#this isn’t the biggest thing to happen in the chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamersparacosm · 4 months ago

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jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part six)

warnings ; oral (f recieving), handjob kinda, lowkey breeding kink at one point, unprotected sex (18+)

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; wow!!!! part 6: the final part :( guys i am SO sad about this. this is my first series for a bts member and the community that you guys have formed in my comments, all your love and feedback, means the WORLD to me. thank you so much <3 with that being said, please enjoy this chapter, it was so fun to write.

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There’s no official conversation about it, no moment where you decide, Yes, I’m going to spend every waking hour at Jungkook’s house, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he heals.

It just… happens.

And he lets it happen.

Because somewhere between making sure he eats, fluffing his pillows, sitting beside him on the couch as he watches races he’s too injured to compete in, somewhere between all of that, something shifts.

It’s in the small things. Things that should feel normal, should feel harmless, but don’t.

Like the way you absentmindedly fix his hair, your fingers running through the messy strands without a second thought.

It happens the first time when you’re both sitting on the couch, him scrolling through his phone, you flipping through a book. His hair is falling into his eyes, and without thinking, you reach over, brushing it back, smoothing it down with gentle fingers.

Your hand lingers for a second too long, fingertips brushing the warmth of his skin before you realize what you’re doing.

Your eyes widen, pulling back quickly. “Oh. Sorry.”

But Jungkook just stares at you, his lips twitching slightly, before he hums.

“Nah.” His voice is low, unreadable, and thens softer: “I liked it.”

Damn him. Because that’s when it starts, like a landslide that was long overdue.

Then, there’s the hand thing.

Apparently, Jungkook has developed a habit of grabbing your hand whenever you walk by him. The first time, you think it’s an accident. The second time, it’s not.

You’re walking past the couch, heading toward the kitchen, and suddenly, warm fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging lightly. You stumble slightly, glancing down at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

Jungkook just shrugs, gaze too casual, too innocent.

“Dunno.” His thumb brushes against the inside of your wrist, barely noticeable, but you notice. “Just wanted you closer for a second.”

You swallow hard, the warmth of his skin buzzing against yours, and then you can’t remember why you were going to the kitchen in the first place.

There’s also the way he watches you when you cook.

It starts with little things, like him sitting on the counter, swinging his legs like a child, stealing pieces of whatever you’re chopping.

Then it turns into something else entirely.

One night, you’re standing in his kitchen, stirring a pot of pasta, and you feel it. The weight of his gaze. You turn slightly, meeting his eyes across the kitchen island, and your heart is in your throat.

Jungkook isn’t just watching you. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon, like he’s never seen anything—anyone—more captivating.

You try to play it off, clearing your throat. “Why are you staring at me?”

Jungkook leans forward slightly, resting his chin on his palm, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“Because you’re cute when you cook,” he says simply.

Your hands fumble on the spoon, nearly dropping it into the pot. You glare. “Shut up.”

Jungkook laughs in response, soft and warm.

Despite your best efforts, despite the walls you’ve built and the sharp edges you’ve wielded like armor, you feel it. The way your pulse stumbles every time Jungkook looks at you like that. The way your mind stops moving when he leans in too close, his voice curling around your spine like smoke. The way your hands clench into fists, desperate to feign control when all you want to do is give in. And really, there’s no denying anything after the moment that shatters your last defense.

You’re half-asleep, stumbling into the kitchen early in the morning, yawning and stretching as you open the fridge. You’re not thinking, noteven remotely aware, until you hear, “Baby.”

Your blood runs cold. You turn slowly, only to find Jungkook sitting at the kitchen table, completely still, eyes locked onto you like you just did something illegal. And that’s when you realize you are wearing his hoodie.

Not just any hoodie. His favorite hoodie.

Oversized, drowning you in fabric, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing against the middle of your thighs. It was the first thing you found in the dark of his room yesterday as you were going to bed.

Your face erupts in flames. “I—”

Jungkook just leans back, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, eyes dark and unreadable. “You look good in my clothes,” he murmurs.

You squeak, turn around, pretending to be extremely invested in the contents of the fridge, because you are not equipped to deal with this right now. Jungkook just laughs, shaking his head as he sips his coffee.

The movie is playing, yet neither of you are watching.

The volume is low, voices murmuring from the screen, but the real story—the real gravity of the moment—is here, on the couch. Jungkook is stretched out, his head resting in your lap, his body completely at ease beneath your touch. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady, like he could drift off at any second. Your fingers are in his hair, lightly threading through the dark strands, brushing against his scalp in soft, lazy motions. You’re not even thinking about it.

It’s automatic now—something so natural, so easy, that it barely registers.

"You like taking care of me, huh?" His voice is low, teasing, and you feel it vibrate against your thigh where he’s resting.

Your fingers freeze mid-motion. You scoff, shaking your head, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

"You wish," you mutter.

Jungkook grins, his eyes still closed, completely unfazed by your weak attempt at denial.

"You do," he hums, tilting his head slightly. "I can feel it in your hands."

Your fingers are still in his hair, but now they’re trembling slightly. His smirk grows, but he doesn’t push further. Instead, he sighs, stretching slightly against the couch.

"You should be working," he muses. "Not playing house with me."

You huff, finally snapping out of it, rolling your eyes. "You’re making it sound like I’m skipping work entirely."

"You’re here a lot."

You pause.

He’s not wrong.

You’ve been here every day since the hospital. And the thing is, it hasn’t even felt like an inconvenience. It’s just where you want to be.

Still, you try to play it off.

"I’m still working," you insist. "I answer emails, take calls. Plus, Jisoo’s been covering a lot of my work. It’s fine."

Jungkook hums, like he’s not fully convinced. "You should quit and take care of me full-time."

You snort, flicking his forehead lightly. "Yeah, that’s exactly what I want. Becoming Jeon Jungkook’s personal assistant."

"You already do everything for me anyway," he murmurs, voice dropping slightly. "Might as well make it official."

You roll your eyes. "Shut up and watch the movie."

But Jungkook doesn’t watch the movie.

In fact, he opens his eyes and his gaze finds yours, deep, dark. His smirk fades, his expression softening just slightly, like something unspoken is hanging between you both.

The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you realize you’re still touching him, still stroking his hair, still so close.

Jungkook notices it, too. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, and your eyes catch on the silver ring piercing through the skin.

Your stomach flips. Your heart pounds. And before you can stop yourself, you lean down and kiss him.

The moment your lips meet, Jungkook goes completely still. For a second, you think you’ve ruined everything. For a second, you panic, about to pull away, and then Jungkook reaches up, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, and pulls you deeper.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, filled with everything you’ve both been holding back since the hospital.

It’s soft at first, like you’re memorizing the way he feels, the way his lips move against yours. Jungkook sighs into your mouth, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin, and it’s hungrier, needy, dangerous in the way it completely ruins you.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, the sensation sending shivers down your spine, and Jungkook must noticebecause he groans softly, pressing closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes. Hours. A lifetime. All you know is neither of you want to let go.

When you finally pull away, breathless, wide-eyed, Jungkook’s gaze is locked onto yours, his lips still parted, swollen, pink, wrecked.

"Shit," he breathes, chest rising and falling too fast.

You don’t know what to do. Your pulse is a war drum, relentless and deafening, each beat crashing against your ribs like a tidal wave. The world around you blurs, drowned out by the rush of blood roaring in your ears like the aftershock of something unstoppable, something you can’t take back. and you don’t know if it’s from the kiss or from the realization that you just did that. You kissed him first.

Jungkook: your friend, your maybe-something-more.

He just stares at you, his lips still parted, still pink and wrecked from your mouth, like he’s trying to figure something out.

His head tilts slightly, his dark eyes tracing every inch of your face, and his voice comes out soft, teasing, but careful. “Did you just kiss me because you feel bad for me?"

You blink, stiffening, “Excuse me?"

Jungkook’s lips twitch, and you immediately recognize the mischief forming in his expression.

"I mean," he hums, stretching slightly, lazy and smug, "I am injured. It’s possible you’re just doing a good deed, you know? Kissing the wounded, lifting morale—"

Your face erupts in flames. “Jungkook," you hiss, shoving at his shoulder.

He laughs, tilting his head back against the couch, completely unbothered, and you want to die.

You bury your face in your hands. "Oh my God."

"Don’t be shy now," he grins. "You started it."

You groan. Technically, he’s right. You did start it. You kissed him. And even worse? You don’t regret it, not even a little bit.

Still, you struggle to recover, clearing your throat as you attempt to calm the wildfire spreading through your chest.

"When do you stop being annoying?” you mutter, shaking your head.

"Never."

You glare, but your face is still burning, and you know he can see it.

His grin softens, the teasing flickering into something warmer.”So, what is it then? Why’d you kiss me?"

Your stomach twists, a knot pulled too tight, unraveling something you can’t control. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that betrays you. And for once, you have no words, because the truth is, you don’t know when this happened. You don’t know how it happened.

All you know is that it did. Somewhere between the stolen glances and the sharp-edged banter, between the push and pull, the lines blurred. And now it feels like the ground beneath you is cracking, like the world you built so carefully is crumbling at his feet.

All you know is that Jungkook is in every part of your day now. That he’s the first person you think about when something funny happens at work. That you check your phone more times than you should, waiting for his name to pop up. That being around him feels easy, but missing him feels unbearable.

So when you finally speak, the words fall out of you before you can stop them. “I don’t know when I started needing you in my life this bad."

Jungkook stills completely, his expression flickering, his eyes searching yours.

Silence. Hanging between you like a thread stretched too thin. Your chest is rising and falling too fast, your heart pounding so loudly it’s all you can hear.

He’s just staring at you, like you just said something that knocked the breath out of him.

You panic. Because what the hell did you just say?

"Oh my God," you blurt, words tumbling out too fast, your brain unable to stop your mouth from running. "I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not like that—not in a weird way. I just— I don’t know when it happened, okay? I wasn’t planning on it, it just—God, I don’t even know why I’m talking so much right now, I just—"

Jungkook doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. He’s just watching you with that stupidly fond, breathtaking expression, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I mean—shit." You run a hand through your hair, completely spiraling now. "I don’t know when it happened, okay? I don’t know when I— when I started wanting to be around you all the time, when I started waiting for your texts, when I started feeling weird about you hanging out with other girls. I don’t even know why I agreed to go on that stupid date because the whole time, I was thinking about you—"

Jungkook’s grin stretches wider. You don’t see it, too caught up in your spiral.

"And I know you’re bad for me," you continue, voice rising. "I know you’re reckless and impulsive and you drive too fast and hang out with models who have legs for days, and I don’t—I don’t do that. I don’t do guys like you. I’ve never done guys like you—"

Jungkook just hums, tilting his head. "Like me?"

You groan, exasperated, flustered, absolutely losing it. “Yes! Like you! Stupid race car drivers with tattoos and piercings and, and who flirt with me when I’m trying to eat cheese!"

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

You want the ground to swallow you entirely. Your entire body is on fire.

"Forget it," you say immediately, shaking your head, embarrassment consuming you whole. "I’m leaving—"

But before you can even attempt an escape, Jungkook moves, sits up, grabs your wrists, pulls your hands away from your burning face.

Then he grins, sowide, so sudden, it could split his face in half. “You want to leave?"

You groan, immediately hiding your face in your hands. "No."

Jungkook laughs, a low, delighted sound that hits you like a slow-moving car crash.

"Baby," he murmurs, soft, warm fingers cupping your face, tilting your chin up until you have no choice but to look at him.

It’s ridiculous, really. One stupid word, rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, turns your spine to jelly and your brain to static. Baby. Soft, easy, like he doesn’t even think twice about it, while you’re over here barely holding onto the last functioning brain cell you have left. Every time he says it, warmth floods your veins like a slow burn, creeping up your neck, curling into your chest, making your knees feel just a little too weak for comfort.

It’s infuriating. Unfair.

And if he doesn’t stop soon—if he doesn’t quit with that lazy smirk and the way he drawls it out like he knows exactly what he’s doing—you’re going to collapse right here, dignity be damned.

His eyes are burning into yours, intense, overwhelming, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.

He kisses you. But this time it’s different. No hesitation from either of you, no fear, no holding back anything anymore.

It’s slow, deep, and sure, the kind of kiss that takes its time, the kind that says you have me, you’ve always had me, I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.

And when he finally pulls away, when his forehead rests against yours, when his thumb brushes over your cheek like he never wants to stop touching you, he smiles.

“I’m crazy about you." He murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You exhale sharply.

"Since the first day I met you in that stupid VIP box."

You pull back slightly, blinking. "What?"

Jungkook grins, his fingers still cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. “I was pretty much a goner for you the moment you ignored me."

Your lips part, heart skipping a beat.

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. "You were standing there in your little corporate suit, sipping wine and nibbling on cheese. And I—" He exhales, tilting his head, eyes scanning your face like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. "I was hooked. Right there."

You just stare at him. He’s dead serious. He’s not teasing, not flirting just to get a reaction.

"You…" You swallow. "You were really into me back then? It wasn’t some plot to get in my pants?"

Jungkook scoffs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Baby," he murmurs, voice low, smooth, his hands still holding your face like he’s afraid you’ll run if he lets go. “I’ve been obsessed with you since day one."

You thought you were in control. You thought you could keep this contained, keep whatever this thing was locked behind a confinement in your brain, something you could observe from a safe distance without ever letting it touch you. But you were wrong.

Somewhere along the way, he seeped into the cracks. Slowly, insidiously, until there wasn’t a single part of your life untouched by him. He was in the way your mind wandered at the worst possible times, in the way your pulse quickened at the mere mention of his name. He was in the spaces between your thoughts, lingering like an unfinished sentence, a song you couldn’t stop humming.

Maybe, just maybe, you denied yourself because you thought you didn’t deserve it. Because somewhere deep down, you convinced yourself that happiness wasn’t meant for people like you—people who built their lives on control and ambition, who never asked for more than what they could handle.

But now, sitting here, with the weight of everything crashing down on you, you realize the truth.

This is so much bigger than you ever let yourself see.

And you think you’ve been obsessed with him, too. For a very, very long time.

The words settle between you, heavy and certain, like they belong there, like they’ve always belonged there. You swallow hard, eyes flickering down to where his thumb brushes slow circles against your cheekbone.

"You—" Your voice is barely above a whisper, the syllable trembling in your throat. "You have not."

Jungkook huffs a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think I’m lying?"

You nod, because what else can you do?

Jungkook is Jungkook. Gold medals, renowned driver, flashing lights, fangirls screaming his name. You are none of that.

Jungkook watches you for a beat. Then another. Then he leans in again, his nose brushing against yours, his lips just barely grazing the corner of your mouth.

"You really have no idea," he murmurs, voice like gravel and honey, "how deep I’m in this, do you?"

Your pulse jumps, your fingers tightening slightly against his sleeves. “I—"

But your voice dies in your throat as he closes the distance again.

Another kiss. Completely consuming you. This one rougher, hungrier. Like something inside him snapped, like holding back isn’t an option anymore. His hands find your waist, grip tightening like he needs to feel every inch of you against him.

You fall into it, into him, clutching at his shirt, nails digging into his skin, because this time it isn’t just heat. It’s need. A craving neither of you know how to control.

You make a small, startled noise against his mouth, and Jungkook groans softly, deepening it, his fingers slipping into your hair like he never wants to let you go.

His lip ring is cool against your mouth, a contrast to the heat of his skin, the way he kisses you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s claiming you, piece by piece, second by second.

And between kisses and shared breaths, he murmurs, “You were the first girl to ever make me feel something real.”

A soft press of his lips.

"And I wanted to ruin you for it."

A deeper, slower kiss, leaving you lightheaded.

"You were so shy, so put together,” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. "and I wanted to see what you’d look like completely wrecked for me."

Your breath shudders, your entire body buzzing, warm, overwhelmed. Jungkook just smirks, because he can feel the way your heart is pounding against his own.

"Too much?" he teases, voice low.

You shake your head quickly, embarrassingly eager. "No."

His smirk grows, but his eyes are so, so soft.

"You don’t have to be shy with me, baby," he murmurs, pressing another slow, lazy kiss against your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your lips.

You whimper, gripping onto his shirt as he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper.

And between another breathless kiss, you whisper, “I don’t know what to do with you."

Jungkook’s gaze darkens, his thumb still stroking over your lip, his touch featherlight but devastating. The corner of his mouth quirks up, amusement flickering in his eyes at your quiet confession.

"You don’t know what to do with me?" he echoes, his voice low, rough with something dangerous. His other hand slides down your waist, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. "That’s okay, baby."

His lips brush yours again, just barely, a teasing ghost of a kiss. “I know exactly what to do with you."

Your breath stutters, your fingers clenching against his shoulders as he tilts his head, his lips skimming along your jaw, down to your throat. His teeth graze your skin, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make your knees weaken.

"You’re so sweet," he murmurs, his voice a silken taunt against your skin. His hand drifts lower, over the fabric of your shorts, his touch possessive. "So innocent.”

His fingers curl around your chin, tilting your face back toward his, forcing you to meet his gaze. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his expression drenched in something dark, something hungry.

"But not with me," he whispers, his breath hot against your lips. "With me, you’re gonna let go, aren’t you?"

Your pulse pounds, your chest tightens, the heat in his stare making it impossible to breathe. You can’t think, can’t speak, can only feel.

His smirk deepens, his grip tightening just slightly as he speaks softly, “You wanna know what to do with me, baby?"

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his next words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me show you."

You don’t know what to do. Your mind is still a mess, still overwhelmed by all of this—the weight of his hands on you, the heat of his body, the way he kisses you like he never wants to stop.

You pull away from him, cheeks burning, lips flushed, “I don’t want to—"

"Hurt me?" he finishes, amused.

You nod, because of course that’s what you mean. He was just in a car crash, for God’s sake.

But Jungkook just hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your jawline, his hands tracing soothing circles over your waist. “You’re cute when you worry about me."

You huff, but your fingers tighten slightly against his shirt. “I mean it, Jungkook."

"And I mean it too," he murmurs, nuzzling against your neck for a second before pulling back to meet your gaze again.

His expression shifts, turns serious, tender, something so unlike his usual teasing self that it makes your chest ache. “I’m fine."

You blink, hesitant. “You’re sure?"

Jungkook smirks, before suddenly, his hands grip your waist firmly, and you barely have time to react before he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders, your thighs now straddling either side of him.

Jungkook just grins, watching your reaction closely, his grip on your hips tight, warm, steady.

"See?" His voice is low, playful, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Totally fine."

You’re still too stunned to respond, completely frozen in his hold, hyper-aware of every inch of him beneath you.

"Though…" He tilts his head, pretending to think. "I might have been playing it up a little."

Your brows furrow, breath still uneven. “Playing what up?"

Jungkook’s hands slide down to your thighs, fingertips teasing the bare skin just beneath your shorts, and you shiver.

"My injuries," he admits, smirking. "Just a little."

Your jaw drops. “Jungkook—"

"I mean, come on," he laughs, completely unbothered by your glare. "Do you know how nice it’s been? You taking care of me? Fussing over me? Cooking for me? Sleeping in my apartment?"

Your stomach flips. “You— you lied?"

He shrugs, completely unapologetic. "Only a little."

Before you can respond, Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips again, pulling you closer.

Your irritation melts into something else entirely. The second you shift against him, you feel it. The undeniable truth that he’s wanted you for so long, for so, so long, and now you’re finally here, finally his.

"Baby," he murmurs, softer now, his voice dipping into something more real.

You swallow hard. "What?"

His eyes search yours, tracing every detail of your face, like he’s memorizing you, like he can’t believe you’re really here straddling him.

"You have no idea," he breathes, "how bad I want you."

Your heart stops in its tracks. Because neither did you—or well, you had convinced yourself you were delusional. Not until now. Not until this moment, until the weight of him beneath you, until the soft press of his hands against your skin, until the way he looks at you like you’re something out of a dream.

You don’t know what to do with that. So instead, you do the only thing you can.

You kiss him again. This time, you let yourself feel it all.

It’s overwhelming the way he wants you. You’ve never been wanted like this before. Never been touched like you’re precious and ruined all at once. And the way Jungkook holds you—fingers digging into your hips, lips trailing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, breath uneven as he tries to keep himself together—it’s undoing you completely. Because he’s not just any man. He’s Jeon Jungkook: reckless, untouchable, the best in the game, the kind of guy people worship from a distance. But right now, he’s under you, beneath you, pulling you in like he’s afraid to let go. Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you. The thought of that, of him, the man who could have anyone, losing himself for you, it’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s something you never saw coming, but now you don’t know how to live without it.

You’re melting like putty in his hands, soft and pliant, your body responding to every single touch, every lingering press of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly into your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck, baby."

His voice is low, wrecked, like he’s losing control, like you’re unraveling him piece by piece. He’s always so composed, always the one with the upper hand, cocky, teasing, untouchable.

Now, he’s desperate. Now, he’s pulling you closer, his kisses getting deeper, slower, messier, his need for you spilling into every single movement. Now, he’s breathing your name like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You whimper softly, hands sliding into his hair, tugging slightly, just to see what he’ll do, just to hear that soft, low groan rumble in his chest again.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his lips moving against yours hungrier now, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been waiting for you.

Jungkook’s hands roam your body like he needs to memorize every inch of you, like he can’t believe you’re real. His fingers trail over your waist, gripping your hips before sliding lower, tugging at the hem of your shorts, his touch both reverent and desperate.

"Fuck,," he rasps again, his lips brushing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, feeling the heat of you, his movements slow, teasing.

And then he feels it.

The dampness pooling between your thighs, the evidence of just how much you want him, how much he’s affecting you without even having to try.

Jungkook lets out a groan, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his fingers tease along the seam of your panties, just barely touching, just enough to make you whimper.

