding the right person would be your reason, but that also makes it harder.

“I probably would,” you respond. “And I think that scares me, too.”

“Why?” He asks.

“What if I would stay for them? But they won’t stay for me?”

Jungkook leaves your question unanswered, knowing there’s nothing he can say that would sufficiently validate your fear nor comfort you about it. His own past relationship doesn’t give him any right - Chaerin left him but he gave her all the reasons to; she walked away and he did the same. Sometimes he wonders if she’d lost him before he lost her. He also doesn’t know if he loved her so much that he let her go, or if he didn’t love her enough to make her stay. Maybe it was neither. Or maybe he was just too scared - that she’d reject him, or that he wouldn’t be able to love her better if he she came back, he doesn’t know. He was never brave enough to find out.

He lets the silence linger, prompting you to remark that the conversation is too sad for a night as pretty as tonight.

“We should probably head to bed, though,” he suggests. “We still have stuff in the morning then a long ride home. I don’t have to remind you how hectic this next week is gonna be.”

“You just did,” you frown, earning you a laugh. “But I agree. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Your shy smile makes his breath hitch. He wants this to go on for longer but he knows he might just let his guard down even more, maybe share about his other pains and frustrations and worries about life. Maybe he’ll end up moving closer to you, close enough that he’d smell your classic rose scent that makes his mind feel hazy. Maybe he’ll want more, and he reminds himself of all the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, and that crossing them may push you away.

So he says goodnight and you both walk towards your respective villas, looking back one more time before heading inside.

You’re all he thinks about for the rest of the night. His gaze follows you all through the next morning, too. He misses your presence when he leaves for Seoul in his own car, and he’s back to being a giddy mess when you message him, saying you hope he got home safely.

It almost feels like the weekend was a dream and when Monday comes, he has to remind himself that he’s back to reality and that includes how he should be when it comes to you. Those days remain in his memory, but when you enter his apartment that morning with the softest smile, and when you meet his eyes as you fix his necktie, he knows it wasn’t a dream. And that somehow, just like him, you wish it didn’t have to end.

It’s been over a week since the team building and you haven’t really moved on from all that happened during those three days. There was the joy of being with your colleagues and the companionship you felt thankful to have. There was also the tranquility of the lake and the refreshing environment that rejuvenated you, making you wish you were back there, especially as you sort through the printed photos from your disposable camera and see the pretty views that you already miss.

There’s that photo you took of Jungkook by the stream that you’ve been staring at, another reason why you want to go back to that time. His eyes are warm and his smile is soft and subtle, unforced and just as captivating. It’s quite calming, and it’s the image that you hold onto later that Thursday evening when you’re piled under loads of paperwork. It’s past 6PM but you can’t afford to leave yet, and the only good thing about it is that he’s still around, and you get to sneak in some glances through the window.

You’ve become that person, smitten by her attractive boss and definitely stupid enough to be overwhelmed by her emotions. You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Everyday that you enter his space, the desire to know him more gets stronger; with every common place you step into, you keep wishing he’d ask you to stay close, that he’d invite you to somewhere reserved for those he lets in. Every time your fingers brush, you’re reminded of the way his hands felt on top of yours and how you wanted him to keep them there, and every look you share makes you hope that you’re not the only one in this mess of emotions. And that if you’ll give in, so would he.

You’re not quite sure what he feels, but if his shy smiles and the way he intensely looks at you before looking away mean anything, then you could at least say that there’s definitely something there. You just don’t know if he would acknowledge it or if like you, it’s gotten too strong that you’re unable to think clearly or act rationally.

Finally done with the last item on your task list for today, you start to pack up. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits from his room to return a portfolio he took earlier and place it on your desk. You’re about to pick it up but he says you should just leave it there and fix it tomorrow.

But you disregard him. You retrieve the stool and attempt to return the portfolio on the top shelf. It’s a little heavy but you manage; you even start fixing the others that moved because Jungkook’s been getting them these past days. You’re about to step down when you hear his heavy sigh.

“I told you to do that tomorrow,” he groans, walking towards you.

With your back turned, you reply, “I like starting my days with a tidy desk, okay?”

“It’s just one portfolio,” he points out.

“It still takes up so much space. It makes my table look messy.”

“You still could’ve waited. Or you could’ve asked me to help,” he insists, continuing to reprimand you as you try to step down the stool.

He’s a little close, blocking your view of the floor, and that’s why you miss a step and trip again, your squeal echoing throughout the empty floor. You think your heart racing is about to join in on the sounds, too, as it quickens when you realize that Jungkook has caught you by your waist, his tight grip on you sending shivers down your spine.

He’s gotten even closer, as you look up and find his scrunched eyebrows and worried eyes staring back at you. The tension starts to rise but you manage to tell him that you’re fine after he asks if you’re hurt.

“I’m sure,” you tell him. “You caught my fall. Again.”

You giggle and that’s what makes him let out a laugh as well. Your left hand holds onto the shelf but his hands remain on you. He’s still a breath away but you suddenly don’t mind, as your right hand mindlessly makes its way to rest on his arm. At this moment, this feels right. You’re all alone in your little bubble with him where you’re all he sees and he’s all you can breathe in.

His bergamot scent wafts through your nose. You can count his eyelashes and see the scar on his cheek that you never noticed. He’s even more breathtaking up close, and as if all reason evaporates from your body, you don’t pull away. You want him just like this.

On second thought, you want him even closer.

“You’re a clumsy woman, aren’t you?” He says, his voice low and deep. “This isn’t the first time that I’m breaking your fall.”

“Well, if you would just be quiet while I’m attempting to go down, then that wouldn’t be a problem,” you breathily giggle, inching the tiniest bit forward.

“Well, if you just listened to me the first time, then you wouldn't have to climb up there,” he responds, earning him a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, too.”

“So I’ve heard,” you match his teasing. “Can't help it sometimes.”

“So you acknowledge it?” He raises an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say much more nervously now, meeting his eyes. It’s like you’re hypnotized again, caught in some spell where being in his presence makes you honest and uninhibited. “I mean, I feel things I shouldn’t feel and want people I shouldn’t want,” you add. “Doesn’t that make me stubborn?”

“What’s stopping you from feeling them? From having them?” He asks, his voice remaining low and his eyes, even more piercing and desperate now as they stare back at you.

His thumbs lightly caress your waist and his touch electrifies you through the thin material of your blouse. There’s so much to say and it’s way more complicated, just as your feelings for him are. You can’t help but eye his lips, soft and pink, and the desire to know what they taste like intensifies, prompting you to nibble your own.

“What’s stopping me?” You pant now, your gaze flitting from his eyes back to his lips, with him doing the same. “The ways of the world. And some… boundary that pulls me back, a line that I don’t know he’s ready to cross for me.”

The words actualize your fears the moment you say them. You know all the reasons why wanting him is wrong. But there’s a small part of you that wants to give in, and it’s terrified that he wouldn’t, that he’d dismiss what you feel and pull away. The way he’s been with you and the way he’s holding you right now spark that sliver of hope you have that he feels the same way, but it’s also the same moment that he lets you go, perhaps realizing that he’s not willing to take the risk the way you are.

He releases you from his hold and steps back, creating distance, and you suddenly feel bare - exposed and unguarded without his touch. He looks at you in panic, in apology, in fear, as if he’d had some sense knocked into him, as if he awakened from some spell that pushed him close to you, only to realize that that’s a place he can’t go.

“I—”

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook series #boss jungkook #jungkook angst

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forpiratereasons · 1 year ago

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so i had heard the rumors about jim and oluwande falling apart but i gotta say i am thrilled with how their relationship was handled. they don't fall apart at all; they just grow a bit. it's just a shift. there's nothing in their interaction that ends their connection and nothing that really forecloses a continued romantic connection either.

jim's clear that they are telling olu about archie because olu's their best friend, not because archie has overtaken olu or become more important. olu's surprised but also immediately glad that jim's told him and they can joke about it a bit. oluwande turns around and still takes jim as family to zheng yi sao. they are family! they are best friends! whether there is more in addition remains to be seen, but those base facts do not change and will not.

there's no tension, there's no betrayal, there's no disappointment, it's just - they're happy to be back together, and jim communicates openly as soon as they're able, and there's no drama really. just joy at being together and being able to share together. i'm super excited for how these relationships will continue to develop.

#ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #idk why people want to be like oh jim and olu broke up #girl i did not see that?????? i did not see that on my screen

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avatar-anna · 6 months ago

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i saw this post on and got inspired. enjoy!

"It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, yeah, you too. It was—I'm glad we could catch up."

You held your bag in both of your hands and leaned back on your heels, waiting for the sudden tension to cease. Harry scratched his neck awkwardly while you looked down at the cobbled streets beneath your shoes. When a minute passed and neither of you said anything, when two couples excised themselves to walk past you, you finally decided to break the silence.

"I'm headed this way."

"Me too. We can walk together?"

"O—Okay."

Harry extended his arm out, a clear message for you to go first, so you did. For a split second, his hand grazed your lower back in that protective gesture he always used to use when you walked anywhere. But that had been when you were together, and now you weren't, and even though his hand merely hovered awkwardly behind you, you swore you could still feel it.

"Your hair looks nice. I don't think I've ever seen it so short before," you said, needing to break the silence all over again before it consumed you.

"Thanks, I, uh, I shaved it a few months back. It's finally starting to grow in."

It must've been soon after your break up, you realized, quickly doing the math in your head. A change, a fresh start after the end of a long relationship. You understood that, knew neither of you needed to comment on it, or the fact that you no longer wore the necklace Harry bought you for your first anniversary, though you'd seen him glance down at the missing piece of jewelry multiple times since you ran into each other.

"It's cute," you said, resisting the intrusive urge to reach up and touch his hair, instead clasping your hands behind your back.

"Are you across the bridge?" Harry asked, gesturing to one of the many bridges that stretched across the Tiber.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged, the canvas bag on his shoulder slipping a fraction. "You always liked Trastevere."

You smiled, charmed by how Harry still seemed to know you so intrinsically. "And you? Are you staying in Prati?"

Harry shook his head before waving to a fan who had spotted him. He didn't stop, though, and kept walking beside you, asking about your family, specifically your grandmother, who was his Scrabble partner nearly the entirety of your relationship.

"Good. I play Scrabble with her on the weekends now. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm not a good enough opponent, but she'll never say it to my face."

"Graceful as always, your nan," Harry nodded in agreement. "Probably wouldn't say the same thing about chess, though."

"No, probably not. Do you still play?" you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He was so close, close enough that the sleeve of his green shirt grazed your bare arm. Close enough that if you really wanted it to the back of your hand could graze his. Instead you shifted your hand away.

"When I can," Harry said, his mouth twitching as if recalling a memory. "I've been focusing on writing most days, but I play whenever I'm stuck."

"How's that going?"

"How's work?"

"Sorry, go ahead," you said, blushing a little. Would it always be this awkward around him? You hoped not. Harry had been a friend first, and even though you knew you shouldn't,y you missed his companionship some nights. Lots of nights. Most nights.

"No, you go. Catch me up on all the latest drama at work."

So you did, falling back into familiar, neutral territory as you brought Harry up to speed on your co-workers.

Before long, you'd made it to the apartment you were renting, your palms suddenly warm as you searched your purse for your keys. You were stalling, you both knew it, but Harry didn't comment, nor did he leave, didn't offer any reason to finally say goodbye.

You knew this was where it was supposed to end. That a chance encounter with your ex in a foreign country really shouldn't have gone on this long. You knew that, and yet...

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, scrambling for any logical reason as to why Harry should follow you into your apartment. "I—I, uh, I could make us coffee and—"

"Please. I mean—Sure. That would be...that would be fine."

Relief flooded through you, though that was quickly replaced by a guilty sort of anticipation as you unlocked the door to the main building of the apartment, as Harry followed you up a couple flights of stairs, as he waited once again for you to unlock a door. When you were inside, when you set your things down on the small dining table, you turned to face your ex.

Harry's gaze was once again lowered to your collarbones, to the place where the necklace he gave you used to sit. Then he met your eyes, the expression in them clear. It was the first time you'd seen them since running into him today. He'd kept his sunglasses on the whole time, perhaps to hide his expressions more, because now that you properly met his gaze, you saw it all. Those green eyes you still loved so much betrayed his every thought, and you knew yours probably did as well.

It was hard to say who moved first. If you grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before he wrapped an arm around your waist and fisted your hair in his other hand. But none of it mattered when your mouth met his, when your hands traveled up to cup the sides of his face, your thumbs tracing the familiar planes of his face.

A graze of his teeth against your bottom lip had you gasping, had him smiling as if that was the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down his scalp, satisfied by the groan that vibrated against your mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

"This isn't—It's not—" you tried to say, losing focus as Harry left a trail of kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck and back up again. "This doesn't mean—"

"I know," Harry breathed, his forehead pressed against yours as he toyed with the bow that held the front of your blouse together. Your breath hitched as his knuckle grazed your exposed stomach. "This doesn't change anything. Now take this off."

You almost made him do it just because he ordered you to, but you knew why he wanted you to be the one to untie the knot of your blouse. It meant you were saying yes to this moment, it meant you were saying yes to doing whatever it was you were about to do.

So you pulled at the blouse until it came undone, leaving it open so it revealed a strip of bare skin going right up the middle of your body. The rest you would leave up to him.

Harry shrugged out of his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching out to push back the shoulders of your shirt until it was off completely, falling into a puddle of fabric at your feet beside his. His gaze alone was too much and not enough, more explicit than it had any right to be. He stood there and drank you in for a full minute as if in a daze, taking in every mark and imperfect like he was reacquainting himself.

It was hard to get the words out, but you managed. "Still broken up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes still roving over every inch of your body that he could see. Then he blinked as if remembering the situation for what it was. "Yeah, still broken up."

There wasn't much left to say after that, really.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #ex boyfriendrry #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #ex boyfriend!harry

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hoshifighting · 6 months ago

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— Synopsis: Where you find out you were a bet. — Preview: "So it was all a bet Seungkwan? Who makes you feel like this, hm?" you taunted, "Who else are you going to find out there that can do the things I do to you?" "That's right," you continued, your voice low and fierce. "No one. No one can fuck you like I do. No one knows your body like I do. No one else can make you beg like this. And you know it!" — WC: 3.3k — WARNINGS: Smut, RAGE SEX, humping, penetrative sex, angst, hair pulling, riding, possessive words & etc.

For the past few months, you and Seungkwan had been living a secret life filled with youthful exuberance and passion. Despite your differences, there was an undeniable chemistry that kept pulling you back together. It all started innocently enough, with shared interests in theater and park outings, but it quickly escalated into something much more intense.

You and Seungkwan had a routine. You’d meet up after work or on weekends, sneaking off to hidden corners of the city to spend time together. The theater was your favorite escape. There, you could lose yourselves in the drama unfolding on stage, only to create your own dramatic scenes afterward, both playful and passionate.

[...]

One chilly evening, you both found yourselves at the local theater, watching a comedy play. You sat next to each other, sharing a bag of popcorn and exchanging sarcastic comments about the actors’ performances. Seungkwan leaned over, whispering a joke in your ear, and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, drawing a few irritated glances from other theatergoers.

“Shh, you’re going to get us kicked out,” you whispered, trying to stifle your giggles.

“Oh, please, like you can keep quiet,” Seungkwan shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

After the play, you both headed to the park. The night was cool, the stars shining brightly overhead. You walked side by side, occasionally bumping into each other on purpose. It was your little game, a way to provoke and tease.

“Bet you can’t catch me,” Seungkwan said suddenly, breaking into a sprint.

“Oh, you’re on!” you shouted, chasing after him.

You ran through the park, laughing and shouting, until you finally tackled him to the ground. You both lay there, panting and laughing, the world around you forgotten.

[..]

Your relationship was like a roller coaster. One moment you’d be laughing and joking, and the next you’d be bickering like children. Your friends found it amusing, but they also knew it could escalate quickly.

“Seriously, you two are like an old married couple,” Mingyu said one evening, watching as you and Seungkwan argued over who had won the last game of mini-golf.

“Am not!” you both shouted in unison, glaring at each other before bursting into laughter.

Despite the arguments, there was a deep connection between you. When you were alone, the bickering turned into something else entirely. The passion between you was undeniable, each encounter more intense than the last. You’d find yourselves in the most unexpected places, unable to keep your hands off each other.

[...]

One evening, after another heated argument, you found yourselves in Seungkwan’s apartment. The bickering had turned into something more playful, and before you knew it, you were kissing, the tension melting away.

"You're impossible, you know that?" you said breathlessly between kisses.

"And yet, here you are," he replied with a smirk, pulling you closer.

The night was a blur of passion. Your bodies moved together with a familiarity that came from months of secret meetings. You’d always been able to push each other to the edge, and tonight was no different. The intensity of your lovemaking was a stark contrast to the playful bickering that usually defined your relationship.

[...]

But just like you said. It could escalate quickly.

You and Seungkwan had always been able to handle your arguments with a playful edge, but this time was different. You didn’t even remember what sparked the fight, but the words that came out of his mouth stopped you cold.

“It was all a bet.”

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “What did you just say?”

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. “No, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean what? That this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was all a joke to you? A bet?”

“No, it’s not like that—”

“Then what is it, Seungkwan? Explain it to me!” Your voice rose, trembling with fury. “Because right now, it sounds like you’ve been using me this whole time.”

Seungkwan’s face paled. He reached out to you, but you stepped back, your anger intensifying. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped. “I trusted you. I thought this meant something.”

“It does mean something,” he insisted. “I swear, it started as a stupid dare from the guys, but then—”

“Then what? You decided you’d string me along for fun?” Your voice was loud now, echoing through the room. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? To know that I was just a game to you?”

Seungkwan looked panicked, desperate to make you understand. “Please, just listen. It started as a bet, but it’s not like that anymore. I care about you. I—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, tears of rage and betrayal filling your eyes. “I can’t believe I let myself fall for this. For you.”

The venom in your words made him flinch. “Please, don’t say that. I care about you more than anything.”

“Caring about me? Do you even know what that means? Because right now, it feels like you’ve just been laughing at me this entire time.” Your fists were clenched at your sides, your whole body shaking with anger.

Seungkwan took a step towards you, his own eyes glistening with tears. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

"Fuck you, Seungkwan," you spat, pushing him back until he was sitting on your bed. He looked up at you, shocked and uncertain, as you began unbuttoning and unzipping his pants with trembling hands.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but his voice was weak, almost pleading.

You ignored him, pulling your panties off and straddling his lap, feeling his length harden beneath you. You started to grind against him, your movements hard, and fast. "It was a bet, huh? It was all a fucking lie, right, Seungkwan?" you snarled, your teeth gritted with rage.

His hands instinctively went to your hips, but he didn't try to stop you. "No, it wasn't like that—" he began, but you cut him off, swirling your hips hard, causing him to gasp.

"Fuck you," you repeated, your voice shaking. "You think you can just apologize and make it all better? You think you can just say sorry and I'll forget everything?"

Seungkwan's grip on your hips tightened, his breath hitching as you continued to grind against him. "I never meant to hurt you," he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, filled with regret and sorrow.

"Too late," you hissed, moving faster, your anger boiling over. "You already did." You could feel the heat building between you, the wet friction driving you crazy, but you were determined.

Seungkwan's face contorted with a mix of pleasure and anguish. "Please," he begged, "don't do this."

"Why not?" you shot back, your voice breaking. "You did this to us. You made me feel like a fool."

He tried to speak, but you silenced him with another hard hump, making him groan. "Just shut up, Seungkwan. Just shut up and take it."

As you continued to move against him, you could see the conflict in his eyes. He was torn between the pleasure you were giving him and the guilt he felt for what he'd done. It was a twisted form of revenge, but in that moment, it was all you had.

As you sank down on him, stretching yourself to take all of him inside, Seungkwan gasped, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. You gripped his hair roughly, yanking his head back. He hissed, the pain mingling with pleasure, making his eyes flutter shut for a moment.

"Who makes you feel like this, hm?" you taunted, your voice dripping with venom and lust. "Who else are you going to find out there that can do the things I do to you?"

Seungkwan's eyes were wide, filled with a mix of pain and desire. He tried to speak, but you cut him off with a harsh roll of your hips, drawing a guttural moan from his lips, he could only whisper a "No one." his voice leaving weak from the position you held his hair, head back. "Only you. Only you, please."

"That's right," you continued, your voice low and fierce. "No one. No one can fuck you like I do. No one knows your body like I do. No one else can make you beg like this. And you know it!"

You rode him harder, your movements fueled by a blend of anger and desperation. "Do you regret it, Seungkwan? Do you regret fucking with me?"

His hands gripped your hips, his nails digging into your skin as he tried to ground himself in the storm of sensations you were unleashing on him. "No!" he gasped, his voice strained. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

But you weren't done. You pulled his hair harder, making him look up at you, his eyes glazed with lust and guilt. "Sorry isn't enough," you spat. "You're going to remember this. Every time you try to touch someone else, you're going to think of me. You're going to remember how I made you feel. How no one else could ever compare."

Seungkwan's breaths were ragged, his body trembling beneath you as you continued to ride him with a furious intensity. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Please, I can't—"

"You can't what?" you snapped, your pace relentless. "You can't handle it? You can't handle what you started? You're going to take it, Seungkwan. You're going to take every bit of it."

His eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a silent cry as he teetered on the edge of release. "Fuck, I'm going to—" he started, but you cut him off again, tightening your grip on his hair.

"You're not coming until I say so," you growled. "You don't get to have that. Not yet."

Seungkwan's body shuddered, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back. "Please," he whimpered, his voice barely more than a breath. "Please, let me—"

His lips parted, a moan escaping as you ground against him, your nails digging into his scalp. "I-I need you," he stammered, his voice cracking with desperation.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. "Need me?" you whispered, your tone mocking. "You think needing me is enough? After everything?"

Seungkwan shuddered beneath you, his grip on the sheets tightening. "I'm sorry," he pleaded, his voice a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Please... I need you so much."

"Pathetic," you spat, pulling his hair harder, making him groan. "You don’t deserve me, Seungkwan. You don't deserve this." You punctuated your words with a sharp thrust, making him gasp.

His eyes were wild, filled with a mixture of regret and lust. "I know," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "But please... please don’t stop."

You felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at his desperation, at the way he was unraveling under you. "Remember that," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "Remember who makes you feel this way. Who owns you."

Seungkwan's breath hitched, his eyes wide and pleading. "I will," he promised, his voice a broken whisper. "I promise."

You could feel him getting closer, his body tensing beneath you. "Say it," you commanded, your voice a growl. "Say who you belong to."

"You," he gasped, his hips bucking beneath you. "I belong to you."

Seungkwan was prepared for the best orgasm of his life. He was trembling, his entire body on the edge of ecstasy, every nerve ending alive with sensation. As you rode him with unmatched ferocity, his breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with the effort to keep up.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, pleasure and overwhelming emotion. He cried out loud, unable to contain the sheer intensity of what he was feeling. His voice cracked as he moaned your name, each syllable filled with a desperate longing.

His eyes were fixed on you, drinking in the sight of you above him, your body moving with a rhythm that drove him to the brink of madness. He fought to keep his eyes open, wanting to capture every moment, every sensation, every flicker of emotion that passed between you.

His legs quivered beneath you, his muscles straining as he struggled to hold on. But even as his body trembled with the effort, he knew he was powerless to resist. You were taking him to heights of pleasure he had never dreamed possible, and he surrendered himself completely to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through him.

Seungkwan couldn't hold on anymore. The sensation of you clenching around him, the sound of your voice echoing in his ears, it was all too much. With a final, desperate cry, he let himself go.

His body tensed, every muscle straining as he reached the peak of ecstasy. He cried out your name, his voice raw with emotion, as he spilled himself inside you, the release so intense it bordered on pain.

You steadied yourself on him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. Your head rested against the side of his, hiding your face from view as you waited for your nerves to calm down.

But then it hits you, the reality of what just happened, the anger and hurt resurfacing. You get off him, his cock slipping out of you, leaving you both feeling empty and exposed. Without a word, you start to dress yourself, your movements quick and determined. Seungkwan watches in desperation, his eyes wide with panic as he realizes what you're doing.

Seungkwan, sensing the shift in your demeanor, gets desperate. "Wait, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with panic. He sits up, trying to reach out to you, but you pull away, focused on gathering your things.

You walk to the living room, ignoring his pleas. "Please, just listen to me," he begs, following you. "We need to talk about this."

You grab your bag and turn to face him, your eyes cold and determined. "There's nothing left to say, Seungkwan," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. "This...whatever we had...it's over."

[...]

On the week, you received multiple calls from Seungkwan—you didn’t answer any. Even his friends—who you suppose to be the ones who participated in the bet—called you, messaged you.

And now you are doing your dinner, didn't even have time to take off your work clothes, when you hear your doorbell. You dry your hands on the dish cloth, to open the door. It was Soonyoung. You frown, Soonyoung had contacted you during the week, but showing up at your door?

You lean on the doorframe, and ask him, "What are you doing here, Soonyoung?"

Soonyoung shifts nervously, his hands shoved into his pockets. "I know I called and messaged, but you never responded. I needed to talk to you in person."

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "About what?"

He takes a deep breath, looking genuinely distressed. "About Seungkwan. And the whole bet thing. You need to know it wasn't what you think. He didn't mean it like that."

You scoff, feeling the anger bubbling up again. "Didn't mean it like that? How else am I supposed to take it, Soonyoung?"

Soonyoung steps closer, his expression earnest. "It started as a stupid joke, but for Seungkwan, it changed. He fell for you, really fell for you. None of us thought it would turn into something real, but it did for him. He's been a wreck since you left."

You feel a pang of something—not quite guilt, but a heavy sadness. "So he sends you to do his dirty work? Why isn't he here himself?"

"He wanted to come, but I thought you'd slam the door in his face," Soonyoung admits. "He's been miserable. Just...can you talk to him? Please? Hear him out?"

You sigh, the weight of the week pressing down on you. "I don't know, Soonyoung. I'm still so angry."

"I get that," he says softly. "But just give him a chance to explain. If after that you still want nothing to do with him, then fine. But at least you'll have heard the truth from him."

You hesitate, the conflicting emotions warring inside you. Finally, you nod. "Fine. I'll talk to him. But this better not be a waste of my time."

Soonyoung's face breaks into a relieved smile. "Thank you. I'll let him know." He heads toward the door, pausing before he leaves. "And for what it's worth, I'm really sorry about everything. We all are."

You nod again, closing the door behind him. As you lean against it, you take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the conversation ahead.

It didn’t even take twenty minutes after Soonyoung left for another knock to echo through your apartment. You sighed, already knowing who it would be. With heavy steps, you walked to the door and opened it.

Seungkwan stood there, looking disheveled and anxious. Normally, he would give you a hug, but he seemed to sense that this wasn’t the right time. Instead, he stood there awkwardly, respecting your space as you stepped aside to let him in.

