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ahundredtimesover · 10 months ago

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I Want You to Stay (07) | 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: 15.4k

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: One of my fave chapters! I hope you like this one! And just a heads up that intervals between posting days will be longer as the chapters get longer, too. And bc u know, life... HAHA but again, thank you so much for all the love for this like??? HOW. PLS you've all been so nice so thank you! 🥰 Also… JK in that SNTY suit.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

Mr. Ri loads the luggages in the trunk and you double check that all bags - which you helped pack yesterday - are complete. You enter the car right after and head to the airport where Jungkook will fly to Singapore for a few meetings and to attend Seokjin’s alcohol launch party.

It’s been over a month since the Arts Center event and so much has happened since then. Jungkook went to Jeju to meet an artist and then to Japan over a weekend to meet another two. He’s been on calls with a few more with plans to meet in their country of residence in the next months, and he’s gone around different local towns to meet with craftspeople for souvenirs and future exhibitions. He’s also touched base with various national and international Korean arts and culture organizations for promotion and joint projects. The event opened doors for a new network that he hoped for. There are now proposals for other collaborations and side engagements that’s doing a lot for the company’s brand and expansion.

To say that Jungkook and the team have been busy is an understatement. You went back to work after those few days of recovering with everyone overwhelmed by all the things they had to do but like you expected, you all managed and got things organized. There are still multiple things to handle all at once, but everyone’s just been on top of everything and showing how competent you all are as individuals and as a team.

Within that period, Jungkook has stopped by the team’s office and the pantry more times than those first months. He also managed to laugh at Do-hyun’s unfiltered remarks a few times and even slipped his own that got the team giggling. He’s seemed a lot more relaxed and so has the team. Lunch meetings have been regular given all the work you all have to do. Yohan and Chin-sun even say that they’ve gotten to know Jungkook a little better through their visits to the Arts Center. And while they do think he’s still a bit detached and catch him in his own world sometimes, he’s a lot more engaged and is actually way smarter than they’d initially thought.

Jungkook checks his phone and sighs, prompting you to turn to him.

“Seokjin says the party is an intimate event but there’s gonna be over two-fifty guests so I don’t know about that,” he shakes his head, showing you the restaurant bar where his friend will be launching his alcohol brand. “For some reason, he expects me and Tae to entertain guests on his behalf.”

This was another development you hadn’t expected. Since that morning when Jungkook sent you food when you were unwell, your relationship changed. It’s still professional but there’s more openness now, as if that prompted both of you to be comfortable around each other.

There’s more trust and honesty, too - he lets you make decisions, lets you handle the team when he’s away, and asks you for your unfiltered opinion. You feel like all the time you spend together has allowed you to learn how he sees and understands things; you even finish his sentences sometimes.

He’s also loosened up a bit and allows himself to laugh and smile more. They’re still rare occurrences but you never point them out, not wanting him to feel awkward and then stop. They often catch you off guard so you haven’t been able to fully appreciate them but at least he feels comfortable around you, enough to even talk about non-work stuff and things that fill his mind, like random questions or small concerns.

You’re unsure if he notices how uninhibited he’s become but you don’t point it out either. He still has his moments of living in his head, his faraway thoughts rendering him quiet and observant, and his perfectionist attitude means he’s still critical sometimes. But he doesn’t take anything out on you - not his frustrations nor his fears. He’d usually keep to himself and talk to you once he’s cooled down and you’d take that any day, so long as you keep your sanity and are able to do your tasks as instructed.

In return, you let yourself be the same. You’ve fully restored your confidence and that’s allowed you to show just how capable you are. You’ve been more vocal with your thoughts, too, and don’t take it personally when he doesn’t agree. You smile a lot more, joke with him even, and have been more generous with words of encouragement and affirmation. They come more naturally than you expected, and you appreciate that he doesn’t turn you away whenever it happens.

He’s actually okay to be around when he’s not being grumpy or difficult. You suppose that the situations he was put in - and how you responded with patience and understanding - allowed him to see that you’re truly on his side and that let him put his guard down a little. You’re past trying to please him for the sake of making your job bearable; there’s actual joy in it now, and while the search for who you are outside of all this continues to ring in your head, you think that sticking around for now isn’t so bad either.

“Perhaps Seokjin has seen how good you are with entertaining guests now and deems you worthy of being an extension of him,” you respond to Jungkook’s earlier musings. “And he wouldn’t be wrong. You’ve become really good at it.”

“You know, I think you oversell me sometimes,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, I think I don’t,” you counter. “If I may say so, Mr. Jeon, it's just that the bar was pretty low so the improvements are quite striking.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, not taking offense.

“You can still do better at charming people. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from Seokjin and Taehyung,” you push.

“Those two flirt, they don’t charm,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“Well, I completely disagree, sir. I mean, I’ve seen it firsthand. And I’m not one who’s easily charmed.”

“Fine, I’ll see what I can pick from them, then,” he concedes.

“Kidding aside, I think you’ll be fine, Mr. Jeon. Plus, it’s unrelated to work so there’s no need to impress anyone,” you state.

“True,” he hums. “But just thinking about these next few days is already making me tired. Tae rented a yacht for tonight. We have Seokjin’s launch tomorrow, and to celebrate, he’s throwing another party the day after.”

“Hmm, must be that you’re getting old,” you tease, earning you a hum in agreement. “But you’re used to that though, right? They always said that was your life back in Singapore.”

“It was. I had less responsibilities and people to manage but back then, everything seemed too much,” he shares. “I took the weekends seriously and really just did whatever I wanted. I haven’t done much of that these past weeks because I’ve been so tired and I feel like I’m under the microscope when I’m here. So yeah, I’ll probably just take advantage of being back there and just enjoy it.”

“As you should,” you say. “You’ve worked hard and you deserve to spend your weekend however you wish. Just, uh…”

“What?”

“Probably give Lucas a heads-up in case a half-naked woman greets him in the kitchen on Monday morning.”

The silence is deafening and you think you’ve crossed a line with this one. You turn towards him and he looks stunned at your unfiltered remark.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in apology. “That was too personal.”

“It’s okay,” he responds after a beat of silence. “I guess I deserve that. I mean, I never apologized for the morning when you experienced exactly that. And for when you found that underwear on the floor, which I forgot to clean up. So, uh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, too. I got over it,” you assure him. “And if anything, I’m pretty sure she left that on purpose so she’ll have a reason to come back.”

“That’s exactly it,” he groans. “She saw me again and wanted to go to my apartment so she could get it. I told her I threw it away.”

“How brutal,” you tease again.

“Not my finest moment but yeah, I’m sorry to put you in that position. Must’ve been tough seeing proof of all the washroom gossip.”

“You know about those?” You gasp.

“I’ve heard about them,” he sighs. “Mr. Ri’s got eyes and ears in the office.”

“It’s hard to defend so I just don’t try,” the older man shakes his head. “Not like you deny it anyway.”

“Not like I really care,” Jungkook shrugs. “But even then, I guess it wasn’t the best start for us,” he tells you.

“Perhaps not, but I’m not one to judge, Mr. Jeon. That’s all in the past now, and that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“It does,” he hums.

It’s during these casual exchanges when you get to see a bit more of Jungkook as the person that he is, beyond the perfectionist executive who still harbors fears and worries about his new role. He’s still a human being who finds ways to deal with the stresses of life, someone who needs time to step away from his burdensome responsibilities, someone who seeks intimacy and connection and finds ways to attain them in his own ways. The doubts and worries are still there, but the foundation has stabled a bit. Somehow you think that you’ve created a space safe enough for him to talk about them, to apologize, and to try to be better. You hope he gets to create that for himself, too, and if that’s what you’ll leave him with by the time you decide to step away from this job, you think you’d be satisfied.

Silence engulfs you both and like he often is after being vulnerable with you, he keeps to himself once again. You wait a while before running through his meetings for today and next week and inform him of what the team will be working on while he’s away. Jungkook responds with a few last-minute instructions, especially about the tasks he needs done in time for your team meeting on Monday. You’re both back to professional talk and you don’t really mind; there’s something about being honest and open that could be a bit disarming.

The car stops and Mr. Ri exits to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Jungkook, in his navy blue suit, gathers his things and says goodbye. Before he can close the door, you call out his name.

“Yeah?” He asks, his one hand carrying his bag and the other, on the roof of the car as he bends to look at you.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “I know you think it’s just an ordinary day but I hope you celebrate well.”

“Thank you,” he says after a few seconds, basking in the softness of your smile for the short moment that he can.

Jungkook steps away then closes the door. He heads to the airport lounge before taking the 6-hour flight to Singapore, spending it on reviewing reports and design proposals. He goes straight to the office when he lands, settling down in his room where he responds to emails. He munches on some dumplings for lunch, thinking he’s missed the ones from the restaurant across the street, but then Lucas enters and sets down a bowl of seaweed soup.

“Ms. Cho asked me to get this for you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook is caught off guard but manages to dismiss Lucas and tastes the dish. It’s nothing like his mother’s, but then again, he hasn’t had it in years. When Jungkook moved here, there were no celebrations apart from getting drunk at a club, which is also why he’d stopped thinking of his birthday as anything special. There were no traditional meals or well wishes or birthday cakes.

He’s here again. There’s that yacht party tonight but it won’t feel like a celebration. Somehow, with this bowl of soup, this does. You’re a thousand miles away but even then, he still feels your presence. Even then, he feels more cared for than he has these past several years combined.

Jungkook wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. His neck feels a bit strained, given that he’d slept in an awkward position wearing his clothes from last night. He also barely remembers much. One minute he was drinking with a woman around his arm and the next he’s… here.

He shifts and lays flat on his back, groaning as last night’s happenings manifest in the soreness of his entire body. The yacht was fancy, as he’d expected from his best friends. There was overflowing food and drinks, the music was great, and the guests were honestly too many for his liking. There were familiar faces and new ones, but he mostly stuck around with those he knew. What he also remembers is not being able to taste his cake. He’s definitely calling Seokjin to complain.

Suddenly hit with the thought of not knowing how he’d gotten home last night - or with whom - Jungkook sits up and groans once more, the incoming call adding to the ringing sound in his head.

“Mr. Jeon,” Lucas answers on the other end. “How are you feeling today?”

“Terrible,” Jungkook says, now finding the strength to get off the bed. “Did you take me home?”

“Yes, sir. You wanted to leave so Mr. Ri and I took you to your penthouse,” Lucas answers. “Your valuables are on the table.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing it was one of those nights. Removing his clothes, he sees the fresh marks on his chest. Wanting to prepare himself before finding some stranger in the other room, he asks his assistant if he’d brought someone home with him.

“No, sir. It was just you. She, uh, she asked to come but you told her you were too tired so she stayed behind.”

“Oh, good,” Jungkook exhales in relief, not wanting to deal with any of that this morning, which is one reason why he always asks them to leave. “How long do I have until I have to get ready for tonight?”

“About five hours,” the younger man replies. “You have a scheduled dinner with your friends at 5:30 and then the event at 8. I’ll be there before that to help you get ready.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll just workout to deal with this hangover.”

“Medicines are in the cupboard, sir. Please just let me know if there’s anything more you need.”

“I will.”

Jungkook hangs up and presses on his temples as if that’ll do anything. He retrieves the medicine as advised and thinks of something else he needs - a cup of lemon ginger tea. Ever since you’d prepared one for him that one morning, he’s been having it after every night out. He calls the butler to have it prepared for him, given that he doesn’t have the energy to do so himself.

It arrives, and coupled with the aspirin, he’s starting to somehow feel better. He knows that heading to the gym will do the trick, as it always does, but it still makes him think that he shouldn’t have drank as much as he did last night.

For someone who’s not particularly fond of people, even Jungkook sometimes wonders why he goes out and parties as much as he does.

He wasn’t always like this though. His weekends used to be spent on food trips and travels, but after the breakup with Chaerin, those days became free, and he’d stay out late so he could sleep the rest of the next day. The women were to make up for the loneliness; the alcohol was to forget why he needed them in the first place. He hates loud and unnecessary sounds, but the music and the chatter started to become white noise for him; they’d become a companion to help deal with the noise in his own head, or the lack of it.

Years later, the remaining thoughts in his mind were just all about work, and he’d revert to the same habit for relief - the women became his thrill; the alcohol was so he wouldn’t remember them.

And it works. The ecstasy lasts only through the night. It’s fleeting as his desire for them is. He doesn’t recall names, just that they made him feel good and that they felt the same; they often try to hook up with him again after all, seeking him in the clubs they know he frequents. But he rarely entertains them; a second time leads to a third, and he can’t be assured that they won’t ask the same tiring questions he hates hearing - why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Why doesn’t he want to commit to anyone? Does he see himself settling down and having a family? What’ll make him want that?

It’s happened a few times, during the rare instances that there’s a lull in between and they take advantage of his brief period of vulnerability to make him open up. He never does, and it’s not because he thinks it’s a weakness to do so, but he just never really let the moment linger to find out.

After a light meal, Jungkook heads to the gym and spends three hours expending his energy so he could get it back.

This is his other means of dealing with his stress. Working out makes him focus on something else and it helps in releasing all his anger and frustration. As he stares at his bare body in the mirror right after - the marks from last night still visible - he scoffs at himself.

He’s so stereotypical, it makes him sick. He’s allowed himself to let his life revolve around the shallow and fleeting sensations of pleasure to counter the permanence and inevitability of his job. This is his world and he made it this way. And while he drowns in the nothingness inside the walls that he created, he still thinks it’s better than being outside; somehow he thinks it’s lonelier and more burdensome out there. At least in here, he’s all he has to deal with; he’s all he can disappoint.

But there are still moments when he wonders what it could be like if he just dared to live differently. Like when he watches Seokjin animatedly explain the history and creation process of Korean traditional alcohol during the product launch that evening and how his passion is moving and infectious. Or when he observes how Taehyung freely moves around the club and makes connections with others as deep as his smile.

Jungkook thinks about all this as he glances at the woman next to him later that night, bare under the covers like he is, her body curled into a cocoon as she takes a break.

She’d caught his eye earlier because she wasn’t trying to get his attention like the others were. She spoke less and screamed more, let him do what he wanted but touched him softly as she pleased.

“You’re a good lover. Why do you waste yourself with something temporary like me?” She’d asked.

It left him speechless and he shrugged - a change from his usual dismissal - but there’s really nothing to say.

Why does he? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.

But it’s at this moment that he tries to imagine what it would be like if it were the same face he saw next to him every morning, if it were the same hand he held everyday, if it were the same warm body he curled into every night. His mind wanders too far, into the depths of a place it can’t go to, beyond boundaries he can’t cross, and the sight is both terrifying and calming.

It’s safer where he is.

So when she wakes up from a short nap, she looks up at him, her soft eyes wishing for something she knows she shouldn’t.

“You should go,” he says, the softest he’s ever uttered the words.

“Okay,” she whispers in submission.

She gets up from the bed, finds her stray clothes on the floor, and puts them on. Jungkook follows her to the door, a first for him. Maybe it’s her gentleness, or the unspoken understanding between them, or maybe because she doesn’t ask for more even if she seems to want to.

But though he contemplates pulling her back to try to feel what that’s like - seeing her in the morning, holding her hand, curling into her embrace - he doesn’t. He knows even that desire would end; it’s fleeting just as everything around him is.

He holds open the door. She turns around with a smile.

“I hope someday you find someone you’ll ask to stay,” she says, surprising him again. “I’m sure they would.”

You walk around the store in awe of the luscious plants displayed on the shelves, your eyes as bright as the lights that shine over them. There are so many to choose from, and though you have an idea of what you want to have, it’s tough deciding which ones to get right now. The money tree is a must, so is the Chinese evergreen. But do you go for the orchid or the peace lily? Can you keep up with a spider plant? How many of the asparagus ferns should you get?

Your eyes flit from one plant to the next, eventually deciding on getting everything on your list then placing them on the cart for payment.

Jimin chuckles next to you. “Since when were you a plant mom?”

“Since she got that aloe vera from Yoongi and she was convinced that she has a green thumb after it didn’t die,” Soomin deadpans next to you as you frown at her sarcasm. “That’s also after my weekly reminders to water the plant because ‘no care’ doesn’t actually mean it’s going to survive on its own.”

“Oh, shush,” you scoff at her. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You’d send a photo every few days, hun,” she laughs. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“True. I needed the encouragement,” you shrug, paying for your haul. “But also, I’m a plant newbie. Yoongi said that I probably need some of them at home and in the office for positive energy and he’s not wrong. All the frustration from months ago just accumulated in my apartment and I need a change.”

“So… Is Yoongi a plant dad, too?” Soomin wonders.

“No. He just knows about a lot of things,” you reply. “Plus, he’s an architect and a designer. He knows a thing or two about plant decor.”

“Why isn’t he here with you, then?” She arches an eyebrow.

“Because I’m with both of you, duh,” you roll your eyes. “And before you say anything more, I don’t really like mixing my work friends with my personal friends. It’s different.”

“Well, I’m glad we could join you on this new phase of your life,” Jimin tries to be encouraging. “It’s like turning over a new leaf.”

You scold him over his terrible pun but laugh anyway, enjoying the comfort and playfulness that only your best friends could bring. They picked you up from work last Friday then you all headed to a club after dinner. You spent yesterday at a beach at their insistence then stayed in during the evening. It’s now Sunday and you’re dragging them around as you run errands before saying goodbye to them again, and it’s not a normal day without Soomin mentioning Yoongi. Perhaps it’s because of all the guys you’ve mentioned that have taken interest in you, he’s the only true green flag; he’s also the only one you didn’t entertain at all. You suppose that’s something she’ll not really get over.

The three of you head to a nearby cafe. Jimin excitedly talks about the latest menu item in their chain of restaurants while Soomin groans about the stuff she has to deal with as she manages her family-owned shipping company that’s the biggest in the port city of Busan. They turn to you and ask how the rest of your week is going to go, with slightly surprised looks when you don’t talk about work with as much disdain as you used to. There’s excitement, even, something that Soomin points out, and when you mention that Jungkook is on an overseas trip, she assumes that’s the reason why.

“Not really,” you clarify. “He arrives tomorrow evening, but the week’s packed - we’re visiting the Arts Center for inspection and then I’m doing an ocular with Chin-sun for the VP events we’re holding in the next few months. I mean, I won’t be buried in files nor will I be in meetings all week. So yeah, it’s not bad.”

“That’s good,” Jimin beams. “At least it’s nothing like how it used to be. Right?”

“It’s a lot better, I told you guys,” you say, reminding them of a similar talk you had the last time they were here, which was a week after you’d gotten sick. “Jungkook is… rational, less grumpy and impulsive; he also listens to me and trusts me. He’s even smiled a few times.”

“Wow, he really set the bar low for you, huh,” Jimin chuckles, earning him a nod.

“Does that also mean that he’s now completely bearable and no longer your type because he’s not an asshole anymore?” Soomin chimes in, being the blunt and bold one among the three of you.

“He never was my type in the first place,” you scowl. “Plus, he’s literally my boss, Soo. That’s like, not some flag, it’s a whole ass brick wall that shall not be crossed.”

“Right. That’s why Mr. Min didn’t make the cut,” she points out. “Told you you should’ve just quit your job so you could date him.”

“And I also told you that wasn’t the only reason why I didn’t want to,” you remind her. “Yoongi’s exactly the type of person I need in my life, and being more than friends is the surefire way of making sure that doesn’t happen. Like, why would I risk a good friendship for something that may not work out? Whether I break his heart or he breaks mine, it’s pain I can’t handle. There’s just no going back from there.”

“Right, that is your biggest fear,” Soomin replies softly, the sympathetic tone in her voice telling you that she does understand where you’re coming from. “I mean, it’s still possible that you wouldn’t hurt each other but I get it. It just sucks, I guess. The good ones often start as your friends.”

“I know. And I’d rather have them and be single than none at all,” you sigh.

The thought is simpler than it seems. You won’t deny that you’ve thought of how things would’ve been if you gave Yoongi a chance, but the fear of what you’d lose always trumped that type of possibility.

There’s a kind of pain you don’t want to experience, one of a broken heart caused by losing someone you’ve given your all to. It’s how you think you love, after all; you can’t give any less. But it’s also why you’ve never done it. No one’s inspired that kind of devotion for you.

Soomin has pointed out before that it’s probably also because you don’t open yourself up to the possibilities as you should. Maybe you’ve just been too focused on other things. But maybe you also just haven’t felt the kind of all-consuming desire for someone who would be worth it, one you’d want so much that you’d willingly face the fear of paralyzing heartbreak just to be with them.

You suppose that’s the difference. That’s the irony, too. You’re scared to love because you’re scared of the pain, so you keep your distance to keep yourself safe but it’s also why you haven’t found someone you’re willing to crawl out of your walls for.

There’s not much you feel passionate about in life. Maybe it’s love. But you’re too cautious to feel it, to look for it, so you don’t really know. Maybe it’s something else completely, and working in the environment that you do hinders you from discovering it. You’ve kept your distance from a lot of things over the past years and the thought that one day, you’ll be able to feel free from all the burden you carry because of a past you couldn’t control, makes you look forward to the day when you get to walk away from all those and hopefully, find whatever it is you’re looking for.

Jimin nudges you after you zone out, and you switch the subject and ask about the latest gossip in their hometown. You enjoy living vicariously through their social life back in Busan. They not only come out here to Seoul to see you but also to take a break from all the drama that they can’t really escape from, given the type of people in their circle of friends. You always thank the heavens you got lucky that at 10 years old and making a new life in a new city, you found Soomin and Jimin, perhaps the only other people aside from your mother who make you feel safe and protected, a feeling you don’t take for granted.

They indulge you and share some stories, but when Soomin goes through her social media feed to show you something, she gasps instead when she realizes that the men in her friend’s Instagram post include Jungkook.

“Did your boss just go there to party?” She asks, showing you the photo.

“Partly,” you reply. “His best friend hosted the launch of his alcohol line there but there are a couple more parties because it’s his birthday weekend. Your friends went?”

“Yeah, some of them are Kim Seokjin’s friends, apparently,” Soomin says. “Small world. But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Seoul and Busan socialites attract each other.”

“Why aren’t you there, then?” You chuckle.

“We’re choosy socialites,” Jimin clarifies. “Or like, pretentious. We just act like we are but we really aren’t, just to say that the Park and Cheon kids are interesting and sociable like the rest of them.”

“Who says they’re interesting and sociable?” Soomin states incredulously. “My eyes roll to the back of my head every time I’m in those shitty events. The lack of self-awareness of rich people repulses me. And I obviously don’t count us in.”

“And you shouldn’t,” you confirm. “I attract good people, I guess. I’m glad you’re not like them.”

“Well, what about Jungkook’s friends?” Jimin asks. “How are they like?”

“What I can say about the Kim brothers is that they’re nice people,” you say. “Very charming, ridiculously good-looking... And they sound like good friends, too. I can’t say much else. Their dating game is pretty strong though.”

“I’d assume. I mean, when you look like that, how could you not be?” Soomin states. “I mean, even Jungkook’s on point. That’s some hot girl he’s got.”

She shows you a couple of Instagram stories from her friends posting about the launch party. It turns out, there were a lot of Korea-based personalities who were invited. You spot Jungkook immediately, wearing the all-white ensemble that you packed for him the other day. His hair is a bit curled and the knitted top underneath the simple coat highlights his taut physique. There’s also that gorgeous woman around his arms, and if what you know about him is enough, you’d guess she’s probably one of those he seeks for a good time.

The sight of him loosening up a bit and enjoying himself is something you appreciate. He’s always stressed when he’s here and you’re glad he could spend a few days partying elsewhere without having to think about work, especially during the week of his birthday. You don’t know how much of this aspect of his life he enjoys, but he does seem a bit free yet still somehow detached. You suppose that’s something he’ll always be - a man trying to live his life while separating himself from the meaning of it. You’re unsure of how he does it but perhaps it’s not that different from how you are, too.

After lunch, Soomin and Jimin do a few more of your errands with you before dropping you home and then heading back to theirs. You spend the rest of the evening arranging your plants in your tiny apartment and feeling like more life is breathed into it with every one of them finding their home in a corner or on a shelf. Oddly enough, you feel a bit less lonely. That’s how you think you’ve been doing things, after all - finding substitutes for the kind of company you’re yearning for, for the kind of relationship you’re so afraid to have.

Jungkook wakes up that Monday morning feeling a lot better than he did the days before. For one, there’s no ringing in his head nor the feeling of dehydration. Bare under his soft covers, there also aren’t any fresh marks on his chest that signify the kind of night he usually has. In fact, he remembers most of it - he stayed by the bar and briefly chatted with the women who’d approached him.