"Shit, baby," he mutters, his hands tightening on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin. He tilts his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours, pupils blown with something dangerous. “You’re soaked."

Your face burns, your breath catching in your throat, but Jungkook doesn’t let you shy away. His hands squeeze your thighs, grounding you, keeping you right where he wants you, on top of him, right against him, right where you belong.

"All this for me?" His lips curl into a smirk, but there’s something softer beneath it, something almost in awe, like he can’t believe you want him like this.

You nod, biting your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders as he presses you down against him, letting you feel just how hard he is beneath you.

"God, baby," he groans, his head tilting back, his lip ring catching the dim light as his hands slide over your ass, keeping you flush against him. His voice drops even lower, “You already feel so fucking good."

His fingers dip lower, playing with the waistband of your shorts, teasing, waiting. “Can I take these off?" he asks, his voice softer now, more careful.

The way he asks—so patient, so unlike the cocky playboy everyone else knows—makes your heart pound even harder. Because it’s him. Because it’s you. And because right now, there’s nothing in the world except the heat between you and the way his hands are shaking from how bad he wants you.

Jungkook doesn’t wait. The second you give the smallest nod—silent permission, quiet surrender—he moves.

One moment, you’re perched in his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body still trembling from how badly you want him. The next, you’re on your back, legs spread wide over the plush couch, your pajama shorts and underwear long gone, discarded somewhere neither of you care to find.

Jungkook kneels between your thighs, his big hands gripping them, spreading them wider as he settles himself lower, his dark eyes locked onto the sight of your glistening core.

And fuck, he looks wrecked.

His lips part, a quiet, almost awe-struck groan slipping past them as he takes you in, his tattooed fingers tightening around your thighs. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips, and you realize he looks hungry.

"Baby," he breathes, his voice thick, reverent, dangerous. He leans in, so close you can feel his breath against your slick folds, his nose barely brushing the inside of your thigh as he exhales a slow, shaky breath. "Look at you."

You whimper, your hips shifting instinctively, your body aching for his touch, for anything, but he doesn’t give it to you. Not yet.

Instead, his hands wander, sliding up your thighs, tracing the soft skin with slow, teasing strokes. His fingers spread you apart, just enough to make you squirm, his eyes locked on the way you glisten under the dim glow of the room.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters, almost to himself, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs, inching closer, teasing, torturing.

"Jungkook—" Your voice is a breathless plea, a soft, desperate sound, and his smirk deepens at the way you need him.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his lips hovering right there, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers press into your thighs, grounding you, holding you open for him. "I got you."

And then, without another word, he leans in. His tongue flicks out, the first slow, deliberate lick making your whole body jerk, your breath catching as a strangled moan slips past your lips. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you in place, pinning you down as he devours you, slow and deep and messy

Jungkook is relentless.

The second his tongue continually flicks against you, slow and teasing, a sharp gasp spills from your lips, your fingers flying to his hair on instinct.

He groans, low and deep, like he’s never tasted anything better, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pulls you closer, buries himself between your legs. His tongue moves with purpose, savoring you, teasing you, then faster, filthier.

Your entire body jolts, a choked moan escaping you as you arch off the couch, hands yanking at his hair, but Jungkook doesn’t let up. If anything, he goes harder, tongue working you over, lips sucking, devouring every ounce of wetness you’re giving him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, his voice wrecked, almost feral, his fingers digging into your thighs. "You taste so good. So sweet, so messy for me."

You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in sharp, broken pants. No one has ever done this to you before, no one has ever made you feel like this, so completely overwhelmed, so utterly ruined just by their mouth alone.

"J-jungkook,” Your voice is a trembling plea, your fingers trembling in his hair, but he just smirks, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot, making your whole body tremble.

"Too much, baby?" he murmurs, his lips dragging against your skin, but his tone is mocking, almost cruel, because he knows you don’t want him to stop.

His lips wrap around your aching clit, a desperate, filthy pull that makes your legs shake, your back arch, a helpless cry spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, too much, too fast, your vision blurring.

Jungkook moans against you, his hands spreading you wider, holding you there as he drowns in you, his tongue moving sloppier, hungrier, completely insane on the taste of you.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his voice thick with need, with something bordering on obsession. "Give it to me. Let me taste all of you."

You’re gasping, whimpering, unable to handle how good it feels, how intense it is. His tongue keeps working you over, lips sucking, his groans vibrating against your heat, dragging you through wave after wave of unbearable pleasure. You don’t think you’ll ever recover.

Jungkook can feel it, the way your thighs tremble, the way your body arches, the way your breath stutters like you’re teetering on the edge, right there, so fucking close. But he’s not done with you yet.

"Can’t get enough of you," he murmurs against your heat, his tongue flicking one last time before his lips part and, without warning, he slides two fingers in.

Your gasp is sharp, your body clenching around him immediately, and Jungkook groans, his fingers sinking deep, stretching you open as he feels just how tight, how warm you are.

"Fuck," he hisses, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh, his fingers stilling for just a second as his other hand grips your waist, holding you down. "So fucking tight."

You whimper, your hands flying to grip at the couch, your fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as he starts to move, slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts, letting you feel every inch of his fingers. You look down at him, watch the way his dark hair falls over his face, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

He curls upwards, and you’re certain he’ll have to peel you off his couch tomorrow morning.

"Oh!” The sound escapes you before you can stop it, your body spasming, heat flooding your veins as he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

Jungkook fucking smirks like the little devil he is. And you knew he’d be good, knew he’d be more experienced than you, but you don’t even care as long as he doesn’t stop.

"There it is," he murmurs, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. His fingers work into you harder, faster, his thumb rubbing slow, tight circles against your clit, and you’re losing it, your legs shaking so bad you think you might collapse in on yourself.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he coaxes, his breath hot against your core, his lips right there, teasing, pressing soft, fleeting kisses against your swollen heat between every filthy thrust of his fingers.

You’re barely holding on, your mind spinning, the pleasure too much, but the way he talks to you, the way he touchesyou, the way his fingers move with such perfect precision, has you losing all control.

"I— I can’t, fuck, feels so good—" Your voice is wrecked, barely a whisper, your body fighting between holding on and letting go.

"Yes, you can," Jungkook growls, his pace relentless now, his fingers fucking into you with deep, slick strokes, his thumb rubbing your clit faster, harder. "Be good for me, baby."

He presses his lips to you again, tongue flicking in perfect sync with his fingers, sucking hard, and you break. A choked, helpless cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp, so intense, your entire body locking up before you’re shaking, your release hitting you like a tidal wave.

Jungkook moans against you, his fingers not stopping, working you through it, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your trembling body as you come undone beneath him.

Your chest heaves, your fingers weakly clutching at the couch, your skin burning as the aftershocks pulse through you. You can’t even think, can’t even process how good it feels, your whole body humming with warmth, satisfaction, something that makes you dizzy.

And then, Jungkook looks up at you.

His eyes are wild, his lips wet and swollen, his jaw tight as he drinks you in, your blissed-out expression, your shaky limbs, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

"Good?" he teases, his voice thick with pride, with something darker beneath it. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, watching the way you squirm, the way your cheeks burn as you try to look away.

But he doesn’t let you. His hand grabs your chin, tilting your flushed face toward his, his fingers still teasing you as he whispers, “Bet it feels even better to be inside you."

He stays between your spread legs, watching you like he owns you, like he��s still memorizing the way you look right now, completely spent, your body stretched out along the couch, your chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of what he just did to you.

With a low, deep exhale, he finally sits back on his knees, his hands moving to the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down in one smooth motion. His cock springs free, hard and aching, tip flushed and leaking, the very picture of desperation.

You swallow, your throat dry, your lips parting slightly as your wide eyes take him in. Jungkook doesn’t miss it.

"Like what you see, baby?" he murmurs, amusement flickering in his dark gaze as he wraps his tattooed fingers around himself, giving a few slow, deliberate strokes. A shiver runs down his spine, his head tipping back slightly, his breath coming out in a low groan.

Fuck, he’s mesmerizing. The way his muscles flex, the way his chest tightens, the way his lip ring glints as he bites down on his bottom lip. You can’t look away.

And maybe it’s the post-orgasm haze still clouding your mind, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so desperate to make it up to him, but before you can stop yourself, your voice comes out, soft and shy, “I can do it."

His eyes snap to yours, his hand stilling around his length as his breath catches, like he can’t believe you just said that, like he wasn’t expecting it from you.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" he asks, voice lower, rougher.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip, heat crawling up your neck as you shift to sit up slightly, your fingers hesitating in your lap before reaching for him.

Jungkook doesn’t make you wait.

He stands up, takes your wrist, guiding you, wrapping your soft fingers around his cock, sucking in a sharp breath the second you touch him.

"Fuck,” he groans, his head falling forward, his hand tightening over yours as he helps you set a rhythm, slow at first, letting you feel him.

You swallow, watching his expression, watching the way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Just like that, baby," he rasps, his voice strained, almost pained from how good it feels. His hand falls away, letting you take over, his head trained on your movements, his lips parting in a moan.

"Shit, you’re so good," he praises, his voice breathless. His fingers dig into his thighs, his stomach tightening as he watches you, his eyes burning in a way that makes your whole body shiver.

"Thought you were so innocent," he murmurs, his voice laced with something almost in awe, his breath coming out in sharp exhales as you continue stroking him, learning him. "And yet, you wanna take care of me like this?"

You nod, your fingers tightening slightly around him. Jungkook groans, his hand flying to your wrist, stilling you for a moment as he pants, “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me."

Your soft hands wrapped around him, your shy little glances up at him, your fingers trembling slightly as you try to please him—he’s never been this affected by anyone before. But he needs more.

With a sharp inhale, he stills your movements, his tattooed fingers wrapping around your wrist, gently pulling you away before he does something reckless like cum in your hand instead of inside you.

"Come here," he rasps, his voice rough, wrecked, his hands guiding you back down against the couch.

Your breath stutters, your body trembling as he hovers over you, his broad frame towering above you, his toned arms caging you in. His dark eyes flicker down, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your thighs part instinctively, welcoming him closer.

"You want to?" he murmurs, his voice softer now, more careful but beneath it, there’s still that same hunger and desperation.

You nod, a shiver running through you as you feel the thick, heavy weight of his cock drag through your folds, teasing, spreading your wetness as he positions himself at your entrance.

When he finally, achingly, pushes in, the first inch has you screaming. Your back arches off the couch, your fingers flying to grip his biceps, nails digging into the solid muscle as your body stretches around him, struggling to accommodate his size. “F-fuck, Jungkook!”

Jungkook groans, his head dropping forward, as he feels you, so tight, so warm, your walls squeezing him like you’re not used to this, like you’ve never taken anything like him before.

"Shit,” he grits out, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place as he forces himself to stop, his own body trembling from the sheer restraint it takes to keep from slamming into you.

"You’re—" His breath is uneven, his jaw clenching as he forces himself to be still. "You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Your thighs tremble beneath him, your hands clawing at his arms, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intense the stretch is, from how full you feel.

"Jungkook,” Your voice is helpless, your chest heaving as you try to adjust, try to take him, but it’s too much, too big, your walls clenching around him so hard he nearly loses it.

"Fuck, I—" He stops, his body shaking as he hovers over you, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming out in sharp, uneven pants. "I gotta—fuck, I gotta give you a second, or I’m gonna cum right now."

Jungkook has had experience, more than enough. He’s been wanted, worshiped, pulled into the heat of fleeting moments by women who knew exactly what they were doing. He’s kissed with confidence, touched with certainty, learned every unspoken language of desire and indulgence. He’s seen it all, had it all, lived it all. It’s stupid, really, how easily you unravel him, how the years of experience amount to nothing under the weight of this. Of you.

Your body pulses, your breath coming out in short, desperate whimpers as you struggle to breathe through it, your hands gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

Jungkook stares down at you, his expression torn between awe and agony, his cock twitching inside you, begging him to move, but he can’t, not yet.

"Baby,” His voice is strained, his fingers brushing your hair out of your face, his lips pressing against your forehead, trying to soothe you. "Breathe. Let me in, just a little more."

You nod, your body shuddering beneath him, your walls still fluttering around him, so tight it’s driving him insane.

And when he finally, slowly pushes in deeper, you both break.

The second he feels you start to relax around him, your walls fluttering, adjusting, he loses the last shred of control he had left.

"Fuck, sweetheart," his voice is low, guttural, completely wrecked as he pulls out halfway before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound that escapes you is filthy, a high-pitched, gasping moan, your body jerking beneath him as the force of his thrust sends shockwaves through you.

He sets the pace, relentless, devastating. The wet, slick sounds of him fucking into you echo through the room, mixing with your choked moans, his ragged, heavy breathing. His cock drags against every sensitive part of you, the lewd slap of skin-on-skin filling the space, so loud it makes your face burn.

"Listen to that, baby," Jungkook groans, his lips hovering over yours, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“So fucking wet for me,” He grinds deeper, pulling another moan from you, "Making a mess all over my cock."

You can barely breathe, barely think, the pleasure so intense it’s turning your limbs weak, your nails clawing helplessly at his arms, his back, anywhere you can hold onto as he ruins you.

"You hear that?" he murmurs, his lips dragging along your jaw, his hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, angling you just right so he can hit deeper, harder. "That’s all you, baby. That’s this pretty little pussy taking me so well.”

You let out a choked cry, your head tipping back, exposing your throat to him.

"Shit!" he groans, his lips latching onto your neck, sucking, biting, leaving marks he wants you to wear for days. His hand slips between you, fingers pressing against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles.

Your whole body shudders, your walls clenching so tight around him that he hisses, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he pounds into you harder, pushing you right to the edge.

Before either of you can catch your breath, he pulls out suddenly, completely, leaving you empty, a little gasp escaping your lips at the loss. But before you can even process it, he grabs you, his strong hands flipping you over onto your stomach, guiding your knees up, your body instinctively responding to him.

"Nah, baby," he groans, his voice low as he grips your waist, spreading you out beneath him. "Not done with you yet."

His hands drag down your back, fingers teasing along your spine before gripping your hips, tugging you up slightly, pressing your chest down against the couch cushions.

He slides back in. The stretch is even deeper like this, his cock sinking in at a new angle that has you screaming into the cushion, your fingers clutching the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook snarls, his head dropping back for a second, the tight heat of you making his entire body shake. "You’re squeezing me so tight.”

His hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he starts to move, his strokes slow, deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him, every ridge, every twitch.

"God, baby, could fuck you all day," he groans, his voice thick with something dangerous, something utterly possessive. His palm slides down, pressing between your shoulder blades, pinning you down against the couch. "Taking me so fucking well, so perfect for me."

You can barely breathe, your body so wrecked from how deep he is. You swear you feel him in your stomach. You can hear the obscene mix of your slick and his movements, the wet sounds filling the space between his groans and your helpless little sounds.

"Jungkook,” You choke out his name, your voice muffled against the couch, your body shaking with every relentless thrust. “F-feels so good, please k-keep going,”

"Shh, baby," he coos mockingly, his grip tightening as he snaps his hips forward, dragging another high-pitched cry from you. "Let me take care of you."

His free hand grabs your jaw, turning your head slightly so he can watch your face, his other hand still pressing you down, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"Too deep?" he taunts, a smirk in his voice, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the way your brows furrow, your lips parting, your body writhing beneath him.

You nod frantically, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but your hips still push back into him, still chase the feeling of him splitting you apart.

"That’s my girl," he groans, rewarding you with a rough, slow grind, making sure you feel every second of it. His fingers tighten around your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

His body is trembling, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he slams into you, chasing his release with reckless, desperate thrusts. He’s so close, he can feel it, heat coiling tight in his gut, every nerve in his body burning with the need to let go.

"[Y/N]," he groans, breathless, his fingers digging into your waist as he pounds into you. He’s barely holding on, his control slipping with every second, every pulse of your tight, soaking heat around him.

"Where do you want me to cum, baby?" he grits out, his head dropping forward, his jaw clenching as he fights to hold himself back, to wait for your answer.

And when you give it to him—when you turn your head just slightly, lips parted, voice trembling, breath hitching— “Inside me."

Jungkook snaps. In an instant, he pulls out, his hands gripping your waist as he flips you over, not caring how weak your limbs are, how spent you already look. He needs to see you when he finishes, needs to watch your face, your expression, your body taking it all.

His lips crash against yours, messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth as he slides back in, groaning so loud it vibrates through your entire body. His hands grab your thighs, spreading you wide, holding you open for him as he thrusts into you, deep, perfect, his cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you.

"Yeah?” he groans, watching you, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. "You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Gonna let me fucking ruin you? God, I’m going to give you kids one day.”

You nod, barely able to speak, your voice coming out as a helpless little beg. "Please.”

Jungkook grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic, and you can feel the way he’s shaking, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking close.

"Can I finish too?" Your voice is so soft, so breathless, so utterly wrecked, and when he looks down, when he sees it—the cream collecting at the base of his cock, the mess of slick covering where you’re both connected, dripping down onto the couch— he’s a goner.

"Yes, baby, fuck, yes. Cum for me,” He babbles out, almost incoherent.

His entire body jolts forward, his grip on your thighs tightening as he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release crashes over him, spilling inside you with a helpless groan. His head tips back, his body shaking, his fingers gripping onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

He feels it, the way your walls pulse around him, milking him, pulling everything from him as your own orgasm rips through you, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him. There’s nothing but heat and skin and the dizzying rush of pleasure crashing through you both, stealing the air from your lungs.

The room is filled with the filthiest sounds—his breathless groans, your high-pitched cries, the obscene mix of both your releases between your thighs.

He just stares.

"Damn, baby” his voice is barely a whisper, his eyes blown wide, completely wrecked as he watches his cum spill out of you, seeping from between your legs, making an absolute mess of both of you. “So fucking pretty."

Jungkook eventually collapses next to you, his chest still heaving, his body still thrumming with the aftermath of what you just did to each other. His skin is flushed, damp with sweat, his muscles trembling from the sheer intensity of it all. But the second he catches his breath, the second his brain starts working again, he reaches for you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his body, pressing you flush against his overheated skin. His lips find your shoulder first, soft and lingering, before trailing up the curve of your neck, then your jaw, then your lips.

The kiss is slow, tender, so different from the frantic, desperate ones from earlier. This one is filled with something else, something deeper. His fingers smooth over your back, up your spine, soothing you, keeping you close.

"Hmph," he breathes against your mouth, his voice raw, reverent. His hands roam your body, gentle now, no longer gripping, no longer taking, just feeling, holding. "You okay?"

You nod, still trying to find your voice, still floating in the haze of him. Your body is gone, your limbs weak, but with the way he’s touching you now, with the way he’s holding you, you could stay here forever.

Jungkook hums, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your temple. "You were so good for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, his hand rubbing slow circles into your hip. "Took me so well, baby. My perfect girl."

His words make warmth bloom in your chest, your face heating, your fingers instinctively clutching onto him, like you need to hold onto something real.

You melt into him, bury your face into his neck. You smell the scent of him, musky and sweet and familiar.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin, his lips finding your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. His fingers trail up your spine again, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your face up so he can kiss you again. “Don’t even know what you do to me."

You’ve never had a man want you like this before, and you don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else ever again.

The next few days pass in a soft blur of stolen moments: whispers exchanged in the quiet of Jungkook’s living room, fingers brushing absentmindedly over each other’s skin, laughter spilling into the air delicately, something fragile but unbreakable.

You’re not dating, not technically. He hasn’t asked, and you haven’t said anything, and yet…

He still grins when you walk into the room, still pulls you into his side when you sit next to him, still leans in just a little too close whenever he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low murmur meant just for you.

You let him tangle his fingers through yours when you’re watching a movie together, let him play with the hem of your sweater when he’s feeling restless, let him kiss you, lazy and unhurried, in the middle of a conversation just because he can.

He’s letting you take your time, giving you the space to ease into this, to figure out what it all means.

God, you appreciate it.

Because with Jungkook, there’s no rushing. No expectations. No pressure.

Even though neither of you have said it yet, you know.

There’s a weight of his upcoming race, his comeback race, that lingers between you, unspoken but heavy, pressing against your chest like a storm waiting to break.

You know what it means to him. How much this race matters. How much winning it would mean for his career, for his legacy.

Yet, you can’t shake the fear coiling deep in your stomach, the memory of his last crash seared into your mind like a scar that refuses to fade. The sound of metal colliding, the gasps from the crowd, the way your entire world had tilted on its axis, throwing you into a free fall of panic and helplessness.

You don’t know if you can do that again.

You don’t know if you can sit in the stands, heart in your throat, watching him push himself to the very edge of danger, knowing that one wrong move could take him from you.

He knows. Even before you say anything, even before you have the chance to voice the tangled mess of emotions inside you, Jungkook notices. You catch him watching you when you think he isn’t, his sharp gaze softening whenever he sees the crease between your brows, the way your fingers absentmindedly fidget with the hem of your sleeve, lost in thought.

And then one night, while you’re curled up next to him on the couch, his voice cuts through the quiet. “You’re not gonna come, are you?"

You hesitate for too long, and that’s answer enough.

Jungkook exhales, tipping his head back against the couch, his jaw tightening for just a second before he looks at you again, eyes searching. Not angry. Not upset. Just… knowing.

"Baby," he says, voice quieter now, like he’s picking apart every thought racing through your head, "Talk to me."

You swallow, staring down at your lap. "I just— I don’t know if I can watch."

He doesn’t speak, waiting.

"Last time…" You inhale sharply, voice barely above a whisper. "Last time, I thought I lost you, Jungkook."

His eyes darken, his features softening in a way that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

"You don’t," you murmur. "You don’t know what that felt like. Watching you crash. Not knowing if you were okay. Having to stand there, completely helpless, while everyone else ran to you."