You closed the door behind him, folding your arms defensively. “Soonyoung was just here,” you said, breaking the silence.

Seungkwan nodded, his eyes filled with guilt. “I know. He texted me. I came as soon as I could.”

You walked to the living room, sitting down on the couch, and gestured for him to do the same. He hesitated but then sat down, maintaining a respectful distance.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Seungkwan said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m so sorry, for everything. It was never meant to be a bet, not in the way you’re thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical.

He shook his head vehemently. “It started as a stupid dare, something the guys and I joked about. But from the very first moment I spent time with you, it stopped being about that. It became real, so quickly, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You looked away, the anger and hurt still fresh. “And you didn’t think to tell me? To be honest about it?”

Seungkwan sighed deeply. “I should have. I know that now. But I was scared of losing you. I was scared that if you knew how it started, you’d never believe how much you mean to me.”

The vulnerability in his voice made you pause. “Soonyoung said you love me,” you said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

“I do,” Seungkwan replied instantly. “I love you more than anything. I was an idiot for letting it get this far without being honest with you.”

You finally looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit. All you saw was regret and sincerity. “I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admitted.

Seungkwan nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. “I understand. And I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Just please, give me a chance to make it right.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. Slowly, you began to nod. “Fine. I’ll give you a chance. But this is going to take time, Seungkwan.”

Relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Thank you. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

You leaned back on the couch, the exhaustion of the week catching up with you. Seungkwan stayed there, a respectful distance away, but his presence felt different now—more honest, more real.

As the minutes ticked by, you both sat there in silence, the first steps of healing beginning to take place. There was a long road ahead, but for the first time in days, you felt like things could be okay again.

488 notes · View notes

endthedream · 1 year ago

Text

someday

pairings: teacher!jake x single mom!reader

summary: Being a single mom to a 6 year old daughter isn’t always easy, and it doesn’t help that her class teacher awakens feelings inside of you, you haven’t felt in a long time. Will the love between you blossom, or will your complicated life drive you apart?

words: 11.6k

story colour: green

warnings: one heavy (?) make out session and a lot of tension

masterlist of ‘enhypen as jobs’

Life can change.

From one second to another, everything can change. Everything you have once known to be normal, everything you were used to. It all can get ripped away from you in the matter of a few seconds.

From one second to another a seventeen-year-old girl finds out she got pregnant from a boy that wasn’t ready to commit to a life like that yet and parents that felt nothing but disappointment towards their teenage daughter.

From one second to another this girl had to move away, raise a child on her own and build a life save for them to live in. She had to find a job with a steady income, find people who could help her and put all her needs aside for the small bundle of life she brought into the world.

Not only did she have to change her life, but she also had to rebuild it. She had to create a new, healthier and secure one. Suddenly it wasn’t about what outfit to wear to school, how to sneak out to go to a party or new drama that happened at school. It was about changing diapers, sleepless nights caused by a toothing child and soothing countless emotional outbreaks. It was about raising her child, teaching kindness and blaming every bad thing on herself.

But at the end of the day, it was being grateful, loving the child unconditionally and not being able to imagine her life any different. It was feeling purpose, feeling needed and feeling loved. It was showing exactly that love to her child and never letting her forget that.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Listening to the waves crashing against the shore, you soak in the last moments of this morning, the soft rays of sun on your face, the slight breeze making your cheeks rosy and the faint sound of birds chirping somewhere close by. You soak in this moment, because moments like this are rare in the life you’re living, quiet and undisturbed, protected from all the daily stress and complications.

You breathe in the air one last time, before you see someone approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“Look mommy, I found a pretty shell.”, your 6-year-old daughter Nuri says as she holds her hand out for you to see. You show her a bright smile, admiring the pretty shell in her hands. Your daughter has always been a collector, shells, flowers, rocks, even leaves, nothing is safe from her. And it’s something you love about her. How she sees the beauty in the small things, always so eager to show you the new things she discovered, with her big bright eyes.

“It’s so pretty, Nuri. How about you put it into your bag and later we will get the other shells you collected and make a pretty necklace out of them?” You watch as the little girl enthusiastically nods, putting the shell carefully into her bag, before sitting down beside you on the blanket you laid over the sand.

“Are you excited about starting school today?”, you ask your daughter, as you gently pull her onto your lap, stroking her hair with one of your hands. Whenever you look at her, you get stunned by how much you see your younger self in her. The more she grows, the more the resemblance grows. But you also realize how awfully fast time passes, and how much has changed since the day you held your little baby in your arms for the first time.

“I am.”, Nuri says, her big eyes almost disappearing as she grins widely at you, showing off her missing front tooth. “But I will also miss kindergarten a lot. And I will miss you too, mommy.”

In an instant, tears fill up your eyes and it takes you a moment to swallow them down, not wanting Nuri to see you like that. You could cry after you dropped her off at school, but for now, those tears will have to stay hidden. “I will miss you too, sweet girl. But it is just a few hours that we don’t see each other. Every day after school I will pick you up and we can do whatever we want to do, okay?”

Nuri nods her head again, before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Do you think I will make any friends?”

“Of course, you will.”, you tell her, truthfully. Your daughter, in contrary to you, never had problems talking to others. She is a social butterfly, making friends wherever she goes. You admire her for that, wanting to have the same trait. Because while she plays with all the kids in the playground, you can only watch the other mothers sit together, talking about everything and nothing. Part of you wants to just go up to them, ask them if you could join them, but the other part of you feels anxious, scared of getting judged, the way you always do. Being a mom so young has only brought you trouble, wherever you go. And while Nuri is the best thing that has happened to you, others seem to not support that opinion.

If you got a dollar for every time someone told you that you would destroy your kids future, or that you are way too young to have this kind of responsibility, you would be rich by now. Everywhere you go, if it’s grocery shopping, getting gas, at restaurants, people try to give you advice or comment on the things that apparently went wrong with your life, without even knowing you or your story. You heard everything, from your parents not raising you right or having daddy issues because your dad left you when you were young, to being whore that slept around until she eventually got pregnant.

But they don’t know that it was just a simple accident. That it was two teenagers having their first times together, being nervous and not really knowing what to do. It was two teenagers who didn’t think and had to deal with the consequences of their moment together. Well, at least one did. It wasn’t your parents’ fault; it wasn’t you sleeping around. It was just something that happened, unplanned but not unwanted.

And they don’t know that ever since Nuri came into your life, everything felt like it had a purpose. You felt like you had a purpose. Being a mother has made you find out who you truly are, and what you truly want. It made you more aware of the process of growing up, and made you realize all the stupid things you did as a teenager. It helped you through the hardest times and gave you something to hold on to, a reason to fight. Nuri is the reason you wake up every day, the reason you can get out of bed and the reason you finally have a routine in your life.

And you truly believe that it was meant to happen. You were meant to get pregnant with her and build up a life for the both of you.

“If someone will make a lot of friends, it’s you. I just know that everyone will love you, just how I know that I love you, so so much.”

It’s a weird feeling, picking your daughter up from her first day of school. You watch all the kids run up to their parents, excited little faces, already going on and on about everything that happened while they spend a few hours apart.

And while you’re waiting for your daughter to exit the school, you realize you can’t wait to be with her again, to hear her tell all the stories about her experiences on her first day, to get ice cream with her and make necklaces and bracelets. You realize that this must be harder for you than for her. She doesn’t realize the quickness in which she grows up, but you do.

It feels like yesterday when she was still in your belly. It feels like yesterday when she took her first steps, falling face first to the ground. It feels like yesterday when she said her first words, going up to every stranger in the grocery store and proudly repeating that word to them. It feels like yesterday when she lost her favorite toy and cried for two days straight. When you threw a little goodbye party for that toy with her and explained to her that maybe another child found her toy and gave it a new home, only to find the toy four days later under your bed. And it feels like yesterday when she came into your room, telling you she had a nightmare. She crawled into your bed and shortly before sleep took over, she whispered that you are the best mommy in the whole world.

All these memories start crashing over you, one by one. Tears fill your eyes yet again, and it takes everything in you to blink them away, not wanting to break down in front of all these strangers.

“Mommy.”, you hear her voice before you see her. Turning in the direction of the voice, you see your daughter running up to you, her arms wide open. You kneel down, opening your arms yourself and a bright smile lighting up all your features.

“Hey, my sweet girl.”, you say as you wrap her tightly into your arms. All the sadness you felt a moment ago washes away the moment you relish in the feeling of having the most important person in your life in your arms. “How was your first day?”

“It was so amazing, mommy. We learned a new song and ate a lot of fruits together. I made a lot of friends, and all my teachers are so nice.” You can’t help but smile brightly at the excitement of your daughter. “Do we have some time before we go home? I want you to meet my teacher. He is still in the classroom, so we have to hurry.”

Before you can answer, Nuri already takes off with your hand in hers, leading you inside the school and to her classroom. You marvel at all the colorful decoration, the helpful quotes and the artistic pictures. “Hello, Mr. Sim.”, your daughter says, excitedly waving at her teacher.

You take another step into the classroom, looking for the man that is busy packing his bag. But when he turns around and shows your daughter a bright smile, it almost takes your breath away. You never expected a teacher to look this… gorgeous. Mr. Sim looks young, your age probably, his skin is soft and glowing, his eyes a deep shade of brown and his black hair framing his perfect face. He has full, pink lips and a smile so bright, it resembles a puppy.

“Hey, Nuri. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your way home?” Even his voice sounds like it was dipped into honey and laced with cream and sprinkles. It does something to you, you haven’t felt in a really long time.

“I wanted you to meet my mommy.”, she says, pointing over at you. And the moment Mr. Sim’s eyes meet you, you can feel something in the air change. A uncuttable tension fills the room, and you can’t stop staring at him. You can’t stop looking at his perfect face and his perfect eyes and his perfect lips. You feel ashamed for feeling this way, for thinking about your daughter’s teacher that way, but you can’t help yourself. “Mr. Sim this is my mommy.”

“Hi.”, he says, his voice breaking with this simple word. “I’m Mr. Sim, but you can call me Jake.” Jake wipes his hand on his pants before reaching it out for you to take, which you do. Gently you place your hand in his, giving it a soft shake, almost sighing at the feeling of this small contact. Jake has big hands, long fingers and veins traveling up his arms, but his skin is so soft and smooth it almost doesn’t seem fair.

“I’m Y/N, Nuri’s mom.” You almost punch yourself for sounding so weak and pathetic. The last thing you want is for Nuri’s teacher to know what an effect his mere presence has on you. “Are you Nuri’s class teacher?”

“For now, yeah. I’m a substitute teacher since their actual teacher got into an accident and has to rest for probably a few months. I was meant to start at another school but got transferred here last minute.” You could listen to him speak for hours. “But you probably don’t care about that.” He chuckles softly, letting a hand nervously glide through his silky hair. “What you probably do care about is that we have a parents’ conference next week. I wanted to send an e-mail to every parent, but you know, seeing as you are here, I just wanted to let you know beforehand.”

You nod at him, showing him a small appreciative smile. “Thank you, Jake. I will see what I can do to come. Maybe someone will have the time to look after Nuri for a few hours.”

Jake nods one time, then another, before letting his hand fall to his side. “It’s a pretty important conference, seeing that this has a lot of information about the first school year. Maybe her father can look after her, so you can come.” You can hear the lingering note in his sentence, subconsciously knowing that he’s testing the waters.

“Nuri’s father is not in her life.”, you say, looking down at your daughter who only smiles up at you. “It’s just us, right, sweet pee?”

“Yep.”, she says, nodding her head a few times. “Our house is a girls’ only zone.” Jake chuckles at the words of the little girl in front of him. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and takes out his phone to hand it to you.

“You can see if you find someone to look after her for a few hours and if not, you can just text me and we will find a solution. Is that okay with you?” Stunned, you take his phone, seeing his contact list already open.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Thank you so much, Mr. Sim.”

“Jake.”, he tells you again, a gentle smile resting on his lips. “You can just call me Jake, okay?”

“God, it was so embarrassing.”, Jake says as he drinks a sip from his coke. “I kept on rambling and stuttering. Like my hands got all sweaty and I couldn’t even really look her in the eyes.”

He hears his friends laughing at him to which he just frowns. Jake knows the way he acted around you, his student’s mom, wasn’t appropriate, but it was like the moment he saw you his brain stopped working. All the blood rushed out of it, leaving him stupid and unable to form thought through sentences. It was like he was sixteen all over again. A teenager nervous around pretty girls, unable to talk to them without making a foul out of himself.

“Dude, you seem down bad for her.”, Jay, his friend, says, not being able to hide the amusement in his voice. It’s been a while since the boys heard any stories about women in Jake’s life. Jake always tried to keep in love life as clear as possible, only looking for something serious and whenever he noticed the other person wasn’t reciprocating the same feeling, he ended whatever it was between him and the other person. Ever since Jake was young, he had one wish and that was to be in love. To love unconditionally, find someone who feels the same way and spend the rest of his life with them. To marry, have kids and grow old together. That’s what Jake always wanted, and still does to this day. But finding someone with the same wish turned out to be harder than he thought it would.

“But doesn’t she have a kid? Doesn’t that mean she has a husband, or boyfriend?”, Sunghoon asks, joining in on the conversation.

Jake just shakes his head, sighing as he lets his free hand nervously glide through his hair. “No, I already asked her. It’s apparently just her and her daughter. But I don’t know where the father is, didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask her that.”

“Wait. You asked her about a man in her life?”, Heesungs’ eyes are wide, and he has to swallow the laugh that threatens to leave his lips. “Bro, there is no way, you had the balls to do that. She definitely knows that you are interested in her.”

“What?”, Jake exclaims, bewilderedly looking at his friends. “What do you mean she knows I am interested in her?”

“Bro, you asked if she has a boyfriend or not, that’s the first sign of testing the waters, checking if she’s single. Everyone knows that and I bet she does too.”

Jake lets his head fall into his hands, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “She probably thinks I am a weirdo. God, what if she doesn’t want her child to be in a class with a teacher that was shamelessly hitting on her? What if she tells the other parents and I’m going to get kicked out of that school?”

“Jake.”, Sunghoon puts a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I doubt she would do that. And come on, maybe she is interested in you as well. Look at you, you are an attractive man. Don’t overthink this whole thing, okay?”

“And they lived happier ever after. The end.”, you finish reading the bedtime story for Nuri, closing the book and putting it on her nightstand.

“Mommy?”, you hear her quiet voice asking for you. Immediately, you take her hand, showing her a soft smile. She looks so small with her eyes just half open, tiredness written all over her face.

“Yes, sweety?”

“Do you like Mr. Sim?” The question surprises you, makes you take a few deep breaths before feeling ready to answer.

“I think he is a lovely person. He seems very sweet to you. Why do you ask that?”

Nuri adjusts her position, trying to open her eyes more to look at you clearly. “I think you are in love with him. Mrs. Kim said that when someone is in love with another person, they get very nervous and start stuttering in their sentences. She told me that you can’t stop looking at the person and that you seem kind of starstruck. Just like the way I look at ice cream.” She hugs her little teddy bear closer to her chest before continuing. “That’s how you looked today when you looked at Mr. Sim.”

You can’t help but shake your head as you hear the words your elderly neighbor has told your daughter. But it shouldn’t surprise you. Mrs. Kim has always been a hopeless romantic, going on and on about how you will find the right guy for you, that you just have to be patient. She has been watching over Nuri ever since she was a little baby, and it was bound to happen that at some point she would fill your daughter’s head with this nonsense.

“I am not in love with Mr. Sim, baby. I don’t even know him.”

“But you could get to know him. And then you will fall in love with him and live happily ever after with him, just like in the stories you read me every night.” You can hear something underlying in your daughter’s voice. Something she hides as she speaks those words.

“Nuri, why do you want me to fall in love with Mr. Sim?”, you ask her, squeezing her hand softly. You can see the sadness forming on her little face and it breaks your heart seeing her like this. Whatever it is that she was thinking at that moment, must have been on her mind for a long time.

“Ever since last year the kids in kindergarten asked me why I don’t have a dad. Every kid there has a dad, just not me. I want to have a dad, too, just like all the other children do.” Small tears start dripping down her cheeks, and you can’t hide the ones threatening to leave your eyes too.

“Oh, my sweet girl. Come here.” You gently pull her into a hug, cradling her head in your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I didn’t want to make you sad. I know that talking about my dad makes you very sad, and I don’t want you to be sad, mommy.” Twice, you felt your heart break within a few minutes. You hadn’t realized the effect this theme has on you, the sadness that still lingers whenever you think about her father. You hadn’t realized that your daughter noticed that. Your empathetic six-year-old daughter. A part of you feels proud of her for being such a sweet considerate little girl, but the other part is scared of how much other stuff she has noticed.

“Nuri, I am so sorry for not talking a lot about your father with you. I promise I will answer you every question about him in the future. And I am not sad when you mention him, okay? It is so important for you to communicate your feelings with me. When something worries you, you can always come to me and tell me about it, no matter what, okay?” You can feel her nod against your chest, her little hands wiping away the tears on her face. “Good. Now try to sleep, sweety. You need to have a lot of energy for school tomorrow. I love you, Nuri.”

“I love you too, mommy.”

You feel nervous as you park at the school building. There are several cars there already, all parents who will also be at the conference. Anxiety builds up in your belly, the fears of judgement towards you rising inside of you. This happened a lot at parent conferences when Nuri was still in kindergarten. The parents would be delighted to see you at first, asking if you are her sister but when they find out you are her mom, all you got was weird looks and whispers from other parents. It made you almost skip every conference after that, but you had to go, for Nuri’s sake. So, it’s understandable why your hands are shaking as you enter the school.

You dropped Nuri off at Mrs. Kim’s appartement, not before telling her to stop bringing Nuri’s hope of you getting a boyfriend up. A part of you knows that Mrs. Kim didn’t mean it with any bad intention, but you still don’t want Nuri to think that she will get a dad. Her real father is still uninterested to be in her life, and you don’t think that will change any time soon, and bringing a new father figure into her life is something you are still afraid of. People these days are not looking for serious commitment, they get scared when they hear about the child in your life, and they leave before anything serious can even start to develop. And the last thing you want is to introduce someone to Nuri’s life, just to have them leave a few weeks later. You don’t want to do that to her.

“Y/N.”, you hear someone call out for you and when you turn around you are greeted with the bright smile of no other than Sim Jake. “You made it. I am so happy to see you.”

“Yeah, sorry for not texting you. I kind of forgot about it with the whole stress I was having the best few days.” Jake seems to only smile brighter at your words, one of his hands nervously scratching the back of his neck. It gives you a moment to take him in. He is wearing a baggy pair of blue jeans with a black button up shirt, the arms of his shirt rolled up, exposing his arms. You can’t help but to let your eyes trail to his hands, his beautiful hands, but before you let yourself trail off too long, you let your eyes wander back to his, only to be met by a smirking Jake. Jake noticed your wandering gaze, the way your eyes shamelessly roamed his body. And he can’t say he isn’t flattered.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’m just glad to see you again. I hope you are, too.” You can hear the shift in his voice, the confidence and pride in it. And it makes a shiver run down your spine. “But we should go inside the classroom, before the parents get worried where I am.”

For the whole conference, you try to stay focused, to take notes and remember everything Jake was telling the parents, but your mind always drifted off. You got lost staring at the way he was talking so animatedly with his hands, biting his lip, and licking it with his tongue after every sentence, and how he brushes his hair out of his eyes every few seconds. And looking around, you notice that you don’t seem to be the only one staring at Jake. Some other mothers in the room developed a certain fascination with the young teacher, tugging their hair behind their ears and looking at him with a starstruck gaze. Watching them, you notice that you must look the same way when you look at Jake, just how Nuri told you. And it makes an embarrassed flush appear on your cheeks. You should really get yourself together. This is the teacher of your daughter, you shouldn’t be thinking about him in that way, shouldn’t be staring at him with such hungry eyes.

So, when you Jake announces the end of the conference, you can’t help but to hastily back your things into your back and make your way to head out of the classroom. “Y/N.” But Jake’s voice stops you from that. “Can you stay back a bit? I want to talk to you.” You turn around and give him a quick and shy nod, before sitting down on one of the chairs again and waiting for all the other parents to leave. Which turns out to take longer than you thought it would, almost all of the moms line up in front of him, asking him questions and wanting his attention.

Every now and then you see the look on Jake’s face, the tight-lipped smile and the alarming eyes, seeming almost uncomfortable. But you could be wrong about that impression.

Finally, the last one left, leaving only you and Jake in the classroom. He turns to you, a soft and honest looking smile on his lips. “Thank you for waiting, Y/N. I really appreciate that.” You smile back at him, standing up so you can walk over to him.

“Why did you want me to stay back?”, you ask him as you stop in front of him, looking up at him with your wide eyes. Jake seems to be losing the ability to talk again, your eyes driving him crazy. You give him the type of look that makes him want to press you against the next wall and kiss you until your lungs give out.

“I wanted to ask you how you liked the conference.” His voice is low and coarse, and he has to clear his throat a few times to get rid of the lump in it.

“You wanted me to stay back just so you could ask me how I liked the parents conference?”, you ask him, eyebrows raised in a question.

“Yes?”, he answers, his yes almost sounding like a question itself. He scratches the back of his neck again, feeling suddenly so self-conscious. “I mean it was my first time doing something like this and I guess I just wanted to know how I was. You know, if I came across as nervous or insecure.”

You shake your head at him, a constant smile on your lips. “Jake, you did so well. Everyone in this room liked you, and you seemed so confident when you talked about everything. Believe me, no one could have done it better than you.”

Jake feels his heart swell at your words, not having thought you would say something like that to him. It has been a long time since Jake has gotten praised in such a way, and it does something to him, something he can’t admit to himself.

“Thank you.”, he mumbles, a faint bit of blush on his cheeks. “Hearing that means a lot to me.”

You gently squeeze his arm, showing him another bright smile. “No need to thank me. I am just telling you the truth.” You take a step back again, hand sinking back to your side. “But I sadly have to go now. I have to pick up Nari since it’s a school night and I don’t want her to stay awake for too long.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”, Jake quickly says, walking to his bag and starting to pack in his things. “Give me a second, I will walk you to your car.”

This has been the third time in four months that you were too late to pick up Nuri from school. With the newfound time, your boss thought it was a good idea to give you more work, and normally you would decline this amount of work, since it gives you less time that you can spend with Nuri. But more work also means more money, and you need it more desperately than ever lately. The rent in your apartment got raised, fuel got more expensive and all the school stuff that you had to buy also didn’t make your bank account look good.

With your head lowered and guilt tripping down every part of your body, you walk into Nuri’s school. As you step into her classroom, your eyes widen. Jake is sitting beside Nuri on a desk, drawing inside a book with her, while talking to her with a soft smile on his face.

“There you are Ms. Park.”, you can hear the voice of Nuri’s other teacher Mrs. Song. “We waited for you for 30 minutes now. This is the third time this has happened, and I cannot tell you how disappointed I am with your punctuality. I get that you are young, but that doesn’t give you the right to abandon your own child for whatever party activity you have to do.”

Almost immediately you feel the guilt replace itself with anger. You know that picking up your child too late is irresponsible, but claiming you abandon your child and go partying is reaching too high. You feel like you’re seventeen-year-old you all over again, when everyone told you that you won’t be able to raise a child, that your child will grow up traumatized, wishing they had all the things other kids her age have. They told you to give Nuri up for adoption, that it would be the best possibility at your age.

“I am so sorry I was late picking up Nuri, again. But your accusations are what are disappointing here. As a teacher you shouldn’t have such prejudices against parents. Yes, I am young, but that doesn’t mean I am not able to love and provide for my daughter. Live on day in my shoes and see how well you can manage it.”

A short beat of silence fills the room, and before Mrs. Song can open her mouth to say another word, Jake speaks up first. “Mrs. Song, how about you take Nuri to one of the vending machines and get her a snack, while I talk to Ms. Park.”

With a heavy sigh, Mrs. Song nods, taking Nuri’s hand and walking out of the room with her, leaving you and Jake alone. “Y/n.” He gently says as he walks over to you. And there is something about his voice, so gentle and caring and something about his presence so comfortable and safe, that makes the tears in your eyes break their way free to roll over your cheeks. “Oh, come here.”

Jake gently pulls you into his arms, one hand on your back, comfortingly stroking it, and the other on your head. You wrap your own arms tightly around him and allow yourself for the first time in months to let it all out, the stress, the hurt, the pain, the longing, everything. A sob wracks through your whole body, and it breaks Jake’s heart. He doesn’t know how to help you, what to do to take all this pain away from you. So, all he does is pull you closer – if that’s even possible – and whisper encouraging words into your ear.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, Jake gently asks as he pulls away from the hug, taking your face in his hands and wiping the tears on your face away with his thumbs.

You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to calm down from your little breakdown, before starting to talk to him. “Everything has just been so hard lately. I can barely pay rent, I have to work longer and harder to earn all the money I need, and Nuri hasn’t stopped talking and asking questions about her dad. I try to act unbothered by it, but if your daughter talks about the boy that has not only broken your heart but left you alone when you most needed him, it makes you relive it all over again. And I just feel like the worst mom on earth for not being able to give Nuri the live she deserves. Everyone is telling me that over and over again, what if they are right?”

“No.”, Jake says shaking his head. He cups your cheek with one hand, the other one taking its place on your waist. “Listen to me. You are an amazing mom, Y/n. God, half of the people that say those mean things want to be just like you. You sacrificed so much to provide for your daughter and that is more than just admirable. You should be proud of yourself, not doubt yourself. Nuri loves you. In fact, you are all she ever talks about. She admires you so much, Y/n, and she loves you with all her heart. That’s what matters the most.”

More tears start to stream down your cheeks, and you whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ to Jake, before pulling him back into your arms. He holds you close, leaving a gentle kiss at your temple every now and then. “How about we get Nuri and then we go out for ice cream? I don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

You nod against his chest, not ready to let go of him yet. “Thank you, Jake. For everything.”

Something changed between you and Jake after that day. It started with texts, him checking up on you every now and then, seeing if you need help. Then it developed to calls, once a week, talking about your feelings and worries, but those calls quickly got more frequent and happened every night after you put Nuri down to sleep. And you don’t know how it happened or when it happened, but now you find yourself getting ready to meet him for the first time in another place other than Nuri’s school.

“I think the purple top looks prettier on you, mommy.” Nuri says from where she sits on your bed. You have been changing outfits for an hour now, never finding the right thing to wear.

“You think so?”, you ask as you put it over put it on yet again. “I think you are right. This should be good enough.” You turn around to face Nuri, just to see her snuggled up with her teddy bear, big eyes watching you attentively. “You ready to spend some time with Mrs. Kim, sweety?”

You are answered with a wild nod and a bright smile. You know you could just take her with you, Jake wouldn’t mind that at all, but there is a part of you that really wants to spend some time with him alone. Just you and him.