Suzy was there last night, too, the only one he’s hooked up with more than once, and probably the only one he’s had proper conversations with, given that she’s a landscape designer. She’s been away on business trips and had just gone back, her bluntness about going back to his apartment that she’s too familiar with being met with a rejection that she didn't take personally.

“Has Seoul changed you?” She asked, her eyebrow arched in anticipation of his reply.

“Do you think a place would do that to me?” He laughed.

“No, but a person would,” she shrugged.

“None of that,” he shook his head. “There’s no one. I’m too busy, too tired.”

“But not too lonely?” she asked. “It’s the only reason why you would call me.”

There was no bitterness in her words but still, he asked. “And why did you always come, then?”

“To see if each time would be good enough for you to not make me leave.”

The conversation took a turn that he didn’t expect, the usual honesty in her words being too honest for him. He fumbled for something to say but she shook him off, claiming that she knew what she was getting into every time he took her home and that constantly hoping for something doesn’t guarantee that she’d get it one day.

He drank a couple of glasses of whiskey after she left but managed to call his butler for a sandwich and lemon ginger tea in time for his arrival at his penthouse. The meal did the trick, as he’d slept soundly after a warm bath without a splitting headache and regrets the next day.

It’s Monday, after all, and it’s back to work as usual. He has a few meetings to attend before flying back to Seoul, one of which is with the team. He gathers the energy to get off the bed for a half-hour exercise before getting ready. He eats the breakfast that the butler orders for him then heads to the office where he briefly meets with Lucas.

Settled on his desk, he proceeds to virtually meet with the team, who all promptly greet him from the conference room. He asks how their weekend was, with most of them looking surprised because he rarely asks them about it, but they answer anyway. That’s when he notices that you’re not around, prompting him to look for you.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you answer off camera before appearing on screen with a candle-lit cake in your hands.

He’s surprised when the team sings him a happy birthday, your eyes fixed on him as you mouth the words with a soft smile on your face. Do-hyun giggles at his silence, saying that he probably forgot it was his birthday or he maybe didn’t expect that they’d prepare something for him.

“We like you now, Mr. Jeon,” she teases, earning him a nudge from Chin-sun but she doesn’t seem to mind and neither does he.

It’s what makes him laugh, hoping that the pink on his cheeks aren’t visible on screen. He hadn’t expected this. He also knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he’d bet that you had everything to do with this.

“You’ve probably been too busy to celebrate but we haven’t forgotten. More like, Ms. Cho made sure we remembered,” Manager Lee chuckles. “We hope you enjoy this little something we prepared.”

“It’s an ice cream cake so it’ll just be in your refrigerator and you can have some when you return,” you say.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say. “You didn’t have to but I appreciate it. I’m looking forward to having some when I get back. Ms. Cho should also buy another one big enough for the team to share.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his instruction before starting with the meeting. There’s a lot to talk about, given the Arts Center construction and activities, as well as the upcoming year-end events that they have to organize and coordinate. It goes on for over two hours and it ends with your gentle smile after he says goodbye.

The rest of the day feels too long for Jungkook, especially during the late afternoon flight and eventual ride home. He stares at the photo you sent of the cake, making sure he sees the greeting on it.

“Get home safely, Mr. Jeon,” you text him after he says thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With the reminders of the impermanence of things and people this weekend, Jungkook finds comfort in the stability that you provide. It’s in your smile, in your reminders and organization of his life, in your thoughtfulness and patience. It’s in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, one in which he gets to see you once again.

The cake is simple but sophisticated. The mint chocolate flavor is exactly how he likes it and in ice cream cake form, it’s really delicious. He’s glad he gets to have this all for himself, as the team was able to enjoy one yesterday as per his instruction, and you’d sent a group photo of everyone enjoying it to him, the small smile that formed on his face no longer surprising him.

For one, the comfort is there. He’s seen just how much better the team is working together because of it - they’re more open to giving him feedback and receiving his, any moment of frustration is easily mended with laughter, and his encouragement and affirmation have been motivating them as well. In the midst of it is you who makes sure that communication flows smoothly and that everything is on track, acting as the glue that keeps everyone together.

He sees firsthand just how good you are at handling things, and how despite all the stress, you manage to get him seaweed soup and a cake for his birthday. It’s more than just the details regarding work that you’re on top of; it’s also details about his life, and how he’s responding to it tells him that maybe, whatever change there is like what Suzy observed, a big part of it is because of you.

“I’m glad you like it, Mr. Jeon,” your voice cuts through his thoughts.

He looks up and sees you with a portfolio in hand, motioning towards the cake that’s now one fourth eaten.

“Ah, yeah,” he says, not denying it. “I feel like I haven’t had sweets in a while. Where did you buy this?”

“Oh, uh, I asked the baker who made desserts for the Arts Center event if she could make a customized ice cream cake,” you explain. “Fortunately she could. And thankfully it’s delicious. She enjoyed working with us so she gave us a discount.”

“You… had this made for me?”

He’d expected it to be store-bought, but learning you made the effort to reach out to someone reminds him once more of your thoughtfulness, of your care.

“Yes, I, uh, I just assumed you’d receive a few and I thought to give you something a little different.”

“It’s the only one I got actually,” he says, catching you off guard. Your face falls a little so he follows it up. “Like I told you, I don’t celebrate my birthday so I don’t let people know about it. And the ones who do also know that I don’t make a big deal out of it so they don’t really give me anything.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little sad.

You’re not one to have big celebrations but you do have a bit of it. For your 30th birthday at the start of the year, Jimin and Soomin threw you a little party in your humble home in Daegu where they performed some of your favorite songs and enacted your favorite drama scenes to make you happy. There was no need for anything fancy - just your loved ones and your mom’s and Min-woo’s amazing cooking.

But even before that milestone, your friends always made sure to at least get you seaweed soup and a birthday cake; they want you to remember that there are lives impacted because you were born. You can’t really say that Jungkook’s impacted your life the same way but you still value his existence; a small cake is just a little something to celebrate that. But the idea that his family and friends pass up on the cake - and perhaps the gifts, too - makes you think that there’s really not much in Jungkook’s life he feels he could share with others, that there’s not much he could give and receive in return.

“I hope I didn’t cross a line if it’s something you don’t like people knowing,” you continue. “I just thought… it would be nice to receive something from us.”

“It actually was,” he admits, his voice soft and low. Turning away, he says, “it’s been a while since I actually thought about my birthday as anything other than ordinary. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. So thank you, Ms. Cho. For the soup, too. I appreciate it.”

Perhaps it’s his honesty that does it, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. If learning how to express gratitude is something you could teach him, you already feel accomplished.

It’s the next day when you find yourself back in Jungkook’s office, staring at the potted plant in your hands. You’ve gone from debating on whether to leave it on his desk or the coffee table, to even giving it at all. You won’t lie and say you didn’t know what you were thinking when you passed by the plant store after work last night to get this specifically for him. You did - you wanted him to feel that joy of receiving a gift, which you suppose doesn’t happen, especially for someone who can literally buy anything he wants.

But still, it doesn’t mean that your good intention will be received well. You’ve given Hoseok a small gift every year for his birthday, partly because he likes receiving them and also because it’s your way of saying thanks.

You want to give this to Jungkook as a form of gratitude, too. Despite how you both started, the amount of things you’ve learned from him and continue to have somehow made up for it, and you also know that he’s learning from you as well. He’s given you agency to make decisions. He’s also given you events and small projects to manage, making you realize it’s what you really enjoy doing. Seeing things come together the way you envisioned it is so satisfying. Perhaps without intending it, Jungkook’s showed you a way out, a path that you want to explore so much that you’re willing to let go of all that you know in this company for something new, for something that feels more like you.

Your thoughts have completely digressed and with the time you took debating and reflecting, you hadn’t heard his footsteps, and so you jerk a little when he calls out your name.

Turning around, you bow in greeting, remembering at the same time that you have something that you’re not 100% sure yet you want to give right now. But as always, he calls you out on it.

“Is that a snake plant?” He asks, walking towards his seat.

“Yes.”

“Is that the one on your desk?”

“Uh, no, actually,” you laugh dryly, knowing you can’t turn back from it now. “I… I meant to give it to you, sir. I just thought that, uh, the money tree on the shelf might be too lonely so I got you a desk plant. I heard it’s good for positive energy and to filter the air.”

“It is,” he hums. “Is that why you got yourself one?”

“I suppose. I figured it could help improve my mood. Yoongi suggested it before but I just kept pushing it back. I finally got some for my apartment last weekend,” you explain, just so he knows it didn’t come out of nowhere.

“And you think this will improve my mood?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “We’ll probably need a dozen of them here but we could start with one.”

He matches your soft laughter with his own, which you’re thankful for. He reaches out for the plant, nonchalant like you when your fingers brush against each other.

“Hopefully this will work,” he says as he places the small, white pot next to his desktop.

You leave him so he could prepare for a conference call while you’re set to meet with the marketing team. Jungkook gazes at the plant and notices the little note attached to the string around the stem.

Happy birthday, it reads.

This wasn’t just something to match the money tree that Hoseok left for him that he hasn’t been caring for much. This was a gift for him. You probably assume that if he doesn’t receive birthday cakes, he wouldn’t be receiving gifts, either. And you’d be right. His best friends just throw him parties. And once he left Seoul to obtain his MBA in Singapore and stayed to work in their Southeast Asian headquarters, the distance between him and his parents grew. They’d reach out but he didn’t bother much, so he’d stopped expecting anything. After he broke up with Chaerin, he stopped receiving anything at all. This is the first time he’s gotten something from someone after a long time.

It’s simple in its meaning and honest in its intention, and he doesn’t hold back the smile that forms on his face.

You watch the realization dawn on Jungkook from outside. You’d remembered the silly note you left right as you sat down and didn’t have time to take it back, which really wasn’t much, but you suppose it’s enough to tell him that the plant indeed is a gift. You don’t know if someone like him even receives them, or would even appreciate something so cheap and humble, but the gentle smile he has on tells you that he probably doesn’t get much, but that this is something he welcomes.

Your smile follows soon after but it feels different this time. There’s pride somehow that your little gift could elicit something so rare out of him. There’s also a bit of awe; this is the softest he’s ever looked, with that tinge of gratitude and yearning, a complete contrast to what you know of him, to how you’ve always seen him. It’s… it’s actually beautiful.

And this is when things start to get confusing, especially as your phone beeps with that SMS from him.

[From: The Boss] Thank you, ___.

It’s the non-work message. It’s the use of your name. This is personal for him and you acknowledge that it’s the same for you. Perhaps there’s a reason why you made the effort to get the gift last night, why it mattered to you that he received something to celebrate his birthday, and why seeing him appreciate it the way he does is making you giddy and satisfied at the same time.

Maybe it’s the care you’re starting to feel for him that’s beyond just wanting to make your job bearable. You’ll dissect what that truly means later on, but right now it’s just you, him, and the glass wall in between the both of you. There’s distance, there’s a boundary, but there’s a transparent barrier that allows you to see what’s on the other side, one which allows you to know who he is behind the man you’ve come to know. And you admit, he’s not so bad after all.

The construction of the Arts Center is going better than expected. Given some of the delays due to the wrong materials delivered and some permits that took a while to get, the workers were able to make up some ground, largely due to Jungkook’s supervision. When you both visited a few weeks ago, there were many things to work on, and he managed to identify the priorities and find ways to get the project back on track.

It was during those few days of constantly being on site that you saw how efficient and effective he really works. You admired his precision and attention to detail, how he instructed the team leads and project managers and laborers, how he put together the design of one of the rooms just as he’d envisioned it.

He was commanding and decisive, and you appreciated his thorough and simple explanations that allowed you to keep up with him. He’s said that he wants you to understand what’s happening so that you’re well-informed should you need to communicate to others on his behalf, and what initially intimidated you turned into something you became interested in. Since then, you’ve been watching design shows to help you further. The challenge was welcomed, and now you feel like everyday, you’re learning something new on the job.

His instructions from that time were followed, and you’re back today to inspect the rest of the spaces. Everything is so massive, and with one half of the wall of the performance hall already done, you can clearly see the upgrade. The details are impressive, and the way that the traditional designs merge with modern elements is a feature itself.

You’re immersed in the intricacies of the ceiling, walking towards the wall to get a closer look that you don’t immediately notice the workers walking past you with a massive slab of marble. The moment that you do, you step back too quickly, tripping on your heels, and just as you brace yourself to hit the ground, you instead feel your back against a firm chest, with hands on your elbows breaking your fall.

You sigh in relief, even leaning your head back because nothing could be more embarrassing than falling on your ass in front of many people, including your boss. That is, until the familiar scent of jasmine and bergamot wafts through your nose and you realize that what you just did is debatably more embarrassing than what could’ve happened.

The familiar clearing of the throat is what finally does it for you, and with wide eyes, you turn around and face him to apologize.

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Was so much in awe that you didn’t notice the workers passing by,” he finishes, his slightly teasing smile calming you down.

“Ah, well of course. The details are too pretty,” you reason, stepping back only a little. You look at him shyly. “But thank you. I was about to fall.”

“I know. And I was about to lose it if my assistant got injured on the job.”

“True. It’s bad publicity, I guess,” you shrug. “And distractions could cause delays. And that’s bad, too.”

“Or you know, I simply just can’t have you injured, simple as that,” he says with a little frown on his face.

“Imagine if I didn’t see them? They could’ve dropped the marble and I would’ve completely lost it!”

“Why?” He arches an eyebrow.

“That slab is like, two months’ worth of salary, Mr. Jeon.”

“It’s actually more but that’s not the point,” he fully frowns now. “If you didn’t see them, then they could’ve hit you, and then you would be whining in pain right now. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, ___.”

His voice is firm and low, and you nod in acknowledgment because you also know he’s right. The workers’ vision was limited but yours wasn’t; you were just too distracted and if you hadn’t pulled early enough, that marble really could’ve done damage to you. And if it wasn’t for Jungkook catching your fall, then something bad still would’ve happened to you.

“But are you okay? You didn’t twist your ankle or anything?” He asks.

“No. Uh, the heel’s just a bit loose but I’m fine,” you reply, still trying to wrap your head around how he’d said your name - informally, in this setting, as he told you that you could’ve gotten hurt. Maybe you weren’t imagining the worried tone of his voice earlier.

“Okay,” he sighs. “You have to be careful next time.”

“I will, sir,” you reply.

You step aside and Jungkook sees you from his peripheral vision as he returns to assessing, staying put and only glancing at the ceiling unlike earlier. He’d seen you marvel at the design of the hall earlier, and while he was initially doing the same, seeing you wide-eyed and impressed caught his attention more.

Many times, he’s seen you look dejected, frustrated, angry. He’s seen your moments of focus and joy, too, but this is the first time he’s seen you be in awe. There was this softness on your face that was still filled with emotion, and he’d been drawn to you enough to see that you were about to fall. He’s glad he has quick reflexes and was able to get to you in time, the worry he felt at the thought of you getting hurt in any way was quite overwhelming for him. And while it’s partly because you’re his responsibility in this case, he also knows it’s more than that.

He gestures moving to another room and you follow him outside, and just as you try to stay close to him, Jungkook also makes sure you’re away from any kind of danger. He moves to your side when there are workers nearby with their heavy equipment and large materials. He shields you from the drilling. He glances at you as you both walk towards the other performance hall. And when you get there, you see the ceiling installation is ongoing, and Jungkook immediately calls for hard hats for the both of you.

He hands you one and you put it on, fumbling with the strap underneath your chin. You groan in frustration when you’re unable to lock it, and that’s when you see him move towards you.

“Let me,” he says.

You stop your movements and shyly nod in agreement, and he waits for you to let go before he fixes it himself.

It’s a little odd being on the other side, since it’s always you who fixes his tie or his coat. But you’re the one watching him now, with his furrowed brows and seriousness in securing this safety gear on you making you feel warm inside.

He steps back then looks at you, trying hard to control his laughter.

“Are you laughing at me, sir?” You pout.

“No. I don’t make fun of people,” he says, turning serious now, but you don’t miss the grin on his face.

It’s unfair that he looks good even with a hard hat on.

One of the project managers calls him and he goes around, with you staying close by. This performance hall is bigger and boasts of a more traditional design, which would hold the cultural performances that the Culture Minister is very excited about. You watch Jungkook inspect the space with thoroughness, checking each wall panel and each seat.

It’s amazing to you just how involved he is with this project even with the project managers handling things relatively well. He wants to be on top of everything, he’s said; it matters too much for him to not know what’s going on.

You see Yoongi enter the room and approach him. Once he sees you, he laughs as well.

“Do I look that bad?” You groan. “Mr. Jeon was laughing at me, too.”

“It’s a little big, and I guess I’m just not used to seeing you in one,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I don’t need it. I’m here all the time and nothing happens.”

“Well, I’ve been here a few times and I almost fell earlier,” you say, recalling the almost-embarrassment.

“I know, I saw it,” he chuckles.

“You were there?!” You gasp.

“No, I was totally in the other room that’s why I witnessed you almost get hit by the marble then trip on yourself,” he deadpans.

“I didn’t see you, that’s all,” you shrug.

“I was by the doors. I checked these spaces yesterday and I just wanted to be around in case Jungkook had new instructions,” he explains. “But I gotta say, you guys were kinda cute earlier.”

“Almost falling on my ass isn’t cute, Min Yoongi,” you scowl. “I could’ve either ruined the marble slab or hurt my bum. Either way, it would’ve been embarrassing.”

“I didn’t mean just you. I meant you guys,” he gestures towards Jungkook. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… That was embarrassing, too,” you frown. “What’s cute about that?”

“He looked worried. It’s just not something I’ve seen him be towards other people, that’s all.”

“It’s because an injured employee on site isn’t good, okay? Plus, if I’m incapable, then no one’s gonna be around to make his life easier,” you reason.

Yoongi stares at you for a while before shaking his head. “Wow, you really are dense.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you cross your arms in frustration.

“Forget about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, deciding not to push it.

He’ll tell you another time that he’s glad you’re becoming more of yourself again, that the light has somehow come back, that there’s now comfort you exude around the man you’d once despised. Yoongi feels assured now that there’s someone else who seems to be looking out for you, and that it’s something you don’t seem to mind at all.

“Yah! You’re being all mysterious again!” You pout, something he chuckles about.

“Me? Mysterious? Come on. I’ve always been an open book,” he teases.

You’re just about to nag him again when you hear Jungkook clear his throat, and you turn towards him and ask if he’s already done inspecting.

“There are still a few things I want to run by my design lead before leaving,” Jungkook says. “Please move my meeting to 3PM.”

“That’s noted, sir. I’ll give Mr. Hong’s assistant a call.”

You excuse yourself and step outside, leaving both men alone.

“Angering my assistant, are you?” Jungkook asks Yoongi, the curious yet playful tone in his voice evident.

“Nah, just teasing. That a problem?” Yoongi answers back.

“No. It’s good she has someone she’s comfortable with at work.”

“Could be you, you know? That isn’t so bad,” Yoongi remarks, surprising him. “And it doesn’t cross whatever boundary you’re trying so hard to stay behind.”

“We’re not… on that level. I mean, I don’t know how to be someone other people are comfortable being around,” Jungkook admits.

“I don’t know about that. Seems like you’re already that for her,” Yoongi says. “I was just teasing her about how you guys looked cute earlier, when you broke her fall.”

“You were there?”

“Both of you really don’t notice other people when it’s just both of you, huh,” Yoongi laughs. “But yeah, I was. I saw her relief. And I saw you worry.”

Jungkook merely shrugs, not wanting to confirm. Even if he denies it, Yoongi will still believe what he wants to believe. But the older man knows you well just as much as he knows him.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Yoongi responds to the silence. “And I mean not in a superficial way, or a good boss caring for his employee type of way. Like, you worry when she’s sick or overworking, when she’s hurt or in danger. You want her to always be safe, to get rest. You like having her near. You wanna know that she’s happy.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jungkook finally answers. “I can’t think of her that way.”

“I know. That’s why you were the way you were,” Yoongi says. “How else do you respond to things you can’t control than through anger and detachment? But just because you shouldn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you do.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong,” Jungkook counters.

“Well, irrationally calling her out and being angry were wrong, too, and you did those because you weren’t being honest with yourself,” Yoongi argues. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the least you can do is be true to yourself about how you feel. Because the more you deny, then the more you resist, and when you do that, you end up hurting her. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then just… accept things - what you feel, what you both are, what you can or can’t be.”

Jungkook looks at his friend as if some epiphany had just transpired. It’s been difficult for him to make sense of what he feels around you. There’s always that air of familiarity, but the warmth and comfort are new. There’s the reality that you come from different worlds, but that you both somehow feel and experience and maybe desire the same things. There’s that sense of fear over change and of what he can’t control, yet you somehow provide the calm and stability that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

It’s all these contradictions that have been messing with him, and Yoongi’s right - because of all the times that Jungkook had wanted to create that distance, all it did was hurt you. That’s the last thing he wants, he realizes now. He’s seen you struggle, and even if that’s just a fraction of what you normally go through, it’s enough to tell him that he doesn’t want you to experience that again, especially not because of him. It’s too early to say the extent of his care towards you, and it’s not something he’s willing or ready to explore right now. But just as Jungkook’s about to comfort himself that it’s fine, and that he shouldn’t dwell on it anyway so as not to further nurture it, Yoongi speaks again.

“Just… just a heads up, though,” he adds. “The care that I felt, that’s how it started for me.”

“What started?”

“Me, liking her.”

It’s at that moment when you come back from your call, and you inform Jungkook that the meeting’s been moved and that he has a scheduled one with some of the directors on Monday.

“Alright,” he says, directing you and Yoongi towards the souvenir shop, temporarily disregarding what he was warned about.

“You two looked so serious. Everything okay?” You whisper to your friend.

“Yeah,” Yoongi hums, giving you the most genuine smile he could give.

There’s that sparkle and softness in your eyes that had captured him all those years ago. They dimmed throughout the years and they’ve just been sporadic, illuminating only during specific moments. He’d seen them again a lot more regularly, and even today, as you looked around the halls and admired the designs of the space.

Yoongi doesn’t know if a certain person is the reason for that. He knows you enough that you wouldn’t even notice it, so you definitely wouldn’t know what caused the change. But as your friend, he hopes one day you will, so that if you’re brave enough, too, you’d try to make sure that the light stays.

The inspection ends and you get back to the office at 4. You return to piles of documents you have to sift through and encode, and your original plan of leaving on time changes.

Jungkook spends over an hour talking with Yoongi and the construction lead about the Arts Center, and once that’s over, you see just how exhausted he is. He’s massaging his temples and sighing deeply, and you know that whatever just transpired, he’s going to be thinking about it all throughout the weekend, which he doesn’t really have time for. The gala that one of the Board members throws annually is tomorrow night, an event you’ll be attending with him as well.

You enter his room to remind him about it and to give some forms for his signature. He signs them off, and when you say you’ve got a few more requests that you’ll leave on his desk for Monday, he tells you to just wait until then.

“Go home, Ms. Cho,” he says. “It’s been a long week. And it won’t end until after tomorrow night.”

“What about you, Mr. Jeon?”

“I’ve got some stuff to sort through after inspection. I’ll probably leave in an hour or so.”

You frown, a mannerism of yours that he’s gotten used to seeing. It’s mixed with a pout that often makes him internally laugh because it seems unlike you. It also always means there’s something you want to say that you’re holding back.

“Should I not?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Hmm. Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a rest tonight, too,” you advise. “The gala could be quite draining and it would be good to save your energy for that.”

“I’ll think about it,” he hums.

“Then I’ll think about going home, too,” you answer back.

Jungkook chuckles, knowing you’re always going to counter him in some way. And he’s glad that you do.

“You may go. And get a good rest, too.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, exiting the room to start packing your things. It’s five minutes later when the door opens and you see him with his bag, ready to head home as well.

You smile at his tender doe-eyes as he admits through them that you were right - he doesn’t have a reason to stay behind, so he’ll call it a night and get as much rest as he can.

He pauses by the entryway, and you pick up that he’s waiting for you, perhaps to make sure that you’re indeed going home. You quicken your pace and walk next to him, steps in pace as you both go to the elevator and down to the lobby.

“Mr. Ri can bring you home after me,” Jungkook says. “It’s late already.”

“Not late enough,” you reply. “I’m okay, Mr. Jeon. It’s not necessary.”

He concedes, and you wait for the car to arrive and say goodbye to him again.