Jungkook’s jaw flexes, his hands clenching into loose fists before he lets out a slow, measured breath.

"I get why you’re scared," he finally says. "But I need you there. I need you in my corner."

His words send a sharp pang through your chest, and when you glance up, you find him watching you so intently, like he’s trying to anchor you to him, like he’s trying to make you feel how much he means it.

"I know how dangerous it is," he continues, softer now. "I know what you’re afraid of. But I also know that when I look up from that track, and I see you there, nothing else matters. I race better when you’re there. I race smarter when you’re there."

Your throat tightens.

"You’re my good luck charm."

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Jungkook reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Please."

And how the hell are you supposed to say no to that?

(pause! authors note: turn on ‘the alchemy’ by taylor swift for this part. thank me later.)

The energy is electric, the kind of palpable excitement that sits thick in the air, buzzing through the massive crowd gathered around the track.

Engines roar in the distance, mechanics make last-minute adjustments, reporters weave through the pit area with cameras flashing, and yet, none of it matters.

Because all eyes are on you. Or rather, on Jungkook, and the way he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

The moment he spots you, draped in his jacket, his VIP lanyard with his name hanging around your neck like a permanent claim, something flickers in his expression. Something proud, you think.

Then he’s walking straight toward you, completely ignoring the cameras, the crew, the other drivers waiting for pre-race interviews.

His manager clears his throat. “Uh, you have press, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t even acknowledge it. He just reaches for you, hands settling firmly on your waist, his grip warm, grounding, and before you can even react, he kisses you. Loud. Unapologetic. Completely and utterly certain.

You’re melting into him, hands gripping his racing suit, your heart hammering as his lips move against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to brand you into him before the race even begins.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, a cocky little grin stretching across his face. “You look so fucking good in my jacket. Can’t wait to get home and rip it off you.”

You swallow, dazed, heat blooming across your skin. “You should focus on the race.”

“I am,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “I’m gonna be thinking of you the whole time though.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone, disappearing into the pit area, leaving you completely breathless, your lips tingling, your heart somewhere on the track with him already.

You hear a low whistle behind you.

One of his crew members, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah, we’re just gonna start calling you his girlfriend now.”

You stammer. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure,” his manager cuts in, grinning, arms folded across his chest. “And I’m an astronaut.”

Laughter ripples through the pit crew, but before you can come up with some kind of defense, the announcement blares over the loudspeakers.

You’re with his crew, standing in the VIP pit box, his manager beside you, engineers monitoring real-time data, the pit crew ready for anything.

You’re also clutching onto his manager’s arm like your life depends on it.

“Relax,” he mutters, chuckling under his breath. “You survived the last one.”

You exhale sharply. “That was before I knew how dangerous this actually is.”

His manager glances at you. “You’ve been paying attention, huh?”

You don’t respond, eyes locked onto the massive screen displaying the race track, the live coverage cutting between Jungkook’s car, the cockpit camera, the overhead shots.

Before you can prepare yourself for the impact, the signal goes off. The engines roar to life. And Jungkook is off.

Your heart jumps into your throat as his car flies forward, cutting into position effortlessly.

He’s fast—you always knew that. But watching him like this, seeing him maneuver through the chaos of the starting lap, weaving between other drivers with a confidence that borders on reckless, it’s something else entirely.

“You know he likes to push aggressive in the first few laps, right?” The voice beside you startles you. His engineer, watching the data on the monitor, tapping his chin in thought.

You nod. Of course you know.

Jungkook’s racing style isn’t just speed. It’s strategy, it’s unpredictability, it’s sheer talent that makes him one of the most feared competitors on the track.

Still, something feels off.

You bite your lip, eyes narrowing at the positioning of the cars ahead. The driver in third place is blocking the inside lane, forcing Jungkook to take a riskier approach.

If he goes outside, he’ll lose too much time.

But if he waits too long, he’ll lose the gap entirely.

You can’t stop yourself. “He’s not gonna make that pass on the outside.”

The engineer raises a brow, surprised.

His manager glances at you, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod, suddenly certain. “He needs to bait him into thinking he’s going wide, then cut inside at the last second. It’s the only way he’s getting past clean.”

The pit crew stares at you like you just grew a second head.

His manager laughs under his breath. “Damn. She really is his girl.”

And then, as if he heard you through the screen, Jungkook makes the move.

The driver in third takes the bait, moving to cover the outside and Jungkook cuts inside, passing clean, just like you said.

You exhale hard, your entire body untensing at once.

“Holy shit,” one of the crew members mutters, blinking at you. “You actually know your stuff.”

But you don’t respond, because you can’t take your eyes off the track, can’t take your eyes off him.

Jungkook is still in it, still pushing, still dominating the race, still looking absolutely unstoppable. For the first time since you got here, since you stepped into his world you finally realize: you’re not just watching anymore. You’re a part of this now.

The final lap feels like an eternity.

Your fingers are clenched so tight around Jungkook’s manager’s arm that you’re sure you’ve cut off circulation, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your breath coming in shallow bursts as the cars blur past the final turn.

He’s in first place but barely.

The driver behind him is closing in fast, their front wing nearly grazing Jungkook’s rear tire, and it’s too close, too reckless, too much.

Your nails dig into your palms, your legs swaying restlessly. You can’t stand still, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch, helpless and desperate, as he flies toward the finish line.

The crowd is screaming, his crew is yelling stats into the comms, but it’s all just noise, buzzing around the only thing that matters: him.

"Come on, Jungkook," you whisper under your breath, hands tightening around the edge of your jacket. "Come on, come on, come on—"

The checkered flag waves.

The moment his car crosses the finish line, the world tilts, the tension shatters, and your breath finally, finally releases.

You don’t even realize you’re grinning, shaking, nearly collapsing from the sheer relief and overwhelming joy of it all.

The stadium erupts the second Jungkook’s car flies across the finish line.

The sound is deafening—a rush of cheers, of voices screaming his name, of reporters scrambling to capture the moment. Confetti bursts into the air, flickering under the bright stadium lights like a million tiny stars. His pit crew is going wild, throwing their arms up, chanting, celebrating the biggest win of his career.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop for any of it.

He barely lets the car roll to a stop before he’s unbuckling, pulling his helmet off, his eyes already searching.

He sees you.

Standing in the VIP pit area, his jacket still wrapped around your shoulders. Suddenly, everything else fades.

His team? The cameras? The press waiting to get their headline? None of it matters.

All he can think about is you.

So, he runs. Straight past his team, straight past the cameras, straight past the screaming reporters, straight to you.

Before you can even say congratulations, before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you’re in his arms.

He lifts you clean off your feet, arms tight around your waist, his laugh breathless against your cheek, giddy, boyish, unfiltered joy.

Then he kisses you. Right there, in front of thousands of people. In front of the flashing cameras, in front of the roaring crowd, in front of his crew and the entire racing world. He kisses you like there’s no one else but you and him.

It’s not careful. It’s not slow. It’s pure feeling, pure adrenaline, pure Jungkook.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, like he couldn’t have gone another second without making sure you knew.

Your fingers clutch at his racing suit, your heart pounding harder than it did during the race itself, your body sinking into his like it was meant to be here, like it’s the only place you’ll ever belong.

Somewhere in the background, you hear the cheers get even louder, hear the reporters frantically calling his name, hear the cameras capturing every second of this moment.

But none of it touches you.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, lips swollen, his forehead dropping against yours as he grins, bright, wide, unstoppable. “Told you I needed my good luck charm."

You let out a shaky breath, laughing softly, hands still gripping his suit. Still holding onto him like you’re afraid to let go. “Jungkook, that was in front of—"

"All of them?" He grins shamelessly, still so out of breath. "Yeah, I know."

You giggle, pressing your forehead against his chest for a second. "Oh my god."

"What?" His voice is teasing, his fingers toying with the hem of his own jacket wrapped around you. "You didn’t like it?"

You open your mouth, ready to fight him on it, ready to pretend like you weren’t just completely, devastatingly ruined by that kiss but the words don’t come.

Because when you look at him, really look at him, you realize you’re done pretending. Suddenly, it’s not scary anymore. Suddenly, it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You swallow. "So am I your girl now?”

His breath halts, his fingers tighten just slightly on your waist, and for the briefest second, you see it. The relief. The realization. The pure, undeniable certainty that he’s got the girl.

He exhales, grinning so wide it could split his face in half, and tugs you in for another kiss, this time softer, slower, like he’s sealing the moment between just the two of you.

"You always were."

And as the celebrations explode around you, as the cameras flash, as his crew cheers, as Jungkook beams like he just won something even bigger than this race, you know, deep in your chest, in your bones, in every fiber of your being, there is no escaping this man.

You realize something with absolute certainty. This was never just about luck. It was always meant to be him.

extra extra note!

i wanted to thank you all again for reading this story <3 this OC means so much to me. with that being said, i never want to leave you guys hanging, so i’ll be doing 3-4 epilogue drabbles/blurbs based off your guys’ requests (bc it’s no fun if im just doing whatever i please, duhh)

send in some ideas (smut, fluff, even some angst) of what you would want to see as epilogue blurbs and I’ll choose the ones that inspire me :-) click here to send em in! [THIS IS NOW CLOSED, THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVELY REQUESTS]

love you all… catch ya on the next fic <3

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics

@outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr @tatamicc @seokout @ashslight @avawants2havefun @bjoriis @jjeonjjk7 @mar-lo-pap @parkinglot-nights @coletaehyung @mellyyyyyyx @magicalnachocreator @royalguk

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts #bts army #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts x reader

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bratbarzal · 4 months ago

Text

The Secret of Us (LH43) 2/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

>PART ONE<

it felt like something old, it felt like something holy, like souls bleeding

WC: 28k (I once called this part short I just laughed for 15 minutes alone when the wc loaded)

General Warnings: bed sharing, hand holding, a lot of leaning and longing looks, just a bunch of friendly antics between two friendly friends. platonic pals. aromantic amigos. fluff galore between these two honestly. slight comeback of the banter from lih. jack and ellie win the joint award for worst advice givers on the planet. individual angst - reader lives in struggle city with her senior year of college and the nhl horrors persist for luke, and then an angsty ending (pls forgive me lol) - also mentions of four nations/team usa tw

A/N: sorry this took a little longer, I had a lot of notes and a lot of figuring out what to put where and what to leave for the last part!! I know you all know by now how precious these two are to me, and I really wanted this to show a real progression from how they were in lih!! again, biggest thank you ever for all your feedback on the last part, there's nothing I love more than seeing the reaction to these two and talking about them with everybody, it really ends up being this collaborative yearning for them to work out and inspires so much of what I write so thank you thank you thank you!!!!

Luke feels like he’s floating.

He feels like he’s living in some sort of dream - as sunlight filters in through his windows, and cast you in a surreal glow - he feels like he’s on cloud nine.

It’s all so peaceful, laying beside you - the two of you probably having been awake for maybe fifteen minutes, neither of you talking yet, just basking in the intimacy of being in each other’s arms.

He’d half expected you to shove him off as soon as your eyes opened - as soon as you saw what the two of you had gotten yourselves into, last night. Half expected snarky quips and narrowed eyes.

He hadn’t expected you leaning into his touches, laying on your side and and resting on his chest as he watches five millions thoughts pass slowly through your brain.

“This might be what I missed the most,” he hums, too lost in the way the pads of your fingers tickle softly against his chest to think about what he’s saying, “First thing in the morning, when you’re still fogged up with sleep and your mouth isn’t moving yet.”

You smile softly at the dig, eyes still trailing the ministrations on his skin before you pinch at his flesh. “You’re not supposed to miss anything, now that we’re friends, never mind have a list.” The way you say it is quiet, distracted, even, and Luke likes to think he can read between the lines by now when it comes to your tone and inflection. You’ve missed it, too.

You’d gone straight to doing it as soon as you opened your eyes, cuddling up to him and drawing mindless shapes into his body as he held you close - it’s what you always used to do before you shot up and left him on his own, rushing back before Ellie ever woke up and pretending like you were never gone.

Except this time, neither of you have anywhere to be.

“I don’t think you understand how impossible that’s gonna be.” He chuckles breathily, coming out more like a huff as he presses his head back into the crook of his arm and stares at the ceiling, the tips of his fingers still playing with your hair.

“I understand,” you sigh after a beat, eyes glancing up at him when he angles his neck down to look at you. “But that’s what last night was for, right? Closure?”

It doesn’t entirely feel like closure, not to Luke, but saying that out loud makes him feel like an asshole. You had agreed to last night in order to close out the chapter dedicated to the two of you, and saying that he wants to carry it on feels wrong, especially knowing that’s not what you want.

“Right,” he agrees, noncommittally, wondering if you feel the deep thud of his heart against where you rest beside his ribcage. “Uhh-,”

“Oh my God,” you groan, shuffling up until you’re sat on your ankles, glaring down at him, and swatting the back of your hand where you’d just been tracing lines on his chest, “You want to do it again!”

He leans up on his elbows, trying to level his gaze with yours. “Is that so bad?”

“You said one more time!” You huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, “I thought I was being generous stretching last night out to three,”

“Alright, easy on the stretching,” he watches as you look around for your underwear, “I was the one who thought you could have done three, there was no stretching on my behalf, I have the stamina of a horse-,”

“You could barely stay upright,” you throw back over your shoulder as you fasten your bra, Luke’s eyes trailing down the expanse of your back. “I could have easily done four, even.”

“Prove it,”

“No.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, “One more time, I mean it. We’ve never had a morning with no one else around, it would be a shame to waste such a perfect opportunity,”

“Such a shame,” you mock him, your voice comically low as you reach down to retrieve the rest of your underwear.

“I swear I’ll behave after,”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” You scoff, hopping into your panties as you send a sceptical look toward him. “You have no self control.”

“Me?” He jabs a pointed finger into his chest with widened eyes. “You folded like a lawn chair last night, you have no self control.”

“That was last night,” you shrug, looking around for a shirt that you can throw on - he watches you pout a little at your dress discarded on the floor, eyeing it up like you’re considering the shame of throwing it back on, and he pushes himself up to go to his closet. “I’m a new woman today.”

“I rocked your world that hard, huh?” He smirks as he passes, letting you shove him on his way past and barking out a laugh when he turns to look back at your now-scowling features.

“You’re not being very friendly.”

He pulls the t-shirt he’s about to hand you back just as you reach for it, your footsteps stumbling before you snatch it from his grip and pull it over your head.

“We got back here after midnight, I’m pretty sure,” he recalls, watching you get dressed, “So when I said tomorrow, I meant the day after today.”

“That wasn’t very clear,” you huff, pulling your hair out of the neck of the shirt and to one side, leaving the other bare for his eyes to fall upon, “You duped me.”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, stepping a little closer into your space, eyes still on the slope of your neck before they drift up slowly to meet yours. He likes the way you have to angle your head to gaze up at him, only intensifying the more he closes the distance between the two of you. “I never got to spend the morning with you, we never had time together, not like this.”

“All the more reason that we shouldn’t have any now.”

“I disagree.”

“Of course you do.”

He smiles, fingers reaching out to pinch again at the soft ends of your hair. “I’m always gonna feel like I missed out if we don’t,” he pouts, “And we can’t start a new chapter without finishing the other one, right?”

He thinks your eyes roll by instinct now, whenever he uses analogies like that to try and convince you, but he can see the cogs turning.

He’s right. You know it. You’ll both always be left wondering if you don’t try it now.

“Plus,” he sings a little, “Some things are better to wean off slowly right? Stops the chance of relapsing.”

“Are you comparing me to a drug?”

“If it walks like a drug,” he drifts off, distracted by the strands of hair he’s twirling in a soft pinch.

“You’re not making this easy, Luke,” you sigh, reaching up to stop the distracting ministrations of his fingers in your hair. “The longer we drag this on the harder it’s gonna be to let it go.”

He doesn’t tell you he doesn’t want to let it go, because what good would that do? Your mind is set on being friends, and he would be pushing his luck to try for more, no matter how much he wants it. Instead, he laces his fingers through yours, flexing until your palms are clasped together, and he has a bit of leverage over the way your arm moves - can tug and pull you any way he likes, which is, of course, closer.

“I promise I’ll be good after,” he maintains eye contact as he leans down a little, voice low to draw you in, “You’ll go back to Michigan and I’ll let the whole thing go.”

He holds his other hand up, pinky extended to you, and you keep your eyes on his for a good few seconds before you let them drift to where he’s holding it, a flood of memories washing straight through your pretty irises.

“C’mon,” he purrs, head tilting teasingly as he nods toward the digit, “For old time’s sake?”

Your eyes roll, as expected, but he still catches the way your lips curve before you quickly reach out and link your pinky around his. It takes him back to summer, to that night by the fountain, when something between you changed for the better. Just before you pull away, he tightens his grip, clenching his pinky and pulling until your chest bumps into his, leaning to capture your lips in a clumsy kiss.

It’s tame, especially compared to what happened between the two of you last night, and your hands stay clasped together to avoid the risk of them wandering, but he loves it all the same. Loves the way your eyes flutter closed, and your chest slowly deflates of all tension against his. Loves the way you seem to give in, almost immediately, and accept your fate, losing yourself in the way your mouths move together. He uses that to his advantage, slowly and carefully moving forward, guiding you until the backs of your knees are hitting his mattress.

Even when he lets your hands go, you don’t use them to push him away - instead hanging your arms over his shoulders and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss, increasing the pressure of your touch to stay attached as he lowers you back onto the bed.

Everything feels so fluid with you - so foreign to what this sort of thing is usually like, not that he’s even looked at any other girl since the beginning of summer - and the thought of giving it up makes his gut twist in discomfort, a feeling he’s just going to have to push down if he wants to bask in this one last time.

So he pours his heart into it for as long as you let him - large hands tracing down every soft curve of your body, mapping them out, slipping beneath the back of your panties and gripping at the soft flesh of your ass until your hips buck up into his.

“You’re making this so hard,” you mutter into his mouth.

“And you’re letting me,” he mutters back, “Kissing me back, pushing your hips up, scratching at my hair like you know I like it.”

Those movements don’t even cease as he points them out, and he pulls away just to look at you panting beneath him.

“You can admit it you know, just one time. Maybe then I won’t carry on chasing it.”

“Admit what?” You whisper, breathless and hesitant.

“That you want me just as bad.”

You look up at him for an extended moment, then, lips parted with unspoken words and chest rising and slowly falling with bated breath. Your eyes flicker between his, pupils dilating as if they’re trying to say what your mouth won’t.

He doesn’t need you to say anything, though - you tell him everything he needs to know with the way your fingers curl back around the nape of his neck, pulling him down until your lips collide.

Your body arches entirely until it’s pressed to his, the curve of your back slotting perfectly into the stretch of his torso, and defying the hold he has on your waist.

You’re too far past the point of no return to push him away now, as evidenced by the soft little noises you hum in between his lips when his touch wanders somewhere beyond where you’ve given him access so far in the morning.

And despite how much he wants to take it further, he also wants to drag it out, so he kisses you for what feels like forever until his lips trail to the side, pressing into the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw, the side of your neck, the sensitive column of your throat - and the whole time your fingers stay clutched in his hair, pinching and clenching around the over grown curls as your body writhes beneath him.

If the two of you had been doing this back in the summer, he’d have never let you go - would have kept you between his sheets the whole time, everybody else be damned.

And you’d have let him, he knows it.

He tries not to get in his head too much about the what-ifs, tries to think about the now, about how you’re clutching onto him and giving in to his persistence, but it’s hard - knowing it’s the last time.

Last night, he’d had the aid of intoxication to drown out those thoughts, but now there’s pressure.

And you must sense it - he must stall in his ministrations, or hesitate somewhere along the way - because you pull him from your neck with two hands grasping at his head, and lift until you’re face to face again.

Your lips are swollen when he takes you in, pupils blown, skin flushed, and all he can feel when he looks at you is pride - pride that he got you into that state, pride that you even let him. Pride that he’s the kind of person you don’t want to lose completely, that you still want to be his friend.

Which is why he leans in to kiss you - short but sweet, pulling away with his eyes screwed shut and his brows sinking in frustration. And then he kisses you again, and it’s brief, but he can’t really drag it out any more.

And then one last time, because the second just wasn’t enough to be the last ever kiss he gives you. And this time, it’s slow. It’s ardent and loving and he hopes somehow that you feel the meaning deep in your bones, that he’s finally giving in. It’s a kiss so intense that he hopes it bruises, hopes you feel the pressure of his lips around yours later when you’re flying home, and you press your fingertips to the ache there and think of him. Think of doing more, of being more.

Your eyes flutter open slowly when he pulls away - when he’s hovering over you, trying to put his weight on his good side, and watching as you start to realise why he isn’t kissing you anymore.

“You were right,” he sighs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath him. “Dragging this on is just gonna make it harder.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes flickering across his features until he finally meets them, your gaze softened and crinkling in the corners a little.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, dipping his head to avoid the lure of your pretty eyes, “I don’t usually start anything I can’t finish."

“That’s okay,” you tell him, a hand lowering to cup at his jaw, stroking gently and pressing your thumb a little into his cheek until he looks back up. “Knew you didn’t have a fourth in you.”

He flicks playfully at your nose as it scrunches when you smile, and rolls off of you, laying on his back beside you as you turn onto your side, resting on an elbow and looking down at him.

“Do you really think we’re gonna be friends?” He asks, head tilting until your eyes meet, and he can gauge the sincerity in your answer. He’s just given up what he’s pretty positive is a sure thing, and if you’re not going to put the effort in to keep up at least a friendship, he’s gonna start to hate himself for it.