You shouldn’t feel selfish about it, but you do. You feel like you put your own needs before your daughters’ ones. You know it’s far reached since this is the first time in a while that Mrs. Kim has to look after Nuri, but you hate depending on people. You hate having to drop Nuri off somewhere when you have plans. You hate that you can’t do this alone.

“Hey, pretty girl.”, Jake says as he sits down beside you on the picknick blanket you pulled out for the two of you, a bright smile is on his beautiful lips. “Can I ask you why exactly you wanted to meet here?”

You look at the ocean in front of you, at the soft waves crashing against the shore, glowing under the soft light of the sun peeking through the clouds. There is something magical about this place, something you can’t describe in words.

“I used to come here all the time when I was pregnant with Nuri. It was the only place that seemed to calm me down. I guess I just wanted to share that with you. You have become a very comforting part of my life, and I just thought you would like this place as much as I do.”

There is something in Jake eyes that changes the moment you speak those words. They seem to go lighter, wider, like a little puppy. It makes all the blood in your body rush right up in your cheeks and lets goosebumps rise over your skin. It makes you think about things you aren’t supposed to think, feel things that definitely aren’t appropriate to be thought in public.

Jake takes one of your hands, giving it a tight squeeze before sighing gently and looking out into the sea. You follow his gaze, admiring the sand glittering in the sunlight and listening to the sounds of the seals far off on the water. Both of you relish in the tranquility of the moment, no words needed.

“It’s my birthday next week,” Jake says after a few minutes. “I am throwing a small party. Just me and my three friends and I wanted to know if you want to come as well.”

You look at him only to be met with his hopeful, big eyes. He shows you an encouraging smile, and for a moment you unlearn the ability to speak. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Is it okay if I bring Nuri with me? I hate having to leave her at Mrs. Kims place all the time.”

“Of course, I was assuming she was going to come as well.” Your heart swells at his words, appreciating his attentive soul. You know how much Jake grew fond of Nuri. He talks about her approvements in school all the time, telling you about funny jokes she makes or impressive questions she asks. Jake tells you how smart and polite she is, and how she always tries to include everyone into the little friend group she built. He also tells you how well you raised her, and how proud he is of you for that, but that’s not something you want to focus on, because it makes you think about inappropriate things.

“Then we will definitely be there.” Jake shows you another one of his bright smiles, white teeth on his display. Sometimes when you look at him, through the phone or in real life, you wonder what it is the two of you have. You wonder if it is just a friendship the two of you are building up, or if it is more than that. There are moments- you don’t know if you are imagining them or if they are real- where the tension between you heightens, so much it could be cut with a knife. There are moments in which it feels like if one of you makes a move something is going to happen, something big and heavy. There are moments in which you think that this could be it. This could be yours forever. It sounds crazy, farfetched, but Jake is the type of person you always wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He is the kind of person, you know would treat you right, the kind of person that would have a good influence on Nuri. You know you two haven’t fully gotten to know each other. Jake may be in a completely different chapter of his life. He may not want to commit to something so serious, especially since he is only at the start of his teaching job, or because he is too young to think about having a family. You don’t know what this is between you guys and while you desperately want an answer to that question, you don’t want to risk losing whatever it is the two of your built up in the past weeks.

But when you look at Jake again you can feel the same tension, heavy and thick. You notice his eyes darkening, the way he licks his lips more often and glances down at your own every few seconds. One move, it will just take one move, and one of you is going to break the distance between the two of you.

Jake gently places one hand on your thigh, and you can feel his warmth burning through the material of your jeans and right onto your skin. You have to swallow the gasp that threatens to leave your lips, shocked at what such a little touch from him does to you. His hand travels further up and it almost feels impossible for you to think clearly. Every last piece of sanity left your body the moment Jake touched you and all you can focus on is him. Him and his plump lips, him and his big hands that are touching you in the most alluring way. And him and his big brown eyes, pulling you in and hypnotizing you.

“Y/n.”, he whispers, voice hoarse and rough. Suddenly, his face is closer, lips almost touching yours. You just have to lean forward a little more, but you are frozen, lost in his scent. You want him, you need him. Everything inside of you screams for him, in a way you have never experienced. Your body is pulled towards him like a magnet, and you need him to take you home to him right now.

But before any of you can suggest that a voice calls out for Jake in the background. Almost immediately the two of you pull away from each other, awkwardly looking around. “Hey Jake. I knew that was your big head.” A man, around your age, approaches the two of you. He is tall, with black hair and a few prominent moles on his face. His smile reveals two little fangs which you find quite adorable.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you have any company.” The man awkwardly glances at the two of you, noticing that he just interrupted something between the two of you.

“All good, bro.”, Jake says, not being able to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Y/n, this is Sunghoon. One of my friends I told you about.” You show Sunghoon a polite smile, reaching one hand out to for him to take.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sunghoon.” Sunghoon can’t hide the surprised look on his face as he takes your hand and gives it a quick shake.

“Hold on, you are Y/n?” You nod your head at him, confused as to why he was reacting like that towards you. “Wow, I heard a lot about you.” From the corner of your eyes, you can see Jakes head falling into his hands, as he lets out a frustrated grunt. A smug grin appears on your lips as you cock your head at the boy in front of you.

“I hope you only heard good stuff.”

“You best believe it was only good stuff. Jake won’t stop talking about you. All day long he goes on about ‘Y/n is so-“ But before he can continue his sentence, Jake slaps one of his hands on the mouth of his friend, shutting him up indefinitely.

“That’s enough from you, Sunghoon. Man, you never know when to shut up.” Jake mumbles that last part, but you hear it anyway. All the doubt you had in your mind earlier leaves your head. Maybe Jake does want you the way you want him. Maybe he really is different than all the other man you met.

“Well as much as I wanted to hear whatever your friend had to say, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Sunghoon. And we will call later, right?” As you ask the last question, you look at Jake, eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer.

“Yes, of course. I will call you.”

“Okay, then see you later.” You give Jake a quick kiss on the cheek and show Sunghoon a last goodbye smile, before grabbing your things and walking to your car, leaving an embarrassed Jake and a widely grinning Sunghoon behind.

“So, this is Y/n, huh? Man, now I get why you won’t stop talking about her. She is hot.”

“Hey, come on. Don’t talk about her like that.” Jake shakes his head, blowing out some air from his lungs and closing his eyes for a moment to clear his still foggy mind. He still hasn’t recovered from the moment you two had just a few minutes ago. Jake was so close to kissing you, so close to asking you to go somewhere private, because he knows you felt it too. He knows you could feel the tension in the air, the arousal dripping from your body. He knows it, and he could feel it by the way your body was reacting to him. “She is so much more than just hot.”

“I’m just saying.” Sunghoon shrugs his shoulders, reaching one hand out to help Jake stand back up. “I’m glad you finally found someone, Jake. Happiness looks good on you.”

Nuri and you spent three hours baking and decorating the cupcakes for Jakes’ birthday party, and judging by the way Jakes friends stuff them into their mouths, it was worth the effort.

At first you were worries bringing Nuri to a birthday party with three strange men she doesn’t know but watching her giggle at the cream smeared faces of Jakes’ friends, all the worry flew right of the window. From the moment you entered the apartment the boys made it their life mission to entertain Nuri. They went from playing tea party, to performing dance routines, to laying on the ground and acting like they are mermaids. There was not one single wish Nuri expressed, that they didn’t grant in a heartbeat. She wants them to put on lipstick and towels as dresses to make a fashion show. Done. She wants them to act like knights and protect the princess- her- from a dangerous attack. Done. She wants them to carry her around, spin her in circles and throw her high up in the air every five minutes. Done.

And you can see that Nuri enjoys all the attention she is getting. She thrives in it, and it gives you a sense of relief.

“They are so good with children.”, you tell Jake who is sitting beside you, watching as Nuri counts down from ten to search for Sunghoon, Jay and Heeseung in a game of hide and seek.

“They are.”, Jake says, resting his head on your shoulder. “They all want children someday. We had that conversation before, so I knew that they would also love it when Nuri comes over.”

“And you?”, you ask Jake, looking down at him. “Do you want children?”

You can feel him smile from where he has his face buried in your neck. He leaves a gentle kiss at the space between your shoulder and your neck, before lifting his head to look into your eyes. “Yes.” There is no sign of hesitation in his voice, his eyes reflecting his sincerity. “Yes, I really want kids.”

“Now, or in a few years?”

“I don’t care.”, he says, grabbing one of your hands, and playing with your fingers just for a few seconds, before intertwining your fingers. “If now or in five years, I’m ready to have kids. I’ve always wanted them. Why would you think I work at an elementary school?” You can feel the weight lifting from your shoulders. This question has been bothering you for some time now, and now that it’s finally out and is answer is so fitting, you can’t fight the smile lighting up your face.

“Hey, you two love birds. I hate to interrupt your little moment, but I just wanted to ask you if it’s okay that we take Nuri to the playground a street down from here?”, Heeseung asks, looking straight at you. “Ever since we told her about the playground, she has been begging us to take her there. I swear we won’t be long, and we will take good care of her. I swear, I will never leave her out of my sight and stay by her side the whole time.”

This isn’t something you would normally do. You wouldn’t trust someone you barely know to take your child somewhere, but it’s something about the way they took care of her today that makes you trust them. And you trust Jake. You trust him to know what kind of people to introduce to your daughter. “Of course, yes.”, you tell Heseeung, smiling as you see the excitement on his face. “Just make sure to be back by dinner and to not let her on the swing for too long. She always gets sick when she’s on it for a longer time.” With one last nod and a ‘We promise to take the best care in the world about her’, they are out of the door.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize that you and Jake are alone. And it takes another few seconds for you to face the man sitting beside you. There it again, the look in his eyes, making you weak in his knees.

1, 2, 3 seconds pass and Jake can’t handle this silence anymore. He can’t handle the way you look at him and what it does to him. With one tug, Jake pulls you closer and it doesn’t take him long before he presses his lips against yours.

This is different than any kiss you have ever experienced. Jake kisses with a passion, with a longing, you have never felt before. His hands are on your body, in your hair, holding your cheeks. He pulls you onto his lap, never once stopping the heated kiss. You have your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, needing to feel him everywhere.

There is an urgency in the kiss, a need to big it’s going to explode. Every pent of thought or longing the both of you have kept to yourself over the past week flows right into the kiss. It’s wild, passionate and so indescribable good. You can feel it tingling all over your body, waking up needs you didn’t know you have, thoughts you always tried to repress. Jakes hands wander over your body again, your thighs, your hips, your waist, your back. And it makes you moan softly into the kiss, breaking free just to take a deep breath which gives Jake enough time to explore the soft skin of your neck. He trails down kisses, stopping at the point where he feels your pulse and licking the sensitive skin.

Another soft moan slips out of your lips, and it drives Jake crazy. It makes his head spin and takes his breath away. There is no clear thought in his head anymore, everything is clouded by the pleasure of this moment. His hands pull you closer to him, eyes closing at the feeling of you, and you have to take another deep breath before whispering your next words.

“Take me to your room, Sim Jake.”

“You’re so beautiful.”, Jake whispers as he raises his hand to softly stroke your hair out of your face.

“Good morning to you too.” You have been waking up to the sight of Jake for the past few months now, and no matter how many times you see him like this, you never get used to the sight. His hair messy from the night’s sleep, his naked chest shining in the morning sun and his puffy pink lips puffy from the night before. He is gorgeous, ethereal even. No word describes the beauty he is carrying.

Jake pulls you into his arms so that your head lays on his chest and his arms are tightly around you. “I will never get used to this.”, he whispers. “This is a dream come true.”

“What is a dream come true?”

“You. This. Waking up next to you, getting to spend every day with you and Nuri. This, this is perfect.” You close your eyes, letting this moment sink in for a while. You capture it, take a mental photo and put it in a special box somewhere in your brain, so when things get hard again, this moment will remind you how easy life can be.

“I love you.”, you whisper softly, kissing his chest a few times before laying your head back down on it.

“I love you too, Y/n.” His voice is louder, clearer, like he never wants to hide those words from you, ever. “And I want this, forever. I know I have to move away soon for my job at another school, but we will make this work. I want to make this work. It’s just a two-hour drive, that’s practically nothing.”

You lift your head to look at Jake, admiring the soft glow of his skin. There is an ounce of doubt lingering in the air. You know that his move will complicate things for you. Visiting will be hard with Nuri having to go to school and you having to work every day, but there are always weekends. And if Jake believes that the two of you can make it work, then you will.

So, you nod your head, scooting up to leave a few kisses on his plump, puffy lips. “We can make this work. We will have to.”

The sun is shining brightly as you pull up to the school to pick Nuri up. Normally you would wait in the car until she walks out of the school, but since Nuri had an ‘end of the school’ project today, she wanted you to come in and take a look at what she made.

Life has been good, better than good, actually. Everything has been perfect. Jake had become a constant part of your lives, visiting a few times a week and taking the two of you out on trips. Nuri and Jake’s friends- well your friends as well now- have grown incredibly close. She doesn’t talk about anything else other than the boys and how fun it is to spend time with them. They have grown closer to you too, finding a weird kind of solace whenever you are around them.

Everything is the way you always wanted it to be. And sometimes you catch yourself thinking that everything is too perfect, that something is bound to happen any time soon to destroy the little perfect life you build yourself. But you never thought it would happen this soon.

As you walk inside the school, you search for the classroom where they exhibited the projects, stopping when you hear some voices not far from you. You know it’s rude to eavesdrop but when you hear your name in the conversation, you can’t help but to stop and listen.

“Yeah, apparently she and Jake are in a relationship.”

“What? Really? She is really trying to fuck herself to the top, isn’t she?”

“I mean we could have seen it coming, right? The way she always looked at him, like she wanted to eat him alive. It was concerning. It’s a real wonder he didn’t run away when he still could, but now she got him all under her claws.”

“I have known her since our daughters were in kindergarten, and she has always been like this. Whoring around and not caring about her daughter.”

“I mean I knew she was still young and immature, but that is shocking. First, she carelessly gets knocked up at seventeen and then instead of maturing she stays a naïve little girl who fucks her daughter’s teacher. If I were here, I would be embarrassed.”

“It’s no wonder she has no support from her parents anymore. I wouldn’t support my daughter if she were a disgrace to the family like she is.”

“I mean all that aside, I think she should take the time to mature first. She is still so young, not fit to be a mother. Maybe all she needs is a clear mind before she faces the hardships of life. Maybe no one taught her how to be an adult yet.”

“Are you defending her?”

“No, of course I am not. I’m just saying she needs a wake-up call. Something that will help her get all the horniness out of her mind and get her to take better care of her daughter.”

The world has stopped. You could feel it. The air feels heavier, time doesn’t go on anymore and all sounds went quiet. Everything has stopped, except for the thoughts in your head. A dark heavy cloud forms over your head, raining down on you with an intensity, you didn’t feel in a very long time.

Maybe you jinxed it. Maybe your constant worry of something ruining your perfect little life was the one thing that ruined it all together. You should have known it.

The worst thing is knowing that they are right, not with everything of course. You aren’t ready yet. There is so much you still need to learn, so many lessons you haven’t faced yet. You aren’t ready yet. You need to mature; become a proper adult and you really aren’t ready.

You noticed it a while ago, the lingering feeling in your chest whenever Jake was around, the nagging question in the back of your head. You noticed that there was a part of you- a part that grew stronger and stronger with time- that simply wasn’t ready for a relationship yet. And while whatever the women were saying was rude and uncalled for, they are right. They spoke out what you were too scared of admitting. They spoke out what you were too scared was going to ruin all the things you built up.

You can feel it now too, the pain consuming your heart, filling your lungs, and coursing through your veins. The tears filling your eyes, the stop stuck in your throat. But you can’t let it out, not here, not now. First, you have to be a mother. First, you have to look at Nuri’s project, tell her how proud you are of her and take her home to be the mother she deserves. Later, when she’s in bed, that’s when you can let it all out.

“Excuse me.”, you say, your voice surprisingly stable and strong. All four women turn around in a second, looking at you with wide eyes and open mouths. “I was searching for the classroom where they exhibit the school projects. Would you mind telling me where it is? I don’t want to get caught, what did you call it? Ah, yes, whoring around.”

A loud gasp leaves one of the mothers’ mouths and it takes all the strength in your body not to laugh out loud at their faces. One of the other women points in the direction of the classroom for you, gulping almost visibly as you show her a bright smile.

“Thank you so much.”, you say. As you walk past them, you stop, something nagging in the back of your head. “And don’t be jealous that my needs get satisfied every night, I bet your husbands will keep up eventually.”

You know that ignoring Jake’s calls wouldn’t be a good idea, but you didn’t think that he would turn up at your doorstep at 10 pm shortly before you were heading to bed.

You spent the past days thinking about your situation, about your relationship with Jake and your and Nuri’s future. Over and over again did you go through all the solutions in your head, trying to figure out what’s right for you, what you want. Because for once, just one time in your life, you have to think about yourself, what you need.

You thought that it wouldn’t take long for Jake to turn up at your doorstep, but seeing him standing in front of you, hair messy, cheeks tinted in a soft red and a worried look on his face, makes you want to change your mind all over again.

“Hey.”, he says, showing you a forced smile. “Are you okay? I was worried. You’ve been ignoring my calls. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt you? Because if I did then please tell me so I can make it up to you again. I swear the last thing I want is to lose you, but I can’t make it up to you if you don’t talk to me, if you don’t tell me what I did to make you shut me out.” There is an urgency in his voice, pain lingering in his words. You haven’t thought about what the past few days must have felt like for Jake, too caught up in your own head. He tried to call you multiple times and got disappointed every time you didn’t pick up yet again. It must have been torture for him not knowing if he did something wrong, not knowing the reason behind your sudden radio silence.

Looking at him like this, worried and distressed, tears fall down your face almost immediately. “Oh, baby.”, Jake softly coos. Carefully he takes a step towards you and as he notices that you make no move away from him, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “Please talk to me, Y/n. Please tell me what’s going on.”

You clear your throat, shakily wiping away the tears on your face. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jake. Please, you have to believe me that that is the last thing I ever want to do. I love you, so much. Sometimes it scares me just how much I do, but lately I’ve been realizing that I am not ready. I am not ready for this, not ready for a relationship. There is so much in my life that I need to fix, so much about myself that I need to fix. I still haven’t lived, you know? I don’t know what it is to actually live, to find myself, to know what I want and what I need. I have so much to learn. And I know that you would be by my side through whatever I am going through, supporting me and lending me a helping hand. But I realized that I need to do this alone. I need to fight through this on my own and grow from it. We are still so young, Jake, so much in our life can still happen and I don’t want you to get caught up in all of this. Especially since you’re moving away and starting a whole new chapter in your life.”

There is a beat of silence, a few seconds where everything is quiet. You only hear your own heart beating out of your chest. Jake wipes at his eyes, one, two times before he nods, slow and steady. “Okay.”, he whispers. Silence again. It’s like Jake is fighting with himself, having an inner conflict, he doesn’t want to share with you. He blows out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back at you. His eyes red from the unshed tears.

“Okay, Y/n.”, he repeats again, blinking a few times. “Everything inside of myself is screaming for me to fight for you right now, to tell you that we can work this out and fix those things together. But I know you, and I know that once you made up your mind about something, no one can change that again.” He sighs another time, long and hard. “So, I will let you go. For now, at least. As you said, we are still young. This may be our end now, Y/n, but it won’t be our end forever. I will never give up on you. Someday, I will find you again. Someday, I will make you mine again.” Jake cups one of your cheeks in his hands, gently letting his thumb caress your soft skin. One small tear drops down his face, that is the only one he allows to escape, before he softly places a kiss on your lips. It is not a long kiss, not the type of kiss that leaves you breathless, yearning for more. It’s the type of kiss that is so soft, you wonder if it even happened after it’s over. It’s the type of kiss that rips you open from the inside, tears your heart out and leaves you bleeding out. It’s the type of kiss that makes you want to turn back time and fix all the mistakes you made in your life.

It's the type of kiss that makes you hope for a tomorrow, for a forever.

There is nothing you love more than a warm autumn day, watching the leaves fall down the trees, coloring the ground in bright orange and brown shades, or feeling the cold breeze in your hair. You love listening to the rustle of the trees, watching squirrels searching for nuts on the ground and tasting the fresh air on your tongue.

But what you love the most is sitting on a park bench, not one person in sight, with a book in your hand. It has become your favorite activity over the past few years. You read books like it is your job, finally having the time with Nuri almost being eleven years old. It became your little break from reality, something to look forward to on stressful days, something that would ease your mind.

Looking at the watch on your wrist, you realize that it’s almost time to pick Nuri up from her friends’ place, since you promised her to go visit uncle Sunghoon who lives a few streets from you. You put your book back into your bag, swinging it over your shoulder and standing up from where you were sitting to head to your car. But before you could even take one step, you stop in your tracks.

It's been years, you realize. Years since you’ve seen that familiar face. Years since you last hugged him, touched him, kissed him. Years since you heard his voice, seen his face. You almost can’t believe your eyes, thinking that your mind is playing a trick on you. But when you hear him speak for the first time, in what felt like forever, you know that this is real.

“Sunghoon told me I would find you hear.” He steps forward, not stopping until he is right in front of you. His wide, puppy like eyes, look down at you, lips pulled into a wide grin, as he takes the shock on your face. “Hey, Y/n.”

And that’s when it hits you. All the promises he made about not letting you go about making you his again. Now, years later, with everything different, he still intended on making all his promises come true. And you realize that it’s perfect. Right now, it’s perfect. Right now, you can start your forever.

“Hey, Jake.”

Bonus scene

You lean back in the chair on the front porch of the summer house you rented for you and the boys and watch the way Nuri teaches the other kids how to draw a butterfly with chalk. It’s a strange sight to see, Nuri all grown up, taking care of all the small little children. It makes a deep feeling of pride blossom in your chest, admiring just how far you have come.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?”, Jake speaks up from the seat beside you. “Just how fast the time passes.”

You let your gaze wander to him, to his perfect face with his perfect eyes and perfect lips. He looks older now, more mature. But it is a good look on him. It suits you perfectly.

“It is.”, you say, letting out a soft side before leaning your back against Jakes chest, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. “But I am so grateful for this. I am so grateful we get to watch the boys’ kids grow up. I am so grateful I get see Nuri so happy and content. And I am so happy I can be with you, Jake.”

“Forever?”, he asks, eyes looking deeply into yours and a soft smile, that is only dedicated to you.

“Forever.”, you answer his question, and you have never been more honest in your whole life.

#enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #sim jake #sim jake imagine #sim jake x reader #sim jake x you #sim jake enhypen #sim jake imagines #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #jake enhypen imagines #jake enhypen x reader

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mintmatcha · 8 days ago

Note

So does Kirishima ever threaten sero when he keeps asking about reader?

Sero's phone buzzes across the table, barely audible over the thrum of fake gunfire. The round's just begun, so Kirishima tries to ignore it, but his friend is already squirming in his seat.

"Someone's home from cram school." Sero's hunched over himself, controller basically in his face. His smile is suspiciously taut, lips parted over his perfectly straight teeth. "I'm out after this round."

Of course he is. That's all these sleepovers have become: charades for him to sneak over and see you.

"My dad's going to be pissed if he finds out you snuck out." Kirishima says. It's not really true - he'd probably applaud Sero before anything else - but the lie feels good to say. He's already jamming the controller harder than he should, the plastic edge digging into his palm.

"I'm not scared of your dad-- he loves me."

Kirishima sinks back into the couch. His character's already dead, laying there, waiting to be revived.

"I just-" He shouldn't say anything. "Can you not mess with her, please?"

With a snort, Sero looks over, his expression unchanged until he takes in Kirishima's look.

"What do you mean?" Sero shrugs, turning back to the television. "We just, like, hang out and junk. Watch some anime, make out. Nothing major."

"But she's really nice," Kirishima says, carefully. "And really lonely. If you're just gonna treat her like-"

With a grunt and a gasp, Sero's character's dead now too. He places his controller down pointedly.

"Like what?"

Kirishima swallows down the lump in his throat.

"Like every other girl." The red head crosses his arms. "If you're going to treat her like every other girl, you should just leave her alone."

Scoffing, Sero looks at his friend, lips parted in a clownish frown. "What does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

Sero pushes off of the couch.

"Whatever, Kirishima." He tucks his hands into his pockets, fists balled. "Just because you don't like girls-"

Everything goes hot. From his fingertips, to his toes, the the space behind his eyes, every part of Kirishima's body suddenly burns. The heavy space in his throat is suddenly dry, crumbling, sticking up any words that could possibly come out. All he can do is sit there and stare, eyes wide, expression gaunt.

"I like girls." Kirishima can't help but think that Sero looks particularly good in the low light - those soft child's features melting away into his late teens, cheekbone cut by the diffused light of the television screen- and that makes his stomach even more sour. "I'm not-- "

The tension shrinks out of Sero's body as he seems to process what he said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I like girls."

"I didn't mean it like that, Kiri, just-"

Kirishima finds his feet. Sero's taller, but Kirishima's bigger, muscle built out from training. When he folds his arms, he bunches his biceps up and tucks his fists behind them. The harrowed heat inside him has changed to a burning anger.

"Do you even like girls?" The words tumble out on their own. "Because all you do is treat them like garbage. "

Sero laughs, light and airy in the way that only fuels the flame.

"We all know you're just acting like this-" Kirishima shouldn't say it. He's not even supposed to know; it's drama passed to him through classmates, whispered behind Sero's back- "Because your dad cheats on your mom."

Sero blinks as if he's been slapped. Then, he blinks again. His tongue rolls over his teeth, measuring his emotions.

"Don't talk about my mom."

"Don't say that I don't like girls!"

The silence between them is wild, like static. It burns, it demands to be filled by something other than Kirishima's heavy breathing, but instead they both look at each other, firm, resolved.

"Fine." Sero snatches his phone from the table. "Whatever, Kiri. Least I get to make out with people."

In three big steps, he's gone, into the hall and presumably out of the apartment all together. Kirishima's silence goes softer.

"I like girls," he says to the television screen.

281 notes · View notes

eu-nicola · 10 days ago

Text

the finish line part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: love triangle, forbidden relationship, tension, infidelity, etc

word counter: 8107

author's note: english is not my first language

mention: @drama-lama-mother @bunnies-p1tst0p

After an intense night, dawn came too quickly. Lando had to fly early to Qatar for his next race, and although you always tried to accompany him, this time your own commitments kept you in another direction.

You gathered your things and went down with him to the car that would take you to the airport. The journey passed in silence, and both of you clung to that last shared moment. Once at the airport, you took his hand and gave him a supportive smile. As you said goodbye, Lando hugged you tightly, as if he wanted to retain some of your energy for the days you would be apart.

“Take care and don’t forget to send me news,” he said, giving you a kiss on the forehead before moving away.

“Of course. And you, don’t forget to sleep,” you answered with a smile. “And to win, if you can.”

You both laughed, and after one last hug, Lando headed towards his boarding gate. You followed him with your eyes until he disappeared into the crowd.