There’s a softness on his face as he lingers before he enters. A small smile forms, and it’s what you see until you fall asleep that night. It’s the same one that’s oddly been giving you comfort lately - it’s a little restrained but somehow it still looks vulnerable. Perhaps it represents how Jungkook’s been to you - there are some contradictions, but beyond all that, there’s care.

Mr. Ri happily greets you as you enter the car that late Saturday afternoon to head to Jungkook’s penthouse. He compliments your dress, saying it’s nice to see you in something formal that fits your style - it’s simple yet elegant, and you tell him that your mother wouldn’t stop gushing over you through the screen, nagging you to send full-body photos so she could appreciate you more.

Jimin and Soomin surprised you in the morning to help you fix up, insisting that they wanted to make sure you spoiled yourself for the event. If you wouldn’t, they would, so they treated you to the hair salon and had your nails done. They’re the ones who took so many photos like some formal dance, and Jimin commented that the only downside was that they were sending you off to pick up Jungkook.

Defending your boss the way you did surprised you a little; it surprised them a lot more. You’d said that he bought you the dress, that he’s been nothing but kind, and that whatever negative feelings you had towards him are all in the past. Your friends understood, deciding not to ruin your night and then letting you go so they could eat out and meet you back at your apartment once you’re done.

You chat with Mr. Ri about how things have been at work, your friends, and your family. You also talk about the gala and how it feels a little nerve-racking attending this time, given your experience with Jungkook.

It’s a grand event that the company’s executives attend, and guests are asked to refrain from going solo. For such requests, it’s not unusual for them to bring their assistants. You’re expected to attend anyway, and assistants usually partner up with each other and it always worked. You went with Hoseok last year because A-yeong had a work event, and while you expected that Jungkook wouldn’t care for such request and maintain that he’d go by himself, you also didn’t think that CEO Jeon would insist that his son take you as his date so he wouldn’t be alone.

The elder Jeon had reasoned that business discussions usually take place during the gala, and it would be good for you to be around and be familiar with the new people on the scene. Hoseok had said that they’re expected to stay through the whole thing, and it’s much better for his cousin to have a companion so he could survive the night. That was months ago when things were still a little shaky for you both. You still remember Jungkook’s displeased look when it seemed like he had no choice in the matter, especially since he probably thought that his father just wanted to make sure he’d act accordingly. It feels like a lifetime ago, really, as you think about his soft smile from last night.

You don’t know exactly what you’re feeling, why his gestures or mannerisms suddenly mean something to you, or why there’s excitement when you think about seeing him outside of work. You’re unsure why the curve of his lips when he grins or the deep huff that follows his laugh makes you a little giddy, or why his eyes lingering on you makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

Just like right now, as they gaze at you while you seemingly do the same.

“You look, uh—” he starts, unable to find the accurate but appropriate term to describe how you look.

“Nice?” You finish, recalling the term he’d used when you tried this gown for the first time.

“Something like that,” he chuckles, earning him a giggle from you.

He playfully shakes his head, perhaps knowing that you’re used to him not making grand compliments or anything. But he does smile after, and there goes that blissful feeling again.

Maybe it’s because for the first time, you’re being appreciated. Maybe just like how it’s been recently, he likes being around you, prefers it, even. And given how you felt so unwanted during his first few weeks here, this is a blessing, as if in his appreciation of you, you’re liking yourself as well.

“Well, in my opinion, you look quite dashing, Mr. Jeon,” you say bravely. “Except your waistcoat seems to be uneven.”

“Exactly what I thought,” he sighs. “I can’t quite align it properly.”

And as you always do, you approach him, your hands immediately going towards his shoulders to flatten the vest, then his sides to pull it down. You adjust it a little bit more then fix his collar after, and suddenly this feels so natural - being close to him, taking in his scent, and smiling as he glances at you.

“Do you need help with your coat?” You ask once you finish.

He nods and you follow him to his walk-in closet where you take the last piece of clothing and assist him in wearing it. He adjusts the lapels while you assess if all wrinkles have been flattened. You watch him look at himself in the mirror and you can’t help but admire him as well. He exudes confidence, which you can say now is strikingly different from the Appointment Dinner where he still looked a bit unsure. But now, he commands respect. The deep black color of his striped three-piece ensemble with his slick hair parted in the middle makes him even more handsome, and you manage to hold in the gasp you were about to release as he faces you for a final look.

“All good?” He asks.

“All good,” you smile, turning around and walking back to the living room.

He follows, and he takes this time to bask in your beauty before he has to act like it doesn’t affect him again.

There’s a reason why he was rendered speechless the first time he saw you in this gown at the tailor shop, so much so that he had to step out to get some air. You look even more stunning now, with your classic but natural-looking makeup and your styled hair. You exude a certain kind of glow that sucks him in, that makes his heart race yet soothes him just the same.

It’s a little dangerous for him, given that he’ll be spending this entire evening with you as his date, looking the way you do while he has to act disinterested, as if his attraction isn’t slapping him in the face and his internal alarm bells aren’t ringing.

But he has to act professional. He has to stay behind the lines even if his mind is yelling all the words about your beauty that he has to ignore. So he gives himself this short moment where he gets to admire you, and when you make it to the elevator and become confined in a small space, he holds his breath as you smile at him shyly, hoping that he doesn’t give himself away.

He’ll get himself together, he orders to himself, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t scare you off.

You make it to the lobby and enter the car. The drive to the venue is quiet at the beginning. It’s technically not a work day so there’s no reason to discuss work. You and Jungkook may have started talking about non-work matters but it doesn’t mean you readily talk about actual personal things. They’re occasional, as it’s not something he seems to do much and you’re often guarded about yours. It took a while for you to open up to Yoongi and even then, there are many things he doesn’t know. You’re comfortable around him, there’s no denying that, but there are still parts of you that you don’t like to share with others, and you suppose that Jungkook is the same.

But still, you ask how his evening was and how his day went, expecting he’d give a basic answer.

“I just stayed home last night and watched soccer over drinks,” he says. “Then I did my workout and went for a swim this morning. I did a bit of work in the afternoon and then got ready.”

“Ah, no party last night and then recovering from it in the morning?” You tease, knowing that’s a usual occurrence for him. Lucas did mention about the Singapore trip and how he’d taken home a passed out Jungkook on the night of his birthday.

“Well, there was a party,” he responds. “There always is, but I passed up on it. I didn’t want to feel out of sorts tonight. There’ll be a lot of new faces and I don’t wanna mess up.”

“Oh, you won’t. You’ve been doing really well, Mr. Jeon. And that’s me being honest.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” He arches an eyebrow. “Would you tell me otherwise?”

“Well, the me of now, would. The me of a few months ago would want to but wouldn’t.”

Jungkook dwells on your answer. “Hmm. What changed, then?”

“I got used to you.”

He meets your gaze and somehow it feels too long. You don’t really know what prompted you to say it but you felt a little bold, a little too honest.

“In what sense?” he wonders, turning away now.

“I’d say I got used to the mood swings but then again, they haven’t been intense compared to those first few weeks,” you admit. “But surprisingly, it’s the calmness I’ve become accustomed to. And the seriousness and occasional zoning out, but also, the…”

Care, you want to say. Or the thoughtfulness.

“Consideration,” you say instead.

Jungkook’s throat dries up as he finds the words to say. He’s now afraid to look at you because he might give in and say something he’ll regret. He’s been praised before for his work and his designs, but he supposes that no one’s really complimented him for something he does for other people, specifically for you. Maybe that’s why he thinks he doesn’t deserve it; he’s unsure if he’s really considerate by nature or if he just is towards you. It’s why he brushes it off, insisting he just has his moments.

“But those moments could mean a lot to the one it’s shared with or directed to,” you counter. “Even if it was just once. Or even if it was so trivial that you probably forgot already. But the other person doesn’t. Or they would, but something about that moment stays.”

Jungkook thinks about the moments you’d shown him consideration. Or even care or thoughtfulness, but he wouldn’t word it that way to you. There are the big ones - when you showed your support of the Arts Center to his father, when you calmed him down during that first Board meeting, when you gave him the noodles when he was sick, when you stayed with him during his interview with the magazine publications.

When you stood up to him. When you didn’t quit after that first week.

There are also the small moments - the ginger and lemon tea on Monday mornings when he looks like he’d drank too much the night before, the biscuits you serve with his coffee, the affirming looks during team meetings, the comforting smiles from outside his office when he’s stressed.

There’s a lot of those you show him, and he realizes now that he remembers each one.

The silence returns soon after, as you both seem to prefer basking in the soft music that Mr. Ri plays.

It’s 15 minutes later when you arrive at the venue. You get out of the car and meet Jungkook by his door, surprised when he offers his arm that you take.

“This is how they do it, right?” He looks at you questioningly.

“Yes,” you chuckle. “It’s a little over-the-top but the hosts treat this like it’s some red carpet event and I just follow what the others do. Bitna says it’s the one time we could feel like proper ladies or something, whatever that means.”

“Hmm, makes sense. I guess I’ll be a proper gentleman, then. Whatever that means.”

You hold onto him lightly as you both make your way inside. You try to disregard the firmness of his arm and the way it feels under your touch, so you gently let go not long after and clutch onto your purse instead, not wanting to give off the idea that you’re anything more than each other’s dates. You greet the guests and establish your position to those who are unaware in an effort to show that this social event is a work function as well.

Jungkook talks about the Arts Center when he can, and you mentally take note of certain projects, sites, events, artists, and patrons that are mentioned, quickly typing them on your phone for future reference. He talks to you about them in between flutes of champagne and canapes that are some of the most delicious you’ve ever had.

Jungkook laughs as you down another brie and cranberry bruschetta.

“What? I like fancy food,” you pout.

“Yes, your normal people’s taste buds like fancy food,” he teases.

It’s a statement you make often and you smile that he now uses it against you.

Your moments of casual ignorance of what’s going on around you are ones you find yourself enjoying too much. You internally sigh every time a guest approaches him, and even more so when you find yourself with a few others and someone stands a little too close, or has his hand linger on your elbow, or whispers something in your ear as if you’re at a bar and the music is too loud, which it isn’t, so there’s really no reason for this son of some business tycoon to be asking you to head outside “to talk.”

“Don’t you have a date?” You ask after he insists.

“Yeah, some girl,” he shrugs. “She’s kinda boring. Lucky I found you.”

You awkwardly smile, knowing it’s not your place to reject him and make a scene. He looks to be the type who always gets his way and if he doesn’t this time, you’re afraid of how he might take it.

You don’t budge and call for another flute of champagne instead, finishing it in one gulp that has the man releasing a deep breath in front of you.

“So you’ve been working for the Jeon’s for 8 years, you say?” He speaks again.

You nod, looking around to avoid his eyes.

“That’s quite a long time, yeah? I’m sure I can get you a spot at my company,” he brags. “I mean, we sell luxury cars. That’s way more interesting than buildings and shit.”

“I don’t drive,” you say too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know how to.”

“Perfect. I can teach you then,” he smirks.

It’s the look that heightens your level of discomfort, and just as you’re about to make some excuse and run away, Jungkook calls your name that has you immediately turning towards him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

He’s not too far away; he comes closer yet still maintains a bit of a distance.

“Hoseok’s asking for me but I want to speak to Mr. Saito before he leaves. Can you go to my cousin on my behalf?”

“Of course,” you say, excusing yourself and scurrying away from the scene, sighing in relief at the sight of a familiar pair of faces.

A-yeong gives you a hug and you return it, then you turn to Hoseok and ask what he needs Jungkook for.

“Nothing,” he says. “I didn’t call for him.”

“Oh, okay. Well, he said you did.”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we got here,” Hoseok replies. “You know how this gala goes. So many people to meet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just… uh. Well, I just met Mr. Kwon’s son. And let’s just say, I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Oh, ___,” A-yeong sighs, knowing exactly what you mean. “Just stay with us. Or don’t leave Jungkook’s side.” Turning towards the man who’d just arrived, she adds, “stay close to her, okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, his eyes asking a question that you know the answer to but neither of you says anything.

“I will,” he nods.

Both of you stay where you are for a while before heading back to your seats for the sit-down dinner. You converse with those at your table, thankful that they’re all decent and entertaining. After that, Jungkook doesn’t leave your side. It almost seems like he’s your date rather than the other way around, but you appreciate his presence, especially when he calls your attention once you start looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I just… I just get a little uneasy when people I don’t know get too close.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” he says, prompting you to look at him. “But I just feel uncomfortable, not unsafe. There’s a difference. And it’s not okay if that’s how they make you feel.”

He knew without you saying the words. It takes you back to that night at the restaurant with Hajoon and how Jungkook had looked the most guilty he’d ever been when you said that his staring made you feel uncomfortable. You supposed then that it was mostly because he thought he was causing a rift between you and Hajoon but you realize now that it was more than that. For all that Jungkook is, you’ve come to see that there are things he can’t stand himself doing; deliberately making you feel unsafe is definitely one of them. Perhaps it’s why at this moment, you feel the exact opposite being around him.

And that’s how the rest of the night goes. He stays close but when he’s caught up in a conversation he can’t get out of, he gives you that look to remind you that it’s okay to step away, that you have the ability to remove yourself from a situation you don’t feel good being in. And you do, and the worry you used to have about being a mere assistant fades away. You never thought that one Jeon Jungkook would give you the permission to do that.

You’re seated on a chair some time later, the hours of walking in your high heels taking its toll on you. You wave to Hoseok and A-yeong, no longer having the energy to walk up to them for a proper goodbye. You sigh to yourself, feeling the tiredness slowly overtake you. It was still a good night, but it took a lot of energy from you, too.

“Hey,” you hear Jungkook call out.

You turn to him, still looking handsome as he stands nearby, his hands in his pockets as he mirrors your exhaustion.

“Ready to head home?” He asks.

“Yes,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh.

You stand up, limping only a tiny bit, but you think Jungkook notices, as he offers his arm just like he did at the start of the night.

“This is what a proper gentleman does, right?” He asks.

“I suppose. Although I might say, Mr. Jeon, that’s what you were the entire time. So thank you.”

Jungkook nods in response, unsure how to receive your gratitude. He knows what you mean, as the first sign of your discomfort had him looking at you constantly. He was worried all night but he supposes there’s no reason to feel that way now, as your faint smile just signifies that you’re tired more than anything.

For the short moment it takes for you to walk closer to him, he basks in your beauty once more. The night will be over soon, and he’s glad he could give you some reprieve this time. He tries not to lose it when you tighten your grip on his arm for support though, but that’s something he can think about later on.

The walk to the car isn’t that long and you let go of him eventually. You head towards the other door then enter, the space in between reminding him of where you both belong - on either side of a line, one that he shouldn’t think of crossing.

You sink into your seat, fighting the urge to curl your body and take a nap, so you sit up straight and hold yourself together after once again feeling Jungkook’s arm under your touch. Most of the alcohol has left your system but perhaps not enough, as you boldly look at him and smile in appreciation. He returns it, perhaps knowing why you are.

You look out the window, appreciating Seoul’s night sky, until the vision starts getting unclear, as the rain falls steadily on the window. The tapping of the droplets on the glass is a sound you’ve come to appreciate, among other things that you used to be terrified of.

There’s just this calmness, as if the rain is greeting you, accompanying you in your thoughts. But the sound of the radio getting louder disrupts that a little bit, and in looking at Mr. Ri in question only to find him glancing at the rearview mirror to see the man next to you, do you realize why he’s doing so.

Jungkook’s demeanor has changed, a complete 180 to how he looked not long ago when he seemed satisfied, fulfilled, almost proud of himself for surviving the night. He’s now cross-legged and cross-armed, with his eyes closed and jaws clenched, as if he’s trying to hold himself together. Or trying his best to drown out the sound of the rain, the way Mr. Ri is trying to do for him.

Your face falls at the sight. You’ve seen Jungkook stressed and angry and disappointed; you’ve seen him anxious, too, but this is different. There’s a bit of fear in there, and with the way he flinches and how he’s clutching onto his arms, you know this comes from somewhere and this was caused by something. If it’s anything similar to what you know, then this was because of something painful.

You want to reach out to him but you know you shouldn’t. You helplessly look back on the road then glance at Jungkook every few seconds as the rain continues. It doesn’t seem like it will be a terrible downpour but it’s stronger than usual.

You try to remember instances in the past where he’d acted this way. A few come to mind, and you think now there’s a reason why he becomes uneasy when it starts to drizzle. That happened the other week while you were on a site visit with him for a small project, but you hadn’t thought much of it, given that he was on his fourth cup of coffee on the way there.

But right now, you wish there was something more you could do; anything is better than nothing. But you feel constrained - by the distance, by your position, by his boundaries that seem to always be there.

By some miracle, the rain weakens, and it’s stopped by the time you arrive at Jungkook’s apartment building. The car halts and with him still in the same position, you think he probably doesn’t realize he’s home.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say softly, gently tapping his arm to get his attention. “We’ve reached your place. And the rain has stopped. It’s… it’s okay to open your eyes now.”

It takes a few seconds but he takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, then looks around. It’s just droplets frozen in time on his window and he sighs in relief. Somehow the assurance that he’s okay means something to you this time; you hate to think of what burden he carries that he hides away.

He opens the door, and there’s a bit of disappointment you feel when he closes it and leaves without a goodbye. You suppose he just wants to get to his place immediately and rush to safety. But you don’t want to intrude, not if distance is what he needs, so you settle with just watching him walk away.

But then he turns around, and with that bit of boldness left in your body, you open the window and give him another smile. You wish he feels the tenderness in it; you wish somehow it’s enough to let him know that you understand, and that he’s not alone.

“Good night,” you manage to say, and he hears it despite the distance.

“Good night, ___. And thank you.”

It’s the use of your name. It’s the softness of his smile and the words of gratitude. It’s the way he lingers as the car starts to drive away and you’re left watching him even from afar.

It lets you know that he knows. And it’s the reason why you sleep soundly that night and why for the first time since you’ve met him, you can’t wait to see him again.

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

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doctorbeth · 2 years ago

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Mimming from Singapore

A couple months ago I received an email from Mimming's person in Singapore. Mimming is an almost 40 year old teddy bear, and she's been very well loved... and hugged.

This is what Mimming looked like when she was young:

And this is what she looked like at the start of 2023:

As you can see, she lost a lot of weight and fur from hugs over the years. Her eyes have cataracts (you'll see those better later), her nose is dangling due to muzzle shrinkage, and she has some pretty significant wounds she usually keeps under her shirt. But she's still a very cuddly bear with an endearing expression.

Her person was hoping to get Mimming recovered in new fur, so she could be hugged and have adventures for at least 40 more years. A new nose and new eyes were under consideration, and we agreed starting with a spa (especially since her stuffing was so compressed, was probably in order. So... Mimming found a flight with her buddy Little Mimming to keep her company (you'll see her later) and headed across the Pacific to CA. While Mimming is well travelled, this was a first solo Pacific flight, and so it was bit scary, hence the company. It actually took less than a week for her to arrive!

She started with her bubble bath, that way new fur would match her cleaned fur color.

You can see her cataracts, particularly in her right eye, and how loose and chipped her nose is here.

Next was deciding if she would get a new nose and eyes, or keep her originals. Turns out, there were many nose options. Smooth like nose, flocked/velvety, size differences:

Her person opted for a new, velvety, triangular nose. For her eyes, there was really only one option, new or not. I can usually get pretty good color matches, but Mimming's eyes had also faded, so new eyes would be a touch brighter. Once eyes or a nose come out, they can't go back in, and with recovering it's best to remove them before recovering, so this was a decision that needed to be made before fur choice. Here's the eye option next to her original eye:

Mimming's person opted for two new eyes. We agreed to preserve her old eyes and nose in her heart with a bit of her stuffing. But first, she needed new fur. Here were some of the white fur options:

Mimming's person went with the thick white faux fur, and surgery proceeded. For her brown patch, I had furs to match all of the white fur options, so we were all set there.

Here's her heart being made and installed:

And here are the first photos of Mimming in all new fur. She still has open seams, so her chubbiness can be adjusted:

While she sits naturally like in her baby photos, she can also lay flat like she could when she arrived. Chubbiness approved, Mimming got dressed and went outside for a photo shoot. She was well traveled, but had never been to California, and she wanted some photos as souvenirs. Little Mimming joined her for the photo shoot (those were the first tulips of the season):

And those adorable knitted overalls? Those are Mimming's regular travel clothes that she arrived in. Good thing that knit stretches. I particularly liked the little teddy bear buttons to hold the straps.

Mimming and Little Mimming flew home and again, it was a fast trip, just 5 days! Here they are safe and sound, albeit a little jet lagged, with their friends:

Her person wrote:

Thank you so much!! She looks amazing! We are so happy we got to spend the rest of our lifetime with her - another 40+ years!! Thank you Doctor Beth for taking great care of her. You’re such a blessing to all of us! Praying for your good health and good life. Stay happy and blessed!

#stuffed animal repair #teddy bear repair #teddy bears #stuffed animals #stuffed animal cleaning #teddy bear cleaning #teddy bear clothes #mimming #singapore

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mortallydeepestobservation · 24 days ago

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Perfect plan -2-

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: friends to lovers, friends with benefits? (But the benefit is a baby); crack, a smidge of angst, smut, fluff, happy ending. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: mentions of cheating and ‘being the other woman’ (past relationship), reader works at a hospital, Namjoon is just an absolute sweetheart in this, cursing, multiple sex scenes, dirty talking, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, just a smidge of size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, intensive orgasms, Namjoon tells you to “Relax, woman” before eating you out, lovemaking, and a quick scene of pregananat sex. Word count: somewhere around 16k. Author's note: Here we gooo, part 2 and the finale. Hope you enjoy.✨✨ and if you do, do not hesitate to comment (let's be friends). Tell me what you liked, what you didn't. I'm writing again after a really long time and could use some feedback. (and friends lol) I stole the name Cosmo from “Castle”- (an oldish detective/crime serries I used to love, and I always found it so funny naming a kid Cosmo that I just couldn’t help myself.) Thank you @callmenoona25 for being my trusted beta reader. You’re the best! ✨ part 1: here

Normally, you weren’t one to brag. However, when it came to your packing techniques, no one could compete. You prided yourself on your ability to fit everything you needed into a single suitcase, neatly organized and perfectly folded. Never went over the set limit, even by a gram. You even made sure to leave room for any souvenirs you might pick up along the way, maximizing both space and efficiency.

As you laid out your essentials, you felt a sense of satisfaction. Each outfit was carefully chosen for its versatility, from causal daytime to polished evening. The thrill of the trip only adding to your excitement as you zipped up your suitcase, ready for whatever awaited you in Singapore.

You met Namjoon at the airport, his big bright smile making your heart race when he collected your hand in his, leading you across the airport with familiarity.

The flight was smooth, filled with laughter and light conversation, and before you knew it, you were landing in Changi airport.

The vibrant city welcomed you with its dazzling skyline and warm, humid air. You could hardly contain your excitement as you stepped off the plane and into the bustling airport. Namjoon glanced at you; his eyes sparkling.

As you made your way to baggage claim, a sleek black SUV waited for you outside. The driver greeted you both with a warm smile and opened the door, and you slid into the plush back seat. Namjoon settled beside you, glancing out the window as the city zipped by.

“Look at all the lights! It’s beautiful,” he said, pointing out the iconic sights.

You nodded, mesmerized by the blend of modern architecture and lush greenery. The drive to your hotel felt like a preview of all the excitement that awaited you.

Once you arrived at the hotel, the luxurious lobby took your breath away, with its stunning decor and welcoming atmosphere.

Your room just as elegant, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The soft lighting and plush furniture created a cosy yet sophisticated atmosphere. You couldn’t help but smile as you set your bags down.

“Wow! This is incredible” you exclaimed, fully enchanted by the room.

There was a little loune area to your right, complete with mini bar and plush seating that invited relaxation. A small coffee table was set perfectly in the centre, and the soft glow of the lamps added to the cozy ambiance.

The open kitchen was opposite to the lounging area, sleek and modern, with gleaming countertops and high-end appliances.

“This place is amazing.” You beam “I didn’t expect it to be this nice.”

Namjoon chuckles, clearly pleased. “Yeah, one of the job perks.”

You moved to the kitchen, admiring the little details- the stylish bar stools, the complementary snacks neatly arranged on the counters. “This feels like a dream,” you murmured, almost in disbelief as you run your fingers down the counter.

“Just wait until you see the view from the balcony,” Namjoon said, walking over to the sliding door. He opened it, and a warm breeze flowed in, carrying the sounds of the vibrant city below.