You nod, though, not breaking eye contact. “I do,” you assure him, honesty swirling in your irises and assuredness in your tone. “I really did miss you. And not even just this,” you gesture between the two of you, “Although it wasn’t half bad-,”

“It was incredible,” he corrects, lips turning up to match your smile.

“Okay,” you giggle, “I don’t feel like I have to be anybody else when I’m with you, you know?”

Of course he knows. He’s spent his entire life morphing himself into what’s expected. To be more professional around his coaches, more responsible around his brothers, more easygoing around his friends.

But with you, he could be himself - can be himself - and the thought of being able to keep that makes his chest feel a little lighter.

“Friends,” he holds his pinky out again, waiting for you to loop yours through it, although you just eye it with scepticism. “For real this time.”

“Friends,” you agree, hooking your finger around his and squeezing.

No kisses, this time, but that’s probably for the best, he thinks.

The look in your eyes and the smile that tugs at your lips will have to be enough to seal the promise in place.

Luke Hughes refuses to lose you again.

If someone had told you this time last year that you’d be making the trip out to Detroit on a random Thursday night in late October to watch a hockey game, you’d have laughed in their face.

You barely leave Ann Arbor anymore, at least you haven’t this year, already stormed under with assignments and study groups, and riding out to Little Caesars arena with Ellie and a couple of the Michigan hockey guys to watch the Devils had been the last thing on your agenda - but that was before you became friends with Luke. Before you became privy to his recovery schedule, and his return to the league just so happened to fall in time for a game nearby.

You could hardly miss his first game of the season - especially not if it was just to bury your head in your books and hate your life.

That’s not what a friend would do.

And that’s how you find yourself nestled between Ethan and Ellie, in the tenth row behind the away end net, waiting for the team to come out for warm ups.

Ellie’s been talking your head off all day about coming, excited to see Jack on the ice again, excited for you to be with her so she can be excited without being shot down by the hockey geeks at the other side of you, and you’re getting a little overwhelmed by it all.

You don’t know why you’re nervous.

It’s just Luke. Your friend.

Who you haven’t seen since you left his apartment a couple weeks ago, trying not to blush as he hugged you goodbye in front of Ellie and his brother, trying not to let your touch linger and give anything away or drag it out.

The two of you have been texting a little. He’s been busy with his rehab, you’ve been busy with school, but it’s still been working out. He sends you dumb jokes, you’ve now used the eye roll emoji so much that it’s at the top of the list whenever you open them up, and your friendship is slowly but surely blossoming.

Ellie keeps trying to press you on it, though. Teasing jabs of her elbow when his name pops up on your phone, little comments about her plans to visit Jersey, and how you should tag along.

You should have known when her and Jack came back from the hotel the morning after the halloween party that she was onto you. Little shared looks between the two of them in the car to the airport, and side eyes from beside you on the plane.

You wish she’d just come out and say something so you can shut her down, though - set her straight on what is now very strictly platonic between you and Luke.

You’re thankful that when the boys come out on the ice, she’s off getting you guys some drinks - because if she saw you craning your neck just to try and figure out which one is number 43, she’d never let it go.

When you do catch sight of Luke, you’re pretty much glued to him - watching him round up pucks and practice his handling around his teammates, skating in somewhat graceful circles around the ice, forming a mesmerising pattern that you can’t look away from.

You almost forget that only Ellie and Dylan went to the concessions until you see a figure shift out of the corner of your eye and snap back into some semblance of nonchalance.

“So,” Ethan angles his body a little more toward you, like he’s trying to block anyone else from eavesdropping, as if the seats around you aren’t empty for now, “You and Luke, huh?”

You turn your neck slowly to face him, levelling him with an unimpressed glower - narrowed eyes meeting his as he raises a brow in question. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how I spent half of last year trying to get you out to watch a game at Yost, and you told me that hockey interests you about as much as collecting pennies would.”

Funny how he remembers that, verbatim, you think.

You’d like to think Ethan is a friend - you share a lot of classes, he often saves you a seat when it’s busy and you’re undoubtedly cutting it close, and you let him look at your notes when he dozes off mid-presentation — a transactional relationship, mostly, but he’s not a complete asshole like a lot of the other guys you know. You kind of run in the same circles, go to the same parties, and bump into each other too often to be anything less.

He had been trying to convince you to go watch a game last year, especially after the two of you had worked on a project together in your fall semester, only because of the development in your own friendship, and the fact that you had other kind-of friends on the team. He was adamant you’d have fun - but you knew better.

And the sole reason had really always been Ellie.

She spent your entire freshman year trying to convince you to go with her to watch the team. You’d gone a couple times, and then never again. If you started going to hockey games, she would have tagged along, and you would never hear the end of her prolific yapping about Jack.

And now here you are - sat in the stands, an empty seat beside you with her name on it, and Jack Hughes on the ice below. That worked out so well.

“I’m here for Ellie,” you lie, because that seems reasonable, “The penny thing still stands, I don’t understand a single thing going on down there.”

“Except for the fact that Luke keeps looking up to check on you.”

And sure enough, when you peer back down at where the guys are warming up, Luke is glancing up in your general direction. It’s a little too far away to meet his eye - obstructed too, by his helmet - but you know Ethan is right. He’s been doing it ever since they came out.

“Maybe he’s looking for Dylan,” you shrug, “The guy’s a liability, Hughes is probably worried he’s gone and got himself lost.”

“Is that why you’re blushing?” Ethan jabs playfully at you with his elbow, smirking when you glare back at him. “You worried about Duker too?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just callin’ it like I see it,” he shrugs, dark eyes gleaming with mischief as he smirks knowingly at you, knuckles pressing into your shoulder as he gives a playful shove. “You’re into him.”

“Am not.”

“He’s into you.”

“We’re friends,” comes out by default, and you’re kind of surprised by just how quick, considering it was only ten days ago that you were in his bed back in Jersey. Less than two weeks since he was pressing teasing kisses into your giggling lips and and you were drawing swirling patterns into his bare chest as you both tried to fight sleep, neither of you wanting to succumb to your own exhaustion and end up waking up in a world where you couldn’t be this close again.

Or maybe that was just you, you don’t know - Luke seems pretty happy to casually text and pretend everything is fine.

“Did he say he was into me?” You turn a little more toward Ethan as you ask, hips shuffling in your seat to fully angle your body toward his, tilting your head in question and holding your breath in anticipation of his response.

Luke said he only ever talked to Brett on his team about the two of you - and while Ethan saw the two of you in the summer, probably witnessed you acting a little more than friendly around each other, you didn’t think either of you had said anything to him.

But him and Luke are close. They always have been. Maybe Luke has shared a little more than you thought - and maybe that’s not such a bad thing, having a little insight as to where his head is at.

Ethan’s smirk only widens though, amusement evident in the crinkles that form beside his eyes, like he takes pleasure in how easily you fold.

“Luke said the same as you, that you’re friends.”

Damn.

“There you go, then,” you force a sardonic smile, turning back to face the ice, “Hope that helps you sleep a little better at night, I, for one, won’t miss your short-lived attempt at being a professional gossip”

He chuckles from beside you, raising a hand to wave at Luke when he looks back up again, the weight of his distanced gaze already sitting heavy on your chest.

You don’t know why it bothers you - thinking he’s so content in your agreement. It’s your agreement, after all. You assumed that you would be content too, it’s why you’d suggested it in the first place, but you can’t help it, can’t stop thinking about him, and can’t stop wondering what if?

You thought you’d shut that door at the end of summer - thought your mind was set and your heart was safely kept under lock and key - but of course he’d find a way to weasel straight beneath all your defences. You don’t know how you didn’t see it coming - too consumed by your want of him, too caught up in the familiarity of his longing gaze - considering it was exactly what he’d done in the first place, weakened your resolve with a flash of his crooked smile and caustic charm.

And that’s exactly how you feel, now - every time you find yourself smiling a little too hard at your phone when he texts you, or checking a little too often when he doesn’t - weak.

When you look down at the ice and see him glancing back over his shoulder in your direction, wondering if he really is seeking you out or if he normally scans the crowd like this - weak.

When your phone buzzes in your pocket after the team retreat to the locker room, and you angle it away from the nosey neighbours sat at either side of you, your lips twisting to mask a smile as you read, If I fall please don’t laugh at me - weak.

When the team end up losing, and you want nothing more than to go find him - comfort him somehow in the limited time you have before they leave to fly back to Jersey, knowing how amped up he had been to return to the ice - but only end up with a few minutes of his time, in the company of Ethan and Dylan beside you, sharing a brief, noncommittal hug and soft smiles just between the two of you - weak.

Thanks for coming, he texts you when you’re on the way back to Ann Arbor in the back of Ethan’s car, Ellie on the other side, head against the window asleep, and the boys up front, yapping to each other about the game.

You chew on the corner of your mouth, face aglow in the dim reflection of your phone, and watch the little three dots appear, waiting for whatever else he wants to say.

You picture him buckled into his seat, legs too long for any plane to comfortably accommodate him - although you’ve never flown anything other than economy, so what would you know - and regretting not getting any other moment alone. You wonder if you’re the first person he’s messaged since settling in for his flight, if any of the guys have a text waiting for them.

It means a lot that you were there.

You lean your elbow onto the door at the side of you, pressing your smile into your fist to conceal it in case you catch Ethan’s curious eye in the rear-view mirror.

I had fun, you text back, sending before you can overthink adding an emoji, fingers itching to tap on the little heart beside the eye-roll in your most used. You’d add it in a message to Ellie - to any of your other friends. Why not to Luke? Thanks for inviting me.

Anytime, he replies almost immediately. I get 2 tickets for every game if you ever want to come again.

You hold on the message and press the heart to react, which will have to be enough, for now, you think.

It’s been 10 days.

Maybe you need to wait until the mere sight of his name doesn’t cause your stomach to do somersaults. Then you can progress to heart shaped emojis.

Time seems to be escaping Luke, passing quicker than he can even comprehend - November ends up being a blur, 14 games in 30 days and he can barely remember his own name by the time it’s done.

One thing he does remember is you, though, a constant presence throughout the month, even if he didn’t physically see you once.

After the game in Detroit, the two of you took up a new routine, texting one another throughout the day, every day, and when it turned out that texting very quickly didn’t fill the void, he would call you.

It started on the first, a shutout loss in Calgary left him in a pretty shitty mood - the team piling back to their hotel in almost silence, splitting into their rooms to sleep off the result, and he found himself needing someone to actually talk to.

You had answered almost immediately, despite the time difference, way past midnight in Ann Arbor when he called, and had managed to talk him down without even knowing you were doing so.

He knows he has a reputation for talking, but he was finding it hard to speak, and you seemed to pick up on that fact, unprompted.

It was like some weird version of ASMR, you whispering to avoid detection in an otherwise unconscious house, him humming back similar-toned responses even though there was no one around for him to wake up, and it took maybe ten minutes for him to feel normal again.

The two of you stayed on that call for two hours, though, until your responses slowed down, and you fell asleep with him on the other end. Listening to you breathing felt creepy, to say the least, and he ended the call with a text saying, thank you, waking to a text the next morning that just said, thank you too.

He realised then that maybe you both needed each other, and the calls became FaceTimes, which became daily.

You congratulated his wins, consoled his losses, kept him occupied on his days off, and he tried to return the favour - celebrating your finished assignments, comforting you through the stress of school, or your family, or life in general, and giving you an escape just like you gave him one.

The two of you even start watching movies together again. Admittedly, through a screen, with a couple second delay on either side - but every Sunday, you both take turns to pick something, setting a random theme the week before and judging each other on how well the film fits.

And it’s weird, having this almost constant contact with you, access he’s never had to anyone other than his family in his entire life, but still missing you.

He feels like he would have been able to get a handle on this whole friend thing, if he could see you in person. If he wasn’t melting at the mere sound of your voice, or staring when the connection lags on your pretty face. Too many times now he’s been caught smiling down at his phone in the locker room, chirped to holy heaven about the lovestruck grin on his face, and having to swallow down the urge to laugh along, because he knows they’re right.

But he had been right, back in Michigan - this is so much better than nothing at all. Having you in his life in whatever capacity you’re willing to be in it will always be enough, and he values your friendship more than most other relationships in his life.

Which is why, when it comes time for him to return to Michigan, he finds himself in a slump thinking you won’t be there.

It’s the holiday season before he’s even aware, and thinking of going back to the lake house, and you going back home at the same time, fills him with disappointment.

He puts on a smile in front of his parents, relishes in the time spent with Quinn, but he finds himself checking his phone more often than he should, wondering if you feel like you’re missing out too.

It comes to a head during the Christmas Eve party his parents have thrown for the last couple of years, inviting all their local friends and family to catch up and celebrate the year together while they have the rare chance.

He slips out the back, isolates himself on the deck chairs by the pool, despite the freezing cold, and twirls his phone between his thumb and fingers, wondering if calling you on a day like today is crossing some unspoken friendship barrier.

His brothers know better than to bother him when he gets like this, and this sort of disposition is a new thing for his parents to navigate, so when he hears the back door open, and the soft patter of footsteps come towards him, he holds his breath in anticipation of some awkward conversation, probably with his dad, where he’s berated for bringing the mood down.

He heaves out a big sigh before straightening up, expecting a, you’re going to freeze out here, or, come inside, Luke, you’re being rude.

“Are you avoiding me, Hughes?”

He shoots up then, spinning on his feet at a dizzying pace, and catching sight of you, bundled up a thick, fluffy jacket with your hands in your pockets as you wait for him to acknowledge you.

“No, I,” he watches you step closer, approaching the deck chairs with your eyes on him the whole time. “I didn’t know you were here, I’m sorry.”

“Since when are you such a hermit? Why aren’t you inside?”

“Just needed a minute of quiet,” he shrugs, “Don’t know if you noticed coming through, they’re all insanely loud.”

“Oh, I noticed,” you chuckle, the subtle shyness in your demeanour sending some warped tingle down his spine, “Do you want me to catch you inside?”

“No,” he says before you even finish speaking, reaching out to grasp at your arm despite the fact you’re not turning yet, “You don’t count.”

You hum, lips twisting into an astute smile before you take the final steps to stand in front of the seat beside his. The smile deepens the closer you get, and he doesn’t miss the way you huff out a small laugh as you look at him.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, head tilting as he takes in the playful gleam in your pretty eyes, your attention flitting around his face with a knowing twist to your lips.

“What’s this about?” You ask, shuffling forward and biting back a smile as you point to the patch of skin between your nose and mouth, still staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, thinking, not you too. He’s had enough chirps from just about everyone else, his own mother included. You’d been the one to tell him you liked him with a moustache back when it was fake, you of all people should have his back. “I’ve become an esteemed gentleman,” he snarks, “Some may say it makes me look rugged and handsome.”

“Was it your mom that said that?”

“Others said sexy and mysterious.”

“Others?” You snort, matching his position as the two of you stand closer, now, looking up at him to meet his height.

“Why,” he asks, narrowing his eyes your way, “You jealous?”

“Of what?” You giggle, pointing teasingly at the feature in question, “Someone mistaking the caterpillar that’s taken residence on your top lip as sexy? I’m absolutely beside myself.”

“Ha ha,” he swats at the finger you point at him, and shuffles back into the deck chair, “Did you come out here just to rag on my facial hair? Thought I suited a moustache.” He figures the next best way to gain some semblance of control over this conversation is to reference that night - most times he’s a little more subtle about it, never missing the flush that rises to your cheeks, but this time you don’t bite.

“I’d hardly call that a moustache,” you roll your eyes as you fall down into the chair next to his, painted Michigan blue next to Devils red. “Was just hard to resist, it’s so easy to rile you up. But I’m here because I brought you a gift.”

“A Christmas present?” He asks, straightening up, “I didn’t get you anything,” he pouts as he watches you reach into your bag and pull it out, a bigger-than-he-expected rectangular box wrapped in red paper, a black bow tied neatly around it.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” you tell him as you hand it over, the tips of his long fingers grazing against yours as he takes it. “Just saw it and thought of a conversation we had once, it’s no big deal. It’s kinda dumb, actually.”

“Doubt it,” Luke mutters as he shakes the box close to his ear, a brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of what’s inside. He doesn’t think anything you give him could be dumb, but he’s kind of at a loss as to what it could be at all.

“Jeez, don’t break the damn thing,” you chuckle, your hand instinctively going out to grasp at his forearm to bring it down, and his eyes darting to the point where the two of you touch.

You haven’t touched him since he last saw you in person, in October, and while distance has helped a little with the whole strictly friends thing, he feels like the mere heat of your skin against his has washed away all the hard work he’s done over those arduous weeks apart.

It takes him back to the middle of October, to that night in his room in the apartment in Jersey. Brings back visions of your heated gaze and your soft lips, the way you’d so easily fold to him - your biting remarks sizzling into amorous moans and sweet nothings. Sends his thoughts spiralling to how your body felt against his - to lips pressing fervently into the column of his throat, to fingers clutching at curls at the nape of his neck and legs hooked around his waist - and at the thought of legs, his gaze wanders.

You’re quite bundled up, up top - a thicker coat, a higher neckline than he’s used to seeing you in for your sweater, very appropriate for the brisk late December air, but you’re still wearing a skirt, and tights that are probably a touch too sheer to properly keep you warm. And the tiny ladder above your knee piques his interest almost immediately, a voice in his head from he-can’t-even-remember-when regaling him with the analogy of ladders in tights being dubbed, the stairway to heaven.

He swallows, thickly, eyes darting back up to meet yours.

“Can I open it?” He asks, and he swears he sees your pupils dilate after watching his wandering gaze. “The present.”

“No,” you shake your head with a small smile as soon as he frowns.

“I didn’t think you’d be the wait until Christmas morning type.”

“I’m not, I’m just lousy at watching people open presents. It makes me nervous. You can open it when I’m gone.”

Luke doesn’t quite believe that anything he could possibly do could ever make you nervous, but he lets it go with a nod of agreement, placing the box precariously on the arm of the deck chair.

“You got a late flight home or something? What are you even still doing in the state? I thought you were going back yesterday,”

“I’m spending Christmas with Ellie’s family,” you shrug, “My mom got called in to work last minute so it would have just been me at home, anyway. Gonna go back in time for New Years Eve.”

Luke’s chest aches a little at the thought of you being alone, but it makes him feel better to know you have Ellie. Makes him feel less inclined to do something ridiculous, like ask you to stay - to wake up next to him in the morning, eat dinner with his family, and stay by his side all day.

He can’t spend his whole Christmas dwelling on that kind of rejection.

Although he feels even worse now, that he hadn’t thought to get you anything. He should have asked, when you became the type of friends who text each other everyday, if birthdays and holidays should be taken into account.

If you’re the kind of friend who he can watch movies with from over 600 miles away, and who understands his humour enough to send stupid memes that he actually finds funny, and who is the only person he can even communicate with after a bad game - who seems to understand what he means when he says just want to feel nothing for a while, and FaceTimes him just for him to watch you study with your headphones on until he feels calmer - then surely you’re the kind of friend he buys a gift for Christmas.

“When are you leaving?” He asks, trying to do the mental math on if he’ll be able to get you anything by then - something to take into the New Year, maybe.

“In 3 days. The 27th.”

He goes back to Jersey on the 26th. Maybe he can figure something out.

“No doubt Jack’s gonna want to see Ellie in the morning before we go back. Maybe I can save you from third wheeling?”

“My white knight,” you place a hand to your chest with a dreamy smile, and he rolls his eyes with a scoff to mask just how much that still gets to him - the easy way you so quickly jibe back at anything he says.

It’s easier to water it down through a text. Especially when there’s a delay in response, when he’s in practice or you’re in class, and it doesn’t serve to remind him of summer - of bickering from his passenger seat, prodding your feet into him from the other side of the couch, or splashing him with water in the lake.

“Are you guys gonna stay for a drink?”

“Nah, we gotta get back to help sort all the Santa stuff out for her siblings. They do the whole snow boot-print and half-eaten carrots set up, it’s a whole thing, apparently.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, a sudden distance in the way your eyes drop, like he’s losing you to something heavy and hard.

“Are you still down for movie night?” He asks, your Sunday ritual only having occurred a couple nights ago, where the two of you had watched While You Were Sleeping - Luke’s still trying to get his head around how you always somehow pick romantic films while actively rejecting the concept of romance, but if he thinks too hard about it, he’s worried it might fry his brain. You’d said it was your favourite Christmas movie, and he had debated just how festive it really was after watching, but he was in no position to deny you when it was, in fact, your turn to pick. “I’m free on the 30th. I’ll be in California so the time might be a little off, but we can make it work.”

“I’m down. It’s your turn to pick, though, so you better make it good. And you can’t pick New Years Eve, that’s cheating.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he rolls his eyes, his heart fluttering pathetically at the soft way you smile back at him. He’s been asking pretty much everyone he knows what the best New Years themed movie is, and he still hasn’t found anything he’s sold on, yet. But he hates ensemble movies almost as much as you do - Love, Actually not included, because that’s a Christmas classic - so he wouldn’t go near one, not for movie night. “I’m still doing my research.”

“Yeah, well,” you push yourself back up onto your feet, leaning over and ruffling your hand through his hair, “Don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself. You’re kind of the only person I like doing this with, if you give yourself a headache and become unavailable, I’m gonna be really upset.”

He stands too, watches you glance through the window behind the two of you and sigh, and he has to ball his hands into fists by his side to stop himself reaching out to give you a proper goodbye.

He still isn’t sure what kind of boundaries being friends incurs, but some switch deep within him flips - a sudden wave of courage washing over him at the thought of letting an opportunity slip away.

“Are we the kind of friends who hug?” He asks, head tilting as he watches the shy smile slowly break out on your face. Illuminated only by the light through the window, you look so soft that it makes him nervous, this new twinkle in your eye glinting just for him.