Once Lando left, you headed to your gate. The flight to Monaco awaited you. You would spend a few days busy with your own obligations, but there was something about that little distance that also gave you space to reflect.

During the flight, you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but your mind inevitably wandered to the race and to Max. The memory of the party was still fresh in your mind: his smile, his unavoidable presence in the lounge, and that spark that always lit in you, even when you didn't want to admit it.

When the plane landed in Monaco, you felt grateful to have a few days to yourself, although you also knew that you couldn't completely escape the thoughts you carried with you.

As soon as Lando landed in Qatar, your phone buzzed with his message. “Landed and ready to start the week. Missing you already,” the text read, accompanied by a couple of smiley emojis. The simplicity of the message brought a smile to your face and you responded without hesitation, sending him encouragement and reminding him that you would be watching every session of the race weekend.

However, during those days in Monaco, between relaxing walks and afternoons in cafes overlooking the harbour, there was something that disturbed the peace you were trying to maintain: the complete absence of news from Max. The last time they had spoken by text, the conversation had extended longer than you had expected. It had been casual, almost innocent, but a part of you had felt that something had been left hanging. That something, perhaps, could continue if one of you took the next step.

And yet, not a single message. Nothing. The days passed, and though you hated to admit it, every time your phone vibrated with a notification, a spark of anticipation would rise in your chest, only to die down when it wasn’t him. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to be the one to break the silence, that if Max wanted to talk, he would have to do it. You weren’t going to give him that privilege of knowing that you had been waiting for something from him.

Despite this, you couldn’t ignore the latent annoyance that built up with each passing day. Why had he shared so much in those previous messages if now it seemed to just disappear? It wasn’t logical. To push the doubts out of your mind, you immersed yourself in your affairs at home.

As the race weekend approached, you tried to convince yourself that this was all just a whim of your mind, that Max was just another driver in a world where competition and ego were always at the forefront. It didn’t mean anything, right?

Well, it did mean that, the sun was softly streaming through the window as you enjoyed a quiet breakfast on the small balcony of your apartment.

Suddenly, a notification lit up your phone screen. At first, you ignored the impulse to look at it right away, not wanting to admit that you were so attentive. However, curiosity won out and as you looked, your eyes widened a little more. It was Max.

"Why aren't you in Qatar?" the message said, direct and blunt. "I thought you would arrive a few days later. Aren't you coming?"

For a moment, the message left you unsure of what to respond to. After so many days of silence, it seemed like it was the most normal thing in the world. You bit your lip, trying to decide whether to ignore it or respond, and finally, the frustration you had been building up for days came to the surface.

"It's none of your business, Max," you wrote back, in an attempt to keep your distance, to make him see that his disappearance had been noticeable.

It was only a few seconds before his response appeared. It was almost like he had been waiting for a sign from you. “I didn’t know you missed me,” he replied, accompanied by a smile emoji, as if this was all a game to him. “Seriously, I thought you would come.”

You shook your head, trying not to fall for his game, but then a new text came through. “Maybe you’re not coming because you know what’s going to happen,” he wrote. “I’m going to win. Don’t you want to come watch? This time, it’ll be my new championship.”

You felt a pang of nerves mixed with something you didn’t want to admit. Still, you resisted. You didn’t want him to think that only his words could convince you.

“What makes you think I care?” you wrote back, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I know,” he replied immediately. “I felt it at the last race. And I know you felt it too.”

You took a breath, feeling those words land right where you didn’t want them. Your pride forced you not to answer, to let the conversation hang in the air. So you put your phone away and decided to ignore him for the rest of the day. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t going to fall for him, that his ego wasn’t your responsibility. However, as the hours passed, the phone continued to vibrate from time to time. Each message from him added a little spark of intrigue, and although you didn’t read them right away, you knew Max wasn’t giving up.

Finally, after hours of silence on your part, you opened the conversation. There were more messages, each one a little more persuasive than the last.

“You know I want to see you? I can’t shake the idea that you should be here,” one said. And then, another text, reading it almost as if you heard it: “Come to Qatar. Not to see him. Come to see me.”

At some point in the afternoon, Max became more direct, his words more forceful. “I want you to be there when I become champion. There is no other time like this, and you know you want to see it. And I want to see you.”

Those last words echoed through your mind, even though you wanted to downplay it. You were on the verge of doubt, trying to hold firm, but the intensity of his messages shook that resistance.

You didn’t respond, at least not that night.

The next morning, after a night in which your thoughts had kept you awake, you decided you could no longer resist. In an attempt to convince yourself, though, you chose your words carefully. You picked up the phone and, after a moment of hesitation, texted Max.

“I’m going to Qatar,” you began, keeping your tone neutral. "But not to see you. I'm going to get Lando."

The text went out and you stared at the screen, knowing that his response wouldn't take long. And sure enough, within a few seconds, the incoming message icon lit up your screen.

"Sure, sure," Max replied, and you could even imagine his mocking smile as you read. "Just for Lando, right? Let's just say I believe it."

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to respond to his sarcasm. It was frustrating that he was so clear about the effect he had on you, that he knew exactly how to play with words to provoke you. You decided that the best response was to ignore him, so without giving it another thought, you put the phone aside and focused on another important task before leaving: calling Lando.

Hearing his voice on the other end of the line calmed something in you. The simplicity and sincerity that Lando conveyed to you was a refuge, and that was exactly what you needed at that moment.

—Hey, how are you? —you asked, trying to sound casual.

—Well, a little tired after all the training —he answered, and you could imagine him in some room of the hotel, surrounded by the preparations for the race week.

—Listen… —you took a breath—. I've been thinking, and I'm going to go to Qatar. I want to see you. I miss you.

There was a small silence on the other end of the line, and although it only lasted a second, you felt it like an eternal heartbeat. Lando seemed surprised, and perhaps even a little nervous.

—Really? —he finally said, his voice sounding incredulous—. Well, yeah, sure… Come on, I'd love for you to be here.

It comforted you to hear it, although in some corner of your mind you felt that the main reason for this trip was not so simple. Despite everything, you wanted to be with him, and the idea of cheering him in person while he competed excited you. Lando didn't need too many explanations, and you were grateful for that, because you weren't prepared to give them either.

—Perfect, I’ll see you soon then —you said, smiling through the line. He sighed, and though there was a hint of strangeness in his voice, he seemed genuinely excited.

—Yeah, I can’t wait —he replied, and after a few more words, you hung up the call.

You wasted no time. As soon as you got off the call with Lando, you sprang into action. You moved around the apartment almost mindlessly, gathering the things you would need for the trip. Fresh clothes for the scorching Qatar weather, something fancy for whatever evening event was coming up, and, of course, your race tickets. The excitement began to grow with each item of clothing you folded and packed into your suitcase.

When you went in to check the flights, you found that there was only one that would fit in to get you to the first practice the next day on time. It left at 3 in the morning, which meant you would barely get any sleep, but the thought of getting there early and surprising Lando at the track gave you the motivation you needed. You bought the ticket without hesitation.

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of preparations. You tried to go to bed early, but with every passing second, your thoughts became intertwined: the idea of meeting up with Lando again and, deep down, the tingle of knowing that Max would be there too.

At 2:00 am, you grabbed your suitcase and left the house, feeling the mix of tiredness and excitement coming in waves. You arrived at the airport just in time and, while waiting to board, you checked your phone one last time. There was a notification from Max.

“On my way?” the message read, simple and direct. He knew you weren’t going to be able to resist going.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to answer or ignore him again. But finally, with a sigh, you decided to put your phone away. If he wanted to know, he could just keep wondering.

You got on the plane and, although you tried to sleep, your thoughts wouldn’t let you rest. With each passing hour, you felt the mix of emotions increase: the anticipation of seeing Lando, and the intrigue of how you would feel when you saw Max in person, after that series of messages that had stirred you so much.

At 11:00 am, you landed in the hot climate of Qatar. You got off the plane and, while you waited for your bags, you wondered what would come next.

After collecting your bags, you quickly headed to the exit and raised your hand to call a taxi. You barely gave the driver the address of your hotel, you leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm the mix of emotions that invaded you. The ride was short, and soon you found yourself in the lobby of an elegant hotel, just a few blocks from where you knew Lando was staying.

Once you were in your room and put your suitcase aside, you took out your phone to send him a message. “I arrived. “I’m at the hotel I mentioned. Let me know when you’re free.” You took a few seconds before texting him the exact location, wanting to surprise him a little more. It wasn’t long before Lando responded.

“You’re here! That’s great. I’m pretty busy today, but I’m trying to make time to see you. I’m glad you got here safely.”

You smiled as you read the message, but you had barely finished reading when another notification popped up on your screen. It was from Max.

“So you’re here already?” his message read. “I’m right next to Lando, you know? I saw him checking his phone and I knew right away it was you. I’m coming to see you as soon as I can.”

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the rapid pace of your heartbeat. Even though you couldn’t see his expression, you could perfectly imagine the satisfied smile on his face when he knew you were in Qatar. He knew he was going to make it so you were there, which was part of what motivated him.

You decided not to respond right away and just let him wait. You left your phone on the bed, and went to take a quick shower, trying to cool off and clear your mind. But even the water didn’t seem to dispel the mix of emotions that were brewing inside you.

When you returned to your phone, you saw that there were no more messages from Lando, but Max had left another, short and to the point: “See you soon.”

The next day, the atmosphere at the track was charged with excitement and tension. It was qualifying day, and all the teams seemed to have the same goal in mind: pole position. You knew that this day was crucial for Lando, who had prepared every detail, every corner, every braking with precision. You had only received a couple of quick messages from him since you arrived, which was not unusual. You knew that when it came to racing, Lando completely immersed himself in his world, seeking perfection on every lap. You didn't want to disturb him or interrupt his concentration, so you decided to support him in silence.

Arriving at the McLaren paddock, you greeted some members of the team and took a place near the screens where you could watch the live broadcast and the times of each driver. Nerves invaded you as you watched the cars preparing to go out on the track, the roar of the engines increasing the adrenaline in the air.

Even though you had gone there to support Lando, a part of you couldn't help but think of Max. You knew he was also going for that pole with the same intensity, maybe even more, and you found yourself in a strange dilemma, unable to define if your expectation was for Lando, for Max, or for the confrontation between the two.

Qualifying began, and on the screen you saw the times go by quickly. Lando's car was fast, his times were among the best in each sector, and you felt the excitement and pride of his performance. You knew how much it meant to him to get that pole, and watching him fight for every tenth kept you on the edge of your seat.

But then, the screen showed Max's times. Impeccable, calculated and fast. He seemed to push the limits with every lap, and his name went up and down the scoreboard in a constant battle with Lando. You couldn't help but hold your breath every time their names changed positions.

Qualifying moved quickly. Q1 began and from the start Max made it clear that he was going to be hard to beat. On every lap, in every sector, his times stood out above the rest, marking a solid lead that everyone in the paddock noticed. Every time his name appeared at the top of the screen, you felt a mixture of pride and a strange uneasiness, as if you were witnessing something inevitable.

Lando was also doing an excellent job. His times kept him in the lead, securing his passage to the next round, but he couldn't get past Max. It was as if the track belonged solely to the Dutchman at that point.

Q2 came, and the competition intensified. The top drivers brought out the best in their abilities, and the times became tighter. Despite the pressure, Max continued to lead each lap with almost insulting ease. Lando, for his part, held firm, striving to close the gap.

The time came for Q3, the final round. The teams made their adjustments, and the tension in the air was almost tangible. This was all or nothing, and both Max and Lando looked ready to leave it all on the track. You watched intently as the first out was Max. His lap was flawless, every corner taken with precision, every braking at just the right point. The time he set was impressive, setting a pace that few, if any, could match.

Lando left shortly after, and the McLaren team held their breath as he completed his lap. The times were very close, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Max kept his place at the top of the leaderboard, securing pole, and Lando was right behind him in second.

As the clock ticked down to the end of Q3, the result was final: Max would start the race from pole, with Lando beside him on the front row. All around you, the excitement in the McLaren paddock was palpable, but there was also a mix of frustration. You knew the team had gambled everything to get pole, and that Lando had given it his all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement at seeing Max there, dominant, certain that he had achieved his goal.

As the teams began to pull out and the drivers prepared for interviews, you received a notification on your phone. It was a text from Max.

Max: “Are you going to be there tomorrow?” It would be a shame if you missed it.”

You read the message and couldn’t help but smile, although you refused to let him know the effect his words had on you.

After qualifying Lando wasn’t in the best mood at the end of the day. Although he had the satisfaction of starting in the front row, you knew that second place wasn’t what he really wanted. But while he was immersed in strategy and mental preparation, you felt that you needed a break too.

Back at your hotel, you tried to relax to clear your mind and prepare for what would be an intense day. You lay back on the bed, letting yourself be carried away by the soft tranquility of the room, when your phone vibrated. Unlocking it, you saw Max’s name on the screen. He had been the one to start the conversation that morning, and since then the messages hadn’t stopped.

“Everything ready for tomorrow?” he had written, with that confident tone that always seemed to surround him.

“That depends on who you ask,” you replied, keeping the conversation on safe ground.

“And you? Ready to see me win the championship?” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Max seemed so sure of his victory that, for a moment, you found yourself believing it too.

“So you’re that confident already?” you typed back, trying to downplay it.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. “I’m going to win, and the best part is that you’re going to be there to see it.”

A tingle ran down your spine, a mix of anticipation and the strange energy that only he seemed to bring out in you. You tried to hide your excitement, but his answer came before you could even type anything else.

“And I want you at the celebration, huh? No hiding. You’re going to party with me.”

You checked the message, trying to decipher the tone behind his words.

“I wouldn’t be so sure yet,” you finally typed, trying to regain control of the conversation. “The race can take many turns, you know?”

“You’ll realize,” Max replied. “Tomorrow, when I’m holding up the trophy, you’ll know I was right.”

For the rest of the day you spent in complete isolation, with those messages in mind, feeling their words repeating themselves in your head. With nothing urgent to do, you ordered room service and decided to stay in the room, in an attempt to clear your thoughts before the big day.

When the day of the race dawned, you prepared yourself with special dedication. You knew that the paddock would be full of stares and cameras, and you wanted to rise to the occasion. You chose a fitted white dress that highlighted your figure, with delicate gold details that sparkled in the sunlight. You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, giving yourself courage to face what would be a long and intense day.

Arriving at the track with Lando, the excitement in the air was palpable. The energy and expectations made each step more exciting than the last. While he headed to a meeting with the team, you decided to take a stroll through the paddock, admiring the hustle and bustle and feeling the adrenaline that always filled you when you were surrounded by the cars and drivers. You had done this many times, and you always enjoyed exploring every corner of the place.

It was in one of those hallways that you saw him: Max was there, standing, talking to a woman you recognized immediately. Kelly. The same Kelly that there had been rumors that he was dating for months. The surprise was immediate, and before you could contain yourself, you stood watching them. Max and her were chatting away, and he, aware of your presence, barely turned his head and looked at you with a half smile. The spark of defiance in his gaze infuriated you even more.

You couldn’t contain the urge to look at him defiantly, letting him see in your eyes that you weren’t the least bit impressed. Or at least, that was what you wanted to convey. However, the mix of anger and jealousy was becoming more and more evident, so, before you let yourself be affected, you turned around and walked away quickly, feeling the heat on your cheeks. Max knew perfectly well what he was doing, and it bothered you to realize that he understood how you felt.

It wasn’t long before your phone vibrated in your hand. It was Max.

“Jealous?” the text said, with that mocking tone that you perfectly imagined.

You rolled your eyes, not intending to fall for his game, but your fingers moved quickly over the screen. “Please. I have better things to do than worry about that.”

“That’s what all jealous people say.” His response came in seconds, with a wink in the text that made you press your lips together, annoyed. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

“You’re hallucinating, Max,” you replied, feeling your patience slipping away.

“I don’t think so,” he replied bluntly. “Because at the end of this, I’m going to have you, regardless of your little boyfriend.”

You stared at the message, unsure of how to respond to such a direct statement. It was almost as if he had already decided the outcome and was just waiting for the right moment to make it happen. The confidence with which Max spoke made your hands shake, and deep down, even though you refused to admit it, a part of you was tempted by his words.

You swallowed deeply, closing the conversation without answering, trying to focus on the real purpose of being there: supporting Lando.

When night fell on the circuit, transforming the track into a spectacle of light and shadow. The excitement of a night race in Qatar filled the air, and as you walked towards the paddock, you felt the energy of the place resonate in your chest. Everything was ready for the big moment; The cars had been checked, the teams were in position, and the atmosphere was so electric that you could barely contain your excitement.

As you reached the McLaren area, you noticed that the entire team was focused on their screens and communications.

From your spot in the paddock, you could see the starting grid. The cars lined up under the bright lighting of the circuit, reflecting the glare of the spotlights and cameras that captured every detail.

Time seemed to stand still as the traffic lights came on, one by one, until, finally, they went out, and the deafening roar of the engines filled the air. The cars launched themselves towards the first corner, and from the start, the fight between Max and Lando was fierce. Lando had had an excellent start, almost at the same level as Max, and in the first laps he stayed close to his rival, pushing whenever he could, looking for the perfect gap to overtake him.

In the tight corners, both drove to the limit, taking advantage of every millimeter of the track. Max did not give up ground, defending himself with precision and blocking each attempt by Lando. Every time Max closed the line, it was as if he was issuing a silent challenge, telling him without words that he wasn't going to give in. From the paddock, you could barely breathe, following every move with your heart in your mouth.

The tension mounted lap after lap. Max and Lando's cars seemed to dance on the track, in an almost choreographed showdown in which neither of them allowed the slightest error. As the race progressed, Lando tried several times to find an overtaking line, but Max anticipated every maneuver, frustrating all his efforts.

As they reached the halfway point of the race, Lando finally found a small opportunity. Taking advantage of a stretch of the main straight, he attempted an inside pass, going wheel-to-wheel with Max. From where you were, it looked like he would succeed; however, Max responded immediately, braking at the last second and forcing him to take a wider line into the next corner. The crowd held their breath as the cars nearly touched each other, and you felt the adrenaline keep you on the edge of your seat.

You knew this was the kind of rivalry that defined championships. Max and Lando weren't just competing for points; each was fighting to prove their worth, to prove who was the true leader on the track that night. And even though you were there to support Lando, you couldn't help but feel the same thrill every time you saw Max hold his own with that mastery of his. It was a combination of talent and confidence that was almost hypnotic.

In the final laps, the intensity reached its peak. The two drivers pulled away from the rest of the field, and every corner, every straight, was a battle of nerves. Lando stayed glued to Max, looking for any opportunity to snatch the lead. But Max, with the calm of someone who knows victory is within reach, continued to maintain his lead, showing why he was on the cusp of securing the championship.

Finally, the final lap arrived. Lando made one last desperate attempt to overtake him in one of the final corners, but Max, with an impeccable move, held the line and blocked the way. The cars crossed the finish line, and Max’s name appeared at the top of the screen as the winner of the race… and the new world champion.

The roar of the crowd filled the air as Max pumped his fist from the cockpit, celebrating his victory. Lando had driven a spectacular race, coming so close to victory, but the result was clear. You looked over at the Red Bull area, where Max's team was celebrating euphorically, and you were surprised to see yourself smiling, despite everything. You had witnessed an unforgettable race, one that would go down in history.

After crossing the finish line, Max's celebration was immediate. As soon as he got out of his car, he threw himself into the arms of his team, surrounded by applause and cheers. The members of Red Bull greeted him with hugs and pats on the back, some even with tears of emotion. The image was shocking; Max, with his helmet still on and his arm raised, had become champion once again, and the whole world was there to see it.

Meanwhile, you remained in the McLaren paddock, waiting for the trophy ceremony with the engineers and other members of the team. Although second place was not what Lando had dreamed of, you were proud of him. His effort on the track had been spectacular.

From your position, you could see Max take off his helmet and raise his arms towards the crowd, who responded with cheers and shouts. The smile on his face was radiant, filled with a satisfaction that he couldn't hide, and seeing him like that, it was impossible not to feel a mix of admiration and... something more. You shook your head, trying to erase those thoughts, focusing on the moment that was unfolding on the track.

The national anthems echoed throughout the circuit. First, the anthem of Max's country, which he listened to with an expression of almost solemn pride, looking towards the horizon. In that instant, everything seemed to stop; the whole world was focused on him. Then, the Red Bull anthem, as the team members cheered and applauded from below. Lando, seeing the presentation of the trophies and the cheers of the fans, smiled sideways, and although frustration was evident in his eyes, he was also grateful for the opportunity and the recognition of his great career.

You silently watched every moment, every emotion captured on their faces. When Lando received his second place trophy, he turned slightly to where you knew you were, giving you a quick glance that seemed to say, “I tried.” You smiled at him, your heart full of pride, giving him a small gesture of encouragement to let him know you were there for him.

The most anticipated moment came at the end, when Max raised his championship trophy, and a shower of champagne began to fall on the podium. The drivers opened their bottles, spraying each other and celebrating in their own way, while the audience continued to cheer. The emotion was indescribable; the lights, the sound, the applause, everything combined in an explosion of joy. Max glanced down, and although he was surrounded by his own teammates, you noticed that his gaze went directly to you, as if he were looking for you in the crowd. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips when his eyes met yours, and you raised an eyebrow, letting him notice that, despite everything, you were impressed.

The applause continued as the drivers left the podium, and you stayed there for a moment longer, taking in the mix of emotions that the race had left behind.

As soon as they stepped off the podium, the festive atmosphere became tense. Max, still in a state of euphoria over his victory, walked through the corridors of the paddock surrounded by his team. Lando, for his part, had taken his second place with the greatest possible dignity in front of the cameras, but there was palpable frustration in his gestures.

The two drivers met on the way to the locker room, and although their teams tried to distance them, friction was inevitable. Max, noticing the expression on Lando's face, gave him a provocative smile.

“Nice try. “You know there’s only one champion, though,” Max said, in that arrogant tone you’d heard so many times and that inflamed his rivals so much.

Lando stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flashing with contained fury. He couldn’t stand the brazenness with which Max was trying to provoke him after all the fighting on the track. The teams around them began to notice something was brewing, and some came closer in an attempt to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Yeah, Max, congratulations,” Lando replied, his voice controlled but full of sarcasm. “Some only care about glory and winning at all costs, even if they don’t have anyone to celebrate with them, right?”

Lando’s words made Max’s smile freeze for a moment. You knew how direct Lando could be when something irritated him, and this time he had struck a chord. Max took a step forward, his expression changing from amused to defiant.

“Don’t talk to me about celebrations, Norris. I don’t need company to be the best. Some are just here because they want an excuse to impress, but they don’t have what it takes to do it.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, the tension in his body evident. His team tried to place a hand on his shoulder to stop him, but he pushed it away without looking.

“Next year I’m going to fight you to the end, and I won’t need your cocky attitude to prove it.”

The words fell like a challenge, and at that moment, Max took a step towards Lando, her face just a few inches from his. Their gazes met, two pairs of eyes filled with pride and ambition that weren’t willing to budge.

“Whenever you want to try, Norris. But in the meantime, enjoy being second,” Max whispered in an icy tone, still staring at him.

The tension was palpable, and right then, it seemed like the situation was going to escalate even further. However, members of both teams quickly intervened, pulling them aside before either of them took another step. They were led in opposite directions, though both continued to glare at each other defiantly, not giving in one bit of their pride.

Meanwhile, you had witnessed the entire scene from a distance, watching as the rivalry that had begun on the track continued in every gesture and word.

After that little argument, as the hubbub filled the place, the idea of the party seemed increasingly distant for Lando. As soon as they returned to the hotel, you noticed that his silence became dense, almost sharp, as he avoided your gaze and his steps were heavy. You, trying to be understanding and wanting to ease the tension, tried to speak to him softly as the two of you went up in the elevator to his suite.

When you got to the room, Lando dropped his bag in the corner and collapsed onto the couch, letting out a frustrated sigh. You kept your eyes on him, knowing something was wrong. His gaze, lost somewhere on the floor, finally met yours, and his eyes reflected a mix of disappointment and something else that was harder to decipher.

“I’m not going to that party. I have nothing to celebrate today,” he said at last, his tone low and dry.

“Lando, you did amazing today. It was a hell of a race. Everyone knows you gave it your all,” you told him, trying to comfort him.

But your words didn’t seem to calm him down. On the contrary, he frowned and shook his head, frustrated. “And for what? I finished second, behind him again,” he muttered, full of resentment. You knew that “he” was none other than Max, and in that moment, you understood that their rivalry was affecting him much more than it seemed.

You tried to move closer to sit next to him, wanting to put a hand on his shoulder, but Lando pulled away, standing up and walking a few steps away. He looked nervous, and something inside you told you that this wasn’t just frustration from the race. There was something else, something that seemed to be building up between you for a while now.

“Lando, I know today was tough, but there are more opportunities. You’re an amazing driver, and second place is something you should be proud of…” you began to say, searching his eyes.

But he didn’t seem to want to listen. “Proud? Are you serious?” he interrupted you, his voice rising slightly. “Why are you telling me this as if you care so much? Sometimes it seems like you’re not here for me, but for… someone else.” His gaze was accusatory, and his words began to make your heart beat faster, in a mix of discomfort and a little fear.

“What are you implying?” you asked, not wanting to believe what you were hearing.

“I think you know exactly what I'm talking about,” he replied, crossing his arms and staring at you. “Every time he's around… every time Max shows up, it's like you tune out everything else. Even today, I saw you staring at him from the paddock. Why? What happens to you when he's around?”

His gaze was hard, full of reproach, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you realized that you couldn't hide anything from him. You hadn't been entirely fair to him, you knew that. But you also didn't want him to throw feelings in your face that you hadn't even been able to fully understand.

“Lando, you're overreacting,” you said, trying to sound calm even though your voice was shaking. “I have been here with you, always supporting you. I came to Qatar to be with you in this race, to show you that I am on your side.”

“Really?” he replied, with a sarcastic laugh you had never heard from him before. “Because it doesn’t seem like you’re here just for me, to be honest. It seems like you stayed because you had something unfinished with Max, or am I wrong?”

His words hurt you, more than you wanted to admit. The tension between you had grown in the last while, and now it seemed like that bubble was finally bursting, revealing truths that you both tried to avoid.

“What do you want me to say? I can’t ignore that Max is here, I can’t pretend that he doesn’t exist, and you can’t demand that of me either,” you said, trying to keep your voice controlled. But Lando was too hurt to listen.

“I can’t go on like this. I need someone who is here for me, completely. I don’t want to be questioning whether my victories, my defeats, or even my own feelings, are being compared to someone else’s. If that’s what you feel, you better leave,” he said finally, pointing to the door.

The intensity of his words paralyzed you. He wanted you to leave. His eyes were filled with pain, and even though deep down you knew it hurt you too, you felt a deep injustice in how he was blaming you. But, after all, something in his pain was understandable.