You stepped outside, and your breath caught in your throat as you took in the stunning panorama. The skyline shimmered against the dusk sky, a blend of colours painting the horizon. “This is breathtaking!” you exclaimed, stepping closer to the railing. The warm breeze gently collecting your hair from over your shoulder.

Namjoon watches you, undeniable admiration written across his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but his phone beeps, cutting him off.

“Ah. I need to get ready. I have a meeting in half an hour.” He said, glancing down at the screen.

You turned back at him, a little pout on your lips, “Right, of course.”

He sighs, giving you an apologetic smile. “I’ll wrap it up as quickly as I can, then we can maybe go enjoy the city a bit.”

You nodded, but gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry love. I need to check in with the Dean of medicine either way. So, I’ll be stuck in a zoom meeting for the next few hours too.” You check your watch “And then the conference starts, and I want to make sure I snatch a goodie bag” you grin up at him, making him chuckle as he picks out his clothes from his suitcase.

“My little busy bee,” he winks your way before walking to the bathroom.

You smile at the affectionate nickname, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. As he closed the door, you took a moment to gather your thoughts, preparing for your own meetings. You settled at the small desk in the room, pulling out your laptop and opening all the necessary documents, ready to dive into work.

Namjoon walks out a few minutes later, wearing a tailored suit that made him look like he stepped right out of a billboard. The sharp lines accentuated his frame, and the soft fabric seemed to highlight the subtle tan he was sporting, giving him a warm, inviting glow.

“Oh wow,” you say, momentarily speechless as you took him in, “You look incredible.”

He grinned, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanour. “Thanks! Just wanted to make a good impression.”

“You definitely will,” you completely forgot about your work, staring at him unabashed. He adjusted his collar, and you noticed the way he carried himself with confidence, ready to take on the day. “Make sure no one falls in love with you.”

He laughs, a light blush creeping across his cheeks. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll make sure to mention that I’m reserved.”

“Good!” you said, feeling a playful spark in the air. “You’d better.”

“Okay, I’ll be out for a while. Text me if you need anything.” he said, moving toward the door.

“Good luck with your meeting!” you called after him, watching as he stepped out, the door closing softly behind him

You took a deep breath, letting the moment linger, before forcing yourself to dive back into your task. You made sure to schedule and plan everything in advance so you could take this time off. You checked and double checked every detail, ensuring there were no loose ends.

You went through your notes, confirming appointments and reviewing the materials.

Yet, when the Dean logged on, everything seemed to fall apart. “I’m sorry, but there’s been a logistics misunderstanding.” He said, his voice tinged with frustration. “The materials you sent over didn’t reach the hospital committee in time, and now we’re facing delays for the budgeting conference too.”

Your heart sank as you listened, a wave of anxiety washing over you. “What does that mean for my presentation?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“The committee is postponing the schedule. And now we’ll have to resubmit everything. Your slot might be pushed back or even cancelled.” He explained, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the situation either. “That means that the budget meeting also gets postponed, and you know just how these jackals like to cut the budget when we delay by even a day.”

You felt your stomach drop. All the careful planning and scheduling, and now the opportunity was slipping through your fingers. “But I’ve prepared so much for this,” you protest your voice cracking softly.

“I understand.” He replied, his tone monotone. “We’ll do our best to rectify this. But it may take some time. I’ll keep you updated.” The dean rubbed his temples, clearly irritated.

As the meeting wrapped up, you closed your laptop with a heavy heart. You lean back in your chair, frustration boiling beneath the surface. But you pushed on, reminding yourself that you were in Singapore, and there were still opportunities ahead.

Future-you will simply have to pick up the pace when you return to the office.

When you glance at the clock again, panic sets in- you were running late for the conference. There wasn’t time to change into your planned outfit, so you quickly refreshed yourself, tossing your hair up in a ponytail and opting for a comfortable yet presentable look. You grabbed your bag and dashed out the door, determined not to let anything else derail your plans.

As you hurried down the stairs, the bustling streets greeted you with their vibrant energy. You hailed a taxi, but of course, the traffic seemed to intensify just when you were in a rush. Cars barely crawled along, and your heart raced as you checked the time repeatedly, feeling the minutes slip away.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself, willing the driver to find an alternative route. The sight of the city blurred past you, but your focus remained fixed on the conference.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you arrived at the conference venue. You paid the driver and hurried out, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. The grand entrance loomed before you, and as you stepped inside, the bustling atmosphere enveloped you.

You could see attendees mingling. Doctors, residents and nurses walking around, exchanging ideas and business cards, and you felt a surge of determination. You might have faced a few setbacks, but you were here now, and you intended on making the most of it.

But when you arrived at your scheduled room, your heart sank. The meeting was more than halfway done, and the remainder of the presentation making very little sense to you, seeing as you completely missed the beginning. You tried to catch snippets of information, but it all felt disjointed, and the speakers were already moving on to complex concepts you struggled to grasp.

Frustration bubbled up again as you glanced around the room, hoping to find a familiar face or at least some insight into what you had missed.

Then you remembered the goodie bags you had heard about—swag filled with useful materials and promotional items. You felt a twinge of disappointment as you approached the table at the back, only to find it empty.

“Sorry, we ran out,” the staff member said apologetically.

Great. Just great.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on the remaining presentations, even if they felt like a blur. You tried to jot down key points, hoping to salvage something useful from the experience. But then you saw him walk on stage.

“Hello everybody, I am Doctor Seong-Min and I’m here today to talk to you about-”

But nothing registers. The sight of your ex triggers a wave of emotions you thought you buried long ago. The memory of the betrayal and heartbreak flood back, eclipsing everything else around you.

You struggled to concentrate as he spoke, his voice smooth and confident, like always, captivating the audience. But all you could think about was the bitterness you felt when you found out about his wife, the lies he told, and the way he casually moved on with his life while you were left picking up the pieces.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the hurt that never fully faded. You worked so hard to move on. To establish yourself in your career, only to find yourself face-to-face with the man who caused you so much pain.

And then you caught sight of her- the beautiful trophy wife, her belly big and round as she looked up at her husband with uttermost admiration. The image twisted like a knife in your gut, and you felt like you might puke right there.

You glanced around the room, searching for a distraction, but nothing could pull your focus from the scene unfolding in front of you. You could hear Doctor Seong-Min speaking about his research, but the words felt distant, muffled by the pounding in your chest.

The applause that followed his presentation felt like a weight pressing down on you, suffocating and heavy. You fought to keep your composure, knowing you had to push through this moment. You wouldn’t let him have that power over you anymore.

But then the dick has the audacity to walk over to you, disgusting smirk on his lips as he approached with his wife.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, feigning surprise. The arrogance in his voice made your skin crawl. His wife stood beside him, radiant and blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the air. You felt your stomach flip as they neared.

“Hello,” you managed, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack your face.

Seong-Min leaned in slightly, the confidence radiating off him. “Enjoying the conference? We’ve been hard at work on this project,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the crowd.

You glanced at his wife, who was looking up at him with adoration, completely oblivious to the tension. “I’m sure it’s great,” you replied coolly, your heart racing.

“Still in the medical field, I see?” he asked, a condescending edge to his voice.

You could feel your frustration boiling beneath the surface, old wounds reopening. “Yes, and making strides.” you said, your tone sharper than intended.

His wife shifted slightly, glancing between you and her husband, confusion written on her face as she gently stroked her bump. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand. You shook it, forcing politeness.

“Likewise.” you managed, though the word tasted bitter on your tongue.

Seong-Min flashed that infuriating smirk again. “We should catch up sometimes.” he said, as if you shared some fond memories rather than a history of betrayal. Like the poor woman he cheated on wasn’t standing right there.

“Not interested.” you replied, a bit too quickly.

“Well, enjoy the rest of the conference.” he said, his tone dismissive as he turned away with his wife, who seemed oblivious to the tension.

You felt like the last of your resolve melted away.

It wasn’t fair.

Why does he get to have what you want? Why does he get to enjoy a loving relationship and a baby while you struggle with heartbreak and disappointment? The unfairness stung like a sharp wound, twisting in your chest.

You watched them walk away, his arm wrapped around her waist, the image of happiness that felt like a cruel joke. It brought back memories of the plans that you once had, the dreams you built, all shattered when you found that wedding band hidden in his desk.

You clenched your fists, grounding yourself in the present. This wasn’t who you were anymore; you moved on.

Or, at least, you thought you had.

Nothing from the conference sticks to you afterwards. A big dark cloud overshadowing the rest of the day, until you reach the hotel room.

You weren’t one to give into your emotions, but now, you needed something, anything to distract you from the building rage and emotion that stirred in your chest. You grabbed one of the bottles of Hennessy from the bar and poured yourself a generous glass. The rich amber liquid shimmering in the light, and you hoped it would help dull the ache in your chest. You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you, and you leaned against the cool counter.

As you stood there, you couldn’t shake the frustration that lived beneath the surface of your composed image. You hated feeling like this- caught between anger and sadness. You took another sip, letting the burn wash away any remnants of your earlier encounter.

Slowly, you let yourself slide to the floor, the tears you fought against all day finally breaking free, cascading down your cheeks in hot, unrestrained waves. You felt like a child again, overwhelmed by emotions that were too big to contain. The frustration, the hurt, the unfairness, the longing, all spilled out in chocked sobs.

Each little cry pulled at the heaviness that settled over your chest. You wrapped your arms around your knees, finding solace in the smallness of your position, trying to make sense of everything that unfolded these past few weeks.

Just then, you heard Namjoon’s footsteps approaching. His concern was palpable as he knelt beside you, his presence grounding as he pulled you in his arms. “Hey, hey,” he said softly, his voice laced with warmth that made it harder to hold back your tears.

You turned your gaze away, the world around you blurring through your tears. He didn’t push you to explain, he simply sat there with you, offering you the safe space you needed to be vulnerable.

Slowly, the intensity if your emotions began to ease. You leaned your head against his shoulder, grateful and a bit frustrated that he was there. Grateful for his unwavering presence, frustrated with yourself for letting your feelings spill over.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you admitted quietly.

Namjoon wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling,” he reassured, his voice steady and soothing.

“It’s not fair.” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Why does he get to have everything I wanted? It’s not fair.”

Namjoon quickly understood what you were talking about, tightening his grip around you. “I know it hurts. It’s fucked up to see someone who hurt you move on so easily while you’re left grappling with everything.”

“His wife is pregnant, Namjoon!” you start crying again, the weight of the reality crashing down on you. “It just feels like I’m stuck, and he’s living this perfect life.”

He tiled your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re not stuck. You’re on your own path, and it’s okay to take the time you need to heal. You deserve happiness too.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart swell, your bottom lip quivering as your throat tightened once more. You wanted to believe him, but the twinge of comparison felt so heavy. “It just hurts so much. I thought I was over this”

Namjoon shook his head, brushing a stray tear with his thumb. “Healing isn’t linear. It’s okay to have a few setbacks. I’m right here for you.”

The warmth of his presence began to ease the ache in your chest. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the moment. “Thank you,” you whispered, the sincerity of your gratitude palpable.

“Always,” he replied softly, holding you tighter. “Now come on, let me take care of you tonight.”

You sniffle, whipping your nose with the back of your hand. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. Just let me help,” he said, his tone firm yet gentle.

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. “Okay.” you finally agreed, feeling relief and vulnerability wash over you.

“Good,” he smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Let’s order some food, and we can watch a movie, something to make you laugh while I draw you a bath.” He helps you up, a small smile managing to form on your lips when you let yourself lean into his warmth.

“Sounds perfect.”

As he set up the movie, you felt the burden on your shoulders start to lift. There was something comforting about seeing him move around the room with such confidence. He ordered room service, even adding a bottle of wine to the mix, which you gladly shared with him over dinner.

Once the bath was ready, he returned to you with a warm smile. “Everything’s ready.”

You look up at him, a tiny smile playing on your lips. “You really don’t have to do all this,” you said, but he just shrugged it off.

“Let me pamper you a little.”

With a laugh, you let him take your hand, “Alright. I accept.”

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and you give a small gasp of surprise. “What are you doing?” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Carrying you to the bath. It’s part of the pampering,” he said, his tone playful.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both giddy and relaxed as he walked you to the bathroom. The soft glow of candles flickered around the tub, the warm water inviting you in.

“Okay, okay, you can put me down now.” you said, and he gently lowered you to your feet, his hands lingering on your waist for a moment longer.

He stepped back, watching you with a soft smile as you took in the scene. “Enjoy, and I’ll be right here.” he promised, before stepping out to give you some privacy.

As you sank into the warm water, the soothing heat enveloped you, dissolving any lingering stress from earlier. You closed your eyes, letting the warmth seep into your muscles, feeling the tightness begin to fade. After a while, you hear the door open.

“Can I come in?”

You chuckle at the absurdity of his question, “Yes,” you smile when you see him peeking his head around the door.

“How’s the bath?” he asked, his voice light and teasing.

“Perfect,” you smile at him “You should join me.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the suggestion. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick to being your attendant for now.”

You laugh, splashing a little water in his direction. “You’re missing out.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “But I did bring you your wine glass. I figured you might want something to enjoy while you soak.” He said, setting it down on the edge of the tub.

“That’s perfect, thank you!” You reach for the glass, taking a long sip, savouring the flavours as they wash over your tongue.

Namjoon sat on the edge of the tub, his expression turning earnest “You know, I’m really glad we’re here together,” he said, watching you. “You deserve this time to unwind.”

You meet his gaze, feeling a warmth spread in your chest, “I didn’t think I needed it until today.” You admitted. “But this is really nice. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad I could be here for you. You’ve been carrying so much,” his look is so soft as he watches you “It’s okay to take a break.”

You took another sip of wine, letting the warmth of his words settle in your belly.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry we couldn’t go out.” You place your hand on his thigh, apologizing as you look up to meet his eyes.

“It’s really no problem.” He leans closer, his voice lowering “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

With a smile, you take another sip of your glass, feeing a sense of comfort envelop you, “For now, this is perfect. Just being here with you.”

You both settled into a comfortable silence, the warm water wrapping around you and melting away the tension in your muscles. However, after some time, the water began to cool. You took one last sip of your wine, savouring it, before setting the glass down on the edge of the tub.

“Joon,” you said, glancing over at him, “I think I’m ready to get out now.”

“Need help?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think I can manage, but could you hand me a towel?”

“Sure thing.” He stood up, grabbing a fluffy towel from the rack and handing it to you. “Here you go.”

You took the towel, feeling its softness against your skin. As you carefully stood up, the cool air brushed over you, sending a little shiver down your spine. You wrapped the towel around yourself, feeling a mix of warmth and comfort.

“Thanks, love.” You said, stepping out of the tub and onto the plush rug.

He watched you with a soft smile, “Any time, baby.” He carefully reaches out for you, pulling you into his arms, and you melt into him, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a blanket.

You move your hands down his back, pulling back to meet his gaze, a smile creeping on your face. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, let’s make the rest of the evening just as cozy.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he easily scooped you up, and carried you to the bed with effortless grace. You laughed in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he settles you down on the pillows.

“See? Cozy already.” He said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You giggle, pulling him closer until your lips slot together, his tongue quickly working your mouth open, tasting the lingering sweetness from the wine on your lips.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over your skin as you tangle your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, and as you wrapped your legs around him, you sensed his heart racing in perfect harmony with yours. He trailed kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake, his hands exploring your body with gentle reverence.

With each touch, every lingering kiss against your skin, you feel yourself growing more aroused, your breath hitching in your throat as the heat between you quickly intensified.

You tugged at his shirt, fumbling to unbutton it, but Namjoon stopped you, instead gathering your hands in his and pinning them above your head.

“Take it easy,” He whispered against your jaw, kissing it softly, “We have all the time in the world.” His lips met yours again, and you could feel his harness press against you, as if testing you. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his but he held you pinned to the bed until you huffed and gave up, pleading him with your eyes.

“Keep your hands there for me.”

Only when he saw you obey did Namjoon’s hands begin to roam your body again, pulling away your towel and throwing it somewhere over his shoulder. He traced the curve of your waist, the dip of your hips and the swell of your breasts. His fingers dancing along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake and eliciting soft gasps from your lips.

You moaned when he took a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving it a gentle bite, while squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. The sensation made you jolt, and you heard him chuckle against your skin, urging you to push further into his touch.

As his mouth worshipped your breasts, his hand slid between your legs, fingers finding you slick with desire. Instinctively, your hips bucked against his hand, a rush of need flooding your senses as he explored your wetness slowly.

“That’s my good girl.” He murmured, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he trailed a finger along your folds. You shivered at the sensation, gasping as he flicked your clit.

“Namjoon…”

Without warning, he slipped a finger inside, then another, curling them in a way that made your stomach flutter with delight. He applied just the right amount of pressure, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a maddening rhythm that had you squirming with pleasure.

Once again, his is mouth found your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his tongue swirled around the hard peak. You moan, your fingers clenching the sheets as he continued to explore your body with languid ease.

Suddenly, he struck that sweet spot that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. A long, drawn-out moan escaped your lips, a clear sign that he had found the place that sends waves of ecstasy coursing through you.

“Ah, there it is,” Namjoon said with a satisfied smirk, his gaze fixed on you as you writhe beneath him, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. His fingers hit that spot again, each stroke sending waves of pleasure rippling through you, building you higher and higher until you feel like you're teetering on the edge.

Your release hovers just out of reach, intensifying with every pulse of his hand, each scissor of his fingers within you. He maintains a steady rhythm, each move precise, the slick sound mingling with your soft, breathless pleas.

When his thumb circles your clit, the final surge tips you over the edge. Your body arches, surrendering fully as ecstasy crashes over you in waves, leaving you weak and trembling.

Namjoon holds you close as he moves up, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. “That’s it baby, cum on my fingers.” His hand slows, coaxing every last tremor from you until, with a soft gasp, you weakly push him away, spent and breathless in his embrace.

A soft moan leaves your lips, eyes fluttering shut as you watch him draw his fingers from you and bring them to his mouth. His gaze holds yours, intense and unwavering as he slips his fingers past his lips, his tongue cleaning them completely, savouring the taste of you with a hum of satisfaction. The sight alone sends a fresh shiver down your spine, every nerve still tingling.

He was still fully dressed, looking so fucking handsome in his suit sans the overcoat. And there you were, flushed, completely bare and fucked out just from his fingers.

But then he leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss, his mouth then trailing down your neck and collarbones, leaving a new path of warmth across your skin. He moves lower, pressing kisses along your chest until he settles on his knees besides the bed, looking up at you with an intensity that steals your breath away.

That image of him, gaze smouldering and devoted, is one that will haunt you for the rest of your life.

With a gentle pull, he drags you closer to the edge of the bed, your core exposed to him. His hands glide up your legs, spreading them further apart as he goes, his eyes locked on yours as he leans forward, his beath hot against your skin.

You quickly sit up on your elbows, a hand reaching out as you speak, “You don’t have to.”

“Will you just relax woman?” Namjoon chuckles, gently pressing down on your belly in order to make you lie back down. “I want to.”

Before you could respond, he leans in, nipping at your thigh with a mischievous grin, then quickly soothes the bite with a warm flick of his tongue. The mix of pleasure and unexpected sweetness has you melting back into the mattress.

“You just enjoy.” he murmured, his fingers gently parting you folds “And let me take care of you.”

He looks up at you one more time, his eyes dark with desire and need. Slowly, he lowers his mouth to your clit, his lips soft and warm as they press against your sensitive skin. You let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasure shoot straight to your core, amplifying the lingering shockwave of your last climax, making every touch feel unbearably intense. His lips and tongue dance against your folds, gently parting you with his fingers as he drags a slow, thick line from your entrance to your clit.

“Namjoon, please.” You cry, your voice breathless, not even sure what you’re asking for. But he knows exactly what you need.

He responds with a gentle, rhythmic suction, mixed with teasing nips that made you gasp, his tongue darting in and out of your folds, exploring until you’re dizzy with pleasure. You can feel your body tensing up again, and when you make a move to close your legs, his arms hook around your thighs, keeping you spread and vulnerable, completely at his mercy.

Namjoon plunges his tongue deep inside you, his lips sealing around your entrance as he drinks you in, savouring every drop. He laps at your wetness, drawing you into further his mouth, his movements slow and indulgent, as through he wants to taste every single part of you.

The pleasure is too intense, it’s overwhelming, leaving you helpless as you mewl, thrash around and buck against his mouth. Your orgasm building deep within. But he doesn’t let up; if anything, his efforts double, his mouth and tongue moving with relentless intent, devouring you completely. Your hands tangle in his hair, your earlier protests forgotten as you lose yourself in the sensations he’s pulling from you.

“God, Namjoon, baby, you feel so good,” you breathe, your mind barely processing the confessions that tumble from your lips. “God, your mouth is divine, baby.”

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You feel him moan and groan against your core and your orgasm crashes through you. You cry out his name, feeling every single nerve in your body ignite in surges of bliss. His arms stay wrapped firmly around you, holding you steady as he shows no signs of stopping his abuse of your poor sensitive clit, drinking your release, drawing out every last tremor as you tremble, weak and utterly spent in his arms.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are glazed over with pleasure, his chin glistening with the evidence of your climax. You bite back a moan as he runs his tongue over his lips, savouring every last drop.

“You’re like heaven baby,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep, consuming kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, the blend of sensation only heightening your arousal further as his tongue moves against yours.

“Joonie, just fuck me.” You mumble in between kisses, your voice edged with desperation, aching for him to fill you up and ease the ache that he had been building inside of you. But he remains maddeningly patient, his hands moving casually over your skin, teasing and touching every inch of skin as though committing each detail to memory.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally breaks away and stands, leaving you longing for his warmth. His eyes never leave yours as he starts to undress, each movement slow and deliberate, drawing out the anticipation. His fingers work through each button of his shirt with practiced ease, revealing his skin inch by inch, his expression heavy with intent. When his shirt slides off, your eyes trace over the lean muscles of his chest and the sculpted lines of his torso, drinking in the sight of him.

You urgently motion for him to continue, but he only smirks, clearly savouring your impatience. You huff in frustration and sink back onto the mattress. Despite the growing ache within you, you’re utterly mesmerized by the way he moves, completely caught up in every motion as he lets your anticipation build with each lingering moment, before he finally reaches for his belt.

With a quiet clink, he unfastens it, his eyes watching your reaction as he lets it slide free with maddening slowness. Your breath catches, heart pounding as he unzips his pants, pushing them down just enough to reveal the hard lines of his hips. He steps out of his clothing, completely bare now, standing before you with an air of confident vulnerability that leaves you spellbound.

For a moment, he pauses, letting you drink in every detail —the muscles of his chest, the strength in his frame, his ridable thighs and his hard cock pressed against his stomach, the tip glistening with precum.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. The challenge in his tone ignites a thrill within you, and you nod, your mouth suddenly dry with desire.

Slowly, he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours and he climbs on top of you, his body warm and solid as he positions himself between your legs.

“I can be on top.” You declare, suddenly finding your voice, grabbing his shoulders and trying to pull him down. But once again, Namjoon stops you.

“I’ve got this, you relax.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he eases you from your tensed position, allowing him to mould you as he pleases. His hands find your ass, squeezing it tightly as he positions you exactly how he wants.

A broken moan escapes your lips as he presses his erection against your aching pussy, the head of his cock catching against your clit, collecting your wetness. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer still, craving the connection between you.

Slowly, he enters you, filling you up in a way that takes your breath away. “Ah baby, so tight for me.” He moans against your neck, his voice thick with desire as he stretches you, despite all the foreplay. Namjoon pauses once he’s fully inside, relishing in the sensation until you begin to claw at his skin, urging him to move.

“God Namjoon, please, move. Please.” You beg, desperation flooding your voice and easing any shame you might have ever felt when it came to begging a man in bed. Yet here you were, the need in your tone was unmistakable, breaking you softly as you urged him to take action. “Please, my love.”

And obediently, Namjoon begins to move, pulling out and thrusting back into you with a steady rhythm. But with each movement, you can sense a subtle adjustment in his hips, as if he's searching for something deeper. You give him a confused look, ready to beg again, when suddenly he hits your g-spot, making you scream in pleasure.

“There we go,” he looks so proud of himself as he locks in, his hips thrusting against yours with expert precision now, in a rhythm that has you spiralling into ecstasy.

Yet, something feels different — like there’s something more here than just another steamy ‘baby-making’ session.

There is no urgency in his movements, no hurried pace. This feels more like lovemaking, like a slow and sensual dance that allows him to explore every inch of you as you surrender yourself completely to him. His lips and hands tease you constantly, leaving trails of electricity pulsing through your body as his hips maintain a steady rhythm. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as he worships you, revelling in the pleasure he gives you with each stroke of his cock.