It’s so different to how you used to look at him. So much gentler and warmer - so much friendlier, and he knows that shouldn’t make his gut churn, but it does. He still misses the way you used to bite, but he might like this just as much.

“We can be,” you shrug, taking a small step forward, “If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” he nods, taking a small step, himself, until he’s all up in your space, wrapping his arms around your shorter frame, pulling you straight into his chest and hooking his chin over the top of your head.

Your arms circle around his torso, and he feels the press of your cheek to his front, his own hands rubbing up and down your back as the two of you stay in the embrace for an extended moment.

He’ll be the first to admit he’s been struggling with the whole just friends thing, but this is so much better than the alternative - being able to hold you to him like this will always be better than nothing, he thinks.

The want to kiss you will probably dwindle with time, and maybe that’s better than taking a cold plunge into the murky, icy waters of you wanting nothing to do with him, entirely.

It still doesn’t stop that small part of him wishing for a christmas miracle.

He sways you a little as he checks back in the house, most people distracted by their own conversations, but he meets Ellie’s eye from where she stands with Jack, the two of them watching the two of you through the window with scheming smiles that only serve to confuse him.

That is, until Jack points his finger upwards.

Luke unhooks his chin to glance up, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of the small decoration above the two of you.

“Thanks again for the present.”

“Like I said, it’s no big deal,” you shrug as the two of you finally part, Luke all of a sudden feeling the chill in the air when you take a step back. “I’m really happy that we’re friends, Luke,” you tell him, voice thick with vulnerability, a subtle shine in your eyes when your features soften up at him, and it all only serves to quicken the rampant beat of his heart. “These last couple months have been really weird for me, and I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have you.”

Luke feels his throat seize up, a dryness that spreads into his chest, and cracks like plaster along the cavity, crumbly and weak.

God, you surprise him, sometimes - a conversation that started off with you hazing his attempt at a moustache turning into this, turning into you opening up and letting him in. Baring a fragility to him that you would never have dared to show, all those months ago in the summer.

And, as is the same as most feelings he develops when it comes to you, he had thought it was just him - finding solace in your computerised company, in texts and FaceTimes and voice notes where you ramble on a little too long and always apologise for doing so. When he aches all over, and the noise elsewhere is too loud to bare, seeking comfort in whatever way you’re willing to give it to him has gotten him through a couple pretty rough patches since October, and he’d struggle without you, too.

“Same here,” he tells you, and because it never will feel like enough, adding, “I don’t know how I ever survived without you.”

You smile, slow and sacred, the kind of look in your eye that he’ll picture when he closes his later tonight, and lean in to hold him again.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper into his chest.

“Merry Christmas,” he echoes back.

And then he watches you leave - watches you slip through the back door into the house, and watches you through the window as you say goodbye, wishing his brothers a happy Christmas as you pass them, and Jack seeing you and Ellie out.

He falls back down into the deck chair once you’ve gone, throwing his head back with an exaggerated groan. His face is tense, his eyes scrunched shut, and when he opens them, looking straight up to the mistletoe tied to the wooden beam above, he feels like the universe is playing one giant, cruel joke on him.

Friends, he tells himself, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Just friends.

He waits a few minutes before pushing himself up, grabbing at the gift and making his way through the house mostly unnoticed, sneaking off to his bedroom to rip the damn thing open.

The box inside is pretty nondescript, a plain brown with a bit of writing at the top that pretty much just says lamp in warehouse jargon, and his brows furrow as he hooks a finger into the cardboard and opens it up.

He assumes you’ve done some level of assembly already, evidenced by the way it sits on top of the plastic it’s supposed to be wrapped in, and there’s a small note attached. The cord is untied, and wound back up, but he doesn’t have to fiddle with those annoying wires that usually come with it.

Plug this in when you wanna feel like nothing.

He pulls out the device, looking for a clue as to what conversation could have possibly sparked you buying this for him, and pushes himself up from his bed to plug it in as requested.

He’s expecting the warm hues of one of those sunset lamps, a round glow of orange and yellow to wash over his walls. It’s the sort of thing he pictures you having in your room, reminiscent of all those times he’d picked you up from work in the golden hour back in summer, rushing from the club over to his car, skin bathed in radiant warmth.

He isn’t expecting to turn it on to constellations being projected across the entire room. Stars and planets and moons orbiting slowly and serenely across the ceiling. Probably unrealistic in their alignment, but immersive all the same.

His lips turn up into a slow, firm smile, your words from the beginning of summer speaking so clearly into the back of his mind.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

Maybe that’s the feeling he’s been chasing this whole time, coming back to his apartment from crappy games and going straight to his phone in search of your name. Asking you to sit in silence with him, until he doesn’t feel the crushing weight of expectation anymore, until he starts to forget all the reasons he feels like crap in the first place.

Luke: best

Luke: christmas

Luke: present

Luke: ever!!!!!

You: it’s a $20 lamp

You: and you grew up rich

You: so I highly doubt that

Luke smiles at the way you triple text back almost immediately, and sinks back into the pillows at the top of his bed, taking a deep breath and experiencing just how small he is in comparison to the rest of the solar system.

Luke: I feel microscopic

You: only because I’m in the festive spirit I won’t say I told you so

You: merry christmas luke ♥️

Luke: merry christmas 🎄❤️

He tries not to overthink a single emoji. It’s the holidays, you’re in the spirit, like you said, and a red heart doesn’t mean anything more than you spreading the love.

Friends, he reiterates to himself as his eyes trace the constellations on his bedroom ceiling, wondering if maybe there’s a universe out there where you could ever be more, again.

Being back home in Chicago for New Years was never really going to be at the top of your list when it came to ways you wanted to kick off 2025. Last year you’d gone back to college a couple days after Christmas - had spent New Years Eve with your sisters back at the house, like one big sleepover; an abundance of rose wine and DIY charcuterie boards with all your favourite snacks.

It had been perfect, all of you gathered out on the street dressed in about 5 layers so you didn’t freeze to death, watching the fireworks set off by one of the fraternities and ringing in the new year with your closest friends.

This time you feel isolated.

You love your mom, and you can’t hold her work against her - but you don’t know why she asked you to come back and spend this time with her when she was just going to accept every call in to take another shift.

You got back on the 27th after a couple days with Ellie’s family, and you had to get a cab back to the house because she was at work when your flight landed. There was a note on the counter in the kitchen, and leftovers in the fridge, and when you woke the next morning, it was the exact same.

An apology written on a post-it and a wad of cash for you to go out and get groceries.

Luke has been a good enough distraction.

He texts throughout the day, enough so that you never feel like you’re waiting on him, and FaceTimes whenever he has a good chunk of time to spare. You almost feel guilty for just how much of his energy you’re taking up, but he seems invested enough in what’s going on with you to never make a comment about it.

He’s out on a roadie in California - due to play a game on New Years Eve, and despite how much he had tried to convince you he wants to be on FaceTime with you when the clock strikes midnight, you arrange for your movie night to be the night before.

So, on the 30th, you settle into your room - your mom working, again - with enough snacks and drinks that you won’t need to pause the movie, and set up When Harry Met Sally on your laptop, Luke’s face taking up the entirety of your phone where it rests against the screen.

“Is this the one where she fakes an orgasm in the middle of a restaurant or something?” You ask as you get yourself comfy on top of your bed, a nice thick blanket around your shoulders and your snacks nestled safely in your lap.

“I think so,” Luke responds absentmindedly, his face focused, probably setting up the film for himself. “I had to ask around for recommendations for movies set around New Years, Pesch said this one was perfect. Have you seen it before?”

“No,” you smile as you watch him, brows furrowed and eyes narrowing at whatever is going on with the hotel TV, “But if it is the one with the deli orgasms, Brett might be a little bit of a freak.”

“He’s definitely a freak,” Luke chuckles, “Curtis backed him up, though. Apparently it’s a classic.”

“Oh, well if Curtis said then it must be true.”

“Glad you agree,” he smiles, eyes glancing to his phone and softening when they land upon you. “Are you good to go?”

You give an affirmative hum, and he counts the two of you down to try sync up your streams - which never really works, but Luke seems to find some weird sense of joy in putting on a dorky voice and announcing the numbers like he’s sending a ship off to space. It’s cute, and you’re hardly going to stop him.

Luke never really does a bad job when it comes to picking a movie - even when it’s something you don’t like the sound of, or you hate an actor, or you’ve heard bad things, he encourages you to give it a shot and try something new, and it usually pays off.

Only this time, it takes a mere 10 minutes for this movie to send you into some weird spiral.

You’re a little distracted by Billy Crystal, at first, trying to figure out what you’ve seen him in before - and then something he says seems to stop you in your tracks.

“Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive.” Harry says from the passenger seat of Sally’s car, a bunch of stuff packed into the backseat behind them. “He always wants to have sex with her.”

It swirls around your head until a couple lines later, when Sally asks him about how a woman’s opinion might factor into the dynamic.

“Doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there,” he replies, “So the friendship thing is ultimately doomed and that’s the end of the story.”

You daringly glance at your phone, the smaller screen resting against the corner of the bigger one, and are relieved to see that Luke is too intent on watching to notice you - looking at him, wide eyed and panicked, a million thoughts racing through your brain, enough to work up a physical sweat.

You feel clammy, your throat feels dry, your mouth feels itchy, your fingers are throbbing and your chest is pulsing.

And Luke’s throwing popcorn into his mouth.

You keep casting glances his way throughout the movie, only to see him completely unaffected, and you start to wonder if he really doesn’t see the resemblance. The banter, the bickering, how they understand each other on a deeper level than anybody else, the way they watch movies with each other over the phone - it’s uncanny, even, especially when their friends end up together, just like Ellie and Jack, and Harry and Sally are tethered together forever from then on out.

His teammates have played some sick, cruel prank on him and he hasn’t even noticed.

Your thoughts unravel as the film plays on - as Harry sleeps his way through New York to get over his ex, and Sally lets joyless men take her on boring dates to pretend that she’s over hers, all the while the two of them ignoring the growing tension between each other. You watch as Sally finds out the ex who swore he never wanted marriage gets engaged to his new girlfriend, and the meltdown that ensues - how Harry becomes her comfort, and years of pent up feelings unravel between the two of them in calamitous fashion - and you feel like you’re about to have a meltdown, yourself.

The palpitations persist as Harry does with trying to gain back Sally’s attention - relentless, and determined - and as the movie draws to it’s end, it seems like your heart has beat itself so far out of whack that you can’t even feel it anymore. Just a bunch of white noise inside you - a buzzing, insistent nothingness that just won’t go away.

This character that even you were annoyed by in the beginning somehow morphed into the man on the other end of the phone - someone who doesn’t give up, who keeps calling despite getting nothing in return, who puts on dorky voices and makes dumbass comments and turns himself into someone worthy of Sally’s time.

Not that Luke was ever not worthy of yours, but it fits - the way he gives so much of himself to you, now, despite how busy is life is otherwise.

“So, what are your thoughts?” Luke asks once the credits have rolled, and you almost have to shake yourself out of your reverie, your throat dry and your face flushed.

“I uhm,” you start, blinking hard to try and gather your thoughts, “I liked it. It was good. Very New Years-y.”

The way he smiles is slow, and you hate how much your chest burns at just the sight of it.

“What about you?” You dare to ask, holding your breath as you await some sort of reaction.

“I was a little distracted, to be honest,” he admits, and your eyes widen, not entirely expecting him to be so open.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “Took me a while to get over Mike Wazowski constantly talking about sex.”

Oh.

“That’s who it was!” You say instead, face crumpling at the picture it paints in your head. “I couldn’t figure it out!”

“Surprising,” Luke comments, his lips twisting mischievously as he watches you through his phone. “I know firsthand how much you like a guy in green.”

Even with the lag over FaceTime, the way he playfully winks at you makes your chest burn a little, and you hope, for once, that you’ve somehow frozen on his end so that you can hide your wide-eyed reaction.

He isn’t supposed to bring halloween up - neither of you are, despite how often you find yourself thinking about it - and so him just casually throwing out a comment like he’s testing the waters throws you off your game, your usually quick-witted retort fizzling out on the tip of your tongue, a prolonged silence spreading between the two of you.

Is that where the two of you are, now, in your friendship? Dropping joking references to the last night you spent together?

“Must have been a phase.” You finally retort, sending him a tight lipped smile when he tilts his head in question, a gut-wrenching, knowing look in his eyes.

“Must have been.”

He has to go before long, an early morning skate ahead of him, and you figure you should probably get some sleep too, while you can - without a busy house and endless amounts of studying to do - so when he hangs up, you throw yourself back onto your bed and stare at the same spot for what feels like hours.

You have plenty of guy friends.

Granted, you aren’t as close with them as you are with Luke, but that doesn’t really matter. You have the capability of just being friends with them.

Just because you and Luke have slept together you-don’t-even-know how many times, and he kind of made out that he loved you that one time in Michigan, and you spent the better part of 2 months in a catatonic break up spiral after you broke things off with him, doesn’t mean you can’t be friends.

He was the one who stopped whatever the hell the two of you were doing the morning after the halloween party - and you know for sure you would have carried on if he hadn’t.

So that rules out the whole constantly thinking about sleeping with each other thing. If he was constantly thinking about it, he wouldn’t have given up the last opportunity he had to actually do it.

But then where does that leave you?

And why does the thought of him not wanting you all of a sudden seem worse than if he did?

Luke watches When Harry Met Sally a grand total of 8 times throughout January.

The first time after New Years had been to actually focus on the movie, laid up on his own back in his room in Jersey, without the distraction of your pretty features taking up his phone screen, and not having to keep up the poker face he worked so hard to maintain the first time.

He really lets the whole story sink in - lets the horrors flash through his eyes as he absorbs just how much of the two of you are in the story.

Sally has your defiance - he sees your unwavering confidence in the way she reacts to Harry’s chirps and remarks, and sees you in her resilience to his persistent charms.

He wonders if this could have been the two of you years down the line, if you never made up after summer, and he would run into you one day in an airport, or a bookstore, and you’d pass each other by like ships in the night until one day something changed. He’s pretty thankful that isn’t the case - that the two of you have progressed past the longing and avoiding and have become something tangible and real.

He really doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have you.

Most people say he’s one of the lucky ones, having his brother by his side whilst juggling his ever-chaotic career - with parents in the business his whole life, and having Quinn be the blueprint for him to follow - and for as much of his life that he has spent striving to be where he is, he’s managed to surround him with people who understand.

But sometimes he feels like they don’t really understand him.

They don’t understand how he tries to ease the tension with dumb jokes, or how sometimes he can’t help the snappy comebacks and the prolonged eye-rolls that follow what he believes to be stupid questions directed at someone who really isn’t in the mood.

They don’t understand that sometimes he really just needs to shut off - that, whilst he has somewhat of a reputation for being a talker, when shit hits the fan, he doesn’t want to speak at all. He wants to shut himself away, and just sit with his thoughts until he convinces himself that none of it matters.

You get it. You support it - sit with him in the silence, albeit on the other end of a phone call, but you’re there nonetheless. You don’t take his biting remarks to heart, you roll your eyes straight back, and you even get whatever dumb movie reference he makes.

You mean a lot to him, and the thought of screwing it up in any way starts to mess with his head - which is how your weekly Sunday movie ends up on the back burner for the rest of January.

You don’t put up much of a fight, either, which Luke finds weird, but then again, you’re pretty snowed under with school work. The two of you still talk - texting, mostly, but calls when needed, too - and he doesn’t really feel a divide until the third Sunday rolls around.

January feels like the longest month he he has ever lived in his life - and after a home loss to the Sens, the team’s 4th in a row in one week, Luke shuts himself away on the Sunday night, projection lamp casting constellations around his darkened room, and When Harry Met Sally playing for maybe the 6th time on his TV.

“Are you stuck in some weird Groundhog Day thing I don’t know about?” Jack asks after a while, leaning against the door jamb and craning his neck to watch Harry and Sally walking through Washington Square Park. “I swear you watch this movie every day.”

“Keep falling asleep, I’m determined to watch it all the way through.” Luke lies with ease, eyes never leaving the screen as they speak to each other in dorky voices, and Harry finally asks her out.

“Right,” Jack drags, “Well you’re gonna have to try again some other time, we’re going out.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“Good thing I wasn’t asking, then.” Jack snarks, pushing himself away from the door and narrowing his eyes at Luke. “You’re really not gonna tell me what’s got you all mopey and weird?”

“Can’t a guy watch a movie in peace?” He scoffs, reaching for the remote to pause the film and straighten up on his bed, “I’m not being mopey and weird, I’m just beat. Been a shit week if you didn’t notice.”

“You were weird before this week, though.”

“Jesus, what’s with the third degree?” He pushes himself off the bed completely, gesturing for his brother to flick the light on as he turns off the projector.

“Maybe I’m worried about you.”

“Yeah, right.”

Jack watches as Luke stalks toward his closet in search of a jacket, rifling through a couple until he pulls out something he knows should keep him warm.

It’s the jacket he gave you to wear on Halloween, and Luke wonders for a fleeting second if there’s a chance your perfume might still linger.

Jesus Christ, he is being weird, he thinks.

Jack calls your name out like he’s reading Luke’s mind, a brow raised when he turns to face him. “Did you two fall out or something?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“Just asking,” Jack shrugs casually, although the way he’s eyeing Luke makes him nervous. Did Ellie say something? Did you say something to her? “So the whole friend thing is holding up?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Luke knows he’s putting the D in defensive, but he can’t help it. It’s technically his job, Jack should expect it by now, he thinks.

“I don’t know, I just think once you’ve crossed that line with someone, it’s kind of hard to just pretend you never did. I can’t imagine just being friends with Ellie again.”

“We’re not you and Ellie,” Luke frowns, a bitterness crossing his features at the comparison. He just about bites his tongue from lashing out, saying something stupid like how you and him are way more mature about your feelings.

“No shit, the two of you are much harder work.” Jack scoffs out a humourless laugh, “She’s batshit crazy and you’re way in over your head.”

“She isn’t crazy,” Luke argues, “You don’t even know her.”

“Luke, she literally broke things off with you for saying one dumb comment,” he huffs back, and Luke doesn’t even question how he would possibly even know that. He never spoke to his brothers about the two of you after things fell apart, but Jack no doubt got his intel from Ellie - morphed and twisted it into his own narrative after the fact, because that’s just what Jack does. “It’s not insane to think she’d do the same with your friendship.”

It is insane to think that.

Partly because Luke would never be so stupid as to speak about you like that again, and partly because what the two of you have now can’t simply be broken off. Not again. Not on Luke’s watch.

“We’re solid, you don’t have to worry about it.”

The tensing of his jaw is probably what gives him away, he thinks, and he tries to relax all his muscles as his older brother watches him with a scrutinising glare.

“You’re still into her.”

“Whatever,” Luke sighs, shouldering past Jack into the hallway. He’ll take his brother’s advice for a lot of things - looks up too him even, when it comes to being a player, being a functioning human being somewhat - but the last thing he’s taking Jack’s advice on is dating. Not when it took him like 3 years to ask Ellie out.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Would you believe me if I did?”

“Luke,” Jack grabs at his elbow to stop him storming all the way through the apartment, tugging until Luke turns, avoiding eye contact and shifting on his feet. “You might think you’re doing the sensible thing, but this whole being friends mess while you still have feelings isn’t good for you.”

“This conversation isn’t good for me,”

“You need to move on.”

The words send a spike of anxiety straight to Luke’s gut.

Move on to what? He’s barely been able to look at another girl without thinking of you lately, even in a platonic or professional sense. He’d stopped to get gas last week and had to run inside to get a drink, and the girl behind the counter gave him this disinterested, irritated shake of her head when he’d tried to make small talk while she was ringing him up. He’d laughed to himself going back to his car - had texted you, just been served by your twin at the gas station, and you’d replied straight away with the eye roll emoji yourself.

Moving on doesn’t really seem like an option.

Not until Jack says, “She’s probably dating again by now.”

He says it so off the cuff that Luke starts to feel like he’s reacting in slow motion - a gradual turn of his body to full attention and a delayed, curious tilt of his head.

“Is she?” He asks, dumbly, wondering if that’s another thing Ellie might have filled Jack in on in their catch ups.

“How the hell would I know?” Jack scoffs, although the way his eyes widen momentarily is a dead giveaway that he’s hiding something. “But it’s been like 6 months, it’s pretty much expected.”

Would you tell him if you were dating?

He’s pretty sure you would. You tell him everything else.

Hell, he even knows your cycle by now, as much as he probably doesn’t want to.

“I’m just going off what they say, you know, about getting over somebody.”

“What do they say?” Luke asks, teeth clenched, jaw aching and throat all prickly at just the thought of what Jack is going to come back with.

“That you have to get under somebody else.”

He feels like he’s about to throw up.

Absolutely not.

The thought of you giving the same parts of yourself to someone else that you’ve already given to him makes his skin crawl - the late night FaceTime calls, the soft, pretty smiles when it’s just the two of you, the way you’ve given up all resilience when it comes to laughing at his jokes.

Those things are his. They’re only his.

But this is the kind of warped possessiveness that made him fuck everything up in the first place - when the thought of you with Cole Caufield sent his head spinning so far off his body that he couldn’t control his mouth. He feels the exact same panic as he did back in the lake house, hanging balloons and hoping he could stop anybody from taking you away.

It wasn’t healthy then, and it isn’t healthy now. He has to let you go, if that’s what you really want. He has to let you move on.

And if he’s going to do that, he has to move on, too.

February is supposed to be your favourite month of the year.

You’re a February baby, your birthday falling a couple days after Valentines Day, and the way you end up surrounded by hearts and flowers in the days leading up always puts you in a good mood.