Without answering, you took a deep breath, and turned around, moving towards the door. You felt the weight of each step, the rage contained in your chest, and also the pain of knowing that you had hurt someone you really cared about.

As you left Lando's room, a mix of frustration and pain accompanied you to the exit of the hotel. The argument still hovered in your mind, his words still echoing in every corner of your thoughts. You walked aimlessly, absorbed, until you finally took a taxi to your own hotel. You arrived, exhausted, but unable to relax. You dropped your bag on the floor and sat on the bed, staring out the window as the city vibrated with the night lights.

Almost instantly, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a text from Max, asking if you were going to the party, as if everything between you was okay. His texts seemed harmless, but the situation with Lando was still too fresh and you weren't in the mood to deal with anyone else right now.

"I'm not in the mood, Max. I don't want to be disturbed tonight," you texted, trying to stay distant.

This time, Max didn't respond right away. You stared at the phone screen for a moment, waiting for a prodding that, for some reason, seemed inevitable. But there were no more messages. His silence was a kind of relief that allowed you to lie back on the bed, close your eyes, and try to relax.

Hours passed in a state of light sleep, with thoughts going back and forth between Lando and Max, between your feelings of guilt and what had just happened.

At 3 a.m., the phone vibrated again, and Max's name lit up the screen. You were surprised, and a mix of emotions washed over you when you saw the message.

Max: “Are you still awake? I want to go see you.”

You took a deep breath, and a part of you resisted answering. You didn’t want to see him; you felt like things were too tense and confusing, and the last thing you needed was to add to the complications. But, almost without being able to help yourself, you answered.

“No, Max. I don’t want to see you. It’s not the time,” you wrote firmly, hoping he would understand.

However, as always, Max insisted. The next message came quickly, almost as if he had already written it before you responded.

Max: “You know I want to see you, and I know you want that too. Come on, you have nothing to lose.”

You let out a sigh and, in the end, you let go of the resistance. Maybe the exhaustion of the whole situation was taking its toll on you, or maybe, deep down, you wanted his company. Without thinking too much, you sent him your location.

The message went through and, almost instantly, a sort of anticipation began to build in your chest. You knew that with Max, things were never simple, and that agreeing to see him right now, alone, at 3 a.m., would only add more complexity. But at that moment, logic seemed like a weak obstacle.

When Max arrived, the atmosphere was charged with a tension that you both understood all too well, but that neither seemed willing to fully cross. You shared a few intense kisses, with that contained urgency that had floated between you for so long. But every time Max tried to take things a little further, you stopped him. It wasn't the time; you still felt a mix of anger and confusion about what had happened with Lando. Despite his obvious frustration, Max respected your boundaries, settling for holding you while you fell asleep in his arms, feeling an unexpected comfort in his closeness.

The next morning, the light coming through the window gently woke you up. You opened your eyes and looked around, finding Max still asleep next to you. For a moment, calm seemed to fill you, as if the outside world didn't exist, as if everything was simpler than it really was. With a sigh, you reached for your phone to check the time, only to be met with a series of notifications that almost made you drop it.

There were dozens of messages and photos that your acquaintances had sent you. You opened the notifications one after another, and your shock and anger increased with each one. The images showed Lando with an unknown woman in his hotel, in a scene that left no room for interpretation. There were even several messages from him, written in a hurry and with a sense of panic that made your blood boil.

The impulse of frustration was so strong that, without thinking, you threw the glass on the nightstand against the wall, jolting Max awake. The sound of breaking glass echoed in the room, and he sat up quickly, looking at you in surprise and then with a sly smile.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked at the broken glass.

Without saying anything, you handed him your phone, showing him the photos and messages from Lando. Max stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, and then let out a dry, carefree laugh, as if it all seemed ridiculously convenient.

“Perfect,” he said, his expression a mix of amusement and satisfaction. “Now we can both get out of here without any problems. You see, I was doing you a favor.”

The indifference in his voice made you furious. You pushed the phone away and looked at him with a cold expression.

“No, Max. This isn’t a favor, and I’m not going to take advantage of it. This could ruin us both, and I don’t want to be a part of that story.”

He raised an eyebrow, still with that spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Really? Because, frankly, it doesn’t seem like Lando is doing anything very different from you, am I wrong?” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Why are you so angry? He just did you a favor… He freed you from continuing to pretend that things were fine between you.”

You looked at him, feeling like every word was a blow. He was right, at least in part. It hurt you to admit it, but the difference lay in the feelings. Despite the tension between you and Max, the connection you had felt was something real and deep, something that, for some reason, felt authentic.

“It’s not the same, Max,” you said quietly. “Cause with you… with you, things are different. The difference is that I do like you, and he… he went and got himself someone.”

Max fell silent, his smile fading as he watched you. For the first time, he seemed to have understood the seriousness of what you felt, and his expression softened.

“So why are you still here?” he asked quietly, no trace of mockery. “Why stay with him if you know it’s not the same? Why stay with someone who doesn’t give you what you need?”

You fell silent, fighting your own thoughts. You knew there was truth in what Max said, but it all seemed too complicated. You were caught between what you felt and what you believed was right, in a situation where neither path seemed easy.

Without saying anything else, Max approached and took your hand, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, “but I want you to know that I’m here, if you decide that this,” he pointed to the space between you. “Is something worthwhile. It’s up to you.”

The intensity in his gaze made you feel a mix of emotions. You knew you had to make a decision, but at that moment, the only thing that was clear was that things would never be the same again.

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starlightazriel · 3 months ago

Text

necessities 3

series desc: modern day (fem)reader x classic prythian azriel au, series of short chapters, fluffy, smutty, cute, probably some angst and or drama cus it's me

warnings: 18+, this is silly!! hehe, reader is a little ditsy & air headed, sexual tension asf, az def has a size kink in this lol , hundreds of years age gap lol, mentions of az crush on elain (he b acting like me just b having a crush on anyone), az has so much inner monologue in this lol,

wc: 2k

other parts can be found on my az masterlist <3

three

"Hypothetically speaking," Azriel clears his throat, finally speaking up after having been sat silently in the corner. He had been battling with himself about how to bring up his question without raising suspicion. He wanted to keep you as his little secret for a just a little longer. He did like his privacy after all, though he thought it may be a bit selfish of him not to explain the full situation. He'd worry about that later.

The more details they had, the closer they could be to an answer on how to get you back to— California? Was it? What a ridiculous name.

Cass raises an eyebrow, he was sat in his usual seat in Rhys study, and the only noises are Rhys pen scratching and the sound of Feyre and Elain singing cheerfully to Nyx in another room. Normally, Elain's presence would have distracted him. He was mostly over it obviously, he had taken many lovers since their almost kiss—

And now, next to his new human pet?

Not pet, sick bastard.

Elain seemed almost plain, as lovely as she was.

Lucien can have her.

"If you fell into Prythian from another world, some kind of—" he paused as Rhys pen had stopped scritching away and his eyes were now trained on Azriel, chin slightly tilted up in piqued interest. "A portal of sorts," he continued, Cassian tilted his head to the side curiously, Azriel knew none of this sounded remotely normal coming from him. "Would there be a way back? " he finally asks, trying to be as casual as he possibly could, keeping his face a mask of cool calm.

"That's pretty specific for being hypothetical," Cassian snickers, Azriels nostrils flare slightly, but he doesn't comment, his expression doesn't falter, he only directs his attention to Rhys.

"That really depends, is there a tether? Is the portal still open after you fall out? Was it even a portal, or something else?" Rhys fires off each question thoughtfully as he leans back in his chair, crossing his fingers over his lap, Az opened and then closed his mouth again, he didn't really have an answer for any of them. "What brought this on Az?" he asks then after the short moment of silence, Azriel quickly shrugs his shoulders, he almost never said something that didn't have some purpose.

"Just been doing some light reading on infinite worlds," he responds nonchalantly, Rhys was watching him skeptically, never had Az been much of a reader. "It's nothing really, curiosity is all," he adds sensing Rhys suspicion.

Rhys shrugs and turns his attention back to whatever documents he had been reviewing. "Are you thinking of trying to travel to another world?" he asks casually, his pen scratching away.

"No," Azriel responds simply, and that was true, he wasn't trying to travel to another world.

Cassian started rambling about his ideal world and Azriel found himself distracted, he wondered if you were doing okay back at his apartment. He knew he would have to find a good excuse to get out of here soon so he could check on you.

He was trying to pay attention to the conversation at hand, as it had drifted back to the original politics. It was nearly impossible when he imagined you back at his place, all alone, probably scared, hungry... Probably freshly bathed now- waiting to be fucked and teased and tortured- not tortured- well, maybe a little bit.

He really wasn't understanding his desire and infatuation for you, humans had never piqued his interest, never. But you weren't like any other human he had seen in the mortal lands, so much softer... Sexier- More delicate. So small that he felt like he might break you if he fucked you the way he wanted to, the thought was more intriguing than it should have been. He swallowed hard, get a grip, he told himself, his ears felt hot, he had to go—

"I have to leave," he stands abruptly, interrupting whatever conversation they were having that he couldn't bare to be a part of anymore. Not that he'd really been listening anyway. He ignored the questions and suspicions from his brothers, and didn't utter another word when he made exit, shadows skittering behind him as if they were up to no good.

They liked the little human too.

How many fucking hours had it been? You had no idea. But life without internet? Miserable. Absolutely fucking miserable. There wasnt even a TV here!

The bath though, was fire. You couldn't deny that, huge enough to fit a man like that made it basically like a pool for you- okay maybe not a pool but it was huge. You ended up in an undershirt of sorts that reached your knees, Azriel had been right about there not being much for you to wear in his wardrobe. You didn't mind though, and you still had your extra panties from your bag, though you'd have to find out if silk pajamas existed.

You hoped that Azriel was trying to find answers about how to get you home, though, it felt so far away now— Felt like you had been gone for weeks already, were the days longer here?

The sun was finally beginning to set and as you lay there on the huge bed in the luxuriously silky sheets you wondered where he was and if he'd be back soon. Your stomach was aching and you hadn't taken your eyes off of the balcony entrance for hours.

It wasn't long before Azriel appeared on the balcony again, he didn't fly this time— he emerged in shadow, and you jumped, flying into a sitting position as you shot up in bed.

"You scared me!" you exclaim, Azriel smiles sheepishly as he sets down a small bag on the table along with a few wrapped plates. "Who the fuck are you, Jeepers Creepers?"

"Jeepers-? Actually, I'm just going to skip past that, I'm sorry for scaring you, how was your afternoon and evening, Bubbles?" he's standing by the table now, watching you curiously.

"Boring as fuck," you sigh, sitting up fully now, you're eyeing the plates, starving as ever now. Your stomach growled.

"Sorry about that. Are you hungry?" he follows your gaze to the wrapped plates on the table. "I didn't know what you liked so I got a few things," he placed the three plates on the bed in front of you and uncovered them all. You opted for the one that looked the healthiest.

"I usually go for a hot girl walk after dinner," you say tasting some of the vegetables first. Your eyes widened in surprise. "This is so good! Like Gordon Ramsey type shit," you hummed in delight and took another bite trying some of the meat and potatoes.

"A hot girl walk?" he asks, quirking a brow. "I'm not sure if that will be possible, humans— Well they don't really exist on this side of the wall, I don't think you'd like the humans much from my world either, though, if you ever wanted to see the mortal lands, I could take you," he says thoughtfully, skipping over the Gordon Ramsey comment, he didn't know what that meant.

"Mortal lands as in— You're immortal? Like Edward Cullen?"

"I don't know who that is, but yes I am immortal, I'm five hundred years old."

"FIVE HUNDRED?" You demand, your eyes widening as you stared back at him. "I need your skin care routine," you inspected his face then, the loose curls that dropped over his forehead, perfect cheek bones, a few light freckles dusting his perfectly angled nose, probably brought about by the sun, a strong sharp jaw line that was slightly rounded in that pretty boy way, very very kissable slightly full lips, and the most gorgeous hazel bedroom eyes that revealed absolutely nothing. He could definitely make people mags sexiest man alive and beat anyone who's ever gotten it.

"I'm not sure that has anything to do with it," he chuckles quietly. "How old are you?" It's a casual question, but he needs to know. He liked this, he liked watching you eat the food that he'd brought for you, liked seeing the way your pouty full lips wrapped around the fork the soft moans that left your lips as you enjoyed—

"Twenty one," you respond, your eyes flicking back up to his face again, you blushed as your eyes locked, he was already staring at you intensely.

"Very young," he comments after a moment of silence, he was studying your face with an intensity that no one ever had before, not even Cody. You swallowed, blinking a few times, your cheeks warm and stomach churning with nerves. He looked like he could swallow you whole. The way he looked at you ignited something deep in your belly and excitement different than one you'd ever felt before.

"So you eat regular food like me, right?" you ask carefully before taking another bite of the delicious food on your plate. Your tone was soft, under a stare like that it was hard to find your voice. He chuckles, a glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes.

"No, I actually like to roast little human girls over my spit in the back, Im just fattening you up first, next I'll put an apple in your mouth and baste you with my special sauce," he flashed his blinding white, heart stopping smile at you and wiggled his eyebrows.

"That's not funny."

"Yes Bubbles, I eat regular food like you."

Your breath hitched as you stepped out onto the balcony with Azriel. Your belly was full and you felt quite sleepy and heavy from the delicious food. It was dark now and the stars here— It was like a galaxy right in front of your eyes.

The view of this city at night- it was beautiful.

"The city of starlight, Velaris," Azriel says softly, hes standing a few paces back, his hands shoved into his pockets, wings relaxed behind him, but hes watching you, carefully. Admiring you as you take in the view.

"It's like New York," you whisper, tears welling in your eyes as you remember you may never see it again. The people you may never see again. You used to love shopping with your friends for a weekend in NYC, and fashion week? You'd never see another fashion week again. You'd never get a blow out again or acrylics or a VIP pedicure...

Azriel didn't say anything, he stood quiet beside you, but he watched. He resisted the urge to reach out and swipe your tears. He kept the shadows at bay as they leaned in closer to your melancholy, trying to understand.

"The city that never sleeps," you added softly, feeling rather poetic as you looked out onto this new city. Would this be your new home? Would Azriel find a way to get you back?

"I got you something while I was out," he cleared his throat, he didnt know why, but he couldn't stand your tears, he wanted to fix it for you, cheer you up.

"A present? Already?" your eyes lit up a little bit at that and you turned and watched him retrieve the little bag that he had brought in with him earlier, you wondered why he waited til now to give it to you. One thing you loved was presents, specifically from devastatingly handsome men.

"Just a start, to your new wardrobe, you'll need something to wear tomorrow when I bring you to meet my family," he says quietly as he watches you open the package, as much as he'd like to keep you locked up in here as a personal little sex slave— he knew he couldn't. Though, he could tell by your scent, by the way you squeezed your legs together when your eyes met his, the way you looked at him with wonder and curiosity— the flush of your cheeks, he knew he could fuck you at any moment he liked and you wouldn't stop him.

"Oh my," you squealed softly as you held up the pretty pink fabric in the air.

"It was the smallest size they had, I hope it fits," he swallowed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched you inspect the dress.

"I love it! It's giving coquette realness, should I try it on for you?" your eyes flicked to his, and you were surprised at your boldness, he was a monster after all. Azriels eyes darkened and narrowed slightly, his jaw flexing.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea Bubbles."

reblog and i'll give you a kiss ;)

taglist <3 : @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @smalljasper289 @cherryinsalemverse @cleverzonkwombatsludge @serxndipity-ipity-blog @blessthepizzaman

#acotar #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar smut #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel spymaster #azriel fluff #azriel fan fiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

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bicth-and-in-that-order · 1 year ago

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Rambling thoughts of various Yuri manga I’ve read

1. Kase-San and Yamada (Morning Glories sequel series) by Hiromi Takashima

notice how Kase’s name is first, which is representative of her being the main one to cause problems in their relationship

If you asked me what my favorite yuri manga was like 2-3 years ago, I’d say Morning Glories and Kase San everytime. Every avid yuri fan has either read or watched Morning Glories because, at the time in 2010, it was groundbreaking, and I stand by the fact that the original series still holds up to this day. It was cute, sweet, wholesome and only had a few obligatory “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” moments. Most of all it wasn’t a pseudo-incest-straight-male-porn-pandering-garbage-fest—also known as “Citrus”. Was it cliche at times? Yes, but they all are lol. Did they add to the dumb ass “blonde femme and dark hair masc” trope? Also yes. But it was adorable and it was my first ever yuri so it holds a special place in my heart.

And it SEEMED like it was only going to get better in Kase San and Yamada, the sequel. The girls would be heading to college and the story could theoretically focus on more mature topics while they navigate their new relationship. Keyword: theoretically. Unfortunately, instead of exploring interesting relationship dynamics and storylines, the plot of each story arc boils down to: Kase is insecure because a man breathed next to Yamada or Kase is being completely insensitive to Yamada’s feelings…again…—> ✨miscommunication drama ✨—>big over dramatic apology scene—>boring makeup sex or other romantic gesture.

Literally that’s how every single plotline goes. Kase is so goddamn dumb and insensitive to Yamada’s feelings and Yamada’s a complete doormat who can only stay mad for 0.2 seconds before getting pussy whipped like a spineless ass bitch. And for all that Yamada sacrifices for Kase; her hometown, her dreams, her apartment, what does she get in return from Kase? Oh that’s right; bare minimum romantic gestures and a neglectful partner who can’t even call her “girlfriend” in front of others:

Like I thought we were over this shit. It’s been THREE years of them together, a whole anime production, and god knows how many irl years and we’re going back to “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” WHY???

And then Kase later goes onto bet her entire three year relationship over the ugly bitch in the next panel, so now I’m questioning whether or not Kase even loves Yamada with the amount of bullshit she’s put her through. Which COULD be an interesting plot point, but Kase never gets any consequences for her actions and the creator genuinely thinks this is romantic and full of tension so I’m 10000% positive that this arc, just like all the others, will end with some makeup sex and we’ll be right back to step 1. Sigh.

2. Tamen De Gushi by Tan Jiu

Tamen De Gushi’s problems are interesting but it’s NOT because of the Chinese government💀

So today’s dark haired masc and blonde femme of the day are Sun Jing and Qiu Tong, respectively. Their personalities aren’t anything to write home about, if you read ANY high school yuri romance, then you know exactly what happens in this story beat for beat. But, BUT, however derivative it is, I find their dynamic very endearing and down to earth. Idk maybe it’s just the translation, but other yuri stories often have this very inauthentic “anime” vibe to it. Which is to say the characters act very cutesy, overly dramatic, and have this stilted, caricature-esque acting of how the creator thinks teenage girls are supposed act.

However, I’m happy to report that Tamen De Gushi is a breath of fresh air in this regard. The characters and interactions they have are grounded and feel organic, which makes them feel like real people, not aliens pretending to be human. This really elevates the humor in turn, oh did I mention that Tamen De Gushi is super funny? Because Tamen De Gushi is super funny, here’s one of my favorite panels and it’s all because of Sun Jing’s goofy ahh expression:

Like go girl give us nothing

If you’re wondering why I haven’t spoke much about the actual romantic relationship between the girls, that’s because there isn’t one💀 Which, okay, that’s not a fair assessment, they have a ton of romantic tension and they flirt a lot. It’s certainly building to a great romantic relationship, but it can’t quite get there due to legal/political reasons sadly. 😔

Edit: I received new information in regards to what happened to Tamen De Gushi. While I reached my limit for posting pictures, I want to point out that the Chinese government had nothing to do with Tamen De Gushi getting censored, rather it was a dispute between the author and the publishing company. The prior information I received was false and I prob should’ve looked it up more so sorrrry. The fact still remains though that after their big lesbian kiss towards the middle of the story and maybe a few other moments, that’s just kind of it. You’re stuck waiting for something to develop, but nothing really happens. The comic very quickly becomes a collection of slice of life segments and cute pictures that imply a relationship between the girls, but not really ;) ;). Now things are just kind of left in purgatory for the foreseeable future and, well, that’s Tamen De Gushi y’all.

Compared to Kase San and Yamada, the characters were much better, which is not saying much, but without an actual romantic storyline, there’s just not a lot for me to comment on to be honest. It’s really pretty though, look at this art :

3. Beauty and the Beast Girl by Neji

my personal favorite and the BEST yuri I ever read

So next on the list is Beauty and the Beast Girl (I’m going to abbreviate to BatBG from here on) , which I already spoiled my feelings on the matter so this will basically be me gushing about this story for several paragraphs straight, enjoy.

Contrary to what the title suggests, it really has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast’s story except in name. The main girls are Lily Blind, who is actually fucking blind 💀 and Heath the monster girl. Already I’m happy because instead of blonde femme and dark hair butch, it’s blonde femme and of-course-you-have-purple-hair-and-pronouns masc. Lol, all jokes aside, Lily, unlike her blonde femme counterparts is quite assertive and voices her opinions all the time. In fact, she’s the one who pushes Heath to be more open and communicate with her rather than the other way around. This is, in part, due to the story BatBG is trying to tell. I say BatBG is in name only to Beauty and the Beast because Lily isn’t trying to find the “beauty” within Heath or learning to love a beast or whatever, she’s fine just the way she is and her love for Heath is unconditional. Plus the only thing beastly about Heath is her appearance…which I’ll harp on later, but her behavior is in no way different from a regular human except in very rare, specific moments.

At its heart, BatBG is a story about forgiveness (the creator literally says as much) , but it’s also about the cycle of violence that results from being outcasted and deprived of love. BatBG is set in a world of humans and monsters, where the monsters are outcasted and either have to stay away from human society like Heath or assimilate themselves by hiding away their monster like traits, which is a really queer narrative on top of an already queer story. I don’t want to go into too much spoilers, but sometime before the beginning of the story, Heath in-directly hurts Lily before they ever meet. However, it’s not about Lily needing to forgive Heath, or trying to get over the pain she inflicted upon her, rather its Heath learning to forgive herself and in effect, learning to love herself as much as Lily loves her.

Another big aspect of BatBG is disabilities, Lily Blind is in fact Blind lol and while there are times she struggles with her blindness, she never views her disability as something she needs to be ashamed of and never, ever, blames Heath for it or holds it against her unlike what many, many, many, many other stories end up doing. Her blindness isn’t treated like a super power either, it’s a legitimate disability. She just accepts that it’s a part of her and goes onto say that if not for her blindness, she would’ve never met the love of her life, which I found to be an incredibly profound thing to say.

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I suppose I can add a bit of a disclaimer. So BatBG is waaaaay more explicit about the physical affection between the girls than in any of the previous stories I talked about. Heath and Lily are constantly kissing on, hugging, and almost always flirting with each other, and make no mistake, these girls do be fucking. The sex scenes are never perverted or gross, but genuinely super sweet and romantic, which makes it way hotter imo (huh imagine that🤔). And aside from being hot, it also serves a purpose! Lily’s pretty damn horny underneath all her nice girl antics and while it’s not a major part of her character, it does give a slight edge to her personality and, most importantly, balances out the dynamic between Heath and Lily. It would’ve been very easy to fall into that boring trope where Heath is aggressively horny and Lily is the submissive blind girl, but by making Lily be the one to initiate the sexual encounters, it not only compliments Heath’s more reserved nature, but breaks the stereotype that people with disabilities are pure precious being who couldn’t possibly have sex, which is ableist af btw. Many people think the existence of any sex scenes at all is superfluous, but in BatBG, it truly elevates the story, the characters, and the romance in ways that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying without it.

Now, with as much praise I gave BatBG, there is one criticism I have, but it’s a quibble really, and it can be explained in a single image:

There is a dissonance between the story and the art, the story says: “Heath is a big, ugly scary monster”

The art says:

And like yes, it can be argued that Heath is simply regurgitating the things bigoted people have said to her, but at no point in the story is this ever challenged or brought up in any meaningful way. Lily is blind so she doesn’t know what the hell she looks like and the other characters aren’t any help either. It’s not a big deal or anything, it just would’ve elevated the story if Heath was actually kinda ugly/more monstrous and not incredibly beautiful because right now it’s giving skinny girl who calls herself fat all the time, and it’s like, babe, who tf are you fooling? 😭

Other than that, BatBG is incredibly profound despite its premise being so deceptively simple and I love it to pieces so …yeah! READ IT.

4. Superwomen in Love! Honey Trap and Rapid Rabbit by sometime

Well, at least there are no blondes

So imma just abbreviate to SiL btw

Alright, let’s get started. The premise is that a villainess falls for the super hero girl and then that plotline is dropped in about 16 pages. I’m not even joking, the villainess falls for the hero, loses her job as a villain and then joins the hero all in one chapter. The REAL plot is actually about a council of evil alien-humans who want to destroy humanity because of generic super villain reason #434: the leader of the aliens is sad and misunderstood :( I’m not even going to lie, I had 0 interest in “X” (the generic ass name of the main villain) and her band of useless lesbians. They did literally nothing in the story except be a nuisance and contribute to X’s incel breakdown at the end. Their inclusion actively made SiL worse because the story has this weird tonal problem where in one breath the villains are portrayed as complete jokes and then you turn the page and now they’re shooting children like girl what💀 And these useless lesbians hog sooooo much of SiL that desperately needed to be given to Honey trap and Hayate to develop their relationship.

When the story DOES actually focus on Honey Trap and Hayate, it’s pretty good, even cute at times, there just wasn’t enough time given to them to flesh their relationship out. As it stands, Honey Trap and Hayate don’t have much of a dynamic, or personality for that matter. Honey Trap’s main gimmick is that she’s extremely horny for Hayate and delulu:

Aside from that, she’s a great value version of Heath, but even a watered down character is better than, like, nothing. All I really know about Hayate is that she’s nice, heroic, likes wearing tacky clothes and ….that’s it. She loves Honey Trap because…………they fought together a few times so why not🤷‍♀️ I’d say at least that’s better than Tamen De Gushi, but actually it’s not because these grown ass women don’t even kiss , all we get is a love confession and their gremlin love child and that’s supposed to be satisfying I guess.

And the worst part is that SiL has the audacity to pretend the romance was something that it clearly wasn’t:

Girl…yall were “””enemies””” for 10 panels.

Now, it’s stated they have been rivals for a while, but I guess Honey Trap forgot all of that because the moment she sees Hayate’s face, my good sis is pussy whipped for life. And that’s in spite of apparently being the evilest one out of the evil group because Honey Trap has no grudge or baggage toward Hayate. She immediately turns good with no issues and Hayate is only distrustful of Honey Trap for 1 or 2 speech bubbles and then she’s not. Anything else that happened was off screen, which means it didn’t happen. Ironically, the very next entry on this list will do a MUCH better job at an ex-villain love story, but for SiL, there’s just not much going on.