As the tension builds within you, your breath hitches, and you feel yourself getting closer, his moans against your skin igniting the fire that threatens to consume you whole.

“Namjoon, I’m close.” You barely manage to get the words out, your voice trembling, as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity building within.

“Come for me, babygirl. Let go,” He whisperers in your ear, “I’ve got you.” And you cry out, grabbing onto his shoulders tightly, your nails dragging down his back as you urge him on.

In response, he thrusts harder, faster, driving you to the brink of pleasure until, with a final push, he sends you over the edge. You scream out as your orgasm washes over you, your body shaking with the force of your release. Namjoon follows soon after, his body tensing, then shuddering as he empties himself inside of you, filling you to the brim. He gives a few final, slow trusts, the wet, slick sounds echoing softly around you.

He collapses on top of you, skin warm and damp, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you both savour the lingering warmth of your lovemaking, riding the waves of pleasure as you come down from the high together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck are you reading?” Yoongi’s eyes are wide with shock as he looks over at Namjoon, who is sitting across from him at the conference table.

“Uhm-” Namjoon glances at the cover of the book, quickly realizing his mistake “What to expect when you’re expecting” he mumbles, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“Should I even ask?”

“It would be easier for the both of us if you don’t.” Namjoon replies, avoiding eye contact, his embarrassment palpable.

Yoongi smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Now I’m definitely curious. Are congratulations in order?”

Namjoon lets out a groan, rubbing the back of his neck “It’s not what you think.”

Yoongi chuckles, clearly enjoying Namjoon’s discomfort. “Oh really? So, you’re just doing some light reading on pregnancy for fun?”

“More like… research,” Namjoon stammers, his cheeks still flushed. “For a friend. Just a friend.”

“Right,” Yoongi replies, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eye. “So, I get it that this weird plan of yours worked?”

“She’s not expecting yet,” Namjoon insists, a bit too defensively, before confusion strikes him. “At least, I think. I tend to get lost when it comes to the logistics.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. He lets the silence stretch, watching as Namjoon grows increasingly uncomfortable. Despite knowing he should stop talking, there’s something about Yoongi’s gaze that makes him continue.

“It’s complicated, okay? She has everything figured out, and I thought I should probably read up on it instead of sounding completely clueless.”

“Sounds like you’re in deeper than you think.” Yoongi laughs, his smirk widening. “Next thing you know, you’ll be attending prenatal classes with her.”

“Not a chance!” Namjoon shoots back, his tone half-serious and half-joking. “I just wanted to be a good friend. I didn’t sign up for this!”

Yoongi leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Come on, admit it. You’re secretly excited about it.”

“Maybe I am!” Namjoon bursts out, then quickly lowers his voice, glancing around the conference room as if expecting someone to overhear. “But it’s not about me. It’s about her.”

“Didn’t she say she wants to be a single parent?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow.

Namjoon nods, his expression turning serious for a moment.

“I’m not going to interfere.” Namjoon says, shoving the book at the bottom of his backpack. “I just want to help.”

“You really like ‘helping’ her.” The teasing edge in Yoongi’s voice makes it clear this won’t end well for Namjoon, yet he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

“Don’t phrase it like that.” Namjoon’s face turns an even deeper shade of red.

Yoongi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment “Come on, it’s just us here. You can admit it. You’re totally invested.”

Namjoon shakes his head, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I’m just trying to be supportive, okay? She’s going through a lot, and I need to be there for her.”

“Supportive or not, sounds like there are more emotions involved than the ‘plan’ initially asked for.”

Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands. “Can we please drop this?”

“Relax, your secret’s safe with me.” Yoongi says, finally easing up a bit. “But you owe me a favour for this.”

“What kind of favour?”

“Just remember who kept your secret, and maybe take me to lunch next week?”

Namjoon shakes his head, chuckling. “Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal. But no more pregnancy talks.”

“Deal.” Yoongi nods, still grinning. “But maybe don’t bring any more of those books to work. It’s not a good look.”

“Good idea.” Namjoon says, leaning back in his chair as the meeting starts to take shape.

As the discussions unfold, Namjoon finds himself glancing at the clock, his mind wandering to thoughts of you and the city exploring he’s been dreaming about. The day drags on with endless presentations and updates, and he can’t shake the desire to escape the conference room.

Finally, as the last agenda item wraps up, he feels a wave of relief wash over him, the long day is finally over. He stands up, stretching his arms above his head and quickly shoots you a text message.

Joonie 🎍🫀: Hey love. I’m done for the day. How about we grab dinner and check out the Gardens by the Bay? We can catch the skyline at night too! Baby-momma 💕: Sounds wonderful! Can’t wait to see the skyline!

Namjoon smiles at your reply, feeling a rush of excitement.

Joonie 🎍🫀: Great. I’ll meet you at the hotel in 20. Wear something red for me 😏 Baby-momma 💕: See you then! 🥰

He quickly gathers his things and heads out, a bounce in his step as he thinks about the evening ahead. The drive is quiet, but his mind races with possibilities. When he arrives at the hotel, he spots you waiting for him by the entrance, looking absolutely radiant in a black dress that perfectly accentuates your waist. The square neckline draws his gaze to the little mark he left just above your chest, making him smile wider.

“Hey there,” he says, a smile breaking across his face as he approaches, “You look amazing, even if it’s not red.”

You twirl playfully, your dress flowing around you. “I hope this is good enough.” you beam, your smile quickly turning into a teasing one as you take his hand and guide it to the strap of your dress. You lift it just enough to reveal a glimpse of red lace underneath. “The red is for later.”

Namjoon’s breath catches, his eyes widening with surprise and delight. “Well, now I’m even more excited for tonight.” he replies, eyes still glued to your chest.

You pull him closer, the energy between you sparking with anticipation. “Lead the way, baby.” you say, your voice playful and oh-so inviting.

He chuckles, feeling a rush of confidence as he guides you towards the exit. “I hope you’re ready for an adventure.” He teases, glancing down at your hand still intertwined with his.

The evening air is warm as you step outside, the city lights beginning to flickering to life around you.

You stop for dinner at the most charming little noodle shop, a hidden gem that Namjoon found online. And just like the reviews promised, the food was incredible.

After dinner, you head to the Gardens by the Bay, where the towering structures are beautifully illuminated against the night sky. As you stroll through the gardens, the sweet scent of flowers fills the air, and the sounds of the city fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

Namjoon leads you to a quiet spot overlooking the skyline. The city sprawls out before you, all the light shimmering like stars in the night sky.

“Wow.” you whisper, taking in the breathtaking view.

Namjoon leans closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. “It’s like a painting, isn’t it?” his arms wrap protectively around your waist, holding you close to his chest.

You nod, leaning into him, feeling safe and content as you stand together, soaking in the beauty of the moment. The skyline reflects in your eyes, but it’s the way he holds you close that makes everything feel so much more vibrant.

After a while, you feel his lips brush against your neck, softly kissing his way up to your ear. “Want to head back? I think I could use dessert after this.” He murmurs.

You giggle, nodding slowly and leaning into his touch. “Sounds good. I saw this little pastry shop near the hotel.”

“Not quite what I was suggesting.” he smirks against your skin and you feel a flush rising in your cheeks.

“Oh…” you reply, biting your lip to stifle a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

“Didn’t I tell you? You taste like heaven.”

Your heart races at his words, and you can’t help but smile back at him. “That sounds tempting.”

“Good.” He kisses your neck once more, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze as you begin to walk back towards the hotel.

As you stroll, the city lights twinkle above, creating a magical backdrop. The conversation flows effortlessly, laughter punctuating your words. Every shared glance feels charged with anticipation, heightening your senses and making the moment feel even more special.

When you finally reach the hotel, Namjoon keeps his word. Fucking you good and hard into the mattress, over the couch and pressed up against the window, overlooking the city as you come completely undone around his cock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, since when does making a baby require you travel to Singapore?” Sumi looks at you, utterly bewildered.

The little coffee shop was cozy, its warm, pink ambiance wrapping around you like a comforting hug, chasing away the chill of a long workday. Aera suggested the place, and now, the three of you are huddled together at a small table, indulging in some much-needed girl talk.

You stare at the picturesque slice of sponge cake on your plate, next to the steaming cup of coffee you’ve been craving all day.

“I was sad, and he just did a nice thing for me.” you mumble between spoonfuls of cake.

“Wow. When I’m sad Jungkook just tells me to cheer up!” Aera replies, her eyes wide with disbelief, mirroring Sumi’s expression.

You chuckle a little, completely absorbed by the dessert.

“Seriously! How is that even fair?” Sumi adds, shaking her head. “You’ve got yourself a good one over there.”

You chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and warmth at their reactions. “It wasn’t like that. We just had a moment, you know?”

“Sure, a moment that requires international travel?” Aera teases, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling “It’s not like that! He just helped me unwind.”

Sumi laughs, shaking her head. “This is a whole different kind of ‘helping’ you’ve got going on.”

You take a sip from your coffee, feeling flustered under their relentless stares. “Can we just enjoy our cakes without analyzing my life choices?”

“Never! This is so much better than cake!” Aera declares dramatically, making you all laugh. “Spill the tea, babe.”

“I would, but there’s no tea to spill.”

“You’re a lying liar.” Sumi smirks, “I think I speak for everyone at the table when I say, Namjoon was basically undressing you with his eyes the last time we were at Seokjin’s.”

You feel your cheeks heat up remembering that night- how intense his gaze felt, the way he pulled you into the spare bedroom and kissed you until you were breathless, leaving you both flustered and frustrated.

“What? No! He wasn’t.” you protest, though your voice lacks any conviction.

Aera leans in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me you didn’t feel that chemistry!”

You did feel it- The same way you felt him all the way back to your apartment.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to deflect, “He was just being friendly!”

“Friendly? Please!” Sumi rolls her eyes. “He’s totally smitten.”

“I really don’t see it.” You confess, taking a cautious sip of your coffee to buy some time.

Aera raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, “Really? You think he spends that much time with you just because he’s being nice?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve always been close.” you reply, trying to sound more convincing that you feel. “It’s not like he’s making any moves.”

“My dude! You’ve been sleeping together for what? Three months? How is that not a move?” Sumi argues, quickly realizing her slip up.

“You’ve been what?!” Aera’s eyes blow wide, her mouth dropping open in shock.

Your face burns as you scramble for words. “Wait, wait, wait! It’s not like that!” you stammer, panic rising in your chest. “We’re not— I mean, we are. But it’s complicated!”

Sumi smirks, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Oh, it sounds pretty straightforward to me! You’ve been sharing a bed for months and you didn’t think to tell me?” Aera’s expression shifts through a whirlwind of emotions.

“It’s not something I just bring up!” you protest, trying to collect your thoughts. “He’s just helping me get pregnant. We’ve been navigating this… situation, and it just didn’t feel right to tell anyone.”

“I know because I came up with the idea!” Sumi beams, overly proud of herself.

Aera leans in closer, her curiosity piqued. “So, you really are sleeping with him? Like, romantically?”

“Only recently!” you admit, your heart racing. “And it’s still really new and confusing.”

“Confusing or not, this sounds like a plot twist waiting to happen.” Sumi laughs, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Aera’s eyes widen even further, and Sumi bursts into laughter. “Girl, you’re in deeper than you realize!”

“Can you keep your voice down?” you say, glancing around the cozy shop to make sure no one’s listening. “It’s not that simple!”

“But it sounds like it is!” Aera is shocked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, what’s it like? I mean, are you two a thing now?”

You fidget with your cup. “No. Nothing like that. He’s just helping me get pregnant.”

Sumi raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Really? You think he’d go to all this trouble if he didn’t have feelings for you?”

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. “I mean, he’s just being nice. He wants to help me, that’s all.”

Aera leans in closer, her curiosity growing. “But you like him, right? I mean, there has to be something more than just… helping.”

You feel your cheeks warm. “Of course I like him! But that doesn’t mean he feels the same way.”

“You need to tell him!” Aera urges, her excitement bubbling over. “You can’t just keep pretending it’s all casual.”

At that, you feel the bubble burst and reality crashes in. The consequences of your actions suddenly feel all too real.

How could you even bring it up with him?

Relationships always have a way of complicating things. Even if by some miracle, you two become a couple, it could easily spiral out of control. The thought of him potentially leaving your life is a risk you can’t bear.

After all, if this is a number’s game, 50% of marriages end in divorce. And the odds are far worse for dating.

“No. I’m fine as is.” you glance down at your coffee, stirring it absentmindedly. “This is just about the baby and nothing more.”

Sumi furrows her brow, unconvinced. “But what if it’s more for him? You could miss out on something special.”

“It’s safer this way.” You insist, though doubt creeps in your voice “I don’t want to complicate things.”

“Complications are already there.” Aera points out gently, “You’re both invested. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of their words settling heavily on your chest. “I want the baby. That’s my only focus right now.”

Sumi’s expression softens. “But what if you could have both? A baby and a relationship? Isn’t that worth exploring?”

The idea lingers, tempting yet terrifying. You want to believe that could happen, but the fear of risking everything holds you back. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Sumi leans in, her voice gentle but firm. “But what if there’s more to gain than just what you might lose? You both care about each other—why not see where that can take you?”

You chew your lip, caught between the fear of the unknown and the hope for something deeper. “I don’t want to push him away. If I tell him how I really feel, what if he doesn’t feel the same? It could ruin everything.”

Aera nods, understanding but not letting you off the hook. “But keeping it bottled up could ruin things too. You’re both navigating this together, right? Just talk to him.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I planned any of this!” you sigh, frustration creeping in. “I just wanted a baby. This was supposed to be a straightforward arrangement!”

“And sometimes the best things come from the unexpected,” Sumi counters, using her favourite line. “Look at how much you’ve already shared. Maybe it’s time to be honest about your feelings?”

You sit back in your chair, the weight of their words sinking in. What if this really could be something more? But then the fear rushes back in—what if it all falls apart?

“No. We have this arrangement, and it works.” You state firmly. “That’s where this conversation ends.”

Aera opens her mouth to respond, but Sumi places a calming hand on her arm. “Okay, we’ll drop it. We just want what’s best for you.” she says gently, her eyes still filled with concern.

“Yeah, I get it.” you reply, appreciating their support even as you feel the tension in the air. “I really do. But right now, I need to focus on the baby and what that means for me.”

Aera leans back, her expression softening. “Just promise us you’ll think about it. You deserve to be happy too, you know.”

“The plan makes me happy. Namjoon just isn’t part of it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two lines stare innocently at you. The test waits patiently for you on your desk, and each time you walk by a new flutter of emotions washes over you.

You were pregnant. You had to be- You took five tests. They all came back positive.

You blink again at the small plastic device, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. Five tests, all confirming what you’ve been hoping and working for.

What now?

Sumi 🏥: Welcome to club knocked-up.

The phone buzzes, the message arriving alongside your blood work results. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you read Sumi’s message. Her humour cuts through the tension, and for a moment, you feel like you could float. Club knocked-up. It feels surreal, like stepping into a world you’ve only heard about from others.

You typed back quickly, your fingers dancing over the screen.

Idiot 🌺💫: Thank you, Sumi! Can’t believe this is happening.

The blood work is another confirmation. Your mind races with questions: What was the next step? How will you tell the others?

Sumi🏥: You’ve got this! We need to meet up and celebrate! Idiot 🌺💫: Yes! I’ll add it to my to-do list!! Sumi🏥: 🙄 🙄 🙄 Sumi🏥: I also pencilled in an appointment with Dr. Mi-Ja. Best Dr I know. (Even if she’s a stuck-up bitch at the watercooler). Idiot 🌺💫: Thank you. Love you 💕 Sumi🏥: Right. Sure. Just tell me if u want me to add Namjoon as a guest or nah. Idiot 🌺💫: Nah.

Three letters and a punctuation mark. That's all it took to tie up your resolve with a pretty bow of logic. He had done enough; you didn’t need to bring him into this any further. From now on, it would be just you.

The appointment comes as a welcomed relief. Dr. Mi-ja exuded kindness and experience, her calming presence putting you at ease. She laid out the next steps and the best options available, cementing that sense of control you’ve been longing for in this new chapter of your life.

The next few weeks rolled on by, the initial shock of the pregnancy transforming into an all-consuming obsession. Your agenda and calendar became constant companions, filled with notes and reminders. You dove headfirst into planning-diaper storage solutions, the perfect formula temperature, baby-proofing the rooms- each detail meticulously organized and perfectly planned.

But, as it turns out, you could factor in morning sickness as a part of the package, but you can’t really plan for it… some days you are perfectly fine, and others, you were completely sidelined, battling nausea while trying to tackle your growing to-do’s.

One minute you’re dreaming about baby names, and the next, you’re sprinting for the bathroom, feeling like your world is spinning.

Ginger tea and saltines became a new staple in your home. A makeshift remedy for the relentless waves of nausea. The mere scent of coffee knotted your stomach, an ironic twist for someone who once had more coffee than blood running through their veins.

But despite the discomfort, you kept life moving forward. Now more grateful than ever that you work in a hospital and have an arsenal of doctors on quick-dial for any inquiries you might meet along the way.

Still, Sumi was your constant support, always checking in and making sure you had everything you needed. Even when you insisted you were just fine, with your head in the toilet. “You can’t fool me.” she’d tease over the phone, her laughter lightening the mood just a smidge.

You only hope you manage to keep the contents of your stomach intact when Namjoon comes over with dinner. It was Sunday, and you hadn’t seen him since you got the results. The thought of facing him stirring a cocktail of nerves and excitement inside you. What would you say? What would he say? Would it be awkward?

As you tidied up your space, the familiar sound of a mommy-to-be audiobook filled the background, almost pulling you out of your deep thoughts. You move on to set the table, choosing instead to focus on the details: napkins folded neatly, an empty vase in the middle-since the smell of flowers made you sick-, plates arranged just-so, and a cushy ambiance created by the setting sun peeking through the sheer curtains.

You didn’t plan the sun. But it added a beautiful touch to the atmosphere, casting a golden hue over everything.

The sound of the key in the lock sends your heart racing. You take a big breath, steeling yourself as Namjoon enters, a big smile on his face and a bag of take-out in his hands.

“Hey! I missed you!” he said, stepping inside and wrapping you in a tight embrace, his lips sweetly meeting yours for a quick kiss.

The warm scent of bulgogi drifted through the air, making your stomach rumble-despite your best efforts to quell the impending nausea.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he murmurs in your hair, making your stomach twist again, only this time with guilt. His warmth surrounds you, but the reality of your situation gnawed at the edges of your mind.

He doesn’t know, so he’s still acting like he has some kind responsibility towards you.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you reply, pulling back to look up at him. His smile is genuine, deepening the dimples on his cheeks, only stressing your fluttering nerves further and bringing a fresh wave of discomfort over you.

He holds up the take-out bag with a grin. “I brought Bulgogi and all the fixings. Figured we could have a little feast.”

“Great.” you said, trying to match his enthusiasm, but your voice falls flat. Much like your actions, because you feel more like a robot as you lead him to the table, quickly taking a seat and pouring yourself a tall glass of water.

As Namjoon begins to unpack the food, the rich aroma wafted towards you, and before you could even react, a wave of nausea hits you. You jump up and dash to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

Once inside, you leaned over the toilet, feeling the contents of your stomach spill out. Each heave bringing a mix of frustration and embarrassment. You didn’t even notice the sound of the door creaking open, too caught up in your misery to register it.

“Oh shit,” Namjoon says softly, his voice filled with concern. You feel his hands collect your hair away from your face, gently rubbing your back.

You’re too embarrassed to look at him. But his presence brings you some semblance of comfort. He doesn’t say anything. Just stays there with you, holding your hair back and massaging your back until you’re done.

Once you feel comfortable standing up, he brings you a wet washcloth and a glass of water. You sit on the edge of the bathtub, grateful for the small gestures of care amidst the tension that hangs between you.

A heavy silence settles, broken only by the sound of running water from the sink. You know Namjoon isn't oblivious; he's pieced together the clues—the missed calls, the unread messages—and now the truth hangs in the air like an unspoken accusation.

He doesn’t rush to speak, instead, taking his time to look at you, weighing his next words carefully.

“Congratulations.”

You give a small nod, not quite feeling like celebrating right now.

“How long have you known?” His voice is raw with hurt as he breaks the silence, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You draw in a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “A few weeks now.”

He blinks, the realization settling in. “A few weeks?” His voice is a mix of disbelief and pain. “When did you plan on telling me?”

“I-I don’t know.”

The weight of those words hung thick between you, like a dense fog, blurring the outlines of what was sure to be a life-altering conversation. You could see the cogs turning in Namjoon’s mind, processing the truth that lay before him.

“You plan for everything-” There is a mix of emotions that crosses his face in that split second, somehow, heartache being the most evident of them all “Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?”

You look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of your decision feels heavier than before, almost like it could crush your chest under the pressure.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to involve you any more than necessary.”

Namjoon’s laugh is bitter, devoid of any humour, “Is that what you think I am? Just a means to an end? Someone to use and then discard when you no longer have need for me?”

You flinch at the accusation, the pain in his words cutting deeper than you could have ever imagined. “No, that’s not it at all!” You insist, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulls away from your grasp.

“Then what is it?” He demands. “Because from where I’m standing it looks like you used me. You used my trust, my emotions, and then you tossed me aside like a piece of trash when you got what you wanted.”

You shake your head, tears filling your eyes “Namjoon, we had an agreement.”

“Yes. We also set up rules- rules, mind you- that we willingly broke with the first opportunity that showed up.”

The tension crackles in the air, and you feel your heart race as he takes a step back, putting distance between you. His words sting, but they cut close to the truth. You know he’s right; the lines blurred the moment you started sharing a bed.

You had anticipated every scenario, but this—seeing the hurt in Namjoon’s eyes, the disappointment etched across his face—was something you hadn’t prepared for

“Namjoon, please…” you plead, searching for the right words. “This wasn’t what I intended. I wanted a baby, yes, but I never meant for things to get complicated like this.”

He looks at you, his expression softening just a fraction, but the hurt is still there. You’ve never seen him like this- grasping at his emotions, struggling to keep them contained. He falls silent, looking away from you, and you sense the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“You’re cruel,” he says your name, the pain evident in his voice, as if the word itself is a wound. The rawness of his voice stabs at your heart, each word a reminder of the walls you’ve singlehandedly build between you.

You look away, letting your tears spill, no words fit for the damages you’ve caused.

“What about my feelings? My part in this? Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I’d want to be involved in this kid’s life too? In your life?” Namjoon continues, his voice slightly rising with a mix of frustration and pain. Each word causing you to sob further, and you can’t help but flinch at the reality of what you’ve done.

“I didn’t think-” you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

“Exactly! You don’t think,” he interrupts, his hands balling into fists by his side “You just plan.” He lets out a frustrated breath, “I actually thought you loved me back. God. I’m such an idiot.” He turns away, his back facing you, as if the distance between you somehow lessens the weight of the moment.

The silence stretches, heavy and unbearable, filled only by the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Namjoon, please,” you call out, your voice cracking. “Don’t go.”

He takes a slow, deliberate breath before responding, his voice low and strained. “What else can I do? You’ve already made your choice.”

Your heart aches at the hurt in his expression. “I was scared, Namjoon. Scared of how you’d react, scared of what this all meant.”

“Scared?” He scoffs, the bitterness returning to his voice. “Scared of what? Of being a family? Of letting me in?” He shakes his head, as if he can’t comprehend the distance you’ve created.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling the tears stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to get complicated like this. I wanted to share this with you, I really did.”

He takes a step back, the distance between you growing again. “You wanted a baby, not me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s what hurts the most.”

“Namjoon…” you say, your voice breaking.

He turns away, facing the door, the weight of his decision clear in his posture. “I need to go,” he says, his voice heavy with finality.

“Don’t,” you urge, panic rising, “Please, just… let’s talk about this.”

“I can’t.” Namjoon replies, his voice strained. “I can’t do this right now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You never liked waiting rooms.

There was something about the sterile white walls, the sickly-looking people, the occasional coughing and the wailing baby that made your stomach churn with anxiety.

Normally, you’d use your ‘connections’ to skip the line, asking your colleagues to check you out when they had a moment.

But this time felt different. Surrounded by a sea of pregnant women, each one rounder and fuller than the next, guilt washed over you for even considering it.

So instead, you settled in next to a woman with a crying baby, constantly refreshing your messaging app, hoping Namjoon would respond to your messages.

You: First ultrasound appointment. I’d be glad if you can make it…

And you forwarded the message from the hospital with all the details about the appointment.