Only this year, you’re getting your ass kicked with assignments and studying for your finals - and the fact that you’re still waiting to hear back about your graduate programme application.

Most evenings are spent in the library because it’s a lot less distracting than being back in your sorority - constantly playing catch up to all the things you feel like you’re falling behind on - and you barely even notice the passing of time, or what month it is at all, until you’re on your way out of the library one night and there’s a poster by the exit for Michigan Hockey Senior Night - saying, This Saturday, Feb 15th!

This Saturday?

How did you get almost two weeks into a month without even realising it?

You feel like you’re spiralling the whole way home - like time is running away from you. You’d just about remembered to apply for graduation before the deadline last month, and now it’s only 3 months away, and you still don’t know exactly where you’re gonna end up.

And you haven’t even organised anything for your birthday. You’re usually so on top of that sort of stuff, too. It’s probably too last minute now to get everybody together - people will have made plans, you’re pretty sure, and the thought of not celebrating it makes your stomach turn, like your whole year has gone to waste.

It takes you 20 minutes to get back to the house, pretty much walking in a trance, and it’s only when you’re at the end of the street that you realise you just want to call Luke.

He usually talks you out of these moods without even knowing it - calms you down with some dorky joke or a story about how the guys on his team all grouped together to pull of some stupid prank on him.

It’s like he knows when you go catatonic. Knows when everything is getting a little heavy, and he does his best to lighten the load.

But he’s been busy too, lately. Down after a tough run of games, a drop in form, and he’s taking on a lot more responsibility with his team - the last thing he needs is you burdening him with your problems.

You just need to sleep it off, you think, as you sluggishly heave yourself up the stairs toward the front door of your sorority house, then the next time you talk to him you can be the kind of friend that he needs.

A soft exclamation of, “Finally,” pretty much gives you a heart attack as you close the door behind you, your hand shooting to cover your chest as your pulse thuds all the way up to your ears, “I’ve been waiting for you for like an hour!”

Ellie shoots up from where she had been sat toward the bottom of the staircase and comes toward you, an assessing tilt to her head as she looks you up and down.

You’re bundled up pretty thick, sweatpants on top of leggings on top of tights, and about 4 layers on top - and you’re hoping you can get away with using the cold as an excuse for how manic you probably look. The last thing you want right now is an Ellie interrogation.

“I was at the library,” you tell her, “I told you earlier that’s where I’d be.”

“It’s dark, babe, if I knew you’d be there this late I would have come and got you. Everyone’s setting up for a movie in the lounge, Danica is convinced you’ve been kidnapped.”

“Oh, sorry,” you frown, peering past her to try and get a look through the doors into where the rest of the girls are. “I didn’t realise how late it was. Do you think she’d mind if I just went straight up to bed?”

“You’re fine, I figured you’d be out of it so I told her you were feeling sick, she’ll probably avoid you until Wednesday.”

You smile, tired and soft, but thankful, nonetheless. What else are best friends for if not to get your dictator sorority vice president off your back when she’s on a power trip about group dynamics and bonding nights?

“I love you,” you tell Ellie with a relieved sigh as she smiles back.

“I know,” she replies, “You’re gonna love me even more because I left a gift up in your room for when you got home.”

“A gift?” You ask, narrowing your exhausted eyes her way, frowning as you try to think what sort of gift she might have gotten you. “You know my birthday isn’t until Sunday, right?”

“Yes, I know when my best friend’s birthday is,” Ellie rolls her eyes dramatically as the two of you ascend the staircase together, your legs still aching after your walk home - your entire body wanting nothing more than to collapse atop your bed and sleep for 12 hours straight. “You’ve been down, wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Thanks El,” you offer a tired smile, “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“I’m sure you will,” she winks, “I’m gonna change and then join the others before Danica thinks I’ve been kidnapped, too.”

“Have fun.”

She disappears to her room a little closer to the stairs as you carry on down the hall, shoulders slumped and steps lethargic as you finally push your way into your room, planting your bag to the side of the door and slowly rounding the corner.

You didn’t really have any intentions of seeking out whatever gift Ellie had left for you until the morning with how exhausted you are, but it’s a little hard to miss when your bed comes into view - a long body sprawled out on top of your sheets, head resting in the crook of his own elbow and soft snores falling from his slightly open mouth.

You just about stop yourself from rushing toward him, dropping your bag off to the side and unzipping your jacket, still stuck in a few more layers that you need to shed.

The need to laugh is a little harder to fight, the sight of him asleep in your bed, the picture of Ellie somehow sneaking him up here and having him wait for you to get home, and he couldn’t even stay up - it’s funny. It’s endearing and sweet, and you can’t really blame him. You’d watched his games over the last week, knew how relentless his schedule had been, so the thought of waking him up to talk doesn’t even cross your mind.

Despite how much you had wanted to talk to him before, and after having a mini-meltdown when you left the library - you think that maybe finally being in his actual presence might be enough. Plus, if he was awake, he’d probably see straight through you, and you’re far too exhausted and frustrated to talk it out right now. Ellie hadn’t noticed when you got home, that your eyes were red raw and your cheeks were all puffy. Luke would, so it’s probably for the best that he’s out like a light.

You grab something warm to change into for the night, slip into your bathroom and go through your usual routine - wash your face, brush your teeth, put your hair up and out of your face so it doesn’t get all frizzy and knotted in your sleep - before making your way back to your bed.

You grab a thick blanket from your closet and crawl up on your bed beside him, throwing half over his long body before tucking yourself under the other half, shuffling up next to his sleeping form.

You settle pretty quickly on your half of the bed, figuring he must have remembered from the summer which side to sleep on himself, and bend your body in line with his, laying on your side until your muscles melt into the mattress.

And then you pull the arm he isn’t resting on over yourself, getting comfortable with your back to him, but still needing to be held. All the anxiety you’ve been dealing with over the past few weeks seems to seep away when you feel the press of his chest to your tense shoulders, and even asleep, his fingers spread so that you can lace yours through them - hands clasped together until you can feel the steady beat of his pulse below your knuckles, or maybe it’s yours, you don’t really know at this point. With his body moulded to yours like this, limbs bent into the spaces you leave for them, it’s hard to tell where he ends and you begin.

It’s probably how you fall asleep with miraculous ease - weeks of borderline insomnia catching up to you as you drift off within what feels like seconds, safe in the warm embrace of your only escape.

When Luke wakes in the middle of the night, he’s pretty sure he’s in the midst of some weird deja vu dream.

His arm has gone dead beneath his head, pins and needles shooting from the tips of his fingers all the way to his shoulder as he readjusts himself a little, and he can’t feel the fingers on his other hand.

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, too conscious of the fact that it isn’t morning yet - because he just doesn’t possibly feel rested enough for it to be morning, yet - and too focused on zeroing in on his other senses. The sound of soft breaths from beside him, the smell of marshmallow-y shampoo, and the warmth of a body laying beneath his other arm.

He slowly blinks himself into consciousness when the familiarity of it all sinks in - the clutch of your fingers between his, the way your breaths fall in line with his own, your shoulder blades pressed firmly to his chest - and peers over to assess your sleeping form.

You definitely weren’t there when he fell asleep. He probably wouldn’t have been able to get to sleep if you were - too in his head about having you in his arms again.

He’s been in his head all day, though - coming over from Jersey to spend his bye-week in Michigan, he knew as soon as he landed that he wanted to see you first, and when he got to the house, and Ellie answered the door, he had been a little bummed that you weren’t home.

And then she pulled some mission impossible level sneaking skills to get him upstairs - told him you’d be back soon, and to wait around, and that if he made a single sound, she’d run upstairs and murder him, herself.

And what else was he supposed to do when it was his first time in any space that was solely yours, just sit there twiddling his thumbs?

He’d only ever seen your room in the background of your video calls - walls lined with mismatched frames and prints, pictures of you with your friends, and with your family, one even from the summer, of the whole group back at the lake house, the two of you stood side by side, back when your brewing feelings were a strict secret that nobody else knew about. He remembered when it was taken, his hand lightly pressed on the small of your back to keep you close - remembered the way you leant on him a little while everyone smushed together, and the soft smile you gave him when everyone broke apart.

There wass another picture that catches his eye - you as a kid, sat between both your parents, wearing the kind of smile only a kid could wear, a smile he knows he hasn’t seen on you since. You must have been like 6 or 7, a gap in your front teeth and a sun burnt nose, and he thought for a second that 6 or 7 year old Luke would have had the biggest crush on you if he knew you when you were kids. You probably would have broke his heart, then, too.

Your desk was cluttered, but still somewhat neat, little trinkets littering the shelves above - figurines, a Lego Wall-E missing a couple bricks, a stack of notebooks, a little vase of fake tulips, and a familiar beat up orange Mets baseball cap hanging precariously from the edge.

Your bed was made, and it looked way too inviting once Luke had taken a brief tour, so he sat on what would usually be his side - and had somehow ended up falling asleep while he waited, your mattress plush and your pillows firm just how he always likes them.

He hadn’t exactly put much thought into it at the time, but the last thing he expected was to wake up to the fact that you had just gotten home and crawled straight into bed beside him.

He’s hardly complaining, though - aside from the way he still can’t feel his arm, and your fingers are locked pretty tight around his, even in your sleep. When he tries to pull them free, just to try and ease the ache in his knuckles, your body follows, shuffling to face him and cosying straight up to him, your hands falling between the two of you and clutching limply at his hoody.

He notices as he’s looking down at you that even something as routine as breathing feels easier when he’s with you - he doesn’t feel that crushing weight on his chest that has followed him for the last month, doesn’t feel the sharp pain in his ribs that hits sometimes when he’s too in his head, like a sudden jolt to bring him back to the present.

His torso just moves in tune to yours, deep, heavy breaths that lull him back to sleep so quick it all feels like a dream.

That is, until he wakes up again.

This time he knows it’s morning. He opens his eyes slowly to a brighter room, the sun seeping in through the crack in your curtains, casting your pretty features in a soft, ethereal glow that makes him feel warm all over.

You’re still just as close, nuzzled right into him, your knees nudged between his thighs, and your arm thrown lazily over his figure, the other curled between you both. His arm is over yours, slung beyond the curve of your back, enough that he can play with the ends of your hair in your ponytail as he takes you in.

“I can feel you watching me.” Your voice is thick with sleep, croaky and low, and he still gets the same feeling in the pit of his stomach that he did back in summer when you’d talk to him first thing in the morning - like it was a tone made just for his ears to hear.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you in person,” he mutters back, his voice equally as croaky, “Trying to memorise what you look like without the glow of a screen reflecting on your face.”

“’S’creepy,” you reply, pushing your face into his chest so that he can’t see you anymore - the rumblings of his hushed laughter causing your head to shake a little.

You stay laying against him for a moment, your head rising and falling in time with his slow, heavy breaths, and his fingers mindlessly twirl at a strand of your hair.

“Don’t you have to be up for class?” He asks after a few minutes, no more than a whisper - still feeling the weight of Ellie’s threat from the night before about alerting anyone in the house to his presence.

“No class on Tuesdays,” he just about makes out as you mumble into his chest, tightening your hold around him.

“What do you usually do?”

“Sleep.”

And as good as going back to sleep sounds - the rumbling of his stomach, as always, gets the better of him.

“You wanna go get breakfast?”

He leans back a little so he can look down and catch your eye, your brow raising incredulously as your gaze narrows up at him.

“Of course your first thought of the day would be about food.”

You roll your eyes as you push yourself up and away from his body, the sudden influx of cold running straight through him, and he watches as you stand from your bed and stretch your arms up, the gesture revealing a small slither of skin between where your sweatshirt ends and your pants begin. His eyes trail slowly back up before you can catch him looking, and shuffles up in your bed until he’s sat against the headboard, watching as you disappear into your bathroom.

He retrieves his phone from his pocket as he waits for you - checking the time and for any missed messages, and then putting your address into postmates just to check what is around. “Will it give us away if we order food to eat here?” He asks when you come back, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you lean against the entrance to your bathroom, hip pressed into the door jamb.

“That depends, what time is it?”

“Around 8:30,”

“If you can survive another 30 minutes without starving to death, everyone else should be gone by then.” You tell him before disappearing back into your bathroom. He hears a little movement before you shut the water off and come back into your room.

“If I order breakfast will you go get my bag from my car so I can change? I’ve been in these clothes since I left Jersey yesterday.” He doesn’t specifically mention how he’d let himself onto your bed in clothes he wore on a plane, but he sees the way your eyes narrow as you must realise it.

He’s quite surprised you don’t kick him or something.

“You didn’t change when you went home?” You ask, instead.

“I didn’t go home,” he shrugs, “Came straight here from the airport, hence my bag in the car.”

“Don’t hence me,” you kick lightly at his shin when you come closer, and he’s thankful he had just been expecting the attack, because it somehow hurts less when he knows it’s coming eventually. “How long were you waiting in here?”

“I wasn’t snooping if that’s what you’re thinking,” he defends, although the speed in which he does so causes you to raise a brow in disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him. “I think I fell asleep within like 15 minutes. Surprised you didn’t wake me when you got back.”

“Was too tired to deal with your yapping, to be honest.”

There you are.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, feeling his cheeks go tight as he smiles like an idiot, leaning back onto his hands on your bed and looking over at you. He doesn’t even really think before he says it, but doesn’t regret it either.

Not when you smile back, stepping closer until you’re almost standing between his legs - and it’s just as he starts to spread them to accommodate you that you reach out and press your fingers into his forehead, pushing playfully until he falls back into your mattress - too in the moment to care about how loud he laughs in response.

Luke coming back to Michigan for his bye-week had been somewhat of a surprise. When he’d told you about the break - about how his brothers had been chosen to represent the country in some sort of national tournament - you’d half expected he’d somehow end up going to support them or something, tag along with his parents, maybe, and watch from the sidelines.

Him turning up in your room the other night had been a more than welcome shock - him spending pretty much every day taking up whatever of your time was free, even more so, and you’re even more dumbfounded that you’re not tired of him, yet. Or that he’s not tired of you.

You spent all of Tuesday morning in your room - eating breakfast bagels and sipping on smoothies and catching up on all the things you’ve been too busy to talk about for the last few weeks.

He tells you about Quinn and his injury that kept him from playing in the Four Nations, how Jack’s excited to play in the tournament, about how he’s excited to watch him. He tells you about Jersey, and all the cool things he’s been doing with the organisation out there - the sessions he gets to do with all the kids, and all the things he learns when he does them.

He tells you about all the cooking he’s been doing, shows you pictures of poorly plated meals that you try to encourage him on, because he swears they were delicious, and who are you to crush his dreams when he’s trying his best.

He tells you how all the other guys are off vacationing in hotter climates, and you promise him you know a couple people majoring in psychology if he thinks he needs an evaluation for choosing frosty Michigan over the sun.

You tell him little bits too - about school, about some of the things you’ve been doing with the girls from the sorority - but your life feels so stagnant in comparison that letting him talk feels like the safer option, and you like listening to him anyway.

You end up with him all of Tuesday. He comes over Wednesday night, takes you out to the mall and the two of you spend the whole night sat in his car eating sandwich subs and talking about anything and everythin, and watch Jack’s first game of the tournament with him and some of the guys from the hockey house on Thursday - smushed up beside him in a booth at one of the watch bars on campus, sharing a bunch of appetisers and getting him to try all the fruity drinks you ordered.

He never makes you feel like a tag along or an inconvenience - includes you in conversations with the guys, asks for your input on what to do, even just hangs while you study, and doesn’t huff or puff or complain about any lack of attention if it isn’t directed his way.

It’s almost like you’re meant to be by his side - like he’d have it no other way. It’s seamless, no matter where you are or who you’re with, that where one of you goes, the other will probably follow.

It’s why you’re surprised when he takes you to Yost on the Friday, and you’re just immediately granted all the same access that he is. He takes you on a tour before the arena fills up - walks you through his own history there, regales you of stories from when he, himself, was a Wolverine, and how much he misses it. And the two of you sit alone a little higher in the stands, still for some reason smushed together despite the vacant spaces around you, until you start to get thirsty.

“I’m gonna get us some drinks,” you decide, casting a quick glance down to the ice where it looks like the puck drop is about to happen. He’s been paying for you all week, and you want to give him something back - even if that something is a flat coke and an almost-cold hot dog. “Do you want anything to eat, too?” You stand from the bench, losing the warmth emitting from the side of his leg onto yours.

Luke tugs you back down by the end of your sweatshirt, and you stumble back into the safety of his hold, large hands catching you and guiding you back into your seat. “I can order it over.”

“Oh, look at you, Mr Special Treatment,” you gasp, “Too good to go get your own snacks now, huh?”

“It’s convenient,” he rolls his eyes, “Means we don’t have to juggle a load of food back.” We, like he would never let you go on your own, anyway.

You wonder for a brief second why the thought of it all of a sudden doesn’t suffocate you - why you welcome it with open arms.

“Someone else just has to do it for you,” you jibe, and he just shrugs in response - not that you take it to heart, he’s playful about it, and you know first hand that Luke is a good tipper - despite all the times you’d told him not to tip you when he came to the restaurant, all your friends back at the club in the summer had always said as much. “Do you always just miraculously get what you want?”

He tilts his head slowly, eyes flickering down as he thinks about his response. “Not always,” comes out a little quiet, a little pensive, and you try not to shudder at the way he looks back up. He smiles, then, innocent and unassuming, holding out his phone for you to type your order down.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you lost all resistance when it comes to Luke, but it’s probably too far gone to really do anything about it now, you think.

He’s surprisingly interactive during the game, just as he had been in the watch bar the night before - answering your probably incessant questions with an amused tilt to his lips, eyes on the action but words astute, like he’s truly listening and not just entertaining your attention, stealing sips of your drink when he’s finished his too quick.

“What even is icing anyway?” You ask after maybe the 6th call, “Like why do they even call it, why not just let someone come get the puck and carry on?”

“Game would be boring if it was just everybody shooting the puck out of their own half,” he tells you, “Needs to be some kind of stakes.”

“I’m gonna bite my tongue about how boring the game might be anyway.”

He juts his knee into yours, your joints swinging together like a pendulum as you bring it back into place, levelling him with a glare.

“You asked.”

“I actually didn’t,” he chuckles. “How many games have you been to now and you’re only just asking about icing?” He stretches his legs awkwardly to fit into the stands, the touch of his knee removing itself from yours as he leans into his seat. “What have you been doing when my games are on? You can’t have been watching them.”

“Hey, I do watch!” You swat at his bicep, shuffling to give him a little more room, something you seem to do by instinct now, adjusting yourself to better fit him, almost like a puzzle piece, “I watch you, I don’t need to know what’s going on with anybody else on that ice, that’s not my business.”

“Thought you wanted to know more about hockey.”

“Thought you wanted to be the one to teach me.”

“I know you know some things, we’ve talked about it before.”

“When?”

“Back in the club, that time we were spying on Jack. You mentioned a couple Michigan games.”

“Oh,” you pout, a weird flutter in your chest when you realise how long ago that was - almost like another lifetime has passed in the time since - you barely even feel like the same person. “You remember that?”

“You don’t?” He asks, brows furrowing as he gives you a little more of his attention.

“I do, I just didn’t realise you retained information like that,” you snark back, reaching out to ruffle at his hair playfully. “You’ve taken a couple hits to the head, since.”

“I remember everything when it comes to you.” He says, undoing your poor attempt at lightening the growing tension a little within a matter of milliseconds. God, he’s good at that. “Plus, Ethan said you’ve been to a couple games this season, I figured you’d have gotten the hang of it all by now. You come with Ellie, right, she doesn’t teach you all this stuff?”

“Nah, she lost interest this year,” you reply, leaning a little into your own seat, your posture mirroring his as you get a little more comfortable. “Got a boyfriend in the NHL, she doesn’t need to be scouting for prospects anymore.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing? Scouting?”

“God no,” you scoff, sipping at what’s left of your diet coke as you watch the guys on the ice below, absentmindedly extending the cup over to him as you say, “Hockey boys are too whiney and needy,”

“Oh really?” You can hear the grin without even looking at him, seeing him lean in to take a drink in your peripheral.

“Mmhm,” you bite back your own smile. “Dorky, too.”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“We both know I’m hilarious.”

“You don’t come with anybody else?” He asks, nudging at you to keep you focused.

“Like who?” You frown. You’d been to the Jersey game with Ethan and Dylan, but you can hardly come to their own hockey game with them. Who else would you possibly go with?

“I don’t know, a date?”

You turn to face him, then, pushing your brows together in confusion as your eyes meet his. “You think that I would come to a hockey game on a date?”

You don’t even remember the last time you went on a date, or what any of that would even entail, anymore - but it probably wouldn’t be a hockey game of all places.

You’d probably go to a bar, or something. Or grab food together. Maybe go watch a movie.

Or none of that, at all, because the thought of dating kind of makes your stomach turn, all of a sudden. Where would you even find the time, between school and spending half your life on the phone to the idiot beside you.

“You’re already here on Valentines day,” he smirks, “You’ll probably be here tomorrow for senior night, come back the day after and spend your birthday here, just for kicks, I’ll tell the guys to come in and practice just for you, if you want.”

“I will not be spending my birthday watching hockey, thank you very much,” you huff, “Not coming to senior night, either, my dad’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow, so you’re gonna have to sit in your high tower without me.”

Luke straightens up a little in his seat, losing the playful glint in his eye as he looks back at you. “You’re dad’s gonna be in town?”

“Allegedly,” you shrug, because you feel like it’s one of those things that if you act like you’re indifferent, the universe won’t cruelly rip it away from you. He’d promised when he called around Christmas that he’d come - when you told him that you had stayed behind in Michigan while your mom worked, and a part of you has known since that it’s an attempt to one-up her, prove that he can show when it matters, but you’re not putting any money on it.