Another reading of this story is to call it a “parody” but…no, it isn’t. SiL isn’t a comedy, yes there are comedic moments that poke fun of the genre, but the rest of the story genuinely wants you to take it seriously. Except it can’t. X and her league of dimwits are boring as piss and they oscillate between Saturday morning cartoon villains and child murderers seemingly on a whim. So I can neither be endeared to them nor take them as a serious threat. Honey Trap and Hayate are there, but I lament on all the potential lost from what could’ve been an amazing relationship.

5. Yamujiburo/Kianamaiart’s Hanamusa webcomic

This one is kind of cheating, but I also don’t care let me talk about hot MILFs💀

So the final entry on this list is a webcomic series by one of my fave artist: kianamaiart! And it’s right here on tumblr so check it out!

I stumbled upon this webcomic a few weeks ago, fell in love and now I want to talk about it. This yuri pair thankfully has no blonde femme in sight and instead features two popular Pokémon characters: Jessie from Team Rocket and Delia Ketchum, Ash Ketchum’s mom. What I love about this ship and the world Kiana creates around them is that it’s a very unconventional pairing. There’s just not many romances where a single mom falls in love with an ex gang member and the best part is, Delia being a mom is a big part of her character and she doesn’t ignore Ash in favor of her new relationship with Jessie. She has time for both and doesn’t prioritize one over the other, which many ppl fail to do even irl so good on you Delia!

Now, as for the romance it self, Jessie and Delia are a unique pair. Jessie’s overconfident, brash, drama queen personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “dominant” role and Delia’s sweet, motherly personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “submissive” role. Their dynamic in the webcomic actually plays out in the reverse, Jessie is the one who gets easily flustered and Delia’s…intense, to say the least:

(But Tbf if Delia looked at me like that I’d be at her beck and call too💀)

This subversion of these tropes creates a fun dynamic for the couple and it’s super adorable to see how their energies bounce off each other in each new situation Kiana puts them in. I also love how both Jessie and Delia inspire each other to live out their dreams and they become better versions of themselves by being together.

And one last thing, I don’t have any smart commentary to go along with this, I just really like this drawing of Jessie:

no thoughts, head empty

Final Thoughts

Soooo yeah, that’s the end of my dissertation on yuri comics. I know I ended up dragging a lot of popular yuri, but it wasn’t my intention to make you guys hate any of things I talked about. These were just my thoughts as an avid yuri fan, so let me know your thoughts as well, especially if you read any of the yuri I talked about. And even though I’m super picky about the type of yuri I read, I’d still love to hear any recommendations. Who knows, it might dethrone the undefeated champ that is Beauty and the Beast Girl.

#Yuri #yuri manga #long post #Anime #manga #lgbt #lgbtq+#wlw post #kase san and morning glories #tamen de gushi #beauty and the beast girl #superwomen in love #hanamusashipping

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snowysosturn · 3 months ago

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Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 16

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, angst, fluffffffffffffffff (half proof read bc i hate proof reading)

The knock at the door startled me, pulling me from the endless loop of thoughts that had been swirling in my mind since I left work. I was expecting Jess to be here so when I opened the door and saw Matt standing there instead, my heart skipped a beat.

“Hey” he said, his voice soft but a little uncertain. “Sorry for just appearing... Are you free for the night?”

I blinked, taking in the sight of him. He looked good, too good, standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. I opened my mouth to reply, my mind racing. I debated whether or not to tell him Jess was coming over but something in Matt’s eyes made me hesitate. I felt the pull, the same pull that had been drawing me toward him more and more lately.

Before I could find the words, Matt spoke again, cutting through my indecision. “I have a bit of a surprise for you.”

A surprise? My curiosity piqued, I stood there in the doorway, torn between two decisions that suddenly felt monumental. Jess had been there for me, always a reliable friend, and I did want to talk to her about everything that had happened. But Matt.. he was becoming something more than just a friend, even if neither of us had admitted it yet.

Finally, I nodded, the decision made before I even realized it. “Yeah, I’m free.”

His smile widened, relief washing over his features. “Great. Grab your jacket, we’re going out.”

I did as he asked, grabbing my jacket and slipping it on. My nerves buzzed with anticipation as I followed him out of my apartment. I shot Jess a quick text to reschedule our hangout, telling her that something had come up.

The air between us crackled with an unspoken tension, a mixture of excitement and the unknown. Whatever this surprise was, it was clear that tonight was going to be different. Special, even.

As we walked to his car, I couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed more relaxed, almost like he was in his element. It made me wonder what he had planned, and why it was important enough for him to show up at my door unannounced.

Once we were in the car, Matt turned to me, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

I laughed softly, feeling my earlier tension ease a bit. “You’re being really mysterious, you know that?”

He shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I like keeping you on your toes.”

As he started the car and pulled away from my apartment, I realized that, for the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about Alex, or Emily, or any of the drama that had been weighing me down. I was looking forward to whatever was coming next. I knew that as long as Matt was by my side, it was going to be something good.

"Can you tell me where you’re taking me?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me as Matt navigated through the streets. I tried to catch a hint in his expression, but he just smirked, his eyes fixed on the road.

“Nope” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “My lips are sealed. You’ll just have to wait it out.”

I sighed dramatically. “Come on, at least give me a clue.”

Matt glanced over at me, his smile widening. “All I’ll say is we’ve got about an hour’s drive ahead of us.”

“An hour?!” I exclaimed, half surprised, half amused. “You’re seriously not going to tell me anything for an entire hour?”

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I promise, it’ll be worth the wait. How about you jump on aux? It'll make the time pass quicker.”

I rolled my eyes playfully but reached for my phone, connecting it to his car’s Bluetooth. “Alright, but you better have good taste in music.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You’ll just have to find out.”

I scrolled through my playlists, trying to decide on the first song. “What about this one?” I asked, selecting Nightcrawler by Travis Scott.

Matt nodded approvingly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “This is a banger. I love this song.”

I grinned, feeling a bit of pride that he liked my pick. “Okay, your turn. What should I play next?”

“Ivy by Frank Ocean” he suggested, glancing over at me with a smile. “Such a beautiful song.”

“Oh my god I can't put into words how much I love Frank Ocean, the Blond album is an absolute masterpiece.” I say with enthusiasm.

As Ivy started playing through the speakers. I leaned back in my seat, the melody wrapping around us as the city lights faded into the distance. “This is nice” I said softly, more to myself than to Matt.

“Yeah, it is.” he agreed, his voice equally soft. There was a comfortable silence between us for a moment, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words.

After a few minutes, I decided to keep the vibe going and queued up The Spins by Mac Miller. As the familiar intro began to play, Matt shot me a glance. “You really do have good taste in music.”

“Right back at you.” I replied, feeling a little more at ease with each passing song. “This one’s a favorite of mine.”

We continued like that for the rest of the drive, going back and forth between our favorite songs. I played Somebody Else by The 1975, fully feeling all the emotions that come with it. There was silence as the song slowly faded out and Double CC’s by City Girls began to play.

“Woah, talk about a switch up.” Matt laughed.

“It’s called emotional whiplash, you keep me on my toes, I keep you on yours.” I laughed as I queued Unavailable by Davido to switch up the vibe yet again.

We fell into another comfortable silence as the song played, the car filled with the soft hum of the engine and the music weaving through the air.

“Do you ever share your playlists with anyone?” Matt asked, breaking the silence as the song faded out.

“Not really,” I admitted. “I guess it feels a bit personal, you know? Like, these are the songs that make up my life’s soundtrack. I’ve a different playlist for every mood so I just like to keep them to myself.”

Matt nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. Music’s always been personal to me too. But I’m glad you’re sharing it with me.”

There was something in the way he said it, something that made my heart skip a beat. I glanced over at him, catching his eye for just a moment before looking away, my cheeks flushing slightly.

“Well, it’s only fair since you’re sharing yours too” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True” he agreed, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s nice though, it’s like a different way of getting to know someone.”

I nodded, unable to wipe the smile off my face. The rest of the drive continued in that easy rhythm - the music and our voices blending together as the miles passed by. I still had no idea where we were going, but with Matt beside me and the music flowing, it didn’t really matter. It felt like we could drive forever and I’d be content.

An hour of bonding and laughter passed in what felt like mere minutes, the conversation being so effortless made me barely notice that the car was beginning to slow down. We pulled into an all too familiar parking lot, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the sign painted on the building infront of us.

LA Kings Valley Ice Centre.

"We're going skating?" I asked, my voice filled with a mix of surprise and excitement.

Matt turned to me with a proud smile, clearly pleased with himself. "I was serious when I said I wanted to learn how to spin."

A rush of nostalgia hit me, memories flooding back as I stared at the building. "This is where I used to go to skate school" I said, my voice soft with emotion. I couldn't believe Matt had brought me here, to a place that held so much meaning for me. "I can’t thank you enough for this."

Matt’s grin widened. "I really hope it’s not busy, we have loads of time though they usually close at 10" I added, glancing at the time of 8pm.

Matt’s confident reply caught me off guard. "We don’t have to worry about people being in here right now."

I shot him a confused look. "What makes you so sure?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've rented the place for the evening. It'll be just the two of us."

For a moment, I was speechless. The idea of having the entire rink to ourselves was more than I could have ever imagined. Knowing he’d gone out of his way to do this for me. My excitement bubbled over, and I threw my arms around him in a spontaneous hug. "Matt, this is incredible. Thank you so much."

He hugged me back, his arms warm and strong around me. "You’ve been through a lot lately, I just want to see you happy." he said softly, and I pulled back just enough to see the sincerity in his eyes.

We got out of the car and made our way to the entrance. The familiar scent of the ice rink hit me as soon as we stepped inside, bringing back memories of early morning practices and late night sessions where I’d lose myself in the rhythm of my skates. The rink was empty, just as Matt had promised, the ice pristine and waiting for us.

"I can't believe you did this" I said again, still in awe as I looked around the empty rink.

We laced our skates and stepped onto the rink, I fully expected Matt to be like Bambi on ice, wobbly and unsure, maybe even grabbing onto the railing for dear life. But to my surprise, he glided effortlessly beside me, his movements smooth and controlled.

“Wait, you can skate?” I asked, unable to hide the astonishment in my voice.

He smirked, the corners of his lips curving upward in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “I played hockey for years” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal.

I blinked at him, processing this new piece of information. “Of course you did” I said with a laugh, shaking my head. “I should’ve known you’d be good at this.”

He shrugged, that smirk never leaving his face. “I didn’t want to intimidate you. But yeah, I can handle myself on the ice.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Is that so? Let’s see just how good you are then. First one to the other end of the rink wins.”

His eyes lit up with the challenge, a competitive edge flashing in them. “You’re on.” he said, bending his knees slightly, ready to push off.

We lined up at the bottom of the rink, side by side. I glanced over at him, and I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he looked on the ice. The way he held himself, confident but relaxed, was so attractive.

“Ready?” I asked, my voice tinged with excitement.

“Always” he shot back, and before I could count down, he took off.

“Ah that’s cheating!” I laughed, quickly following after him.

We raced down the rink, the cold air whipping past our faces. I pushed myself faster, my skates cutting smoothly across the ice. Matt was fast, but I was faster. Years of figure skating training kicking in as I caught up to him. Still, he wasn’t far behind, and the sound of his skates slicing through the ice kept me pushing.

We reached the end almost at the same time, but I managed to pull ahead by just a fraction of a second, touching the wall first. “You thouggght!” I declared, turning around to face him, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear.

Matt skated up next to me, shaking his head with a laugh. “I let you win, you know.”

“Oh, sure you did” I teased, poking him playfully in the side. “Admit it, you didn’t think I’d be that fast.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Okay, I’ll admit, you surprised me. But don’t get too cocky, I’m just getting started.”

We stood there, both of us catching our breath, the energy between us electric. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, the quiet buzz of the ice rink amplifying the moment. With that, we started skating side by side, our movements in sync as we circled the rink. It felt surreal to be out here with him, just the two of us on the empty ice, like a scene out of a movie. The cold air brushed against our cheeks, but the warmth between us made it feel like the coziest place in the world.

"Alright, show me that spin" Matt said after a while, a challenge in his voice.

"Okay, but don’t laugh if I fall" I teased, though my heart was already pounding with anticipation.

He nodded, listening intently, and I could see the determination in his eyes. He was focused, but there was also a softness there, an unspoken understanding between us that made my heart flutter. I stepped back a little to give myself space. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off and started to spin. At first, it felt like no time had passed since I last did this. My body remembered the movements, and soon, I was twirling gracefully across the ice. The feeling of spinning, the world blurring around me as I found my center, was exhilarating. When I finally slowed to a stop, I was breathless, not from lack of stamina but from the sheer joy of it.

I turned to Matt, expecting him to be watching with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. But the look on his face took me by surprise. He was staring at me with something that looked almost like awe, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted.

"That was incredible" he said, his voice soft but full of admiration.

I felt my cheeks flush under his gaze, a warm glow spreading through me. "Thanks" I said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Matt stepped closer, his hands still holding mine. "Show me again" he said, his voice low and earnest.

"Alright, let’s break it down" I said, skating back over to Matt after my little spin demonstration. He was still standing in the same spot, watching me with a mix of concentration and curiosity. “The key to a two foot spin is balance and control. It’s easier than it looks, I promise.”

He nodded, his expression serious now, fully focused on what I was about to teach him.

“First, we’re going to get into position” I explained, moving beside him. “Bend your knees slightly, and keep your feet shoulder width apart. You want to feel stable on the ice before you start spinning.”

Matt followed my instructions, adjusting his stance until he mirrored mine. I couldn’t help but notice how quickly he caught on, his natural athleticism evident even in something as delicate as figure skating.

“Good” I said, skating around to face him. “Now, when you’re ready, we’ll start by pushing off with one foot and then bringing the other one around. Keep your arms out for balance, and then slowly bring them in as you start to spin. It helps you pick up speed.”

I demonstrated the move again, this time more slowly so he could see each part in action. As I started to spin, I felt the familiar rush of the ice beneath my blades, the force pulling me slightly as I brought my arms in tighter. When I stopped, I looked up to see Matt watching me with an intense focus, like he was trying to memorize every move.

“Got it?” I asked, a little out of breath.

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I think so. Let me try.”

I skated back a bit to give him space, watching as he took his position. He pushed off with one foot, a little hesitant at first, but then he brought the other foot around, and slowly, he started to spin.

At first, he wobbled slightly, his arms flailing out for balance. I couldn’t help but smile, remembering the countless times I’d done the same thing when I was first learning. But then, he found his center, his movements becoming more fluid. He brought his arms in, just as I had shown him, and he actually managed to complete a couple of full rotations before coming to a stop.

“Hey, not bad!” I cheered, skating over to him. “You’re a natural.”

Matt laughed, looking a little surprised at himself. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s not as hard as I thought. It actually feels kind of..freeing.”

“Exactly” I said, smiling at him. “Once you get the hang of it, it’s like you’re floating. The ice becomes an extension of you, and the rest just falls into place.”

He looked at me then, and I could see the admiration in his eyes. “You make it look so easy” he said softly. “It’s like you were born to do this.”

His words sent a warm flush through me. “Thanks” I replied, my voice a little quieter. “I guess it’s just something that’s always felt right to me.”

We stood there for a moment, the air between us charged with something unspoken. The way he was looking at me, like I was the only person in the world, made my heart race. It was like we were in our own little bubble, just the two of us on this vast sheet of ice.

“Wanna try again?” I asked, breaking the silence but not the connection between us.

“Yeah” he said, his voice low and steady. “Let’s do it.”

And so we did, spending the next hour going over the spin, perfecting it together. With each attempt, Matt improved, and with each laugh or smile we shared, I felt us growing closer. The rink, the ice, the entire world outside, it all faded away, leaving just the two of us, spinning together in our own little universe.

After a few more rounds of spins and playfulness, Matt skated over to where I was catching my breath. His expression was curious, almost challenging, as he asked, "So, what's the hardest skating move you've ever done?"

I paused, thinking back to my competitive days when I pushed myself to the limit. There were a few moves that had taken me months to perfect, but one stood out above the rest - the triple Axel.

"Probably the triple Axel." I replied, a bit of nostalgia creeping into my voice. "It’s one of the most difficult jumps in figure skating, where you take off from one foot, do three and a half rotations in the air, and then land on the opposite foot."

Matt’s eyes widened a bit, clearly impressed. “Three and a half rotations? That sounds intense.”

I nodded, feeling a little flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t attempted a triple Axel in a long time. It was a move that required speed, precision, and an immense amount of control. I wasn’t sure if I could still do it, but a part of me was itching to try, especially with Matt watching.

"Do you think you could still pull it off?" he asked, his tone playful but genuinely curious.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I skated a bit further down the rink, getting into position. My heart was pounding, not just from the physical demand, but from the challenge I was about to set for myself. I took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of the ice beneath my blades, the cold air against my skin, and the memory of how it felt to soar through the air.

Matt watched intently from a few feet away, his presence both comforting and encouraging. I bent my knees slightly, gathering speed as I glided across the ice. My mind cleared, and all I could think about was the move, the jump, the landing.

As I approached the take off point, I sprang into the air, my body twisting in a haze of motion. The rotations came naturally, muscle memory taking over as I completed the three and a half spins. The ice rushed up to meet me, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, I wondered if I’d land it.

And then, I felt it - my blade slicing into the ice as I landed, a little unsteady but upright, the move complete.

I came to a stop, breathless and exhilarated, a huge grin spreading across my face. I did it. It wasn’t perfect, but I’d somehow managed to land the triple Axel after all this time.

Matt skated over, his expression a mix of awe and excitement. “That was amazing!” he exclaimed, his eyes bright. “You just. Wow.”

I laughed, still buzzing from the adrenaline. “I can’t believe I actually did it. It’s been so long.”

He shook his head, clearly impressed. “You’re incredible, you know that? Watching you on the ice, it’s like you’re in your element. You make it look so easy.”

His words sent a warm flush through me, and I felt a connection between us deepen even further. I hadn’t felt this alive in so long, and sharing this moment with Matt made it all the more special.

"Thanks, Matt," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "It feels good to be back on the ice, and to have someone to share it with."

He smiled, that genuine, heart warming smile that made me melt. Anytime" he replied.

We stood there for a moment, just enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment, the ice our only witness.

a/n: eeeeeee theyre so cute... just wait until next chapter is all im going to say

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#snowy speaks #speeding car #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo

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ahundredtimesover · 9 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat.

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?”

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented.

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth.

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him.

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy.

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too.

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing.

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more.

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for.

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you.

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule.

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner.

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?”

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave.

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end.

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well.

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name.

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh.

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say.

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?”

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why.

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked.

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away.

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head?

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience.

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain.

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them.

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.”

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all.

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this.

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way.

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence.

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself.

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake.

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight.

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.”

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue.

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.”

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you.

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him.

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him.

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role.

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role.

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting.

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard.

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help.

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship.

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face.

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best.

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well.

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason.

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply.

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer.

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks.

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope.

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you.

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away.

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people.

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat.

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed.

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him.

“Not really, but I’ll manage.”

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way.

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained.

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief.

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic.

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously.

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains.

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do.

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable.

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing.

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile.

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer.

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would.

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does.

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities.

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence.

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement.

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy.

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives.

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial.

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos.

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous.

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form.

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice.

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film.

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes.

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now.

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing.

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs.

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well.

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone.

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished.

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks.

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.”

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store.

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests.

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan.

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with.

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them.

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through.

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future.

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car.

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option.

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier.

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him.

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how.

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you.

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face.

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside.

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away.

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them.

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time.

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue.

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks.

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?”

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him.

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum.

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around.

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–”

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result.

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all.

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now.

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work.

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart.

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door.

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea.

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you.

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window.

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his?

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words.

He smiles to himself.

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

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paperclip-skz · 27 days ago

Text

Always Knew

fem*Reader x Minho

*WARNING*

contains p n v, sex, unprotected sex, kissing, oral ( men receiving), tension, fluff; I'm sure I missed something; let me know in the comments.

WC: 2.3k

*****

You stumble past the door, flinging your shoes off to the side and slinging your coat onto the rack.

Your body deflates like a balloon the second you walk into your shared apartment. “How’d it go?” Minho calls from the couch, watching some new random drama. You walk to the living room, where he is comfortably sitting in his perfect plain grey shirt and his perfect black sweat. Why does he have to be so goddamn perfect? You grumble internally.

He tears his eyes away from the screen and looks at you, where his face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Bad date?” he smirks.

“Oh, wipe that stupid smirk off,” you crumble, falling down onto the couch in a huff. You reach for some popcorn from the bowl resting on the coffee table. You stuff your face with a handful of popcorn and glue your eyes to the TV screen.

“What was so bad about this one?” Minho side-eyes you.

You roll your eyes at the memory of your failed date, “what wasn’t bad about him?! He didn’t pay! He forgot my name twice!” You twist your body completely to him, trying to get your aggravating point across. “he kept talking about his job like nonstop. He didn’t want to have a conversation; he just wanted to talk! AND he chewed with his mouth open….ALL NIGHT!”

You slam your body to the couch, making it all dramatic like the world is ending, and for you, it just might. This is number 7 down the drain, and it all just seems hopeless, especially because the one you really want is laughing right beside you.

“It sounds like you just got unlucky…again,” he smirks.

“Uuugh,” you say, grab the nearest pillow, set it right between you and Minho, and slam your head against it. Minho chuckles at your overdramatic self and starts petting the crazy strands of hair that stick out.

What you don’t know is that Minho is secretly throwing a party in his head. He dreads the day you come home from another one of those cheap dates and you're actually happy. So when he says his next words, they are through gritted teeth.“Come on, kitty, there's always next time,” he coos sarcastically.

You lift your head, your frown still visible. Oh, what Minho would give to tug on that pouted lip and make you whimper. “Yeah, I guess you're right.” Minho is knocked out of his thoughts by you, shuffling into a position on the couch and getting your phone into your hand.

You begin the tedious journey of going back to swiping left or right, looking at profiles and bios to see if anyone strikes your interest.

Minho tries his hardest to pay attention back to the drama he is watching, but he can’t help but look over your shoulder. Who are you looking for? What are you looking for? Surely, he could be that person, that one person you crave. He could be anything you’d ever need.

“Oh! Heres someone! He’s cute…I guess” he watches you read and contemplate. He can see the indents of your brows and your bottom lip disappearing into your teeth, and he can visually see you thinking about a date. NOT CONFIRMING, but thinking.

Emotions surge through him. Is he really going to stand by for an 8th date just to risk the idea of you walking in here with a smile plastered on your face?

No.

“Fuck!” he runs his hands up and down his face, which makes your head snap up. You stare at his stressed-out face, and his hands slap down to his lap as he stares at you, thinking about something.

“Fuck what?” you ask in a small voice.

“Fuck this, I’m sorry, but I’m done waiting” he grabs both sides of your face to bring you closer to him, smashing your lips on his. His kiss is anything but gentle or soft; it's hurried and sloppy. He thinks you’ll push him away; thats why his kiss is hurried, trying to get every taste of you savored and memorized before you run away.

But you don’t. To his surprise and yours, you lean in. moaning into his mouth and reaching around to grasp his head to deepen the kiss.

You both part for a breath, not realizing how long your tongues had been intertwined. “I—I’m sorry. I—I just…I couldn’t,” he stutters, failing his words.

Now, it's your turn to grab his face and softly connect your lips, and now it's your turn to lead the kiss. You take your time, swiping your tongue along his bottom lip and twirling your tongue, which makes both of you see stars. This time when you part, he immediately attacks your neck with little kisses, sucking on the skin just above your collarbone.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, relishing the feeling of his soft lips on your skin. You always imagined what his lips would feel like… soft, warm, and inviting, with a hint of urgency and a touch of tenderness.

You roll your head back, giving him more access to your skin. Minho growls at your invitation, taking advantage of your exposed neck. He litters your skin with love bites, making sure to go over each with his tongue, leaving beautiful red marks that you surely won’t be able to cover up in the morning.

You can feel your panties drip with arousal, knowing all this foreplay is only adding to the turn in your stomach, “Minho, please,” you whine. Minho disconnects himself from your neck, and you gasp at the sight of him. His eyes are blown, his lips are swollen from all the kissing, and his chest heaves out of control with each breath.

You bite your lip at the sight of him. “I had a very nice dream that started like this."

“Oh yeah?” you perk, shifting your position so you are straddling his lap on the couch. “What was it about?” you asked, curious about his fanites about you.

“I dreamt of your legs wrapped around my waist.” You fully seat your ass on his growing hard-on, and his eyes close in a heavenly way, “Your head was thrown back so I could mark your neck,” he groans out as you start to rock your hips back and forth. The tip of his cock pushes against your clit every time.

Words are lost as you continue your movements, but Minho keeps going, describing his vivid dream: "You were screaming my name as I rammed myself into you.” his last word left his lips, and his hips bucked into you; his groin pushing straight up to your core.

You moan loudly, not caring if the neighbors might hear. Before you can protest, Minho is grabbing you by cupping your ass and lifting you so he can carry you to his bedroom. The second he slams you down onto the bed, he’s ripping your clothes off, leaving you bare before him, and he's throwing his clothes somewhere in a far-off corner.

You gaze at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but always on accident, not daring to look a second further, but now you have a chance to gaze, a chance to ogle over every defined line of his body. He’s perfectly toned and perfectly built, and the little scar on the underside of his stomach sticks out like a sore thumb, almost like a birthmark.

He waits for you to say something, do something…You lean up, never breaking eye contact with him, a place a gentle kiss on his scar. You never minded it, in fact, the deepest parts of you thought it was sexy, but you knew he didn’t like it.

His gaze met yours with a newfound intensity, a subtle smile playing at the corner of his lips, hinting at a mischievous thought. And then you realized your position.

He brought his hand carefully up to the side of your cheek guiding you to your covered erection. He was still in his boxers, the tight elastic taunting you.

You look up to him one last time for permission and he urges you on. You hook your finger into the band and tug down his boxers, letting his cock spring free.

Your eyes widen and your breath freezes. Your mouth waters at the sight of a long, thick, prominent vein outlining his entire length. The tip budging and red, begging for attention, and the precum that leaks has you instinctively wetting your lips.

“I’ll take it that you like what you see,” he smirks.

You steadily reach out and fist his cock; the feeling makes him hiss. You know from past experiences how tight a guy enjoys it…but you decided to be a tease and loosely stroke his cock.

“Tease me some more, and I’ll show you my reaction,” His deep, guttural growl reverberates through the air, sending a chill down your spine and causing you to clench in response to his intimidating words.

Immediately, you correct your hand, tightening your grip. You see him hold back moans and whimpers from how painfully he’s biting his lip, and the sight makes you pool in your panties. Experimentally you dart your tongue out to the tip of his cock, coating it in small kitten licks. A small guttural groan escapes past his lips, which sends a strike of confidence through your body. With that same confidence, you part your lips, letting his length past them. Finally, He releases a series of beautiful, melodic whimpers that echo through the room along with the sinful noises you make, taking the full length of his cock.