The message was flagged as read since you sent it, two weeks ago. But no response came.

The minutes stretched on, each second amplifying your unease. You glanced around the waiting room, feeling like an outsider among the expecting mothers. Their laughter and chatter felt detached from reality, and you couldn’t shake the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

You opened the messaging app again, staring at Namjoon’s contact. Maybe if you focused hard enough, those three little typing dots would appear. A follow-up message might coax a reply, but a small voice warned you against it. You didn’t want to seem desperate, even though you felt that way deep down.

Taking a deep breath, you put your phone down and tried to centre yourself. You could hear the soft coos of the woman besides you as she rocked her baby, and you took a moment to admired her calming demeanour. It was such a stark contrast to your own swirling thoughts, that you found a bit of peace in her tranquillity.

After a moment, the woman caught your eye. “Is this your first?”

You nodded, trying to muster a smile as you placed a hand over your still flat stomach “Yeah, I’m a nervous wreck.”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt compelled to open up to this random lady, yet here you were, being more honest with a stranger than you had been with your partner.

She smiled back, her big eyes filled with warmth. “That’s normal. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll be just fine.”

You appreciated her kindness, but at that moment, it did little to ease any of the mounting worries you’ve been collecting since your last conversation with Namjoon. The pain in his eyes was still etched in your memory, surfacing at the most inopportune of times and reminding you of just how easily you could tangle up your own life. Each thought felt like a thread unravelling, pulling you deeper into a sea of uncertainty- about your future, your relationship, your entire damned plan.

You checked the message again, hoping for something-anything- from Namjoon. Still, nothing changed.

Then, faster than you expected, a nurse called out your name. You barely fumbled to collect all your belongings before heading into her office, your heart feeling more like a speck of sand in your chest. Each of your steps felt heavy, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through you harder still.

Dr Mi-ja greeted you with the usual warmth and quickly launched into a series of tests and questions about your well-being— checking vitals, asking about symptoms, energy levels, nausea and anything else that seemed relevant.

“Have you had any cravings or aversions?” she inquired, glancing up from her clipboard.

“Just a strong aversion to hospital waiting rooms,” you joked, forcing a small strained laugh.

She chuckled, her head shaking lightly “That’s a common one. But overall, it seems like you’re doing well. Now, let’s move on to the ultrasound. That’s the exciting part!”

As you followed her to the ultrasound room, a mix of excitement and nervousness boils in you with every step down the hall. This was one of those moments you had dreamed about, meticulously planning every detail for-the outfit you’d wear, how you’d react, all the little other moments that filled your mind.

Yet, as the moment draws near, a wave of sadness washed over you at the thought that Namjoon wasn’t by your side. Even if he hadn’t been part of the plan initially, you had hoped he would be here to share this significant milestone. His absence felt heavy, casting a bittersweet shadow over the excitement. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the experience ahead, but the longing for his presence lingered in the back of your mind.

“Is the father coming?” Dr Mi-ja asks, sparing a glance in your direction as you enter the ultrasound room. You paused, hesitant to speak the truth out loud.

“I don’t think he can make it,” you finally admit, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Dr Mi-ja nodded, her expression understanding. “It’s okay if he can’t be here. What matters is that you’re here, and we’ll take very good care of you.”

You appreciated her kindness, but it did little to ease the pang of discouragement as you accepted this new reality.

As you settled on the examination table, Dr Mi-ja prepared the ultrasound machine. “I’m going to need you to unbutton your shirt.” She said gently. You nodded, taking a moment to gather your thoughts before following her instructions. Sitting at the edge of the table, you began unbuttoning your shirt, taking your time as you wrestled with the lingering sadness.

Just then, a loud bang echoed through the room, startling you. Sumi's voice carried through the door, her muffled voice scolding whoever slammed against the door, before the ID swipe beeped, signalling the door had unlocked. In walks a slightly pissed Sumi, closely followed by a very flustered Namjoon.

“Sorry we’re late! Someone wasn’t aware you had to fill out forms at the hospital,” She shot a glare at Namjoon, before addressing you, as if you had somehow contributed to that chaos.

“This is a private meeting.” Dr Mi-ja began, preparing to escort them out. But you stopped her.

“No. This is the father.” As you introduced Namjoon, a new wave of emotions crashes over you. But Namjoon stepped forward confidently, his eyes reflecting relief and apprehension.

“Sorry for the mix-up.” he said, glancing at Sumi, who looked taken aback but quickly masked her surprise with a supportive smile.

Dr Mi-ja softened her stance, clearly sensing the significance of the moment. “Alright then. Let’s proceed without further interruptions, preferably.” She shot a pointed look Sumi, but her demeanour shifted to one of professionalism as she gestured to the both of you to take a seat.

You caught Sumi roll her eyes, muttering a “Bitch” under her breath before she exited the room with a soft click of the door behind her.

As you settle back onto the examination table, your gaze met Namjoon’s. There is no shock or hesitation in his eyes- just a steady presence that made you feel a little more grounded, even as the situation felt heavier with him there. He offered you a reassuring smile, and for the first time in weeks, the clouds that loomed in your brain began to shift, even if just slightly.

“Now, let’s see how your little one is doing,” Dr Mi-ja said, smiling at both of you.

Namjoon’s hand found yours as he leaned closer to the screen, his grip anchoring you before the anticipation and nerves got a chance to settle.

Dr Mi-ja applied the cool gel to your abdomen, the sensation catching you off guard. “Are you ready?” she asked, glancing at you with an encouraging smile.

You nod, your heart racing.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” she said, positioning the wand with careful precision.

As the screen flickered to life, your breath caught in your throat.

There it was—a tiny blob pulsing rhythmically, the heartbeat a steady echo that filled the room. It was surreal, overwhelming, and suddenly everything else outside this tiny moment faded away.

“There’s your baby,” Dr Mi-ja said, her voice warm with enthusiasm. “And that heartbeat is strong.”

You looked over at Namjoon, who was completely absorbed in the image on the screen, his eyes shimmering with wonder.

The doctor continued, tracing the contours of the tiny form. “Everything looks good so far. The heartbeat is strong, and the measurements are right on track. You’re about ten weeks along, correct?”

Your heart swelled with a mix of joy and relief. “Yes, that’s right.”

Namjoon’s fingers tightened around yours, a silent promise as he gazed at the screen, his expression softening even further.

“Everything looks normal,” Dr Mi-ja confirmed. “Your next appointment in a few weeks to monitor progress.”

A sense of reassurance washes over you. “Thank you,” you said, your voice steadying now, as you absorbed the information.

As the ultrasound session wrapped up, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Namjoon while Dr Mi-ja cleaned up and provided her parting advice- encouraging you to reach out with any concerns, telling you about the parenting classes- and the handover of a written confirmation for your next appointment.

You buttoned your shirt back up, catching Namjoon’s thoughtful gaze, his head bowed respectfully, offering you a semblance of privacy, despite having seen every inch of your skin already. In his presence, your heart ached anew.

It was always in these quiet moments that the weight of everything settled more clearly upon your shoulders—times when you couldn’t retreat into your agenda or your planner. In his presence, you were compelled to confront your emotions, even without a single word being exchanged between you.

As you stepped into the hospital parking lot, your uncertainty clung to you like a shadow, whispering doubts in your ear. You knew you needed to speak, to give a voice to the turmoil that twisted in your heart before he disappeared again. You needed to apologize, and even if he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive you, you longed for even a crumb of closure.

But just as you prepared to part ways, Namjoon glanced over at you; his eyes filled with a depth that kept you rooted in your place, making it even harder to find your voice.

“Let’s grab lunch and talk,” he suggested, his voice steady.

And you could only give a shy nod in response.

You never imagined the first meaningful conversation with Namjoon would take place at a sandwich shop near his apartment. The inviting little deli was filled with the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and savoury fillings. As you settled at a corner table, the weight of the morning’s events unwrapped around you, mingling with the scent of sandwiches and freshly brewed coffee.

Namjoon ordered a turkey club while you opted for a BLT, and a long, uneasy silence settled between you. The hum of conversation around you felt distant, your mind still trying to conjure just what you were about to say to him.

“You look good,” he said, breaking the silence, his eyes warm and sincere as they met yours across the small table. A rush of warmth flooded through you at his compliment, a small comfort amidst the tension.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you didn’t quite believe him despite the earnestness reflected in his gaze.

And the silence wrapped around you once more.

The sandwiches arrived, yet neither one of you made a move to eat, the plates sitting untouched between you, like a barrier that mirrored the distance you felt.

“I didn’t think you’d come today,” you ventured, daring to meet his gaze, memories of your last conversation flicking through your mind.

“I almost didn’t.” Namjoon admitted. “But I figured you might appreciate some support.” He offered a warm smile, adding “Not that you need it.”

His last comment drew an unsatisfied laugh from your lips, helping to ease some of the apprehension that had backed up inside you. “I need it more than you know.”

Namjoon leaned back, his expression contemplative. “Seeing the ultrasound… it’s a big deal,” he said gently, a seriousness in his tone that hinted at the weight of what had happened between you. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You deserve to be here.” you admitted, “You’re a part of this as much as I am.”

Namjoon studied you quietly, the warmth in his gaze revealing a combination of gratitude and vulnerability “It means a lot to hear you say that.” He said, glancing around the shop before adding “I really want to be a part of this baby’s life. However we agree to do that.”

His words settle heavily between you, and you could sense the tension beneath the surface.

“I want that too,” you replied, your voice trembling as you fought to maintain steadiness. “I’m sorry I made everything so complicated.”

“It’s okay. I helped,” he said, a hint of self-awareness in his tone. “But the baby shouldn’t have to pay for our mistakes.”

You nodded, the gravity of his words wrapping around you like a shroud and you instinctively placed a protective hand over your belly.

“You’re right.”

Namjoon was careful choosing his next words, concern deeply etched on his face before he finally spoke. “But that might mean letting go of some of your control.”

His words struck you like ice, sending a chill down your spine and igniting a surge of defensiveness within you. You straightened, meeting his gaze with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “Control?” You question, vexed. “I’m just trying to ensure everything goes perfectly! Isn’t that what you want? A stable life for our child?"

“I know,” Namjoon replied softly, holding your gaze. “But we both have to be on the same page. It can’t be just your decision alone.”

Tears started to sting your eyes, and you angrily blink them away, choosing instead to look out the window at the busy streets.

“All I’ve ever done has been for this baby. You know that.” You say, jaw set, despite the tears that threatened to spill.

Namjoon says your name softly, drawing your attention back to him “You plan every detail obsessively. It’s like you’re trying to control everything around you. You can’t even enjoy the moment because you’re too busy scheduling the next ten!"

"It’s better than living like you do!” you shot back, your anger bubbling to the surface. “Letting life tremble all over you only to look back and make sense of it! At least I’m trying to prevent a disaster, not understand it! "

“And what about us? Aren’t we a disaster?” he pressed; his voice steady but laced with emotion. “I feel like I’m just a means to an end for you. Like this baby is just another project for you to manage. You don’t even see me anymore.”

Your breath quickened as you leaned forward, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “That’s not true! I care about you- goddamn it, I love you! But I can’t let my guard down. Not when I have so much at stake!”

“But I want to be a part of this!” Namjoon said earnestly, leaning in closer. “I want to be involved, not just the guy you called to help you make the baby. This is supposed to be a journey we take together!”

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration still clawing at your insides. You didn’t even realize you’ve been crying until you felt the warmth on your cheeks.

“I... I don’t know how to do that Namjoon. I’ve been hurt too many times. It’s just easier to plan than to hope.” A wave of defeat crashed over you with that admission, and in an instant, the floodgates opened, releasing a torrent of unspoken fears and buried tears.

Namjoon leans back slightly, giving you the space to breathe.

“Planning is fine, but it can’t be everything. We need to figure this out together. We need to create space for our uncertainties.”

Your shoulders sagged, the tension in your body softening. “I just… I’m scared.” You hiccupped in between sobs “What if I let go and it all falls apart? What if I lose you?”

“We’ll figure it out. Together.” He reached for your hand, gently squeezing it. “But we can’t do that if you keep pushing me away.”

You finally met his gaze, feeling vulnerability flickering within you like never before. “I don’t want to push you away. I just... don’t know how to trust.”’

“Then let me help you learn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you look down at your clasped hands, tears spilling freely, each drop a silent testament to the weight you’ve carried alone for so long.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy or that we won’t argue,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, “But I’ll always fight for us. I just need you to meet me halfway.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, unravelling the layers of your defences, leaving you feeling exposed and fragile. Yet, amidst the vulnerability, a flickering of hope ignited in your chest- a whisper that maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something new, something different. That something you’ve been looking for…

Namjoon watched as tears spilled down your cheeks, his heart aching at the sight. He reached across the table, offering you a handful of napkins. “Here,” he said softly, his voice an anchor amidst your chaos.

You took them, dabbing at your eyes and blowing your nose, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. The weight of everything hung between you, thickening the air with each second you stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your lip quivering “I didn’t mean to break down like this.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, his expression as gentle as it always was with you. “You’re allowed to feel, to let it out.”

The warmth of his understanding buoyed you, validating your feelings and bringing you closer to the surface, where you could finally breathe again, where you could be weak and yet know that he would never use that to harm you. Because your hurt, in turn was his own. He understood that your struggles affected him too.

“Joon, I know we’re in the middle of a fight. But do you think you could hold me just a bit?”

Namjoon’s gaze softened at your request, a sliver of surprise giving way to warmth. Without hesitation, he slid his chair closer, wrapping his arms around you and you leaned into him. The familiar scent of him grounding you amidst the storm of emotions as you nuzzled closer.

“I’ve got you.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he tucked you against his side.

In his embrace, the world outside faded- the bustling kitchen, the other patrons- leaving just the two of you, cocooned in a fragile moment of closure.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

He tightened his hold, his breath warm against your hair. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling. We’re in this together, remember?”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. The vulnerability of the moment washed over you like a wave, only this time, it was comforting rather than overwhelming.

“Yes. Together.”

As you sat there, the rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ears, grounding you. “But did you hear the part where I said ‘I love you’? because I can say it again if you need me to.” You said after a moment, your voice still soft as you looked up at him.

Namjoon’s eyes softened, and a warm smile spread across his face. “I heard you,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “And you already know I love your right? Because I can say it again too”

You couldn’t help but smile at his playful response. “I do know,” you replied, feeling warmth blossom in your chest. “But hearing it never hurts.”

Namjoon chuckled softly, the sound soothing your frayed nerves. “Well then, I love you,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I love you more than words can say.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, fuck, fuck, Namjoon, baby, fuck.” You moaned; your fingers twisted in the sheets as he worked his magic in between your legs. Your huge belly was in the way, blocking your view of him, but you could feel the warmth of his body, and the flick of his tongue against your clit.

You had read all the books, knew all the facts about pregnancy and sex. But nothing could have prepared you for this feeling. For the way Namjoon made your body come alive with each pass of his tongue. You completely lost count of how many times you came, your legs trembling and breath coming in sharp, short gasps.

You were so in the moment you didn’t even register the fact that Namjoon was giggling like a little kid against your pussy instead of actually eating it.

“What?” you were completely dazed.

“You can’t cuss like that! The baby might hear you.” Namjoon said as he came up for air, still grinning from ear to ear, dimples evident on his cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh at his playful demeanour. "Oh, you're so funny. The baby can't hear me, he’s still in the womb."

"But still, I don't want my child to come out into this world thinking his mother has such a dirty mouth," he said, his tone serious but his eyes betraying his amusement.

"Well, I'll watch it then," you said, your hand reaching out to playfully mess up his hair. "But for now, I think you have some unfinished business to attend to." You place your foot on his shoulder and push him back down.

Namjoon’s grin widened as he lowered his head between your legs once again, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his tongue and the knowledge that you crated a life with this amazing man.

As you reach your climax, you let out a loud moan, not caring if the baby can hear you or not. Namjoon continues to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you're left breathless and satisfied.

And then you gasp suddenly, not the pleasure-induced gasps you've been slipping out for the past hour, but like realisation just struck you.

"Namjoon!" you said, placing a hand on his shoulder and pinching him to draw his attention. At that Namjoon almost jumps out of his skin, panic settling in.

“What? Is the baby coming? Did I hurt you?"

"No! No! Look!" you quickly grab his hand and place it over your belly, right as your little baby boy decided to kick again. "He's moving!"

Namjoon's face lit up with awe as he felt the baby kick for the first time.

“Little Cosmo is moving!”

You groan, falling back into the pillows, “We are not naming him Cosmo!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue:

“Joonie! Dae!” you called out, your voice ringing out over the crashing waves “Come over for sun screen!”

The sun hung high in the clear blue sky, casting a golden glow over the tropical island. Waves lapped gently against the shore, creating a soothing rhythm that blended perfectly with the distant sounds of waves breaking against the cliffs, and occasional seagull that seemed to laugh at the world below.

You’re secretly glad you listened to Namjoon’s advice to go on this trip in June instead of September as you initially planned. You thought visiting during a quieter time would help you avoid the crowds, but it turns out that’s not a concern at all when your sweet husband can simply rent a private beach for you.

You spread the towel on the warm sand, glancing around at the vibrant scenery- the lush palm trees swaying in the light breeze, and the sparking blue ocean stretching endlessly before you.

A moment later you spotted them- Namjoon, his broad smile bright against the backdrop of the beach, wearing his swimming trunks and looking absolutely delicious, holding Dae in his arms. The little one’s laughter was infectious, bubbling up like the waves crashing nearby. Dae’s tiny limbs waved in the air, delighting in the freedom of the open space.

“Coming!” Namjoon replied, his tone playful. He jogged over, the sun glinting off his skin, showcasing his pretty abs and the carefree spirit of the day.

You watched, your heart swelling with happiness, as he settled down on the towel next to you, carefully placing Dae between you.

“Alright, little man,” you said, taking the sunscreen and squirting a generous amount into your palm “Time to protect this adorable face of yours.”

Dae giggles, showcasing his dimples, squirming in delight as you rubbed the sunscreen on his cheeks. His soft, sun-kisses skin felt warm beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly he was growing. Just a few months ago, he was a tiny bundle in your arms, and now he was a full-grown toddler, potty trained and everything.

And just like planned, he was the perfect mix between you and Namjoon. You noticed that the first time he started crawling- how he would stop to investigate his surroundings, cautiously moving around as if he was planning his next best step. But when it came to Namjoon, he felt safe enough to throw caution to the wind.

Your heart almost stopped the first time you saw your precious little angel climb to the top of the tallest slide in the park, a feat that made you want to rush over and pull him back. But there he was, beaming with confidence, looking back at his father with pure trust in his eyes, before fully leaping off the edge without a hint of hesitation, knowing Namjoon was right there to catch him.

You quickly retrieved Dae’s bucket hat before he managed to squirm off, expertly equipping him, pushing his dark hair out of the way adjusting the hat snugly on his head. “My handsome little man,” you said proudly, earning a delighted squeal from Dae, followed by an enthusiastic “Mommy, go splash!”

“Okay, okay, go splash.” You giggle, letting him dart ahead towards the water. The moment his little feet hit the wet sand, he was off like a rocket, his laughter ringing out as he ran towards the waves.

You followed closely behind, your heart light with joy as you watched him dip his toes into the ocean.

He paused for a moment, eyes wide with wonder, before jumping back as a wave rolled in, soaking his legs. He laughed, grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s it baby!”

Namjoon walked over, his arms wrapping against your waist, pulling you into his hard chest, placing a quick kiss on your neck. “You know, I’ve been thinking-”

“That’s not good,” you tease, a smile spreading across your face as your gazes stayed on Dae, who was poking at the sand.

Namjoon chuckled softly, biting your neck playfully. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts again, making sure you listen before continuing “maybe it’s time we give Dae a little sister.”

You turn to him, surprised and delighted. “A sister? Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “I can just imagine Dae being the best big brother. He’s so loving and protective.”

“Well, maybe you won’t have to wait so long for that.” You teased, your heart racing at the thought.

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, a grin spreading across his face. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe,” you said, a playful glint in your eyes. “What if I told you I’ve been thinking about this too?”

“Now you’ve got me curious,” he replied, leaning in closer, his expression a mix of excitement and surprise. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin and the joy of the moment. “I guess we’ll just have to see where life takes us.”

Namjoon’s smile grew wider, and he pulled you in for a quick kiss, but it was quickly interrupted by a little wet, sandy hand pulling at your leg.

“Mommy! Look!”

Dae’s eyes shimmered as he held up his tiny little fist, opening it to reveal a little yellow crab desperately trying to escape.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” you laugh, bending down to get a closer look.

The little creature wiggled its legs, clearly unimpressed with its current situation.

#bts smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #perfect plan

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singapore-memories · 6 months ago

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How to Choose Your Signature Scent: The Top Souvenir of Singapore!

If you are a lover of exotic smells and want to take something from this country as a memento, nothing could be better than a perfume bottle. These are something that will help you to smell good for the whole day long. But here is one thing that you should not never forget all perfumes don’t suit well on all and that is why you need to find your signature. So what it is and how to choose your signature scent,a Souvenir of Singapore? Get the answer here!

Defining Signature Scents

To say simply, signature perfumes or scents are something that present your personality perfectly. A signature scent is an exotic fragrance that you don’t think of returning after purchasing. It’s the specific smell that decides how would you smell the whole day. Signature scents give a notion about many facts related to users. Now have a look at the tricks to find your scent!

Avoid trying many scents at the same time

It's easy to become confused if you're surrounded by overwhelming choices of many enticing scents. It can lead you to olfactory fatigue and your perfume selection might get wrong. By limiting yourself to just three fragrances per session, you give each scent the attention it deserves, allowing you to truly discern its nuances and how it interacts with your skin chemistry.

Test your chosen fragrances on different areas of your skin

Each person's skin chemistry is unique, and a fragrance can smell different on one person compared to another. Be sure to consider this fact when choosing this souvenir of Singapore. By testing the fragrance on different areas of your skin and allowing it to develop over time, you get a more accurate sense of how it will smell on you throughout the day.

Choose your perfume wisely

Perfumes come with complex compositions with layers of notes that unfold over time. Rushing to judgment at the time of perfume selection based on the initial scent can lead to overlooking the true beauty of a fragrance. Take your time to experience the full evolution of the scent, from the top notes to the heart notes and finally, the base notes.

Get Knowledge about your perfume family

Your existing perfume collection can provide valuable insights into your fragrance preferences. Identifying common themes or notes among your favorite scents helps the users to narrow down their search for the signature scent. Understanding fragrance families, such as florals, oriental, or fresh, can also help you explore new scents that align with your tastes.

Instincts Matter the Most

While it often feels attractive to flow with the trends or rely on others' opinions, your signature scent should ultimately resonate with you on a personality at the end. So, be sure not to be swayed by popular fads; instead, choose a fragrance that reflects your individuality and makes you feel confident and comfortable.

Don’t hesitate to experiment with layering

If you haven't found "the one" yet, don't despair. Fragrance layering is an effective way to create the perfect fragrance for you. You can create this by mixing and matching different scents. Get creative and explore different combinations until you find the perfect harmony that speaks to you.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help

Sometimes, navigating the world of perfumes can feel overwhelming, but you don't have to go it alone. Seek guidance from fragrance experts who can offer personalized recommendations based on your preferences and help you discover hidden gems you might have overlooked.

By following these tips and taking a thoughtful approach to finding your signature scent, you'll be well-equipped to embark on a fragrant journey that leads you to the perfect fragrance – your very own Souvenir of Singapore. If you want to explore the wide perfume varieties at the best perfume shop in Singapore, contact Singapore Memories now. We make sure to offer the perfect signature scent for everyone that never fails to blow their olfactory nerves!