“Can I meet him?”

“No.”

“You’ve met my parents.”

“Because I technically lived in your house,” you scoff, remembering the few times you’d spoken to his mom and dad - mostly polite exchanges with his mom, brief but friendly, enough. You and Luke hadn’t really been much at the time, and you had no reason to want to impress them, but the thought of running into either of them now almost terrifies you - the need to leave a more positive impression almost causing your entire body to buzz with anxiety. “You have no reason to meet my dad.”

“I’m literally your best friend.” He says it in such a classically caustic way - bottom lip jutted out and eyes rolling - that it makes you laugh.

“You wish.” You snort, ignoring the familiarity of the way he smiles back at the remark, turning back to the game and trying to focus despite the ringing that’s all of a sudden occurring in your ears.

Luke can’t remember the last time he’s spent an entire week in somebody’s company - someone who isn’t family, that is, or on the very rare occasion, some of his teammates, even though he usually manages to bag a day for a break and some sort of isolation most times he’s on the road.

But since he came back to Michigan, he’s probably seen you more than he’s seen his own reflection.

And it isn’t even like summer, when you’d spend all that time together - watching movies up in your room when no one else was home, driving to and from the club, sneaking around doing god-knows what to try and figure out what the hell was going on with his brother and your best friend - this time, it just feels a lot less mercurial, a lot less like it’s going to slip from his fingers if he does something slightly wrong.

Everything that was light and airy back then feels heavier and sturdier now - much more secure, weighed down by months of built trust and appreciation of one another. And for the first time since everything fell apart, he doesn’t find himself wishing he could go back.

You give so much of your time to him now, so much of yourself, that he doesn’t for a second doubt how much you appreciate him, or want to be around him. He doesn’t sit in your company and constantly crave more.

He sees more too, he thinks - not just in terms of seeing you, but actually seeing the things about yourself you’re trying to hide. Like how you’re stressed about school, and hiding yourself away, and probably not eating as much as you should. He tries to get you out of the house where he can, tries not to be obvious about it, or controlling or pushy.

And by the time the weekend rolls around, there’s glimpses there of something brighter, even if you’re still not fully talking it out - maybe that’s just not how you cope with things. He’s starting to think he understands you a little more these days.

Saturday is the first day he spends on his own, with no plans to even meet you in the evening, because you’re supposed to be spending it with your dad, and he starts to wonder how he’s even gonna be able to go back to Jersey if this is how it feels not being with you for just one day.

He’s bored. All day.

He trains with a few of the guys in the morning, calls Quinn around lunchtime, his parents in the afternoon, shovels all the fresh snow from their drive and just flits around their house until it’s time to watch the game in the evening, making himself some pasta and kicking back on the couch until there’s a loud knock on the door while he’s watching the highlights from the other game in the tournament.

He’s half expecting his mom to have ordered some sort of food over, not trusting that he could make himself something to eat without burning their house down.

He’s not expecting you on the other side, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes and cuddling at a big back of chips.

“Let me in, already, I can’t feel my hands,” you huff, edging through the gap he leaves for you when he opens the door a little wider, brushing past him in a dizzying blur of vanilla perfume and spearmint gum.

“Why aren’t you wearing gloves, it’s like 4 degrees out?”

“The Uber driver had the heat cranked up all the way, I thought I’d be alright until you left me out there knocking for 20 whole minutes.”

He figures you must feel the heat in the house instantaneously, because you’re shrugging off your giant coat and hanging it beside his in the hall as he watches you, still pretty sure you’re a figment of his imagination until you’re pressing the chips into his chest so that you can take off your boots.

“You knocked once, you were maybe out there 1 minute before I opened the door,” he defends himself, “Plus if I knew you were even coming, I could have picked you up myself, then you wouldn’t have had to knock.”

“You got a vendetta against surprises or something?” You scoff, trailing into the living room like you already know the way, with him following you like you’re pulling him on a leash.

“Just wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he frowns, blinking slowly as he watches you sink down onto where he was sat in the couch, tucking your feet beneath your body and getting yourself comfortable. Something about it makes his heart skip a couple beats. “Thought your dad was taking you for dinner for your birthday.”

“He bailed,” you shrug, reaching out for the bag of chips that he hands straight over, “Thought I’d keep you company, we both know you can’t enjoy hockey anymore without me yapping in your ear about it the whole way through.”

You might actually be right. Who else is going to ask stupid questions like, do the refs take figure skating lessons to be able to jump like that all the time?

“He bailed?” He asks, sitting down beside you, not letting you distract him with any other casual remark. Your dad bailed on you, for your birthday dinner, and you’re here opening chips and pretending like you aren’t at all phased?

“Apparently one of the boys felt sick or something,” you wave it off, “He could have told me before I sat around the restaurant waiting for him like a loser for 30 minutes, but I guess it’s all hands on deck over there, he texted me as soon as he could apparently.”

Fuck.

Your dad lives out in Philly, he knows that - would take him almost 2 hours just to fly out, never mind however long to get to and from the airport. He could have text you way earlier in the day, if he knew he wasn’t going to make it out. Could have done so much to make it up to you, to not have you get ready, get all the way to be seated for your reservation, get your hopes up entirely, just to text that he wasn’t going to make it.

He forgot. He probably never even bought a ticket.

Double fuck.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, assuming your sudden silence is some sort of prompt.

“Not really,” you huff, slumping down into the corner of the couch, the movement sluggish and defeated, “I’m over it, already, it doesn’t matter."

Luke frowns as he watches you, avoiding eye contact and shrugging it off with indifference, and your words take him straight back to the night of Ellie’s birthday.

It doesn’t matter.

You’d said the same thing back then, over and over, like you were trying to convince yourself it was the truth - that none of it ever mattered - and he thinks he sees it, for the first time, as clear as day; that this is what you do when you’re really hurt. You play it all off like it’s nothing, let it eat away at you without anyone ever really seeing the damage.

He’d seen a glimpse of it that night after the halloween party in Jersey, when he’d asked if you could ever be more - this glassy, unsure look in your eyes, like you were fighting everything in you that wanted more, shielding yourself from the potential hurt, and the subtle, hesitant shake of your head. It’s what drove him to take things further - to push at your boundaries until you let him back in, even if it was for one last time - because he knew there was something there to cling onto.

He wonders for a second just how often you deprive yourself of more, with anything. How you won’t talk about NYU, because it isn’t a sure thing. How you don’t put up a fight with your dad, and how he constantly lets you down, directing all the paternal energy that you’re owed to his other kids - or your mom, and how she gives you just as little of her time, but it’s somehow different because it’s under the guise of work.

He wonders if maybe this friendship he’s been cursing the limitations of for as long as you’ve blessed him with it is all you’ll let yourself have, because the uncertainty of how more could hurt you is worse than the feeling of depriving yourself of it - and his chest all of a sudden feels like a vast, empty cavern that his heart just ricochets painfully around, bouncing from surface to surface and trying to steady itself through the pain.

“C’mere,” he mutters, extending his arm out for you to crawl under, and he’s almost surprised by how quick you do - laying your head on his chest and letting him hold you, fingers again playing with the ends of your hair to try and ground himself.

He’s sure you can feel the rampant beat of his heart, can probably hear the blood rushing throughout his entire body as you rest on him, but you stay quiet for a while after, wrapping your arms around his torso and breathing slowly in tandem with him.

You stay there for what feels like forever, and he’s almost positive you’ve fallen asleep, until all hell breaks loose at the puck drop, and he feels you shift when players start dropping gloves.

Your tense up until the fighting’s over, and the game gets underway, and you’re quiet again until you ask, “Do you ever get in fights like that?”

“Nah,” he breathes out, his fingers drawing absentminded shapes into the arm of your sweatshirt. “I’m a pacifist.”

He sees recognition flash through your irises when you push yourself up to look at him, lips twisting into a knowing smile, and he smiles too - a feeling of familiarity settling deep into his bones when he notices you pick up straight away on the reference. He can see, too, that you’re thinking about how far you’ve both come since that first day in the club back in summer, when he’d sat across from you in a booth and you’d said you could never see yourself warming up to him.

And look at you now, eyes softened whenever your gaze is cast in his direction, a pretty flush to your cheeks, and an almost ever-present upturn to your lips whenever he’s around.

Despite all the things you refuse to tell him or talk about, you’re open to him in more ways than you’ll ever know.

He reaches to push a stray strand of hair back behind your ear, noticing how you lean in a little to the touch before he pulls back away, and your hand goes immediately to hold his before you settle back against his chest.

How stupid could your dad possibly be to hurt you like he did - to give up any chance to be around you, to break any promise he ever made to you.

Luke vows, then, that he won’t ever do the same.

He’s gonna be your friend, be in your life, for as long as you’ll possibly let him. When Harry Met Sally can go fuck itself - meaningful relationships with someone of the opposite gender don’t have to be clouded by the murky waters of sexual attraction - what the two of you have goes so far beyond that, now.

And tomorrow, because you deserve nothing less, he’s going to make sure you have the best birthday of your life.

When you wake up on your birthday, your senses are flooded with everything distinctly Luke.

You’re dressed in his clothes - beat up old pyjamas pants that are rolled up at the hips and one of his shirts - laid in his bed, cuddling at his pillow, and surrounded by all of his things - laid on your own in his bedroom despite knowing that he’d fallen asleep beside you last night.

You can hear him clattering around in the kitchen downstairs, so you aren’t that upset that you don’t wake up next to him, and you’re kind of open to the reprieve, all too conscious of your messy bedhead and sleep-swollen face.

And it gives you a chance to look around once you’ve fixed yourself up - the space a lot different to his room back at the lake house. It feels a lot more personal - pictures from his childhood littered around, movie posters on his walls, little trophies lining the shelves and medals hanging beneath them. It’s endearing.

And so damn cute.

Framed images of little Luke with blonde curly hair and jerseys two sizes too big, or matching outfits with his brothers, or dorky costumes with painted faces.

“If it isn’t Mrs Snoopy, herself,” he scoffs when he comes in, juggling two plates of pancakes on a tray with glasses of fresh juice, a flower laid in the middle that he probably just plucked from one of his mom’s decorations downstairs. “You having fun looking through all my stuff?”

You press your lips together to fight laughter, pointing back at the pictures you were just observing when he places the tray down on his bed. “You were adorable,” you tell him.

“Were?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, were,” you snicker, “You have at least 4 hairs growing out of your chin, now, all cuteness has been thrown out the window.”

He rolls his eyes, gesturing for you to sit down on his bed, “You better eat that before I take it away. I’m never making you breakfast in bed, again.”

He watches fondly as you sink back down onto your side of his bed, and he joins you on his, handing you some cutlery before he leans over, pushing a single candle into your pancake stack. They’re a little lopsided, misshaped and deformed, and the candle kind of leans a little dangerously to one side, but none of that deters your chest from seizing at the sight of it all.

“Do you want me to sing?” He asks as he lights it, looking up at you with a playful smile on his face.

“No I do not,” you scoff, tucking your hair behind your back so there’s no risk of it falling into the candle when you lean toward the open flame.

“Happy Birthday,” he says, his voice deep and velvety, and the last thing you see before you close your eyes to blow it out and make a wish is his soft smile as he watches you. “What did you wish for?”

“A box of bleach for your hair,” you lie, smiling back sardonically when he shakes his head with exasperation.

“Maybe next year,” he scoffs, “I already got all your gifts for this birthday, I’m not going shopping again.”

“Gifts?” You ask, frowning a little. When he’d first mentioned your birthday, he’d said he was going all out - that he felt bad he didn’t get you anything for Christmas and wanted to make it up to you. You’d told him you didn’t want anything big, and you didn’t want him spending a lot of money on you, and you’re starting to worry that he didn’t listen.

Luke is the last person on Earth who makes you feel like you’re mooching off of him - you really don’t want to start, now.

“You’ll see later. We’re still on for movie night, right?”

Your first together since summer. You have plans to sneak him into your house later, after your birthday brunch with your sorority sisters, and you’d agreed to let him keep his turn to pick.

You nod, a little hesitant, a little unsure.

“I promise you’ll like them,” he assures you. “I don’t mean to brag but I knocked it out of the park.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tell him, taking your first bite of one of the pancakes, the taste reminding you of the ones you used to eat back at the lake house. “Oh my god, these taste just like Quinn’s!” You say around your mouthful, covering it with your hand as you look back up at Luke with wide eyes.

“He talked me through making them,” Luke chuckles, “I had to FaceTime him for supervision.”

“Just now?” You ask, “Isn’t he like 3 hours behind us or something?”

“He’s an early bird,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his own. “And he said it was his gift for your birthday, I’m not allowed to take credit for them.”

“Yours are better,” you tell him, watching the way his body shifts through the compliment, eyes widening, lips parting, shoulders straightening. Adorable. “You can take credit.”

“Maybe I will make you breakfast in bed again.”

He drives you home not long after - bundles you up in some old sweatpants and one of his hoodies, and you don’t tell him that you keep his shirt and pyjama pants, too, stuff them beneath the hoody to conceal them before you zip yourself into your coat - and promises to text when he’s on his way, later.

You think it might be the excitement of seeing him again that carries you through the rest of the day. You’d have probably enjoyed brunch with the girls anyway, but it waters down the minor disappointment of them gifting you the same bracelet everybody in the house gets for their birthday, and the fact it sort of just feels like any other meeting outside of the house rather than a celebration of you.

You really only have yourself to blame for that, though. You’d told them earlier in the week you just wanted to do something chill, that you had a test on Monday and were going to head in early on Sunday night - but that was after Luke had suggested keeping up your weekend tradition and coming over. If they’d arranged anything beforehand, you would have gone ahead with them.

And even though it’s your birthday, you stock your room with all of Luke’s favourite snacks when you get home. You put on fresh sheets, and put back on the hoody he’d given you earlier, and check your phone every few minutes until he texts you that he’s parked down the street.

You text Ellie, who’s gonna distract the rest of the girls downstairs while you sneak him in, and grab him by the hand when you pull him inside the front door, rushing straight up the stairs and pushing him into your room, biting back a smile when you see him chuckling at the whole charade.

He swings the backpack off his arm as he kicks off his shoes beside your own, heading further into your bedroom and throwing him and his backpack down onto your bed.

“Movie first or presents?” He asks, unzipping the top of the bag and pulling out the folded back of chips the two of you didn’t finish last night.

“Presents, please,” you tell him, sitting down cross legged on your side and clasping your hands together as you wait.

“Alright, well, you’ve got to let me talk you through them before you come for me, alright, they’re not exactly traditional presents.”

Now you’re nervous, again.

“Like my first thought was that I was gonna buy you a star,” he says, “‘Cause apparently you can do that, and name them after you, you get a certificate and everything. But then I figured you’d have something to say about the colonisation of space or something, so I thought I’d save myself the grief.”

“You’d be right,” you snort, wondering if he would seriously fall for that kind of thing. You can’t just buy a star. Even if you earn as much as he does. “I also think that whole thing is a scam, but carry on.”

“Then I was trying to think well what’s something that you really need?”

“Lukey, you got me a car?!” You gasp, mouth agape as you try to make it obvious that you’re poking fun at him.

“What? No,” he pouts, brows furrowing as he looks back down into his backpack, disappointed with what’s in there. “Wait, do you want a car?”

“I was messing with you.“

“Obviously.” He scoffs, shaking his head a little as you bite back a smile, “You said nothing big or expensive, I can’t get you a car. Anyway, your Wall-E is broken,” he hooks a thumb toward the little figure you keep on the shelf above your desk - the lego version of the character that you had knocked off the surface one time when cleaning and accidentally vacuumed up a couple of the tiny pieces. He must have noticed when he was in here on his own the other day. When he was supposedly not snooping around your stuff.

Luke reaches into the bag and pulls out a stuffed version of the robot - a cute soft toy that he immediately hands over to you, it’s big eyes all droopy and adorable. You can’t help the grin that breaks out as you look at it, with its chunky yellow body and soft grey treads - cute enough to forget that he may have potentially taken himself on his own private tour of your belongings.

“I know he’s your favourite, but they don’t sell that Lego anymore, so I had to get you the next best thing.”

“He’s perfect.” You beam, looking back at Luke as he watches you with bated breath. “Thank you,”

“That isn’t everything.”

“Oh.” He hands over a white box, and when you turn it over, you realise it’s AirPods. “Luke, I can’t-,”

“I didn’t spend any money on them,” he argues, “They were gifted to me, I’m supposed to wear them walking in to games but I already have a pair.”

“Still-,” AirPods aren’t exactly cheap - you’d know, you’ve been saving up to buy a new pair ever since you dropped one of yours into a puddle walking home from class one day.

“It’s technically a selfish present, too, ‘cause the microphone on your pair now sounds like shit when I call you, so you need them.”

“Fine,” you huff, not entirely bothered - feeling seen in a way no one else seems to manage to do. “Thank y-,”

“Still not finished.” He smiles, guilty but persistent, and pulls out something folded before he hands it over. You unravel the black bundle of fabric, Jersey, written on the front, and turn it over, 43 and Hughes on the back.

“I’m pretty sure these jerseys cost more than the earphones.” You tell him, lips still twisting when you look at the little scribble at the bottom of the 4.

“Perks of it being game used, technically free. I even signed it for you. You can wear it when you come watch me again. Or when you watch me from here.”

“Oh God, yeah, it stinks,” you joke, your face curling when you bring it up to your face.

“Give it back,” he scowls playfully, reaching as you pull it above your shoulder.

“No, I’m kidding.” You pout, “Hey, stop it, it’s mine.” You swat at his hand as he tries to grab it from you, practically wrestling him as he gets a hold of it. `You end up shuffling your legs out from their crossed position to kick him, swiftly leaning over him to cover his mouth when he barks out a laugh. “Are you done now?”

“One more.” He speaks against your fingers, nodding over to his backpack as you glare suspiciously at him, reaching into the bag and pulling out a little envelope.

You pick at the folded edge until it tears, pulling it open until you can look inside and pull one of the many little cards out.

“Metro cards?” Turning it between your fingers, because what the hell do you need metro cards for?

“For when you’re at NYU.” He answers the question before you even get the chance to ask. “Should get you where you need to be for classes and stuff. They all have 30 days on them, so you’re pretty much set for a year.”

“Luke, this must have cost like at least a thousand dollars.”

“I have a bad habit of not checking the price when I put my card in, so I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs, although you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that that isn’t the case. He’d put thought into this, had gone out of his way to get you something that actually meant something to you - beyond getting you around a city you’re not even certain you’ll be in after you graduate.

“That’s not funny,” you breathe out, frowning at how he’s downplaying such a sweet gesture.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, they’re non-refundable, and I’m not gonna use them, so you have to take them.”

You wait for a few seconds, looking back at how many cards are in the envelope, before looking back at him. “Do they work on the PATH?”

“Should get you to Jersey and back if you need ‘em to.”

Your lips twist at the thought of it - commuting across the river to visit Luke as much as you want, no longer having to wait until he’s in town or either of you get a break. Seeing him on a whim, watching movies in person.

“I’d pick you up from the station.” He tells you, like he’s already thought of it, too. “So yeah, no need for a car, actually. You might have gotten a discount being a student and all, but this way you don’t have to worry about it at all. I know you said that when you move out there you’d want to explore, so now you can.”

You can. When.

There’s no if or could or if you want.

Luke is more certain of your potential than you’ve ever been.

“What if I don’t get in?” You ask after a beat, afraid to even utter the thought into existence after having poured all your energy over the last couple months into your application.

Your future is so murky that it’s all you can think about at the moment, and you’re trying not to get too attached to any one plan - but this one has a hold on you that you can’t quite shift.

The thought of living so close to Luke - being just across the river, less than an hour, if you have to get the train, and potentially quicker than 30 minutes if you can get a ride - and getting to see him so often makes your chest feel like it’s splitting at the seams, and you don’t know if it’s anxiety or hope that’s causing the ache.

“You will,” he shrugs, like he hasn’t even considered any other option, “but if you for whatever reason decide it isn’t for you, then I’ll just fly you out against your will every weekend and we’ll go ride the subway for fun when I’m free.”

You smile at the thought, even if you know he’s not serious, imagining him sprawled on one of the benches, gangly legs getting in everyone’s way, trying to figure out if he needs to switch lines by squinting up at one of the maps instead of checking his phone like a normal person. “They have a When Harry Met Sally tour.”

“If you think I’m faking an orgasm in Katz’s Deli for you, you can think again.”

“Damn, there goes my master plan.” He slaps his knee, pouting mockingly as his eyes follow your every move.

You look back down again, taking in all your gifts, the meaning of them all settling in and filling up a vast hole left behind by everyone else in your life.

Luke sees so much more of you than you realised. He sees fixes for the little things, the things that accepting his help on doesn’t make you feel like anything less than a whole, he knows what you like, what means something to you, what would make you happy because it’s your favourite. He knows about your ambitions, and your wants, and the things you only let yourself dream about, too afraid to say them aloud. Luke listens to the things you can’t even bring yourself to say.

“This is crazy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of serious about this whole friend thing.” He tells you, wearing the kind of smile that makes you feel warm all over - and it’s the kind of warmth that makes you realise that you didn’t even know you were cold, before.

“What if you get tired of me?” You ask, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you wait out his response.

“Won’t.” He smiles, an almost child-like certainty to the way his lips curve.

Your own lips start to tremble as you watch him, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you start to feel the tell-tale sting of oncoming tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, fingers reaching tentatively to swipe at the salty droplet that falls before you have the chance to stop it, “What is it?”

“I think this whole thing with my dad really got to me,” you admit, probably for the first time to anyone, that you’re not as okay as you try to make out. It’s pointless keeping up the act when Luke sees straight through you, anyway, you think. “It’s like no matter how much I try to prepare myself that he’s gonna let me down, there’s this stupid part of me that thinks it’s gonna be different every time.”