You’re so focused on not gagging on his cock that you don’t realize that Minho has full eyes on you, watching your lips wrap around him. Watching you fully engulfed with him makes him twitch, shit….he’s not gonna last long.

His cock throbs heavily on your greedy tongue, the rich, creamy flavor of his pre-cum already embedded in your mind. You begin to bob your head back and forth, sucking the rim of his cock into your mouth.

He’s wanted this for so long that he didn’t realize how good you’d actually feel. Mindlessly he grips your hair and yanks you off of his cock. He pushes your shoulders down and falls on top of you, kissing your lips. He can taste the saltiness of his precum on your lips, which only makes him hungrier for more.

His tongue demands entrance, and you're quick to grant it. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his free cock closer to your bare core. You can feel him slip around against your sensitive lips with all the wetness thats gathered.

You both sigh at the feeling. His tip only catches your entrance with every steady hump but never fully settles into you. “Minho!” you whine.

With one last playful smirk he sends your way, he FINALLY pushes his entire length into you. You can feel every vein, every ridge of himself, and every small twitch he makes.

He watches every single movement of your face, watching it contort in pleasure. His eyes shut tight as he tries with every fiber of himself not to ruin the moment, to let you relish in being stretched open for him. He wants so badly to lose control and pound into you, but he knows you need time.

He can feel you clenching, the tightness of your cunt making him curse under his breath. “Baby, please tell me I can move,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

Words are lost; they die on your tongue before you can force them out, so you respond with a quiet nod of your head. He takes it, and he starts rocking his hips slowly into you.

Your mouth parts and the feeling of him pushed all the way inside you; you could swear you could see the smallest bump outlining your stomach, disappearing when Minho rocks out and reappearing when he rocks back into you.

Minho picks up his pace every so slightly, all the while connecting his eyes with yours. You grip the sheets, holding back your screams, your mind already a mess of pleasure.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whimpers. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.” He places a chaste kiss on your lips, “Please, Y/N…Please let me show how badly I want you.” He takes a breath, never slowing down in his pace. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

His words make your chest swell, and they almost bring tears to your eyes. “O-okay. How much do you love me, Minho?”

Your words hang in the air like cigarette smoke before Minho takes action. His hips become pistons. Slamming into you with no pause in sight. You can’t hold back your screams anymore; you scream his name over and over, letting him know who you belong to.

His thumb sneaks down to trace lazy circles that make your whole body shiver. “I love you, Y/N, I do,” he all but cries.

Your mind is so blown out with pleasure and overwhelming happiness that tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “Say it back, Y/N, please!” he begs.

“I love you too!” you come crashing as your words bounce off the walls. Shivering on Minho's cock, and that is all he needs to find his release, coating your inner gummy walls white.

Minho makes no move to pull out, settling still inside you as he collapses on top of you, enveloping your lips with his. You both break the kiss, locking eyes with one another.

"I love you," you whisper, the words carrying the weight of all the moments you've shared together, the laughter and tears, the late-night conversations and quiet moments. As you speak, you feel the depth of your emotions, the profound connection that binds you together. He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the memories you've made, and in that moment, you see a new tenderness, a deeper understanding, and something unspoken. It's as if all the unspoken words, all the gestures and glances, converge in this single moment. You know he loves you back…..you’ve always known.

#limbo #stray kids #smut #story #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #short story #skz smut #skz #fem reader #lee know x reader #lee know #stray kids minho #minho x reader #minho x you #minho smut #minho

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brunchable · 2 months ago

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LAZARUS SERUM || Steve Rogers x Enhanced!FReader

Part III

Part One | Part Two | Final Words: 11.1K Themes: Angst, Drama, Violence, Action (Fighting Scenes: Steve vs Bucky), Hatred, Lovers to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers. Warning: Emotionally heavy? Death. Sneak Peak: Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you turned back to the window. “I’ve got people waiting for us at my father’s old place. People who want to rebel. But if Stark’s right… if there’s something inside me that they can still control…”

A/N: This was difficult to write man, I feel like i keep repeating myself. Anyways this short story is almost done, I'm thinking to make one for bucky in this same timeline, but i dunno.

Tags: @realifelamb @needsleep3000 @vicmc624 @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @mrs-jjmaybank @strepsils123 @nesnejwritings @haruvalentine4321 @feelinthefic @niffala @fantasyfootballchampion @thefandomplace

SHIELD agents moved about the Helicarrier, carrying out their usual duties. The tension from your recent capture still lingered in the air, but for the moment, everything seemed normal.

Inside one of the briefing rooms, the Avengers gathered around a large, circular table. The holographic display in the center flickered to life. Steve stood at the far end, his expression remaining grim. He had been silent since his conversation with you, apart from when he told Fury about the new information about you.

Nick Fury stood at the head of the table, his one good eye sweeping over the assembled team. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention as the screen behind him shifted to show a detailed molecular structure—one that looked alien yet familiar.

“This,” Fury began, pointing to the hologram, “is the Lazarus Serum. It was an experimental project conducted by a rogue HYDRA scientist during World War II. What makes this serum different from the Super Soldier Serum is that it’s derived from an unknown foreign DNA, not of earth.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Tony’s brow furrowed in thought, while Natasha leaned forward, her eyes narrowing at the image on the screen.

“So an Alien DNA?” Natasha echoed, disbelief evident in her voice. “How did HYDRA even get their hands on something like that?”

Fury’s expression darkened. “During the war, HYDRA had their hands in more than just earthly affairs. There were rumors that they made contact with otherworldly entities, collecting samples and conducting experiments. Most of these were failures or too dangerous to continue, but the Lazarus Serum was different. It worked, but with a catch. It enhanced the subject’s strength, speed, and durability—just like the Super Soldier Serum—but the side effects were severe: mental instability, increased aggression. . .making them unhinged.”

“And Y/N?” Steve’s voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone turn toward him.

“She’s the only known survivor of the Lazarus project,” Fury confirmed. “And because the serum is derived from Alien DNA, its effects are permanent. Y/N is more than just enhanced—she’s on a whole other level. The serum doesn’t just slow aging; it effectively makes her immune to most forms of injury. We’ve seen that she can take bullets without flinching, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

Fury opened up a highly confidential video file named, ‘Lazarus Serum’ and instantly piqued the team's curiosity.

As the holographic footage played, the room fell into a tense silence. The screen displayed a black-and-white, grainy video of a sterile HYDRA laboratory, dimly lit and cold, with the camera focusing on you, strapped to a metal table. The tension among the Avengers was palpable as they watched, the atmosphere heavy with the gravity of what they were about to witness.

You lay on the table, your body weak and trembling. The serum coursing through your veins was taking its final toll, pushing you to the brink of death. Your skin was pale, your breaths shallow, and your heartbeat was erratic, the monitors showing your vitals dipping dangerously low.

Fury’s voice cut through the footage, steady but grim. “This is what our talented hackers are able to salvage, the final recorded moment of the Lazarus Serum experiment. Day 100.”

On the screen, the lead scientist stood over you, his expression hard as he observed the monitors. Despite the clear signs that you were dying, he was refusing to back down. The technician beside him looked increasingly anxious, glancing between the monitors and your convulsing body.

"Her vitals are deteriorating rapidly," the technician warned, his voice shaking. "She's not stabilizing. We should stop."

The scientist’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We’re too close. Increase the dosage."

"But sir, she won't survive—"

"Do it!" he barked, silencing any further protest.

The technician hesitated but ultimately complied, injecting you with another dose of the glowing serum. The screen showed your body convulsing violently on the table, the restraints biting into your skin as your body tried to fight the unbearable pain. The lines on the monitors went haywire, your heart rate spiking uncontrollably before it suddenly flatlined.

Steve couldn’t bear to watch any longer. The sight of you, broken and tortured. His heart clenched with a pain so intense it might as well be a heart attack. It was clear that every second of this footage was torture for him, he tried to keep watching but turned his head away, unable to watch life being drained from you. His fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white as he fought back the tears threatening to spill over. He couldn’t bring himself to see the moment you died, the moment HYDRA took everything from you.

Fury paused the footage briefly, his gaze sweeping over the team. “At this point, HYDRA pronounced her dead. The lead scientist, as you can hear, said to ‘Dispose of the body.’ They believed the experiment was a failure, and that Y/N had died.”

The footage resumed, showing the scientist’s callous order to dispose of your body. The camera caught the technician’s expression—a mix of shock and fear—as he moved to unstrap your lifeless form from the table. The filming stops and the screens go black.

“We can only guess what happened next,” Fury’s voice echoed through the room. “This is why it’s called the Lazarus Serum. Like the Lazarus of myth, it brought her back to life. The woman you knew, Steve, died on that table. What came back was something else.”

“Excuse me.” Steve quietly excused himself from the room, his thoughts too heavy to focus on a strategy. He needed a moment alone, to process what he had just seen, and to prepare himself for the fight of his life.

Tony, who had been deep in thought, glanced up just in time to see Steve slipping out of the door. Something about the way Steve moved—so rigid, so controlled—set off alarm bells in Tony’s mind.

“Hey, Cap—” Tony called after him, but Steve didn’t stop. He didn’t even turn his head. He just kept walking, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he watched Steve go. He knew that look, the one where Steve was bottling everything up inside, pretending he was fine when he was anything but.

× × × ×

Steve barely made it to his quarters before the dam broke. The door slid shut behind him with a soft hiss, sealing him in the solitude he so desperately needed. For a moment, he stood there, his back against the door, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fought to maintain control.

But the weight of everything he had just seen and heard—the memories, the footage of your death, the knowledge that you had suffered because of him—crushed down on him with a force that made his knees buckle. He stumbled forward, his vision blurring with unshed tears.

With a choked sob, Steve lashed out, his fist slamming into the nearest object—his desk. The wood splintered under the force of the blow, but the pain in his knuckles barely registered. He hit it again, and again, each impact sending shockwaves up his arm, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

He threw a chair, shattered a picture frame, and ripped the curtains from the window, the fabric tearing with a violent snap. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe through the crushing weight of his emotions.

The door to his room suddenly opened, and Tony Stark stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he took in the sight of Steve in the midst of his rampage. Steve didn’t notice him at first, too lost in his own agony to register anything beyond the need to destroy, to somehow externalize the pain that was tearing him apart from the inside.

“Steve!” Tony’s voice was sharp, cutting through the chaos. But Steve didn’t stop. He grabbed the closest thing within reach—a lamp—and hurled it across the room, the glass shattering as it struck the wall.

“Steve!” Tony shouted again, moving quickly to grab Steve’s arm as he reached for another object. Steve yanked his arm away, his eyes wild and unfocused, his chest heaving as he glared at Tony.

“Get out!” Steve’s voice was raw, torn from the depths of his soul. But Tony didn’t back down. Instead, he reached out again, this time catching Steve’s wrist in a firm grip.

“Steve, stop!” Tony’s voice was filled with a mixture of urgency and compassion as he tightened his hold. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Steve struggled but held back in Tony’s grip, his knuckles already bleeding from the impacts against the wooden furniture. But Tony didn’t let go. He could see the pain in Steve’s eyes, the anguish that was tearing him apart, and he knew he couldn’t just leave him like this.

“Damn it, Rogers, look at me!” Tony’s voice cracked with emotion as he forced Steve to meet his gaze. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself!”

For a moment, Steve’s rage faltered, his eyes locking with Tony’s. The room fell into silence, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men standing in the midst of the wreckage. And then, as if the fight had been drained out of him, Steve collapsed to his knees, his body trembling with the force of his sobs.

“I did this,” Steve gasped, his voice choking with emotion. “All of this.”

Tony knelt beside him, his heart aching at the sight of his friend so completely broken. He pulled Steve into a tight embrace, holding him as Steve’s walls crumbled completely.

Steve fought against it at first, his body stiffening as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of his composure, but eventually, he couldn’t resist. He rested his forehead on Tony’s shoulder, his sobs coming harder and faster, his breath hitching in his throat.

“You can’t blame yourself for everything,” Tony whispered, his own voice thick with emotion as he acted as Steve’s rock.

“I failed,” Steve cried, his voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder. “I left her when she needed me the most. How can I ever make that right?”

“Damn it,” Tony mumbled, tightened his grip, his own throat constricting as he tried to hold back his own tears, “HYDRA did this, not you. There is always a way.”

× × × ×

Tony entered the cell, his expression devoid of the usual levity. He took a moment to observe you, noticing the way your eyes followed his every move, calculating, waiting.

"Back so soon, Stark?" You broke the silence, your voice a smooth mixture of mockery and disinterest. "Did you miss me?"

Tony didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze unflinching.

"I think you and I both know there's more to this Lazarus Serum than you're letting on," Tony began, his tone conversational but with an edge of steel beneath it.

“I see Rogers didn't waste any time, after knowing about my serum,” you chuckled and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. "Is this the part where you try to psychoanalyze me? Try to figure out what makes me tick?"

"Oh, I don't need to figure out what makes you tick. I already know. You’re angry, bitter, and probably more than a little scared. Not that you’d ever admit it." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms casually.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, the first crack in your carefully maintained facade. "You don’t know anything about me."

"Don’t I?" Tony replied smoothly, his voice taking on a tone of calculated sympathy. "You were Steve’s girl, right? The one who got left behind, forgotten. You were just a kid when HYDRA took you, and they twisted you into something… else. You’re not angry because of what they did to you. You’re angry because the people who were supposed to care about you—people like Steve—didn’t save you."

Your hands clenched into fists at Tony’s words, the knuckles turning white. "You think you’re clever, now huh? You think you can come in here and play mind games with me?"

Tony leaned forward, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "I’m not playing games. I just want to understand what’s going on here. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing is ever as simple as it seems. You hate Steve, sure. You hate me, too, probably. But I’m betting there’s a part of you that hates HYDRA even more. So why don’t you tell me what they really did to you? What’s the catch with this Lazarus Serum? What are they not telling you?”

You held Tony's gaze, the flicker of something darker passing through your eyes. But you kept your expression as neutral as you could. "You think I’m just going to spill my secrets to you? You’re more naive than I thought."

Tony smirked, leaning back again, feigning a relaxed demeanor. "Oh, I don't expect you to spill everything. Not right away. But I’m pretty good at reading between the lines. And right now, you’re giving off a lot of signals, sweetheart."

The nickname was meant to annoy you, but you didn’t react, keeping your face impassive. Instead, you decided to toy with him a bit. "You really think you’re different from the rest of them, don’t you? Just because you’re a genius in a tin suit? HYDRA, SHIELD, you—they’re all the same. You all think you’re the smartest one in the room. But you’re all playing the same game. You’re all just cogs in the same machine."

Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his cool. "That’s a nice speech. But I’ve been in your shoes, remember? Taken apart, piece by piece, rebuilt by people who didn’t give a damn about what they were doing to me. So why don’t we cut the crap? What did HYDRA really do to you?"

You leaned forward, matching his intensity. "They made me better. Stronger. Faster. Everything your buddy Rogers has, and then some. But you already know that. What you really want to know is how to stop it."

Tony tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "So it’s true then? There’s no off-switch? No failsafe? You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you?"

Your eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, you almost let it slip. Almost. But you caught yourself, settling back in your chair with a cold smile. "Nice try. But you’re not as clever as you think you are."

Tony’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes hardened. "You’re right. I’m not trying to be clever. I’m trying to help you. You think you’re untouchable now, but the truth is, HYDRA doesn’t make anything without a leash. You’re telling me there’s no failsafe? No way to control you if you step out of line?"

You didn’t respond immediately, and that was all Tony needed. "See? That, right there. You hesitated. There’s something you’re not telling me. Something even you don’t know."

You clenched your jaw, the silence between you thickening. Tony was getting under your skin, and he knew it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think you’re free? You’re just as much a prisoner as you were when they first strapped you to that table. And deep down, you know it."

"You think you can manipulate me with your cheap psychology tricks? I’ve had experts try to break me, Stark. You’re not even in the same league."

Tony’s expression remained unfazed. "I don’t need to break you. I just need to understand. Because if you think for one second that I’m going to let HYDRA have their way with you—or with anyone else—you’re sorely mistaken."

You stared at him, your mind racing. Tony Stark was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. And he was right about one thing: HYDRA didn’t make anything without a failsafe. But what did that mean for you? Did you even want to know?

Tony watched the conflict play out on your face, and he decided to push just a little bit harder. "You can keep pretending that you’re in control, that you’re the one calling the shots. But at the end of the day, you’re just another one of HYDRA’s experiments. And when they’re done with you, they’ll toss you aside like garbage."

Your hands trembled slightly, the anger boiling just beneath the surface. "Shut up, Stark."

He leaned back, satisfied that he had struck a nerve. "We’ll talk again when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself. And trust me, you will."

As Tony stood up to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. The idea that HYDRA could still have control over you, that there was something they hadn’t told you—it gnawed at you. But you couldn’t let him see that. You couldn’t let him win.

Just before Tony reached the door, you spoke again, your voice cold and distant. "You think you know everything now. But it's only the tip of a needle."

Tony paused, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. "Then enlighten me."

But you didn’t say another word. You simply stared at him, your eyes burning with a mixture of anger and fear. Tony shook his head slightly, a hint of disappointment in his expression before walking out and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And for the first time in a long time, those thoughts weren’t comforting.

× × × ×

Your eyes snapped open. The blaring sound reverberated through the metal structure of the Helicarrier, signaling chaos above. A slow, cold smile spread across your lips, a glimmer of dark satisfaction in your eyes.

Leaning back against the wall, you tilted your head slightly, listening to the escalating panic beyond the cell door. The symphony of chaos was almost... delightful.

“Finally,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the din.

The lights flickered, the warning sirens growing louder and more insistent as SHIELD agents scrambled to their stations. The Avengers, who had been spread out across the ship, immediately converged in the command center, each of them on high alert.

"What now?" Tony muttered, his face twisting into a frown as he glanced at the flashing red lights.

Fury's voice boomed over the intercom. "We've got hostiles onboard. This isn't a drill—The Winter Soldier and a squad of HYDRA operatives just breached the perimeter."

Steve's heart plummeted. He had just started to gather himself after the emotional breakdown of learning about your past and his rage-fueled outburst. Now, hearing about Bucky’s presence, he felt a fresh surge of desperation. He had to stop him from reaching you.

As they ran through the Helicarrier's corridors, the sounds of battle grew louder. Gunfire echoed off the metal walls, and the smell of smoke and burning electronics filled the air.

The Helicarrier shook as explosions ripped through the structure, sending sparks and chunks of metal cascading through the corridors.

Alarms blared, drowning out the shouts of SHIELD agents and the staccato of gunfire. The team raced through the chaos, dodging falling debris and returning fire at HYDRA agents who revealed themselves.

Natasha sprinted ahead, her movements fluid as she flipped over a barrage of bullets, landing gracefully before taking out two HYDRA agents with precise shots to their heads. She quickly ducked behind cover, reloading her pistols, eyes scanning for the next threat. Clint, perched in a higher vantage point, loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, each one finding its mark in the chest or throat of a HYDRA agent.

“We’ve got to cut them off before they reach Y/N!” Steve shouted through the comms, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

Tony took to the air, his repulsors humming as he blasted through a wall to create a shortcut.

“On it!” he called out, targeting a group of HYDRA agents laying down suppressive fire from a balcony. His repulsors lit up the darkened corridor as he unleashed a barrage of energy beams, reducing the balcony—and the agents on it—to rubble.

Meanwhile, Steve charged forward, his shield a blur of motion as he deflected bullets and took down any HYDRA operatives in his path. He was relentless, driven by the singular focus of reaching you before it was too late. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from the exertion of battle, but from the gnawing fear of what would happen if Bucky succeeded.

Ahead of him, the Winter Soldier, was a force of nature. He moved with deadly precision, his metal arm crushing through walls and doors as if they were paper. With every obstacle he encountered, he either barreled through or dismantled it.

A squad of SHIELD agents attempted to block his path, but they were no match for his ruthlessness. Bucky dispatched them brutally, his expression unchanging as he advanced toward the detention level.

Steve caught sight of Bucky just as he took out the last of the SHIELD agents guarding the entrance to your cell.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve shouted, his voice carrying through the smoke-filled corridor.

Bucky turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Steve. There was a flicker of recognition, but it was quickly buried beneath the cold, mechanical focus of the Winter Soldier. Without a word, Bucky charged at Steve, their collision echoing through the Helicarrier like a thunderclap. The force of their impact sent shockwaves through the surrounding walls, cracking the metal and sending a rain of sparks from the overhead lights.

The fight was immediate and brutal, each man fighting with a desperate intensity that went beyond the mission. Steve knew he had to stop Bucky, not just to protect you, but to save the man who had once been his best friend. But Bucky was relentless, his movements precise and deadly, every strike aimed to incapacitate or kill.

Steve blocked a powerful punch from Bucky’s metal arm with his shield, the impact reverberating up his arm and nearly knocking him off balance. He retaliated with a swift kick to Bucky’s midsection, but Bucky barely flinched, grabbing Steve by the arm and slamming him against the wall with enough force to dent the metal.

“You don’t have to do this!” Steve shouted, ducking under a wild swing from Bucky’s left fist. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

“Shut up!” Bucky growled, his voice low and dangerous as he swung his metal arm at Steve with murderous intent. “I don’t want to hear it!”

But Steve wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t. “You’re Bucky! You joined the 107th Infantry, you fought in the war, you saved my life more times than I can count!”

“Shut up!” Bucky roared, slamming Steve into the wall again, the force of the impact cracking the metal. “Shut up!”

But Steve pressed on, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’re a brother to me, Bucky! We went through hell together! You’re not this—this weapon HYDRA made you into! You’re James Buchanan Barnes!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with something dark and twisted as he Bucky’s grip tightened around Steve’s throat, the rage in his eyes burning brighter with each word Steve spoke. “I told you to shut up!”

But Steve, despite the choking pressure on his windpipe, forced the words out. “You’re... Bucky... you’re... my brother...”

With a snarl, Bucky shoved Steve back, releasing his grip only to drive a brutal punch into Steve’s midsection. Steve doubled over, gasping for air, but even as he staggered, he refused to give up.

“Remember... who you are, who I am,” Steve rasped, clutching at his ribs as he straightened up.

"I don't care to remember who you are but I do remember this. . .”

Steve’s heart surged with a flicker of hope, but it was quickly dashed as Bucky continued, his tone dripping with malice. “I remember the way she used to scream for me, the way she begged because someone couldn't satisfy her.”

Steve saw red.

Steve launched himself at Bucky, his fists flying with a ferocity he hadn’t unleashed in years. All the restraint, all the control he usually maintained, evaporated in the face of Bucky’s vile taunts. He swung his shield with all vicious force, slamming it into Bucky’s side and following up with a brutal uppercut that sent Bucky staggering back.

But Bucky recovered quickly, his expression cold and unyielding as he blocked Steve’s next punch with his metal arm. The force of their strikes echoed through the corridor, each blow landing with the weight of their shared history and the emotional wounds that had been ripped open.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Steve shouted, his voice hoarse with rage as he slammed his shield into Bucky’s midsection again. “This isn’t you! HYDRA did this to you! You’re not their puppet!”

But Bucky just sneered, his eyes filled with contempt as he caught Steve’s next punch and twisted his arm painfully. “She never begged you for more, did she? No matter how much you tried, she always needed me to finish what you couldn’t start.”

The taunt was the final straw. Steve’s vision blurred with a red haze as he let out a guttural scream, wrenching his arm free and slamming his shield into Bucky’s chest with enough force to crack the metal floor beneath them. He didn’t care about strategy or technique anymore—he just wanted to hurt Bucky, to make him pay for every word, every twisted memory HYDRA had implanted in his mind.

Steve pressed his advantage, driving Bucky back with a flurry of powerful strikes. He landed a solid punch to Bucky’s jaw, then followed it up with a brutal shield bash that sent Bucky staggering. For a moment, it seemed as though Steve might actually overpower him. Bucky’s defenses faltered, and Steve took full advantage, slamming him into the wall with a force that made the entire corridor shudder.

“You don’t get to talk about her!” Steve roared, his shield coming down like a hammer, striking Bucky again and again. The fury in his eyes was all-consuming, his movements fueled by a deep, protective rage.

Bucky grunted in pain, the relentless assault forcing him onto the defensive. He blocked a few of Steve’s strikes, but the sheer force behind each blow drove him back, his metal arm straining under the impact.

“You’re not taking her!” Steve shouted, driving his knee into Bucky’s midsection and following it with a devastating uppercut that sent Bucky crashing to the ground.

For a moment, Steve loomed over Bucky, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with anger. He had the upper hand, and Bucky looked up at him with something that might have been fear or perhaps something darker.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. As Steve moved in for the final blow, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and with a sudden, vicious twist, he swept Steve’s legs out from under him. Steve hit the ground hard, his shield clattering to the side. Before he could recover, Bucky was on him, his metal arm clamping around Steve’s throat, squeezing with unyielding force.

Steve’s vision darkened as he struggled against Bucky’s grip, the initial surge of rage drained him, leaving him vulnerable. Bucky leaned in close, his expression cold and unforgiving, his grip tightening as if to finish him off.

But then, something shifted in Bucky’s eyes. His grip faltered, the anger in his expression wavering. He stared down at Steve, breathing heavily, and for a moment, he looked... lost. The hostility that had driven him was still there, but it was mingled with familiarity.

Steve, gasping for air, could see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes. “You...will put her in danger if you take her,” he managed to choke out, his voice strained but firm. “You’re more than what they made you.”

Bucky’s hand trembled, the pressure on Steve’s throat easing slightly. He didn’t know why, but the idea of finishing Steve off suddenly felt wrong. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him, something that pushed against the cold, mechanical orders HYDRA had drilled into him.

He released his grip on Steve’s throat entirely, stepping back as if unsure of what he had been about to do. He looked down at Steve, who lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch his breath, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt a pang of guilt.

“I... don’t care who you are,” Bucky muttered, his voice cracking with an emotion he couldn’t place. “But stay out of my way.”

Instead of delivering the final blow, Bucky turned and walked away, leaving Steve lying on the cold metal floor, bruised and battered but still conscious.

Bucky reached the detention level, his pace quickening as he neared the cell where you were held. The door loomed ahead and he entered the pin that he was given by one of the agents.

He stepped into the cell, his expression softening as he saw you. “Let's go,” he said, his voice filled with a protective tone that left no room for doubt. It didn’t matter who stood in his way—he would protect you at any cost, even if it meant defying the part of him that still hesitated, still questioned, still remembered.

× × × ×

In the hangar bay, Tony arrived just in time to see the transport vanish into the distance. He cursed under his breath, frustration and anger bubbling up inside him as he activated his comms.

“Fury, we’ve lost them. They’re gone,” Tony said, his voice laced with bitterness.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Fury responded. “Get Rogers and regroup. We’ll figure out our next move, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Tony glanced back at the corridor where Steve was trying to get up with a grimace.

He made his way back to Steve, kneeling beside his fallen teammate. “Come on, Cap,” Tony muttered, “We’ve got work to do.”