#best perfume shop in Singapore #Souvenir of Singapore #singapore memories

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kitttttchaos · 9 months ago

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Things I need in a currently nonexistent raven cycle adaptation: (Gansey)

1. The middle part flow haircut but like longer because that is the “not like other girls” of the preppy boy haircuts and Gansey is not like other preppy boys

2. Ik he wears all those brightly colored polos but keep in mind, he’s been everywhere, he probably has so many souvenir sweatshirts—picture extremely tired Gansey, just threw on an oversized crew neck from like Wales or Singapore or some other place he’s been LIKE—and you know he wears those so people ask him about all the places he’s been

3. He has the newest iPhone. We love that he likes vintage things but a block of a phone is not going to help him find Glendower the way an iPhone 37 and a half will. Plus, imagine Adam’s face in every scene when Gansey has to check the time with a thousand dollars worth of capitalist propaganda

4. Acting wise, he is always looking up. At the stars, at the trees, at the future. The most prominent expression on his face is WONDER. I can envision so many scenes where he just turns to Blue or Adam with this wide-eyed excitement, and suddenly everyone else in the room is excited too. Just AAAH

5. Adam says, “Ronan and Gansey were laughing at a joke where the rest of the world was the punch line” when he’s talking about how cruel he thought Gansey was. I want a flashback of Gansey and Ronan being those best friends at the back table that came in late because they couldn’t stop giggling and now they won’t stop smirking at the teacher, and then Adam’s just at the front trying not to break his pencil in half

6. Ok imagine this: close up of Gansey, hands behind his head, glasses half sliding down his face. He looks asleep, but he definitely isn’t. The screen is relatively dark, tinted blue. He has AirPods in, and we hear muffled Phoebe Bridgers or Lizzy McAlpine or some other sad, wistful female artist BC GANSEY IS A SAD WISTFUL FEMALE ARTIST ON THE INSIDE. The music starts crescendoing, then there’s this loud screech over top of everything and Gansey’s eyes snap open and then we’re catapulted into the “what fresh hell is this?” scene

Um. *clears throat* Anyway.

#the dream thieves #richard campbell gansey the third #the raven cycle #the raven king #the raven boys #the raven cycle tv adaptation #blue lily lily blue #bllb #tdt #trk #trb #trc #richard gansey iii #richard campbell gansey iii #richard gansey

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accio-victuuri · 1 year ago

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another interesting angle about wyb’s hat during the GQ event. i looked up both cpf and so/o wardrobe accounts and i didn’t see them identify where the hat came from. everything else tho was chanel, and the suit was dunhill which the brand themselves posted about. we didn’t think too much about it at the time cause we were too busy connecting it to luffy and other things.

now a post from fans & a little bit of detective work tells us where it could possibly come from. a fan posted about a hat store (hat of cain) in raffles hotel where xz stayed and took photos for his ralph’s club event. they look v close to what wyb wore.

if you go back to xzs vlog, there is a cut (p3) where you see downstairs from XZ is. people are saying that it is close to where the shop is. so that was a little clue from them. we have talked about how it appeared out of character for xzs to post a vlog in the midst of all the GQ event noise. they could easily post it the next day or even the weekend so it will go on hot search or better yet, so he won’t be accused of trying to steal the spotlight from other celebrities. no we think we know why. and why he was trying to match ybo’s caption. it’s him ( allegedly ) trying to say that he was responsible for WYB’s fashion accessory of the day. in his own way, showing off the same way that wyb was. 🤍

I’M SORRY XZ & XZS, we didn’t catch up on that hint sooner. We could only do so much investigative work. Lol. We will be better next time 😌😌😌😌

You can visit their IG to compare and see for yourself how similar it is to what WYB wore. I also looked up their website and Raffles Hotel was listed as one of the locations that have their store. You can even see one of their ig posts that talks about their product and a detail inside the hat ( p3 is yibo and p4 is the ig post ) is the same as yibo’s. I’m not an expert so i don’t know if this is a standard when making all hats with the same material but i have to say that the similarity is v interesting.

I mean, what are the chances really???

You have XZ who was recently in Singapore. Very publicly at that and it was not a secret that he stayed at Raffles Hotel. At this time, the theme of GQ MOTY was already set and they have already given the theme of the guest having to walk on land & water and not just your usual red carpet. Maybe XZ picked it cause he knew how much WYB loves hats. It could also be to match what he would be doing for his public event where he is the Guest of Honor.

Then WYB comes in and showed off this hat. We were all thinking it’s One Piece & Luffy coded, which it could be, but we’re now only realizing the deeper meaning. Why he was so attached to it too. YBO released a bts video earlier 12/9 and WYB was joking that he had a hat too like the one rowing, so that means he can also row the boat. Turns out, the style he was wearing is called a boater hat. So it fits. XZ bought it for him as a souvenir that he knew WYB would like, with the thought of the GQ event’s theme.

Maybe XZ wasn’t even implying that WYB wear it that prominently. He just thought of WYB when he saw it and being the person that he is thought that it would be a good accessory for a photoshoot related to WYB’s public event. Maybe he can explore parts of the old town venue and get some shots of him with it. However, much like WYB loves to show off things that XZ gave him, it became his main accessory for the day ( not my words, YBO said that in their caption lol ).

Lastly, I remember one of XZ’s staff was holding a raffles paper bag when they were going home. What’s on it that he had to hold it for safekeeping? If the shop was in the Raffles Boutique, wouldn’t a thing bought from there use the hotel’s paper bag? Wouldn’t you want to hand carry a hat like that in case it gets deformed when shoved in a suitcase?

Anyway, this is all a coincidence 👀👀👀

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #this is pretty crazy 👀👀👀👀#i take a short nap and this is what happens

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year ago

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 6: No Control]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, all-you-can-eat sushi, bodily injury, violence, hungry deer, Selena Gomez, angst!!!

Selected Chapter Quote: “He can’t see on that side, you fucking snake!”

Word count: 9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Your last day waking up in Singapore: lying in bed and watching the shadows of birds shoot across the ceiling like falling stars. Your wrist aches in its splint. The door to the balcony is wide open. The wind blows in hot and damp off the South China Sea. You hear him before you see him: the swipe of a keycard, the swinging of the door, the clop clop clop of undoubtedly neon Crocs against the hardwood floor.

You look over at him, not moving from the bed. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Then Aegon notices something in the tiny trashcan beside your nightstand that’s cluttered with souvenirs. Nestled between empty soda cans and Starburst wrappers is a mostly full pack of birth control pills. He stares at it for a while before he says, tentatively: “Trying for a little bundle of joy? With anyone I know?”

“Definitely not.” You sigh, turning back to the ceiling, morose. “Baela and I did 23AndMe like a month ago, and we just got our results back. She’s distantly related to royalty. I have a defective gene that makes me extra susceptible to blood clots. So if I take hormonal birth control I could have a stroke or something.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Aegon says.

“Yeah.”

“But it’s good you found out, you know? I wouldn’t want you dropping over dead.”

“Yeah,” you say again, flatly, ungenerously.

“Hey, no big deal, Stargirl. You know I’d use condoms anyway.”

“Well I might at some point in my life want to have sex with someone who’s not you, so.”

Aegon steps closer; he appears upside down as he studies you from above, sunburned forehead knit into thoughtful grooves, smelling like Tiger Beer and Axe body spray and…you think…chicken wings. His hair is in disarray, his aviator sunglasses tangled in blond knots. He’s wearing a lavender tank top, like dusk, like a bruise. “Ohhhh, I get it. This is an Aemond and Shelby thing.”

You hate that you’re so transparent, like a window wiped clean of fog and fingerprints. You hate that he’s right. “Why are they even together? What the hell do they have in common?”

“Now or before?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well, before…” Aegon scratches at his cheek. There is a bug bite there, a tiny pink welt left by the venom of a mosquito or a spider. “It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Aemond got the satisfaction of boning the kind of girl who would have screamed if he touched her back in high school. Shelby got a massive career boost. She had 900,000 Instagram followers when they met. Now she has over 20 million.”

That recurring, futile refrain: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

“And I won’t lie. They had some good times.” Aegon grins down at you. “Just like we did.”

“What about now?”

“Now…” Aegon ponders this. “Now I think they’re both lost. Neither of them knows what comes next. Aemond leaving Comet. Shelby hitting that age when people like her start checking off the husband and kids boxes. When you’re thrown off a ship, you cling to the life raft, even if it’s small or ripped up or half-deflated or whatever, right? You try to hold on to what you have left. You return to what’s familiar. And that doesn’t make it right, but it’s what people do.”

“It is,” you agree mournfully. “So Aemond was the one who broke it off.”

“Yeah.”

“And then he took her back.” She called and called and called, he finally answered.

“He had a moment of weakness. Now we all have to live with it.”

“I didn’t know that.” Then you sit up on the bed and look at Aegon. “When the label wanted to get rid of Aemond, why didn’t you fight for him?”

“That’s just the way of the world, Stargirl.” He shrugs, an inevitability, good weather, bad weather, sun and clouds and storms. “He couldn’t stay in the band the way he is now. And the problem isn’t what he looks like. The problem is in his soul. But I have no idea how to fix it.” Aegon smiles, warm like summer. “I thought maybe you would. That’s why I called you.”

“You didn’t even know me,” you tell him. “I was just some girl from a bar.”

“No,” Aegon says softly, and he does not elaborate. And then, bright and cheerful again: “You’re really going to earn your paycheck at our next stop.”

“Where are we going?” You recall the names you’ve heard bouncing around since Comet arrived in East Asia, the cities you’ve seen on banners and t-shirts and Instagram posts. “Bangkok? Kuala Lumpur? Manila? Jakarta? Seoul?”

“Tokyo.” Aegon is still smiling, though in an off-kilter way now, uneasily, his murky ocean-blue eyes somber. The scene of the crime. Where the accident happened. Where Aemond believes his life ended. “We’re performing at the Budokan.”

~~~~~~~~~~

White clouds turn to sapphire waves, then emerald green fields and forests, then buildings in a million different shades of grey that stretch on forever, steel and concrete and asphalt and glass. Tokyo is the largest city you’ve ever seen, the largest city imaginable. It is a labyrinth that makes you think of the hay mazes that farms back home set up each autumn; it beckons you in and then dares you to leave.

As the band hurries through Haneda Airport, you are pursued by paparazzi and hyperventilating fans. The usual suspects—Aegon, Daeron, and Jace—can be relied upon to high five, smile, flash peace signs and hand hearts, blow kisses, pass out crochet astronomical objects, and shout such endearments as (woefully mispronounced) “Konnichiwa!” and “We love you, Japan!” Shelby waves like she’s goddamn Princess Diana. Aemond bows his head, his eyes enigmatic behind his sunglasses, his steps swift. Luke holds Rhaena’s hand; Baela walks with them. You hide behind Cregan. He casts quite a large shadow.

“I look real rock and roll now,” you joke, gesturing with your splinted arm.

Cregan replies in his rumbly subterranean voice: “I think I have you beat.” He pulls up one of his sleeves—floral print, silk, Valentino—and shows you the underside of his right forearm. Bisecting the flesh from his wrist to the crook of his elbow is a long, faint, moon-white scar that you’ve never noticed before, never even heard anyone mention.

“Oh, ouch! You broke it?”

“Compound fracture.” He covers his forearm again with his sleeve.

“When? How?”

Cregan hesitates. Suddenly, he no longer wants to be having this conversation. “Years ago.”

Just outside the airport waits that trusty fleet of black, tinted-window Escalades; but Aemond has requested that his 1960 Gold Star be there too. He takes his keys, helmet, and jacket from one of Comet’s hulking security guards. Shelby’s detail is notably more subdued since that night in Singapore; the man who dislocated your wrist has been exiled from the tour. Aemond climbs onto his motorcycle and starts the engine. The sound takes you back to Rome: when your hopes and spirits were high, when you and Aemond were still living on the light side of the moon.

“You in the mood for a ride, Shelby?” Aegon asks, smirking unkindly, taunting, chomping loudly on cotton candy flavored Bubble Yum. “Don’t forget your helmet. We’d all be lost without you.”

Shelby combs out her beachy blond waves with her artful fingers, tan, reedy, nails turquoise and adorned with golden koi fish. “You’re psychotic if you think I’m getting on that bike.”

“Jesus,” Jace mutters. He is as shocked as anyone by his abrupt demotion to only the second most villainous person in Comet’s retinue.

Aemond doesn’t react, doesn’t say anything to Shelby, doesn’t even look at her. But he does glance over at you. And the words rise in your throat like a burning sun at dawn: I’ll go, I’d love to go, I trust you, I want you. But before you can say anything, Aemond has knocked the kickstand out of the way and is weaving through thick afternoon traffic towards the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. And as the Escalades roll and the band chats around you—indistinctly, abstractedly—you keep staring out the window and searching for glimpses of Aemond like the rare flash of a meteor in a city sky; but you can’t find him.

Criston knows he’s brought Comet to dangerous ground, peppered with quagmires and landmines. So he has planned a ruthlessly hectic itinerary. As soon as you’ve received your room key and unpacked, it’s time for dinner at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant down the street. Criston herds the band there like the rugged Australian cattle dogs that your parents have back in Kansas City nip at the heels of snorting, intractable Black Angus bulls. You sit between Baela and Aegon, who is wearing his neon green tank top, matching Crocs (per usual), and khaki cargo shorts. He’s also gulping sake bombs until they dribble down his sunburned face. Countless varieties of sushi and side dishes rotate by on a conveyer belt, colorful little plates waiting to be snatched up: salmon, tuna, eel, octopus, shrimp, miniature omelets, fried tofu, Wagyu beef, squid, yellowtail, veggie rolls, chicken and pork dumplings, seaweed salad.

“You okay over there?” Aegon asks, grinning as he watches you stab at your eel sushi, topped with some kind of mayo-like sauce and delicious but tragically challenging to eat.

“I didn’t know how to use chopsticks before my dominant hand was put out of commission.” You glare down the row at Shelby. She glowers back. Since that night in Singapore, you circle each other like snarling undomesticated animals, wolves or coyotes. Now you’re on her radar. Now she knows there is something—that mysterious, ever-shifting, worrying something—between you and Aemond. She just doesn’t know what it is. Neither do you, neither does he, neither does anyone.

“Want me to feed you?” Aegon slurs flirtatiously. He plucks up a piece of your eel sushi with his chopsticks and promptly drops it in your lap. “Oh. Fuck.”

Baela presses the button on the counter to summon the server. “I’ll get you a fork.”

“You are a saint,” you tell her. “Patron saint of initiative. Or drive, whichever you prefer the sound of.” Aegon is mayhem, Aemond is lost causes. What am I?

“And you are an uncultured hick from Kansas.”

You smile at her. “Missouri.”

Your fork soon arrives. A few seats down the row, you hear Shelby ask innocently, like it doesn’t mean anything: “How old is Louis Tomlinson’s son now?”

Aemond shrugs. He’s watching the conveyor belt for vegan options; he keeps missing them when they pass by. “I don’t know, five?”

“No, Freddie?!” Luke says. “He’s gotta be like seven now. We saw him last summer at Niall’s pool party.”

“He was so cute,” Shelby says. She’s sitting on Aemond’s good side, as always. She rubs his back and you fight the urge to break her fingers one by one, snapping them in half like dry autumn twigs, lifeless and hollow. “Wasn’t he cute, honeybunch?”

“Sure,” Aemond replies distractedly. And of course Shelby is the type of person who believes that becoming a father will heal a man, rather than just dooming his children to be collateral damage.

Aegon peeks over the conveyer belt at the chefs who are preparing plates in the middle. He lurches and wobbles. Criston covers his own face with his hands, mortified. “Hey, hey, can I get a Crab Rangoon please?”

A chef says something in Japanese, soft and polite but clearly imploring him to sit back down.

Aegon repeats slowly: “Crab! Rangooooooon!”

“Hey dumbass,” Jace says. “That’s Chinese. We’re in Japan.”

“Oh. Right.” Aegon sighs, retreats, and orders himself another sake bomb.

You grab a plate of veggie rolls and another of fried tofu sushi off the conveyer belt and pass them down the row to Aemond. Shelby sends you the most venomous of glares, but Aemond mouths when she’s not paying attention: Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two shows in Tokyo, two performances on the stage where Aemond was mutilated. Of course, you don’t see mutilation when you look at him. You never have. You see the way the light hits the angles of his jaw and nose and cheekbones and think of marble faces in museums, generals, kings, saints, angels. You see the crystalline blue of his right eye and think of rivers, cool and rushing and clean. You see the ethereal haze of his left eye and think of other planets. You don’t know why everyone else reads his scar and blindness as a tale of unspeakable ruin. You can’t imagine seeing Aemond that way. It would be easier, less painful, simpler for you if you could. Maybe you could stop wanting him. Maybe you could stop dreaming about him, wisps of longing and memory that escape you as soon as you wake.

Aemond does not attend Comet’s concerts at the Budokan. They’re the only ones you’ve ever known him to miss. He rides out on his Gold Star instead, and then reappears to join the band for their post-show ritual in Jace’s suite, grim and quiet and scribbling in his black-paged notebook, smoking his cigarettes, sipping his Brambles. You cannot blame Aemond. You weren’t here last December when a piece of rigging collapsed during soundcheck and nearly killed him, and yet you can’t stop thinking about it; you can’t stop yourself from glancing up at the rafters during shows, wondering exactly how it happened, picturing Aemond bloody and unconscious on the stage, half-blinded and robbed without knowing it yet.

Tomorrow night is Comet Donati’s final performance in Tokyo, but today Criston has a day trip planned. He has filled every spare second of this tour stop with distractions. The band travels by bullet train (or shinkansen) and then local railways to Nara, the city that served as Japan’s capital in the 700s. Criston hires a tour guide—an 80-year old man called Toru-san, who possesses an incalculable amount of knowledge and also a very, very thick accent—to lead you all around Nara Park to see Isuien Garden, the Kasuga Taisha Shrine, the Nara National Museum, and finally the Great Buddha. Nara Park is full of food and souvenir vendors, as well as 1,200 sika deer that you can pet and feed, albeit at risk of being trampled by overenthusiastic herbivores. There are signs posted with warnings to exercise caution, complete with cartoon illustrations of deer gone rogue.

It’s 95 degrees outside with 80% humidity. You are drenched with sweat and guzzling boba tea. The handle of your bag from a gift shop is slung over your splint. Toru-san, despite his long pants and cardigan sweater, is looking spry as ever and is deep in conversation with Luke and Rhaena; he is regaling them with a bottomless well of Nara trivia. Cregan and Daeron are still browsing through gift shops, mostly for the opportunity to escape the heat and hover, sighing with relief, in front of every electric fan they come across. Aegon, lobster-level red—you aren’t sure if he’s more sunburned or flushed—is snoring under a tree as deer nibble at his cyan tank top and white cargo shorts. Aemond purchased probably $200 worth of deer crackers and has attracted a sizeable crowd of furry new friends. He’s like he always is around animals: beaming, immersed, at peace. Shelby is capturing pictures and video clips of him from a distance.

Nearby where you stand under the shade of a black pine tree, Baela is dressed in a crop top and yoga pants and stretching in the middle of a patch of grass. She keeps having to stop to shove deer away from her as they tiptoe close, searching for snacks. Jace is using Google Translate to flirt with a crowd of Japanese fangirls who have recognized him. They are giggling so loudly you can hear them from across a field. Baela is trying to ignore this. She falls out of a pose and sighs irritably, then walks over to you. Together, you watch Jace for a while, you slurping on your boba tea, Baela frowning with her hands on her willowy waist.

At last, she says: “Sometimes we love people who we know don’t deserve it. But that doesn’t make us love them any less. We just hate ourselves for not being stronger.”

“I think you’re incredibly strong, Baela.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Strong enough to leave him. Strong enough to begin living your own life again.”

Her expression is suddenly uncharacteristically vulnerable, fearful. “I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve never been an adult without him.”

“You’d figure it out. And you wouldn’t be alone. You’d have Rhaena, and Luke, and ballet, and all your friends and family—”

“And you too, right?” she asks. “You’ll still be my friend? Even after you go back home?”

You are stunned into a silence that Baela first mistakes for rejection. Her face falls. “No no no, I’m not hesitating, you just caught me by surprise. Of course I’ll still be your friend after the tour is over. I’ll be your friend forever.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And you’ll visit me in prison if I snap one day and throw Jace into a meatgrinder?”

You laugh and hug her, your sweat dampening each other’s clothes: her orange crop top, your Backstreet Boys t-shirt. “Absolutely. For sure.”

“Okay. I gotta go practice some more.” She spends long hours down in the hotel gym while everyone else is sleeping or partying or preparing for shows, running and stretching and yoga and repeating the same dance routines over and over again. You applaud and whistle as she leaves. “Stop,” Baela complains, but she’s grinning.

You procure another boba tea. You find a nice shady spot on a bench. You check your phone; there’s maybe fifteen more minutes until the band is scheduled to leave for the train station to begin the journey back to Tokyo. Naturally, Criston has dinner already planned: kaiseki ryori, a traditional multi-course meal. You wonder if there will be vegan options for Aemond. Your eyes drift back to him. They always seem to. He’s dragging his palm down the face of a ten-point buck as he feeds him a crumbling brown cracker. There’s a fawn curled up in Aemond’s lap. His blond hair is slicked back off his forehead, his black shirt mostly unbuttoned. Sweat gleams on his chest. Your fingertips ache to draw sloping lines and lazy circles in it.

“I never worried about him,” Criston says. He’s appeared beside you, arms crossed guardedly. You move over so there’s room for Criston on the bench. He sits, distant and troubled. “I always worried about the others. Aegon and Jace especially. But not Aemond.”

“Because he never needed you,” you say quietly.

“He didn’t,” Criston agrees. “And so I wasn’t there to protect him that day.”

The day of the accident. “From what I understand, it wasn’t something you could have prevented.”

“No, I couldn’t have stopped that piece of rigging from falling. But I could have made it so he wasn’t standing under it.”

You wait for Criston to explain. That’s an element that people often underestimate: the power of waiting for someone to be ready.

“It was soundcheck,” Criston says. His voice is strained, hushed. He repeatedly touches the stubble of his beard, a nervous habit. “Aemond was on time, as always. Aemond was exactly where he was supposed to be. But no one else was. Aegon and Jace had gone off to a strip club or a burlesque show or something, I don’t remember. They came back to the hotel and were absolutely hammered, they were crawling around on the hallway floor and puking in corners, laughing hysterically, completely out of their minds. Cregan and Luke were there trying to get them cleaned up. I was on the phone with Cregan, he was pissed, probably the most angry I’ve ever heard him, he kept pausing to yell at Aegon. He’d dragged him into a cold shower, but Aegon was fighting, trying to bite and kick him and whatever the hell else. So eventually I decided to go to the hotel and deal with it. Aemond offered to go with me. I told him no, you stay here, I’ll bring the other four even if I have to get the security guys to toss Aegon and Jace over their shoulders and carry them. Then I left.”

“And that’s when it happened,” you realize. “While you were gone.”

“Yes,” Criston says. And he gazes across Nara Park, here in body but his mind trapped in the maze of the past.

“You had no way of knowing what would happen, Criston. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have told him to come with me back to the hotel. Or I should have stopped Aegon and Jace from getting wasted. If they’d been on time, if soundcheck had happened as scheduled, no one would have been standing where that piece of rigging fell. Aemond would still be the leader of Comet. He would still have his face, his sight, his life.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say again.

“Alicent blames me,” he confesses. And you only know who she is because you’ve asked Aegon: the wife of Viserys Targaryen, the mother of his three sons. “She’ll never forgive me.”

Is that really why she avoids you, Criston? Or is there another reason? “If that’s true, it’s only because she’s feeling a lot of horrible things—grief, pain, regret, guilt—and she’s directing them at you. You haven’t earned them. You’re just the person standing in the line of fire. They’re a reflection of Alicent’s inner turmoil, not of your own worth. I think you’ve done a phenomenal job trying to keep this band safe and happy. And I know it’s not easy. I know it’s damn near impossible.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, looking at you with large, dark, truthful eyes like a dog’s.

And you imagine a world in which you’d never seen Aegon after that night in Kansas City, never met Aemond, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan, Daeron, Criston. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Criston reaches over and—for a moment, so briefly you could have imagined it—rests his hand on your shoulder like he sometimes does to Aemond and Luke. Then he leaves to collect Cregan and Daeron from a shaved ice vendor. Shelby has strolled over to consult with Toru-san, presumably so she can add his trivia to her Instagram posts and TikTok videos. You go to Aemond.

“I have a confession to make,” he says solemnly as you approach.

The oxygen vanishes from your lungs; you try to hide this. “What is it?”

Aemond smiles up at you. “When the tour guide was leading us here, I thought he kept saying that the park was full of bears. And I didn’t want to kill the mood or anything, but I was definitely concerned about going on a field trip to feed over 1,000 uncaged bears. I am very, very relieved that he was in fact saying deer.”

You chuckle and sit next to Aemond on the grass, petting the fawn in his lap. It blinks sleepily at you, its fur soft and spotted, its ears pricked up and curious.

“What’s your souvenir for this stop of the tour?” Aemond asks.

You pull it out of your bag to show him: a small stuffed sika deer complete with floppy felt antlers. “Isn’t it adorable?”

“It is,” he says. “Are you going to have room for all these keepsakes in your apartment back home?”

“Already fantasizing about me leaving, huh?”

“No,” Aemond says, seriously now. Deadly serious. “No, I’m not.” And then Criston is shouting through cupped hands for everybody to huddle up so you can all head to the train station.

It’s not until the band is trekking out of Nara Park towards the blissful promise of air conditioning that you realize someone is missing. When you look around, you see Criston, Aemond, Shelby, Aegon (rubbing his eyes and yawning), Baela, Jace, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan, and a smattering of security guards dressed in black.

“Wait,” you say. “Where’s Daeron?”

A chorus of confusion: “What?” Huh?” “He’s not here?” At last, Criston spies him sitting alone on a wooden park bench, glumly eating through his mountain of shaved ice.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Jace says impatiently, swiping perspiration from his forehead.

Aegon massages your shoulders. “I think this might call for your particular area of expertise, Stargirl.” And when Aemond’s eye flicks to Aegon fleetingly, resentfully, you think for the first time: And where were you, Aegon, when Aemond was waiting all those months ago? Whoring, drinking, self-destructing in ways that take other people down with you? Then you leave him.

Through the heat that lays thick over the city like a tangle of vines, you trudge to the bench where the youngest Targaryen brother is lingering. “Daeron? What’s wrong?”

He stares gloomily down into his shaved ice: blood-colored, strawberry, ichigo. “Everyone thinks I’m always joking and optimistic, but I’m not.”

You ask gently: “What are you really, Daeron?”

“I don’t know what to be. That’s the problem. I worry about it all the time. I can’t win. If I’m sad, then I’m ungrateful for this tremendous opportunity. But if I’m happy, it’s like I’m dancing on Aemond’s grave.”

“He’s not dead, Daeron,” you say.

“Well, yeah, obviously.”

“But a lot of the time people talk about him like he is. You speak around him, over him, through him. Do you think he doesn’t notice?” Do you think he can’t feel the weight of that dark gravity that roots him to the earth? Do you think he can disentangle who he is from the wreckage that has buried its shrapnel in his bones?

Daeron isn’t insulted by what you’ve said. Instead, he seems fascinated. He seems grateful, like you’ve sat down to help him with an especially baffling puzzle. “What would he want from us, do you think?”

“I think he wants to know that his time in Comet wasn’t wasted. That even if he leaves, he will still be a part of this family. I think he wants to be acknowledged. He doesn’t want pity or awkward silences, he doesn’t want to pretend that the accident never happened. He wants to know that his life will go on in spite of it.”

Daeron ruminates on this, taking a bite of his towering mound of shaved ice. “If I said something about him at the last Tokyo show tomorrow, do you think he’d mind? I’ve had this idea for a while, but I didn’t know how he’d take it.”

“That depends on what you say.”

Daeron asks, peering up at you with large pale eyes: more translucent than Aegon’s, more harmless than Aemond’s. He has been shown more kindness than either of them; he is perhaps less deep, less singularly brilliant, but also less burdened. It is a trade many would happily agree to. It is a trade they would pay for in blood. “What should I say?”

You smile at Daeron. “The truth.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’d like to take a moment to share something with all of you,” Daeron says into his microphone as soon as Comet finishes The Worst Way To Be. The audience lowers their cheers to a reverent, intensely attentive murmur.

“Wait, what?” Baela whispers to you and Rhaena as you stand in the front row. Shelby, who had been looking rather bored, whips out her phone and begins a live stream. Aegon, Jace, Luke, and Cregan are upbeat and beaming—as is expected of them, as is required—but they pass each other nervous glances like folded paper notes in a high school classroom. This is not in the script.

“I just want to say thank you,” Daeron continues. His voice reverberates off the walls of the Budokan. “Thank you to all of you guys, of course. Our amazing, incredible fans. Thank you for letting us live this dream of a life.” There are claps and whistles, shrieked declarations of undying adoration. Daeron takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking; you can see the microphone tremble. “And thank you to my big brother Aemond.” Instantaneously, the crowd goes as close to silent as it is possible for a stadium at max capacity to be. The others are gawking at him openly now, unable to paper over it with masklike smiles. “I had been following Comet around for years before I got the offer to officially join. So I know how much work and talent Aemond poured into this band. I’m beyond honored to be up on this stage tonight performing for all of you, but I wish it could have happened a different way. I wish Aemond could be here too. And no matter where he goes in the world or what he does next, he will always be the person who made Comet Donati possible. And he will always be my greatest inspiration. I love you, man. We all love you.”

And the audience erupts into deafening cheers and applause, all for a soul who could not bring himself to attend the show. There are chants of We love you, Aemond! that go on for more than five minutes. Aegon is shouting as loudly as anyone; Jace, Luke, and Cregan are running around the stage and encouraging the crowd. They are a little shellshocked, but they are genuine.

Even Jace, you think, you marvel. Even Jace is honoring him. He doesn’t hate Aemond after all. He provokes and he taunts, sure, and he crosses lines on occasion, but Jace doesn’t hate Aemond. He might even miss him.

For their last night in Tokyo, Criston has grander aspirations for the band than the usual wind down in Jace’s suite. He gets everyone—Aemond included, fetched from the bar of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, already several Brambles deep—into the Escalades to drive to Club Camelot, where Criston has reserved one of the three floors for Comet. It swiftly fills like a flute of champagne: women in sparkling gowns, men with baiting smiles, security guards and label executives and friends and acquaintances and models. The tiles on the floor are black and white, but bathed in sapphire luminescence that covers everyone like rain. Empty hands are filled with frosty bottles and glasses clinking with ice. The song that thunders out of the speakers is a throwback: Butterfly by Crazy Town.

Cregan has acquired a harem of sorts; you look once and he’s flocked by three gazelle-like companions, you look again and there are five of them. Jace is mingling freely. Aemond is talking to Daeron—thanking him, it appears, offering heartfelt gratitude—while Shelby greets a pack of influencer-types as they arrive. They squeal and jump up and down with her in their clicking stilettos, then take turns snapping each other’s pictures. Criston actually appears to be somewhat relaxed. He sips on a Sapporo Premium and chats with one of the guys from the label, gesturing casually with his expressive hands. Aegon is curled up in a booth with Selena Gomez. Yes, Selena freaking Gomez. He keeps playing with her glossy dark tresses and making her giggle, propping his sunburned face up on his knuckles, glowing in that way that he does. It’s not just for you. It’s never been just for you. And sometimes he’s close to you and sometimes he’s not, and right now he’s on the other side of the solar system, he’s out in the Oort cloud, he’ll be back to visit earth in a few hundred years. Aegon disappears into the bathroom every few minutes. You see smudges of white powder on his hands, under his nose. If he tried to talk to you right now, you wouldn’t know what to say to him. He would feel like a stranger.

You’re watching Aemond. You wish you weren’t, but you are. He’s in all black, the top three buttons of his shirt undone. You nurse a Bramble and follow Baela, Rhaena, and Luke around the dancefloor, barely able to hear them over the music. Luke is lightheartedly making fun of Baela for something. Her earrings? Her shoes?

“I’ll have you know that I’m very important around here!” Baela cries over the music. “I’m the patron saint of drive!”

“Patron saint of driving herself to the Gucci store, maybe,” Luke says.

They’re all laughing. You feel like you’re observing them through a transparent wall, like you’re at the aquarium and they’re a dazzling rare species and you’re some grubby kid with your palms pressed to the glass. What am I still doing here? Why did I ever think I belonged here?

You break away from Baela, Rhaena, and Luke and drift by Shelby and her fellow influencers, not intending to eavesdrop but catching a few fragments of their conversation like Jupiter and Saturn capture moons. As Aemond talks to Daeron across the room, Shelby is lamenting her love life. She thinks she’s being discrete, but she’s had more than a few gin and tonics.

“No, he still…he probably doesn’t want me looking at him…he’ll let me blow him, but he won’t actually…you know…?”

And you remember what you told him on that balcony in Reykjavik: I think you haven’t fucked anyone since the accident, and you’re terrified to.

You were right. You’re still right. And here you are, like mirrors: Aemond not fucking Shelby, you not fucking Aegon, and there’s no especially good reason for either except that it just doesn’t feel right. After a while, Shelby and her entourage leave to check out another nightclub down the block. More photo opportunities, you suspect. A change of scenery.

“How’s your wrist?” Jace inquires. He’s found you loitering on the outskirts of the dancefloor. He’s wearing a black sequined blazer with nothing underneath except skin and ink. He’s unsteady on his feet, a Vesper sloshing in his glass. Now the song that’s playing is Ed Sheeran’s I Don’t Care, featuring Justin Bieber. In the booth she’s sharing with Aegon, Selena Gomez audibly groans.

“Great. It actually feels better when no one talks to me.”

Jace cackles, far too loudly. “You are hilarious. Hey, hey, listen.” His free hand skates around your waist. Instinctively, you jolt away from him.

“Nope.”

“Listen.” He grips you more adamantly. “Let’s do this.”

“No, no, that’s a very kind offer but I’d rather chew off my own limbs, thank you.”

“Look, I don’t care if you’ve hooked up with Aegon,” Jace purrs into your ear, sweating out vodka and gin, his curls brushing against your cheek. “Hell, I don’t care if you’re still hooking up with Aegon. I’m better than him. I have to be, right? That fat drunk. I’ll show you.”

You try to pull away from him again. You’re wearing the short sparkly dress you bought in Reykjavik, black velvet and silver stars. “Jace, don’t touch me.”

“Come on, Stargirl, give me a shot—”

“Jace,” you say harshly, your eyes blazing. “Do not touch me.”

“Okay,” he sighs; and, to his credit, he releases you. He holds up his palm in surrender. “Okay, fine, but when you change your mind—”

Aemond soars in out of nowhere, a comet, a meteor, the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. His fist connects with Jace’s jaw. Jace’s Vesper goes flying; blood spurts from his mouth, split lips and lost teeth. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Aemond is roaring. He has Jace pinned to the floor, black and white and sapphire and red. “When she says not to touch her, you don’t, you hear me?!”

People are screaming and descending upon them, trying to pull them apart. Your Bramble shatters against the tile floor. Criston is here, and security guards, and Baela and Rhaena and Luke and Aegon. Everyone is talking at the same time, so it’s almost like no one is. Jace is striking at Aemond from the ground. Aemond hits him again, and again, knuckles into defenseless flesh and bone, blood vessels bursting, nerves on fire. The music stops, the lights come on.

“Aemond, stop!” you shout. “Aemond, Aemond, you’re going to kill him!”

“Let him go, Aemond, please!” Baela is yelling, and there’s raw terror in her voice.

Then Jace lands a solid punch at last, a hook that comes in from Aemond’s left. Blood pours from Aemond’s nose, it’s on his face and his throat, it’s running down his chest. Cregan arrives, locks his arms around Aemond’s waist, and heaves him away. Before Jace has a second to recover, Aegon wrenches him up by the collar of his blazer and slaps him open-handed across the face.

“He can’t see on that side, you fucking snake!”

Criston bellows: “Aegon, back up, back up, back the fuck up!” He finally gets a good look at Jace: bleeding, bruised, teeth missing, blinking dazedly at the spectators, too stunned to feel the pain yet. “Oh my God!” Criston whirls to Aemond, who is struggling against Cregan’s grasp. “How’s he going to perform in five days, huh?! Jesus Christ, he looks like he’s been butchered! How am I going to cover that up?! How is he going to sing?!” Criston pulls Jace to his feet; he practically has to carry him. Baela follows after them, more distressed than you’ve ever seen her, flowing tears and strangled sobs. Rhaena and Luke go too.

You, Aegon, and Daeron rush to Aemond. He’s bent over and spitting blood onto the floor so he doesn’t choke on it. “Not broken,” Cregan pronounces after examining his nose. “Just gonna bleed real bad. Needs pressure on it.”

“Are you okay?” Aegon asks you, a hand careful and tender on your face. He’s back again, for a minute, an hour, a day.

Your voice quakes. “Yeah.”

“What did Jace do…?”

“Nothing, nothing that bad, I mean he grabbed my waist but—”

“Aegon?” Selena Gomez says tentatively, waiting nearby and hugging her arms around herself.

“Yeah, one second, love. Give me a second.” He appraises Aemond and whistles. “Man, you are wrecked.” And not just physically. He’s incensed, he’s in shock. You reach for Aemond’s hand and he lets you take it.

“You got him?” Cregan asks you.

“I’ll clean him up. I’ll take care of him.” And as blood continues to run down his face, you draw Aemond towards the bathrooms. You lead him inside the women’s room and lock the door, blue walls and white florescent light. Somewhat ungainly—relying mostly upon your non-dominant hand—you press a pile of paper towels against his nose and tell him to hold it there. Then you wet more paper towels and wipe down his knuckles, his face, his throat. The blood on his chest has run beneath his glossy black shirt. We match, you think randomly. “Can I…?”

He yanks the shirt over his head, then returns the mass of crimson-stained paper towels to his nose. Fortunately, the bleeding appears to be slowing. You erase the smudged trail of scarlet that runs all the way to the waistline of his dark jeans. When you reach the end of it, Aemond flinches away from you; not a pained flinch, but a fearful one. He turns his back on you and walks to the other end of the small and shadowless room. He braces one palm against the wall and sighs deeply. He throws the wad of paper towels in the trashcan and then covers his face with his hand, shaking his head.

“Aemond,” you say. And you wait for him to look you in the eye. It takes a long time. “What do you want?” Why were you watching me and Jace? Why did you lose control?

“Nothing,” he replies immediately.

“That’s a lie.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” you insist, your voice fracturing. “It does matter. Just tell me what you want.”

“Why, so you can let me down easy? Or worse, pretend to be into it to make me feel better, to help piece me and my fragile little ego back together? I don’t beg for anything. You really think I’m going to beg you to want me?”

“No, you’re too fucking proud, you’d never even ask for it. You’ll beat people half to death for things you’re too much of a coward to say out loud, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?!”

“Then why are you even in here with me?! Just go back to Aegon, I know that’s what you want. I guess you’ll have to wait in line behind Selena Gomez, but he’ll work his way back around to you eventually.”

“Jace stole something from you, right?” you say. “You feel like he stole the band from you after you were kicked out, and then tonight you felt like he was stealing something else, and that’s why you freaked out and almost murdered him—”

“No. No, because you’re not mine.”

“What do you want, Aemond?” you ask him again, tears of exhaustion and desperation in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says, coming in closer. “So you’re absolved, you’re free to go, I don’t need your goddamn charity—”

Your good hand juts out, and what you plan to do is plant it against his bare chest and push him away. What you do instead—as if by muscle memory, a reflex, an instinct—is reach up to plunge your fingers into his hair. And then his palm is cradling the small of your back and his lips are on yours, moving seamlessly like how currents thread through the ocean. He helps lift you up onto the counter; there is just enough room between two of the sinks. Your legs link around Aemond as he presses himself to you, lips still tinged with coppery blood, bare chest, his waist, his hips. Your back hits the mirror—cool and unyielding, the ink of his lyrics flat against the glass—with enough force to make a thump.

“Are you okay—?”

“I’m more okay than I’ve been in years.”

He tilts up your chin and kisses you deeply, dizzyingly, his tongue darting between your lips. He tastes like his Brambles, sweetness cut with the bite of gin, and smoke, and something else too, something that’s just purely him, something you could drown in like the river of his clear right eye. Gently, you bring your fingertips to his face, to his scar. “Don’t,” he pleads softly, pained.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Don’t—”

“Aemond, look at me.” And you hold his face still so you know he hears you. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There has never been anything wrong with you.”

You watch it hit him like a stone into water, ripples that wash away everything he’s felt before. He knows you mean it, he can feel it, the same way you can feel the care with which he caresses you, not just lust but engulfing warmth, wordless veneration. He whispers between kisses: “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”

Your lock your gaze with his, then reach down to unbutton his jeans. It’s difficult with the splint, but you manage. You think he might stop you, you prepare yourself for it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Aemond’s hands vanish beneath your dress and slip off your panties, black lace you hadn’t planned on anyone seeing tonight. As you kiss his face—jagged scar, flushed cheek, the slope of his jaw—his fingers slide into a pool of staggering heat and wetness.

He moans. “Oh fuck, that’s for me?”

“I’ve wanted this from the start.”

“Show me…show me how you like it…”

You guide his hand to exactly the right spot and give him a rhythm, a pressure, a pace that rolls a euphoric shudder down your spine. He’s barely touched you, and already you’re shaking all over; you’re throbbing, you’re dazed with that delicious needful aching, you’re gasping into the sweltering, salt-strewn dampness of his neck. His fingertips stroke you in commanding circles—only a few times—until you’re on the precipice, until you stop him. You’re ready, even though he’s huge: long and thick, revealed as he tugs down his jeans and boxers. He pins your uninjured hand against the mirror and kisses and bites at your throat as he eases himself inside you: a stretching that is intense but not unpleasant, hunger being satisfied. And when he thrusts—carefully at first, waiting for you to tell him he can be rougher—there are so many layers of pleasure that it stuns you, it leaves you speechless. Has it ever been like this before? Never, never, never, not once, not for a moment, not with anybody. His future was stolen from him, but he’s taken your past from you; he’s carved it out like a gemstone from the earth and locked it away in a vault no one remembers the passcode to.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, you beg. “Aemond, please, please, I want to come for you…” And you gasp as his fingers skim down your belly again, stroking you forcefully as his thrusts become deeper, quicker, impossibly powerful.

His voice is low and murmuring. His scent is everywhere; it’s all you know how to breathe. “You okay, baby? You alright?”

“Yes, yes, oh God, Aemond, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t stop, baby. You’re doing so well, you’re almost there.”

“Aemond…yes…I love this…”

“I love you.”

He what…? He WHAT…??

And it doesn’t just drag you over the edge; it pushes you, it propels you, you go plummeting off the cliffside and freefall for miles. There’s no disguising it. You have to bury your face in his chest to keep from crying out, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving indents like crescent moons. Aemond, fighting his own climax viciously, lasts just long enough to fuck you through the aftershocks and then empties himself not just physically but also of the shame and aimlessness of the past seven months, of his fears, of his suspicions.

“Wait,” you say as he pulls away from you. You yank a paper towel out of the dispenser and wet it with cold water. First you cool his forehead and the back of his neck with it, then you wipe his fingers and his cock. Still perched on the counter, you wet another paper towel for yourself.

“No,” Aemond tells you. “Let me.” He takes it from you, opens your thighs, and kisses your mouth—teasingly, biting and sucking your lower lip—as he spreads your folds and cleans them of his seed, abundant hot white fluid that you can feel dripping out of you. As he passes over where you are most sensitive—where you can already feel longing for him rebuilding brick by brick—you jump a little, and you both laugh. I could go again, you think. I could do this with him forever. And then, as Aemond descends from the chemical high like a plane gliding down towards a tarmac, you watch as those old familiar poisons—shame, aimlessness, fear, suspicion—begin to fill up in him again, slowly but unmistakably.

He throws out the paper towels and takes several steps back. He starts putting on his clothes, staring at the wall, then at the mirror, not at you but past you, at himself, his clear river-blue eye wide and vacant. He looks horrified by what he’s done; or perhaps, rather, by what he’s said.

You grab your panties off the counter and step into them, readjusting your dress. “Look, uh…if you didn’t mean what you said…that’s totally cool. I get it, sometimes people say things in the moment that aren’t real, there’s the oxytocin and the dopamine, and I don’t want you to feel…uh…you know…like you have to keep up a false pretense or anything…”

Aemond turns around and walks out of the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

“Okay,” you say to yourself. “Okay. I can fix this.” You use the toilet quickly—UTIs are not welcome here—and then head out onto the dancefloor.

The lights are dim again, and thank God for that; your makeup is smudged, your hair unruly, your eyes glazed, your dress rumpled and stained. Cregan is the only person still waiting. “Hey,” he says flatly, then squints at you. You avoid his astute greyish eyes.

“Hey. Where is everyone?”

“Criston took Jace to the hospital. Baela is there too. Rhaena and Luke are back at the hotel. Aegon is presumably balls deep in Selena Gomez. Aemond just sprinted out of this club and I’d guess he’s headed back to the hotel too. Daeron went after him. I think that’s everybody.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot uneasily. “Shelby?”

“Oh, right. Haven’t seen her. Still out with her friends.” His eyes sweep over you. “On a scale of one to ten, how homicidal would she be if she found out about whatever happened in that bathroom?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Uh huh.” Cregan strides towards the stairwell that leads down to the front door. “Let’s go.”

Back at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, you swipe your keycard and flick the lights on in your suite. You stand there alone, feeling the evidence of what you’ve done: sore muscles and bruised skin and pooling wetness, both yours and his. You are absorbed with thoughts of what you’re going to say to Aemond when you confront him, how much of your truth you are willing to bare. And then your eyes catch on the small trashcan beside your bed, which reminds you of the one back in Singapore, which reminds you of your pack of birth control pills discarded on a pile of crumpled soda cans and snack wrappers.

I haven’t taken a pill in days. How many days? A week?

“Oh my God,” you breathe. And then, more frantically: “Oh no, oh no, no no no…”

What do I do? What the hell do I do?

You race out into the hallway and knock on Baela’s door. Nobody answers. You try Rhaena’s next. She appears in her pajamas, pink and dotted with tiny green Tyrannosaurus rexes. “Hi,” she says agreeably enough, but she’s rubbing her eyes drowsily.

“Hi. I’m really, really sorry to bother you, but it’s an emergency.”

She perks up considerably. “Okay, how can I help?”

“Where’s Luke?”

“In the shower.”

“So he can’t hear us right now?”

“No, he can’t.”

“Good. Do you know when Baela will be back from the hospital?”

“Not anytime soon,” Rhaena says. “She messaged me that Jace needs stitches and has a concussion. They’ll be there all night, at least.”

You exhale, a defeated little squeak. “Is Aegon around? With or without Selena Gomez?”

“No, they haven’t come back yet. I have no idea where they are.”

“Okay.” You swallow noisily.

“What’s going on with you?” Rhaena asks, concerned.

“This really is not a Rhaena situation. This is a Baela or Aegon situation.”

“Alright, but neither of them are here. So I’m who you’ve got.”

You stare at her. “I need Plan B. Do you happen to have any Plan B?”

“Plan B…? Like, you just had unprotected sex with someone Plan B?”

“Yes, exactly, that one.”

Rhaena gapes, scandalized. “With who?!”

“Confidential,” you say briskly. “Do you have any or not?”

“No, I definitely don’t have any Plan B lying around.”

“No,” you groan. Tears are welling up in your eyes. “What am I going to do? How do I get Plan B in Japan?!”

“We’ll figure this out,” Rhaena says. She dashes to her nightstand to grab her iPhone. “Don’t panic. It’ll be okay. Let’s Google 24-hour pharmacies in Tokyo…”

You don’t have Criston here to summon an Escalade—nor would you willingly risk him finding out about this—but Rhaena uses Google Translate to ask the hotel’s front desk to call a taxi. She shows the taxi driver an address, figures out how many yen you owe him, and then asks him very politely (if haltingly) in Japanese to wait ten minutes while you’re inside the pharmacy so you can take a return trip as well. He seems to agree.

Rhaena accompanies you into the pharmacy and repeats these steps: Google Translate, an exchange of yen, the receipt of a service. She tells you that based on her quick research, Plan B is usually by prescription only in Japan, but pharmacists will sometimes be willing to prescribe it on the spot to a patient in need. Rhaena spends a long time typing out a message for the middle-aged, bespectacled pharmacist, then points to you. This is my friend, the maybe-pregnant slut from Missouri, you imagine her saying. She needs emergency contraception. It’s really in all of humanity’s best interests for her not to continue her bloodline.

“You have to show him your ID,” Rhaena tells you.

You give your passport to the pharmacist, and then he hands you a small package. You and Rhaena purchase a bottle of Coke Zero as well. You gulp down the single tablet as the pharmacist watches with bushy raised eyebrows, amused. You are pleased to discover that the taxi driver has waited, and within fifteen minutes you and Rhaena are back at the hotel.

“You’ve talked to a lot of people tonight,” you tell Rhaena matter-of-factly as you ride the elevator back up to the band’s floor.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I did. I mean, I’ve been practicing. And you needed me.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say.

Rhaena smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“And I’ll be even more proud of you when I get my period.”

She giggles, she trots off to her suite, you retreat into yours. You collapse onto the floor and gaze up at the ceiling, studying the specks and grooves in the tiles like constellations.

“It was only one time,” you say to the ceiling. “I was on the pill for years. That takes a while to leave my system, right? I mean, what are the odds? It’s fine. It’s totally fine. Nothing’s going to happen, right?”

Right?

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