Steve groaned as got up to his feet, head pounding from the beating he’d taken. The first thing he saw when he looked up was Tony’s face, his expression grim but not without a hint of concern.

“Y/N…?” Steve murmured, his voice weak as he tried to push himself up.

“They got her,” Tony replied, his tone flat. “Bucky took her, and they’re long gone by now.”

Steve’s heart sank, the weight of his failure crashing down on him like a ton of bricks adding to the pile. But Tony wasn’t about to let him wallow in self-pity.

“Save it for later, Cap,” Tony said, helping him to his feet. “Right now, we need to get back to the others. Fury’s not going to be happy about this, but we need to regroup and figure out our next move.”

Steve nodded numbly, still trying to process everything that had happened. The pain in his ribs and the bruises covering his body were nothing compared to the agony of knowing that he had failed again.

× × × ×

The dust began to settle, and the team regrouped, battered but unbowed. The realization of what had just happened—of how deeply HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD—hung over them like a dark cloud. The Helicarrier was in disarray, corridors filled with debris, smoke still curling from shattered panels, and the distant sound of alarms echoing through the vast structure. SHIELD agents, those who remained loyal, were helping the wounded and trying to restore some semblance of order.

Steve Rogers leaned heavily against a wall, his injuries and the emotional toll pressing down on him like never before.

Tony Stark, always one to keep moving even when his mind was in chaos, was pacing back and forth, his suit clanking with every step. He had been replaying the events of the past few hours in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word, every move, searching for something they had missed. As his thoughts churned, a memory suddenly clicked into place, causing him to stop dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

“Dammit,” Tony muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of disbelief. The suddenness of his outburst caused the others to turn toward him, their expressions questioning.

“What is it?” Natasha asked, her tone sharp as she watched Tony with narrowed eyes. She was on edge, the adrenaline of the fight still pumping through her veins, and the last thing she needed was another surprise.

Tony turned to face the group, frustration evident as he pieced it together out loud. “Y/N knew. That cryptic crap she said during the interrogation—it wasn’t just her messing with us. She was trying to tell us something.”

Steve straightened at the mention of your name, his heart tightening as he remembered the cold, distant look in your eyes during the interrogation.

“What are you talking about, Tony?” he asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“She said something about how ‘keep your friends close. . . But your enemies closer,’ and that ‘you’d be shocked at how deep the rot goes.’ At the time, it sounded like she was just spewing nonsense to get under our skin. But now…it makes sense.”

“She was warning us,” Tony continued, his tone filled with a mix of frustration and reluctant admiration. “She was trying to tell us that HYDRA had already infiltrated SHIELD. She practically spelled it out for us, but we were too blind to see it. We were so focused on her as the enemy that we didn’t stop to think about what she was really saying.”

Natasha frowned, her mind racing as she recalled the conversation. “Why didn’t she just come out and say it directly?” she questioned, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew the answer.

“Because she couldn’t,” Clint interjected, “If she’d said it outright, they’d know. HYDRA would have seen it, and they’d have to shut her down before she could give us anything.”

Steve, who had been standing off to the side, consumed with thoughts of you, felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so focused on what you had become—so fixated on the idea of saving you—that he hadn’t seen what you were trying to tell them. You had been trying to help them, in your own way, and he had missed it.

“Y/N was trying to help us,” Steve murmured, his voice filled with a mix of realization and sorrow. “But we didn’t listen.”

Tony’s expression softened slightly, though his usual bravado was still present. “She was still playing her own game, Cap. Don’t romanticize it too much. But yeah, she threw us a bone. And we missed it.”

Natasha stepped closer, her gaze firm and unyielding. “So what do we do now? We can’t trust anyone. HYDRA could be anywhere—everywhere. We need a plan.”

Steve’s mind was spinning, this was the last thing they needed. The fight with Bucky, the realization that you had tried to warn them, the knowledge that HYDRA had already sunk its claws deep into SHIELD—it was hard to believe, but that was now the reality.

But he couldn’t afford to falter. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

“We need to figure out who we can trust, and take the fight to HYDRA. We’ll find Y/N and Bucky, and we’ll put an end to this.” Steve said firmly.

The others nodded.

They had been blindsided, caught off guard by the depth of HYDRA’s infiltration. But they were the Avengers—they had faced impossible odds before, and they would do it again.

As the team moved to regroup and plan their next steps, Tony lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Steve. “Cap,” he said quietly, drawing Steve’s attention. “We’ll get them back. Both of them.”

× × × ×

The stolen Quinjet’s engines was the only sound between you and Bucky as the landscape blurred beneath. Outside, the world rushed by in a silent blur of greens and browns, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with uncertainty.

You sat in the copilot’s seat, staring out of the window, mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Tony’s words echoed in your head, a gnawing doubt that you couldn’t shake. You’re just a ticking time bomb, aren’t you? You remembered him saying, his voice laced with the same arrogance that always grated on your nerves. But this time, beneath the bravado, there was something else—truth.

Was there something HYDRA hadn’t told you? Some failsafe, hidden deep within you? The thought made you uneasy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You clenched your fists, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. You had always prided yourself on being in control, on being the one to pull the strings. But now… now you weren't so sure.

Beside you, Bucky was equally lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the controls, though his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s words from their brutal fight were like daggers in his mind, each one striking a different nerve. He had tried to shut them out, to focus on the mission, but they kept coming back, louder and louder. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes! You were born in Brooklyn, 1917! We grew up together—best friends!”

The memories were there, just out of reach, like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit. Bucky’s grip on the controls tightened as he fought the urge to scream, to give in to the frustration that was building inside him. But he couldn’t.

“We’re still quite far,” You said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steady, but there was a tension beneath it that Bucky didn’t miss.

He nodded, glancing over at you. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice gruff.

You didn’t answer right away, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. When you finally spoke, your voice was low, almost as if you were speaking to yourself. “I don’t know anymore. About anything.”

Bucky didn’t press you. He understood that feeling all too well. For the longest time, his life had been nothing but a series of orders, a mission without end. Now, here he was, flying towards a past that he barely remembered, with a woman who was just as lost as he was.

“Stark is right, you know,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About HYDRA. About the control they still have over me. Stark… Stark said something that’s been eating away at me. He thinks there’s a failsafe. Something I don’t know about.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability that you so rarely showed. “Stark’s a paranoid bastard, but he’s not wrong about everything,” he replied. “HYDRA always had a backup plan.”

“Then we deal with it,” Bucky said firmly, his voice cutting through your doubt. “We’ll find out what HYDRA did, and we’ll tear it out by the roots.”

You glanced over at Bucky, a serious expression settling over your face. “Now that my plan to sabotage Pierce succeeded, he has new enemies,” you said, your voice steady and sure. “What’s left of SHIELD… and us. I just know he's scrambling to get the upper hand.”

Bucky paused, taking in your words before he asked the question that had been nagging at him. “Why did you help them? The Avengers.”

Your gaze shifted back to the window, your expression hardening slightly. “I didn’t.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, confused. “What would you call it then?”

There was a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what lay unspoken between you. Finally, you turned to face him, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “Taking down Pierce. That was my only goal. The Avengers were just… a means to an end.”

Bucky studied you, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. “So you used them?”

“Use them, manipulate them, call it what you want,” you replied, your tone firm but devoid of the venom that usually laced your words. “I needed them to believe they had the upper hand. It was the only way, very hypocritical. I know.”

Bucky nodded slowly, processing your words. He could see the logic in it, but there was something in your tone, in the way your eyes darkened when you spoke, that told him there was more to it than you were letting on.

“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer immediately. Your gaze drifted back to the horizon, your expression unreadable.

“Regret is a luxury I can’t afford, Bucky,” you said finally. “Pierce needs to fall, and I did what I had to do to make that happen, for your freedom.”

“And yours. . .?” he asked, his voice quiet but insistent.

You stayed silent, your expression unchanged, but the slight tightening of your grip on the armrest didn’t escape Bucky’s notice. The question hung in the air, unanswered, and he realized that perhaps even you didn’t know the answer.

× × × ×

The next day.

The Quinjet landed softly in the clearing, its engines whirring down to a low hum as the dust settled around it. You stepped out first, scanning the familiar surroundings of your father’s old home. It was a place of memories, both comforting and haunting. The farmhouse had weathered time well, standing as a symbol of resilience, much like those who now sought refuge within its walls.

Bucky followed close behind, his eyes sweeping over the perimeter, ever vigilant. As they approached the entrance, one of your trusted agents—Agent Lawson—emerged from the shadows, his face grim.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” Lawson said, his tone respectful but tinged with urgency. “We’ve got intel. You need to see this.”

Your exchanged a brief glance with Bucky before nodding to Lawson. “Inside,” you said, your voice steady despite the unease growing within you.

You entered the farmhouse, the interior dimly lit but secure. The agent led them to a small room that had been converted into a makeshift command center. Maps, monitors, and files were spread across a large table, each detailing various aspects of their ongoing struggle against HYDRA.

Lawson handed you a tablet, his expression serious. “Ma’am, the Avengers went public with the exposure of HYDRA. It’s all over the news now. HYDRA’s operations within SHIELD are out in the open, and they’re scrambling.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took the tablet, the screen lighting up with a news feed. On it, you could see footage of Captain America, Steve Rogers, speaking directly to the camera in a broadcast that had gone out worldwide. But as you listened to his words, you quickly realized there was something that felt intimately directed at you.

“If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way, unless we stop them,” Steve’s voice echoed through the room, his tone calm but behind it, something deeper—something only you would recognize. “I know I’m asking a lot, but the price of freedom is high; it always has been.”

Steve’s voice softened just slightly, a subtle change that might go unnoticed by most, but not by you. “And it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” he continued, his words lingering, as if speaking directly to you, “I’m not afraid to fight for what matters… or who matters.”

Your heart clenched at the unmistakable message, meant for you and you alone. “If I’m the only one, so be it. But I’m willing to bet I’m not.”

The screen froze on Steve’s face, his expression resolute, but his eyes—those eyes that you knew so well— carried a message meant just for you.

“They’ve dealt HYDRA a major blow, but Pierce is still out there,” Lawson continued, oblivious to the personal significance of Steve’s words. “He’s regrouping, and he’s made it clear that he’s coming after you, ma’am.”

You stared at the frozen image of Steve for a moment longer, your emotions swirling, threatening to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built around yourself. But then, with a sharp inhale, you forced those emotions down, locking them away where they couldn’t distract you.

Your face hardened as you shoved the tablet back into Lawson’s hands, your voice clipped and cold. “What’s Pierce planning?”

Lawson, slightly taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor, quickly handed you a folder. “We intercepted some communications from what’s left of HYDRA’s network. Pierce is regrouping, but he’s been severely compromised.”

You opened the folder, your eyes quickly scanning the contents. As you read, your expression darkened further. “What’s his next move?” you asked, your tone flat, all traces of emotion wiped clean.

Lawson hesitated, his eyes flickering to Bucky before he spoke. “He’s going after you, ma’am. Pierce knows he’s lost control of HYDRA’s influence within SHIELD, but he’s not done yet. He’s activated something—something called Project Lazarus.”

“That bastard Stark was right,” You laughed but your grip on the folder tightened.

“He’s desperate,” you said quietly, your eyes narrowing as you pieced it together. “If he can’t control me, he’ll try to eliminate me. He’s betting everything on this failsafe.”

Lawson nodded. “We believe he’s mobilizing the remnants of HYDRA to locate and retrieve whatever information or technology is needed to activate it. If he gets his hands on it, you’ll be his primary target.”

“We need to find out exactly what and where this failsafe is and how to disable it.” you closed the folder with a snap, your expression cold and resolute. “Lawson, I want every available resource focused on this. Find out everything you can about Project Lazarus—what it is, where it’s stored, how it works. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawson said, his voice firm as he prepared to carry out your orders.

Bucky stepped closer, the bad feeling bothering his mind increasing intensity. “Y/N, this is a trap. Racing Pierce for this failsafe… it’s exactly what he wants. He’s counting on you going after it, to put yourself in danger.”

“I don’t have a choice, Bucky. If he gets to it first, it’s over. We need to find out exactly what this failsafe is and how to disable it.”

Bucky’s hand twitched, his instincts screaming at him that something was terribly wrong.

“I don’t like this,” he admitted, his voice low and urgent. “There’s too much we don’t know. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. If you go after this, you’re walking right into his hands.”

“Not if we get to it first.” You lifted your hand and placed it over his cheek, “Trust me.”

Not even ten minutes passed by, Lawson returned, his expression urgent. “Ma’am, we’ve got the preliminary intel on Project Lazarus. It’s worse than we thought.”

Your eyes snapped to Lawson, all traces of emotion vanishing as you switched back into mission mode. “What did you find?”

Lawson handed you a small, encrypted drive. “It’s a self-destruct mechanism, embedded within the serum dna. If activated, it will kill the host instantly. Pierce’s plan is to get to the activation device before we can, and if he does...”

Y/N’s grip on the drive tightened, the weight of what Lawson was saying settling over her. “Then it’s game over,” you finished, your voice cold.

Bucky felt his chest tighten as he listened. “Y/N, this is exactly what I was talking about. You’re the one he’s targeting. He knows you’ll go after it, and he’s setting the trap.”

You looked down at the drive in your hand, the realization of what you were up against hitting you fully. But there was no hesitation in your voice when you spoke. “This is why we make sure he doesn’t get there first. We move fast, and we don’t give him the chance to spring his trap.”

“Lawson, get the team ready, we’re moving out in twenty.” You look back at Bucky, giving him a small reassuring smile before you get yourself prepared.

× × × ×

The war room at the Avengers Compound was buzzing with activity. Multiple holographic displays floated in midair, showing maps, satellite images, and streams of data that scrolled rapidly across the screens. The Avengers were gathered around the central table, their expressions tense and focused. Time was running out, and they all knew it.

Steve Rogers stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he surveyed the data being fed in by JARVIS. His eyes were sharp, determined, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his posture. They had to find Pierce before it was too late.

“JARVIS, expand the search radius to include the most recent HYDRA activity,” Tony Stark ordered, his fingers flying over the controls on the table. A new map appeared, showing several locations highlighted in red.

“I have already cross-referenced known HYDRA safehouses and recent communications intercepts, sir,” JARVIS responded, his voice calm and efficient. “However, Mr. Pierce has been taking measures to cover his tracks. He is not using any of the usual channels.”

“We’re missing something,” Natasha Romanoff said, her voice thoughtful as she studied the data in front of her. “He wouldn’t just go dark. He’s got to be coordinating something big. There has to be a pattern.”

Bruce Banner leaned forward, adjusting his glasses as he examined a cluster of highlighted areas on the map. “What about his known associates? Anyone still in contact with him?”

“Most of them are either in custody or underground,” Natasha replied, shaking her head. “But there are a few we haven’t been able to track down. They could be his lifeline.”

Steve looked over at Sam Wilson, who was monitoring a live feed of communications traffic. “Sam, anything on your end?”

“Not much,” Sam said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “But I did pick up a few encrypted messages that could be HYDRA-related. The problem is, they’re using a code we haven’t cracked yet.”

Tony’s fingers paused over the controls, and he turned to look at the team. “We don’t have time to play it safe. We need to flush him out. We hit those locations simultaneously and force him to react.”

“Agreed,” Steve said, nodding. “But we need to be smart about it. Pierce is desperate, and that makes him dangerous. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Steve’s right,” Natasha added. “We go in, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

Just then, JARVIS’s voice cut through the tension. “I may have something, sir. I’ve detected a series of anomalous energy readings in an isolated area approximately fifty miles outside the city. The readings are consistent with the signature of a stealth HYDRA base.”

A holographic image zoomed in on the location, showing a heavily forested area with minimal infrastructure. The perfect place for someone like Pierce to lay low.

“That’s got to be him,” Clint Barton said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the terrain. “It’s secluded, hard to access, and easy to defend.”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

Tony was already moving toward his suit, the familiar whirring of machinery filling the room as the armor began assembling around him. “JARVIS, prepare the Quinjet. We’re wheels up in five.”

The rest of the team sprang into action, suiting up and gathering their gear. The sense of urgency in the room was palpable—this was it. The moment they had been waiting for.

As they headed toward the hangar, Steve couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. They had the location, they had the team, but there was still an unknown element at play—something that Pierce was counting on. They had to be ready for whatever he had planned.

In the Quinjet, the team settled into their positions, the hum of the engines vibrating through the floor as they prepared for takeoff. Steve stood at the front, his hands gripping the back of the pilot’s seat as he stared out at the darkening sky.

“We go in fast and hard,” he said, addressing the team. “We neutralize any resistance and secure Pierce. But keep your eyes open—this could be a trap.”

“Isn’t it always?” Natasha remarked, a hint of wry humor in her voice as she checked her weapons.

Tony turned to face the team, his visor down, but his voice clear through the comms. “Remember, Pierce knows how we operate. We need to stay one step ahead.”

The Quinjet lifted off smoothly, banking toward the coordinates JARVIS had provided. As they flew toward what they hoped would be the final confrontation with Pierce, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, preparing mentally for what was to come.

Steve’s mind, however, drifted to Y/N and Bucky. He knew they were out there too, likely chasing the same target. His grip tightened on the seat. He hoped they’d stay out of each other’s way, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t likely.

As the Quinjet sped through the night, Steve glanced around at his team, each one of them ready to face whatever lay ahead. This was the moment they’d been preparing for. There was no turning back now.

“Approaching the target location,” Sam announced from the cockpit, bringing Steve’s focus back to the mission. “We’re going in.”

Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself for the battle to come. “Let’s finish this.”

The Quinjet descended toward the forest below, and the Avengers braced themselves for the confrontation that would determine the fate of their mission—and possibly much more.

The air inside the abandoned HYDRA facility was thick with tension. Dust and debris lined the cold metal floors, remnants of a once formidable operation. Now, it was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of electricity still pulsing through the aging wires. The Avengers moved cautiously, their steps echoing through the empty corridors.

Steve Rogers led the team, his shield at the ready, as they approached the central chamber. His instincts told him they were close—too close for comfort. The door to the chamber slid open with a hiss, revealing a large, dimly lit room. And there, at the center, stood Bucky and you.

The Avengers froze, surprise flickering across their faces as they took in the sight of the two figures. Bucky’s stance was tense, defensive, while you stood beside him, your gaze throwing daggers.

“Well, well, well,” Tony Stark’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with sarcasm. “Look who decided to crash the party. You two got lost on your way to a HYDRA reunion?”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you eyed Tony. “Funny, Stark. I was going to say the same thing about you. Shouldn’t you be off with your lab toys or something? Or is this just another Tuesday for you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, his suit whirring softly as he adjusted his stance. “Oh, you know me, always multitasking. But I gotta admit, seeing you two here is a bit of a plot twist. Care to explain what’s going on, or are we doing this the hard way?”

Bucky’s eyes darted between you and the Avengers, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He didn’t like how outnumbered you were, and he especially didn’t like the idea of a fight breaking out with Steve standing just a few feet away.

You kept your gaze locked on Tony, a hint of a smirk still playing on your lips. “Trust me, Stark, you don’t want to do this the hard way. We’re not here for you. But we’re also not here for a social call.”

Steve, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward, his shield raised slightly. “Y/N, Bucky, We’re here to take down Pierce. You’re either with us or against us.”

Your eyes flicked to Steve, your smirk fading as your expression hardened. “We’re here for the same reason, Rogers. But our priority isn’t taking down Pierce. It’s beating him first.”

Tony tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “And what, pray tell, what could be worse than letting that slimeball run free? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re cozying up to the wrong side.”

Before you could respond, a slow clap echoed through the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention to the shadows. From the darkness, Pierce emerged, a smirk plastered on his face as he surveyed the scene.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” Pierce drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “The Avengers, all united in their righteousness, and yet… here you are, just as powerless as ever.”

The Avengers immediately shifted their focus to Pierce, weapons ready, but the tension in the air remained palpable. Your body tensed, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto Pierce.

Steve took a step forward, his voice stern. “Pierce, it’s over. Surrender now, and maybe we can work something out.”

Pierce laughed, a cold, humorless sound that echoed through the chamber. “Oh, Steve. Always the optimist. But you’re wrong. It’s not over. In fact, it’s just beginning.”

He raised a small device in his hand, his thumb hovering over a button. “You all really thought you could stop me? After everything HYDRA has built? The world may see me as a traitor now, but I’m not the one who’s lost here. You are.”

Pierce’s eyes shifted to you, his expression darkening with malicious glee. “And you, Y/N… the precious little weapon we created. Did you really think you could escape us? That you could fight back and win? You’re a tool, nothing more. And like any tool, when you’ve outlived your usefulness, you get discarded.”

Your jaw clenched, but you remained silent, your mind racing. You could see the cold resolve in Pierce’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that he was ready to press the button at any moment.

Pierce continued, enjoying every moment of his twisted power. “This—this is my failsafe. Our failsafe. HYDRA always plans for every eventuality, and you, Y/N, were no exception. One press of this button, and everything you are, everything we made you, ends.”

Steve’s heart sank as Pierce’s words sunk in. The realization hit him hard—Pierce wasn’t just threatening everyone, he was threatening your life. Panic flashed across Steve’s face, and he took another step forward, his voice urgent and desperate. “Pierce, listen to me. You don’t have to do this. Whatever HYDRA promised you, it’s not worth it. Just… put the remote down, and we can figure this out.”

Pierce’s smirk widened, relishing the fear he saw in Steve’s eyes. “Oh, Captain. You think you can negotiate with me? That’s adorable. But you see, I’ve already won. You’re too late to stop me.”

Steve shook his head, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “You don’t have to end her like this. If it’s me you want, take me. Just don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you want—just put the remote down.”

For a brief moment, Pierce seemed to consider Steve’s words, tilting his head as if weighing his options. Then, a cold, cruel smile twisted his lips. “You think I’d trade her life for yours? How noble of you, Captain. But no, this isn’t about you. This is about making sure she never defies us again. It’s about sending a message.”

Steve’s desperation turned to anger as he tried one last time. “Pierce, if you do this, there’s no coming back. You’ll lose everything. We’ll make sure of it. Just… don’t press that button. We can find another way—”

But Pierce’s thumb was already pressing down.

To Steve, it felt like the world slowed to a crawl. The small, mechanical click of the button echoed in his ears like a gunshot, louder than anything he’d ever heard. His heart pounded, time moving painfully slow as the full reality of what was happening crushed down on him.

“No!” Steve’s voice ripped through the chamber, filled with anguish and fear. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The failsafe activated, and your body reacted instantly.

Your body jerked violently as if a surge of electricity had just shot through your veins. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening in shock and pain. You tried to reach out, to grab onto something, anything, to steady yourself but your strength drained from you like water through a sieve. You staggered, your legs buckling beneath you as you collapsed to the ground. Your vision blurred, but you fought for as long as you could, looking at Bucky who assisted you to collapse gently on the floor.

“No!” Steve’s voice was frantic, the raw pain in it reverberating through the room. He dropped to his knees beside you, cradling your convulsing form in his arms as if by holding you close, he could somehow stop the inevitable. “No, no, no, please, Y/N! Stay with me, stay with me!”

But you, through the haze of pain and the encroaching darkness, knew what you had to do. You turned your head slightly, focusing on Bucky. Your voice was weak, but the urgency was unmistakable. “Bucky… run. You have to… run. Don’t… look back.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in confusion, refusal written all over his face. “What? No, I’m not leaving you—”

“Go!” Your voice cracked with desperation as you struggled to maintain consciousness. “Go, Bucky! Now!”

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between his instinct to fight and his need to protect you. But then Pierce’s smug smile caught his eye, and something inside him snapped. With a roar of pure rage, Bucky’s metal arm slammed into Pierce, sending him crashing to the ground.

The fight was brutal, savage. Bucky’s fury was unleashed in every punch, every strike. Pierce barely had time to react before Bucky was on him, his fists a blur of metal and flesh, pummeling the life out of him.

Pierce’s screams echoed through the chamber, but Bucky didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until Pierce was nothing but a lifeless, broken mess on the floor. Panting, his vision clouded with rage and grief, Bucky finally looked up, his eyes locking onto your still form, cradled in Steve’s arms. The sight tore at his soul, but your final command echoed in his mind.

Run.

Without another word, Bucky turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows before the Avengers could even think to stop him.

Steve didn’t notice Bucky’s departure. His entire world had narrowed to you—your lifeless body, the cold stillness of your form in his arms. He rocked back and forth slightly, his grip tightening as if he could hold onto your life, refusing to let it slip away. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, his mind reeling with disbelief and sorrow.

The other Avengers stood around him, silent and stunned, the gravity of what had just happened sinking in. They had all faced countless dangers before, but this felt different.

This felt final.

Steve’s voice broke the silence, a guttural cry of anguish that echoed through the chamber, filled with a depth of sorrow that none of them had ever heard from him before.

“Y/N!” he cried out, his voice trembling, pleading with a world that seemed to have gone cold and unfeeling. “Please, don’t leave me. You can’t… no…no…please.”

He cradled you closer, his tears falling unchecked, soaking into your hair. Every fiber of his being screamed against what was happening. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Not for her, not like this. The injustice of it tore at him, threatening to pull him apart.

But you didn’t respond. Your body remained still, your face peaceful, as if you had simply gone to sleep. The life that had burned so brightly within you was gone, extinguished by the cruel machinations of those who had sought to control you. He couldn’t stop the sob that tore from his throat, his anguish laid bare for all to see.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his voice breaking with every word.

The chamber seemed to grow colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten, as they all stood in the aftermath of a battle that had been lost in the most devastating way possible.

After what felt like an eternity, Tony finally stepped forward, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “Steve…” he began, but the words caught in his throat. What could he possibly say? There was no comfort, no way to undo what had been done.

Steve didn’t respond. His focus was entirely on you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He couldn’t comprehend a world without you in it. He didn’t want to.

Finally, after a long, painful silence, Natasha spoke, her voice soft but firm. “We need to get her out of here, Steve.”

Steve nodded numbly, but he didn’t move. It took all of his strength to gather himself enough to even consider letting you go. He didn’t want to let you go. The idea of it was unbearable. But he knew Natasha was right. They couldn’t leave you here, not in this place, not like this.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Steve slowly stood, cradling you in his arms as if you were the most precious thing in the world—because to him, you were. He turned toward the exit, his steps heavy, each one feeling like it might be his last.

Steve couldn’t help but glance back one last time, as if hoping to see some sign that this wasn’t real—that you would wake up, that this nightmare would end. But there was nothing. Just the emptiness of a place that had taken so much from them.

They stepped out into the daylight, the sun glaringly bright against the backdrop of their sorrow. Steve’s grip on you tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his heart breaking all over again.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. “I always will.”

But there was no answer, no sign of life. You were gone, and the world felt infinitely colder because of it.

So they left, carrying with him a loss that would never fully heal, a wound that would forever mark him. Steve walked with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimmed by the grief that had taken hold of him.

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