“That’s not stupid,” he tells you, his voice firm and his gaze convincing. “It’s okay to want more from people, it doesn’t make you an idiot. He’s the stupid one.”

You know he’s right, but it’s so hard to let go of the idea of your dad that you grew up with - the man who would pick you up from school every day, would blast music the whole way home and sing at the top of his lungs, and would dash a smiley face on every plate with sauce. The dad who was home with you while your mom worked crazy shifts, and would tuck you in at night telling you that you were his world. The thought of him doing that for your brothers now, and not even caring about something as important as your birthday - it just hurts. The stretched out, aching kind of hurt that hangs over you like a dark cloud - the constant threat of rain hovering above.

“He ended up just sending money over, said to get myself whatever I wanted, which is exactly what my mom did. It probably sounds really ungrateful but I just got really in my head about how no one really showed up for me, or got me something that was personal.” Your last hope after brunch had been Ellie, who had given you a purse she’d gotten at Christmas that you said was cute - you were grateful for all of it, the money, the bracelet, the purse, but the lack of thought and effort sort of lingered like a sour taste in your mouth. “But here you are.”

The way Luke looks at you is enough that you don’t need him to say anything in response - his irises gleam with affection and a softened, slow smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I think you were right the other night at the game. You might be my best friend.”

“And that makes you want to cry?” He comes back almost immediately, lips upturning into a smirk.

“Well, I’d scream but it might give us away,” you retort, smiling straight back. “The girls are really funny about having visitors in the night.”

“There’s always your pillow,” he nods over to the top of your bed, “Might muffle the noise.”

You laugh, a huff of air from your nostrils that slowly turns into more, until your eyes are crinkling in the corners and your cheeks start to ache.

“I think you might be my best friend, too.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He affirms, serious and straight, like he’d already realised it long before you.

You smile slowly before you push all the gifts gently into a pile by your side, shuffling past them and wrapping your arms straight around Luke’s middle. He reacts fairly quick, his own arms making their way around your shoulders, swaying softly as you stay in his embrace for a good minute or two, just holding onto him as you let all the emotions wash through you.

You bury your face into his shoulder to save yourself from saying one of them out loud - that you love him, because you’re pretty sure you do.

You’re pretty sure that’s the feeling twisting in your gut.

But you’re can’t quite grasp the extent of it.

You know what love is. You love your family, love your friends - love being outdoors in the spring time, love the colour yellow, the taste of strawberries, and swimming in the lake when the sun is out and the water is warm.

But the way you love Luke seems different. It isn’t defined by any season, or time, or place. It’s all consuming, all the time. It’s in the stuffy heat of the passenger seat in his car in the summer, in front of the blazing fire in the backyard of the hockey house in the fall, and here, in winter, with the evidence of his love in a dedicated heap behind you on your bed.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, the thought of it doesn’t entirely terrify you.

The end of Luke’s bye-week arrives quicker than you can really comprehend, and you’re grateful the guys had taken it upon themselves to throw him a little goodbye party at their house, because you don’t have the mental capacity to throw anything together, yourself.

Ethan had been the one to tell you about it - lowkey, he’d said - the guys and a few people who were close with Luke before he left for Jersey, and he said you could bring whatever of your sisters you wanted.

With it being mid-week, most of them are busy, but Ellie is always happy to tag along, and she even says she’ll do your hair and makeup. There’s a backhanded compliment when she does offer, but you’re too in your head to really let it sink in or affect you.

It feels nice to do this again, anyway. You’ve been in too much of a slump to really go to any sort of party lately, but what better occasion than anything dedicated to Luke?

It was probably last year that you and Ellie did this, sipped on way too strong homemade cocktails while some pop music played in the background, and you’re convinced not to let the little comments she keeps uttering get to you.

“If I’d have known it would only take Luke to get you out, I’d have got Jack to ship him out months ago,” she says as she runs a thermal brush through your hair, smoothing out the frizz and curling it at the ends. “Should have known after the halloween party that you’d follow him anywhere.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, frowning despite your conviction to ignore her when she gets like this. The mention of halloween triggers something deep within you though, and you immediately smooth out your features when you meet her eye in the mirror, aiming for nonchalance, although you’re pretty sure the abrupt palpitations you feel at the mere mention of his name are visible from where Ellie stands behind you.

“You slept with him in October,” she says, like this is somehow common knowledge, like the two of you have ever even spoken about that, or anything to do with the developments in yours and Luke’s relationship since the end of summer.

You turn in your seat, mouth agape as you stare wide-eyed back at her, thankful to avoid the hot end of the hair tool. “No I didn’t,” you scoff, figuring denial is your safest bet. Admitting anything to Ellie last time hadn’t worked out too well for you, whether it was the fault of that conversation or not, and you don’t really want to put your heart on the line for her to watch it shatter again. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because Jack said his bed hadn’t been slept in when we got back from the hotel.”

“That’s because Jack’s never heard of making the bed,” you try to argue, but she claps back almost immediately.

“He’s actually weirdly neat. It’s almost annoying.” She shrugs, “I believe him when he says it was untouched, which means you slept in Luke’s bed, and that means you fucked him.”

“Why does it automatically mean I fucked him?”

“Because the two of you can’t stay away from each other,” she rolls her eyes, “Plus, you were avoiding him like the plague, and then all of a sudden you guys were FaceTiming each other every day. And now he’s come back and you spent the entire week with him. I’ve never had to sneak a guy in here for you before, so you can’t tell me you guys weren’t fucking up here.”

“We weren’t,” you say, trying to convey the honesty in your tone. “We were justing hanging out. We’re friends.”

“Right,” she scoffs, motioning for you to turn back around with her fingers before she picks up another strand of your hair. “Probably for the best then, ‘cause I was starting to worry.”

“Why would you worry?”

“Because I don’t want my best friend to get hurt again,” she says, like it’s obvious. “I know you think you’re friends, but he’s gonna crush you when he starts seeing someone and you get left behind.”

“Why would you even say that?” You turn again, this time all attempts at nonchalance thrown out the window.

She stares back at you, holding the hot brush out to the side as she levels you with a glare at how close you were to making her burn you again.

You glare back. She’s being a bitch for the sake of it, now. Why would she even bring that up? Where did that even come from?

She huffs, yanking at the wire so it extends and putting the brush down on the heat proof mat on your dresser.

“Promise me you won’t go all crazy when I tell you this,” she sits on the edge of your bed, hands splayed out by her sides, “Because Jack told me something pretty crazy a couple weeks ago, and I’ve been debating whether or not you need to know.”

“Just say it, Ellie,” you snap, tired of the theatrics. If it’s something you need to know, she should have told you when she found out - weeks ago, allegedly.

“He’s seeing somebody.”

You blink slowly, your eyelids feeling like they weigh 90lbs each.

No he isn’t. If you don’t have the time to be seeing anybody between your class schedule and being available to him, he sure as hell doesn’t have the time, being in the NHL and all.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, shuffling uncomfortably in your chair.

“Or speaking to her, at least.” She corrects, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal.

“Speaking to who?”

“Her name’s Yasmin,” Ellie says, and you don’t know why hearing some random name makes your throat go dry - the fact that there even is a name, and it’s not just some bullshit nothing story Ellie is running with. “Jack says she’s a friend of one of the other wags, they met at some bar when they went out a couple of weeks ago and hit it off, he’s texting with her all the time apparently.”

You try to think back on the week, on all the times he’s been on his phone - that first morning, when he’d told you he was checking for nearby restaurants, at the hockey game, when he’d said he was ordering concessions straight to your seats, all the times you thought he was texting the boys - could he have been secretly messaging Yasmin and not telling you?

“He would have told me,” you say, more to reassure your self than defend Luke, if you’re honest. He would have told you, right? You guys tell each other everything. You’ve told him more than you’ve told even Ellie about yourself, about your life.

He’s your best friend.

He would have told you.

“I think Jack has his wires crossed or something,” you say, feeling like your throat is closing up on you, or like the walls are closing in. “He isn’t seeing anybody.” And just as she opens her mouth, “Or speaking to them.”

“Would it matter if he was? Even if it’s not Yasmin, if it’s somebody else, is that a problem? Could you watch him just move on?”

You just about stop yourself from biting back, of course it would matter, or, of course I couldn't watch that, your lips staying parted and gaping back at her like an idiot as you try to think of any other response.

“We’re friends.” Is all you can come back with, but it feels like a lie when you say it, this time.

“Okay then,” Ellie shrugs, pushing herself up and reaching back for the brush. “Can you stay still while I finish your hair please, I can’t deal with the guilt of burning your neck.”

You feel catatonic, after that, so it isn’t hard to stay motionless, staring blankly at your reflection as you try to compute the information she’s just spewed at you.

Yasmin, who he hit it off with weeks ago, who he texts all the time, who he hasn’t told you a single thing about.

You replay those facts over and over in your head, somehow managing to get ready in a zombie-like state, somehow managing to walk with Ellie all the way to the hockey house, integrating yourself into a group in the corner as everyone moves around you, people talking and music playing, and everything just blurs into noises and shapes until your phone buzzes harsh in your pocket.

You don’t know what you’re expecting when you check the notification - mindlessly scanning the words until you’re shocked back into reality, and you have to read it again for them to register.

It’s an email, and your settings allow you to read the sender and first line only.

From: NYU Office of Admissions

Congratulations! On behalf of the admissions committee, I’m delighted to-

You gasp, and you don’t even open the whole thing up to read it before you’re pushing yourself away from the group you’re with, shouldering past a mass of bodies and trying to catch a glimpse of brunette curls as you crane your neck into every room.

“Hey, have you seen Luke?” You grab Ethan as soon as you see him, who responds with wide eyes and catches you as you stumble.

“I’m pretty sure I saw him in the kitchen with-,”

“Thanks!” You yell, rushing off in the other direction before he can finish, until you finally get there, pushing straight into the room before you can think anything of it.

Luke is in the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter in the far corner, a playful smile on his face, the kind he gives you when he’s trying to make you blush or something. And you’d recognise who’s stood in front of him anywhere, even by the back of her hair.

Victoria Anderson, reaching her chicken claw hands up and pushing Luke’s curls out of his face.

You feel a little like the world is spinning around you - like you’re stuck in the middle, and everything else is flashing by in a dizzying blur. You don’t even think your heart is beating anymore, the blood draining from your head as you watch what’s happening in front of you.

And before he can see you in such a pitiful state, you turn on your heel and push your way back out of the door, slipping through the same bodies you’d passed before until you’re out the front door, the shock of the cold air bringing you back into consciousness.

Would it matter if he was? It it’s somebody else, is that a problem?

Ellie’s words from before ring like a warning bell through your skull.

Of course it fucking matters.

All Luke needs to see is a flash of your hair as the door to the kitchen closes to know he’s fucked everything up, once again. He doesn’t know why it takes him a minute to register just how bad the situation is before he makes a move, though.

Victoria had cornered him a while ago, had been clinging to him for a good 20 minutes or something, and she had been relentless with her questions and attempts at conversation. It had been a little suffocating, even more so when she told him that her and her boyfriend had broken up before the new year, and he’d tried to excuse himself for a drink, but she had followed.

He’d tried to let her down gently, had told her that he wasn’t interested anymore, and she had pushed her luck, cornering him against the counter, and asking, “Not even for old time’s sake?”

Hooking up with her in the first place all those years ago had probably been a mistake - he’d known it back then, never pursuing anything serious, and he knows it now, when she just can’t take no for an answer. “I’m into somebody else,” he had smiled, pitifully, wincing a little as she ran a hand through his hair to try convince him. “I’m not interested.”

And that had been about as plain as he could say it - thankful for the distracting creak of the kitchen door as it swung shut that he could look away from the way her face turned into a scowl, and then immediately panicked by the sight of you leaving.

All he could do was blink, wondering if it had been a figment of his imagination. And then he figured that even if it was, he doesn’t want to be in this kitchen with Victoria Anderson. He wants to spend his last night in Michigan with you.

He edges out from where she has him trapped, and rushes out of the kitchen in search of you, looking over all of the heads in the larger space to try and find you.

Ethan catches him by the elbow as he passes, and asks if he’s looking for you.

“Yeah, have you seen her?” He asks, feeling a little breathless as he still tries to scan the room.

“Uh, she walked past a few seconds ago, looked pretty upset. She was looking for you, before.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?” Luke frowns, watching as Ethan’s brows furrow in response.

“She’s grouchy when she’s upset, starts getting all mean and bitey, I’m not getting in the middle of that.” He scoffs, crossing his arms, defensively.

“You’re supposed to bite back.” Luke sighs, knowing then that you hadn’t been a figment of his imagination at all. “Where did she go?”

“Think she’s outside.”

“Great,” Luke snaps, figuring he can apologise later for blaming Ethan of all people. He storms off, heading straight for the front door, relieved to find you outside when he bursts through it, ignoring the bite of the freezing cold as he takes you in - leaning against the rail on the porch, wiping at your face before you turn to fake a smile his way - a smile that makes his gut churn when it’s flashed alongside the tears you hadn’t quite managed to hide.

“Hey,” you say, voice small and weak, “Was looking for you.”

Okay. You’re not mad.

You’re upset, which is probably worse, but he can explain things if you’re willing to listen.

“Ethan said,” he tells you, moving to your side and leaning on the rail, too, his body facing yours. “That wasn’t what it looked like, in the kitchen,” he swears, and you nod, the movement short and subtle. “I swear, I’ve been trying to get her to leave me alone for the past 30 minutes.”

“It’s fine,” you shrug, and his heart plummets at the way you seem to close yourself off to feeling any type of way about it, again. “You can do what you want, with whoever you want.”

“I don’t want to do that,” he frowns, “Not with her.”

“Okay,” you pretty much whisper, your eyes barely meeting his before they dart away, your body turning back to lean against the side.

He watches you for a minute, trying to gauge how best to handle this, how best to make sure you understand that this is important, that this is something the two of you need to talk about, especially before he leaves for Jersey, tomorrow. The two of you have come too far to let something as stupid as this ruin what you’ve made for yourselves.

“Hey,” he calls out, reaching to swipe his thumb at the little trail left behind by your previous tears, using the leverage to turn your head until you’re facing him again, and he leans in. “I don’t want to be with anybody but you tonight, I promise.”

Your smile is small, but there’s something there to cling to this time, the soft crinkle of your eyes as you lean into his grip.

“Okay,” you repeat, blinking up at him as he tries to level his breathing.

“You gonna come back inside with me before you freeze to death?” He asks, taking his hand away and sliding it slowly down your arm until he can grip weakly at your fingers, hoping they open to let him slide his own through the cracks.

“Wait,” you grip back, your smile growing a little. “I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, holding your hand between the two of you, “Did you get me a going away gift?”

You wordlessly hand him your phone from your other hand, and he takes it in the one that’s free, frowning as he looks down at it. “This is your phone.”

“Duh,” you scoff, “Look what’s on there.”

He taps on your screen until it lights up, eyes squinting to read the tiny text - having to read it twice until it registers in his still-a-little-panicked brain.

“You got in,” he mutters, like he can’t quite believe it - and it isn’t that he wasn’t expecting you to get in, but the excitement feels like a bucket of ice water thrown over his head, shocking and exhilarating all at once. “You got in!” He repeats, this time louder, prouder and the intensity of the smile that breaks out is almost instantaneously achey.

He drops your hand to grab you by the face, holding onto your own smile like it’s the most precious gift you can give him, jumping as he caresses you and letting the sound of your giggle seep into his skin.

“Yeah,” your voice comes out a little like a whine, tears prickling at your eyes as they almost close with how big your smile is. “I’m going to NYU!”

It’s the first time you’ve said it - the first time you’ve known it for sure - and he’s so lucky he’s the first to hear it, he thinks, that he’s privy to you letting yourself have one more good thing without the fear of it being taken away or falling apart.

“You’re going to NYU,” he tells you, prouder than he’s ever been of anybody else in his life, probably.

You’re gonna be across the river - a mere 30 minutes away on a good day - and he’s gonna get to see you all the time. Movie nights can be in person, you can come to his games, you can taste all the food you’re convinced isn’t as nice as he’s making out - and all of those things seem selfish to be the first to come to mind, but he can’t help it, he’s so happy he could cry, himself.

He’s so distracted by the thought of crying that he doesn't realise you’re reaching up - that your fingers are curling around the back of his neck and you’re pulling him down, your lips colliding and moving together until his body turns to autopilot.

His hands grip at your waist, his mouth deepens the kiss until he can swipe his tongue against yours, and his feet shuffle clumsily until he’s guiding you away from the rail, toward the house, and pressing you gently into the cold brick wall. Your back arches until your chest presses to his front, and you kiss and kiss him until you both run out of breath, relying on muscle memory to guide you to all the places you know each other likes.

He’s in a daze when you part, panting and blinking rapidly and trying to form any single coherent thought.

That is, until you say, “I don’t want to watch you move on.”

What?

“I don’t understand,” he mutters, trying to make sense of what the hell you’re talking about. He’d explained the whole Victoria thing. Is that seriously the only reason you kissed him? Because seeing him with her made you feel a certain way? “I thought you wanted to be friends.”

“I did,” you respond, blinking back, “I do, but I-,”

“You don’t want anyone else to have me either?”

He doesn’t even know why he’s getting agitated, it’s probably the drinks he’d had before you got to the party - but he kissed you because he loves you. He kissed you because he’s proud of you, and happy for you, and excited to show you how much of himself he can give when you’re finally in the same place for an extended period of time. He kissed you because he’s spent the last week trying not to, the last 6 weeks convincing himself that he shouldn’t want to, ever since fucking Harry met Sally, and the last 8 or so months trying to fight the need to.

And you kissed him because you were upset somebody else might have gotten there first.

“You tell me that we can’t ever be more, and when I try move on, you keep reeling me back in,” he huffs, “Like you don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either!”

“That isn’t true,” you frown, trying to grasp at a hand that he pulls away.

“Which part?” He asks, head tilting as he waits for you to figure it out. “You don’t even know what you want,” He sighs, tired all of a sudden and hurt that after all this time, you still aren’t sure on him. You still don’t want the same things, for the same reasons - still won’t let yourself believe in something good, even after the the universe just proved to you that it’s possible. “I don’t even think I know what I want out of this. I think about you all the time, you know, think about us. What we were, what we are now,” He had convinced himself only days ago that he could be your friend, if that’s what you need him to be, but now he can’t help it - not when you dangle the idea of more so carelessly in front of him like this. “What we could be, if you just let me all the way in.”

“I want to,” and because he knows you too well, he doesn’t get his hopes up at how quick you are to tell him that. “I promise you, I want to. I just don’t know how.”

Luke scoffs out a humourless chuckle, breaking eye contact as he clenches his jaw - thoughts working overtime to try and understand again where you’re coming from.

“It’s been 8 months,” he sighs. “I don’t know how long I’m supposed to wait for you to figure it out.”

He doesn’t see the way your lips tremble, or your eyes well with tears, again.

“If all you want to be is friends, then I’ll be your friend,” he tells you. “But we both have to find a way to move on. It won’t work otherwise.”

He doesn’t want to move on - the thought of being with anybody that isn’t you honestly makes him feel a little sick, but if it’s what he has to do to make sure he doesn’t feel like this again, maybe he should.

Your lips stay parted, and you don’t argue back this time, blinking back tears as you stare at him, wide eyed and unsure.

“It isn’t fair to either of us to keep blurring the lines like this.”

You nod, pressing your mouth closed, averting your gaze until you’re not looking at him anymore, you’re looking past him, all the joy from before draining from you like sand in a timer. You stay silent, and he figures a nod is all he’s gonna get, because it’s another minute before he finds the words to say, himself.

“Let’s go back inside, yeah?” He asks, your hand slipping behind your back just as he thinks of reaching for it, the action causing his stomach to twist with guilt. “C’mon, we’ll get you a drink to celebrate the good news.”

“I think I’m gonna go home,” you mutter, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it, and you look back up and give him that same small, forced smile that made his gut churn when he came outside, looking at his cheek instead of his eyes. “I have class in the morning, so I should probably go to bed or something.”

“Alright, I’ll walk you-,”

“No, uhm,” you step back, and all he can do is watch as you slip away one more time, “This is literally a party for you. It’s just around the corner, I’ll be fine.”

And if he had thought he fucked up before, this feels a thousand times worse, now.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak out, and the joyous tears that were teasing his lashes earlier turn somewhat sour, stinging until they gather in a thick pool in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“You didn’t.” He’d reach for you again if he didn’t think you’d flinch away - if the sight of you retreating from him once again wouldn’t make him want to curl up and die. “I’m gonna get one of the guys to walk you, alright? Please don’t go on your own.”

“It’s fine-,”

“It isn’t fine,” he doesn’t mean to snap - just wants to be firm, just wants you to feel that he cares - but it comes out harsh, because this can’t be another thing that you sweep under the rug to pretend you don’t care. “Please just wait.”

“Okay.”

He rushes inside then, and he grabs the first of his friends that he sees - thankfully, Ethan, who he knows cares about you enough to make sure you get home safe.

“Hey man, did you find her?” Ethan asks, his face twisting with concern as he takes in what must be sheer panic on Luke’s face. “Is she alright?”

“I need you to walk her home, she’s waiting outside, I need you to go before she goes on her own,” he drags Ethan towards the closet by the front door, where he’d discarded his jacket when he arrived earlier. “Give her this and text me when she’s inside, yeah?”

��Yeah, of course,” his best friend frowns, confused as he takes the coat from his shaking grip “Are you sure you don’t want to do it?”

“I don’t think she wants to be around me right now.”

“Oh,” Ethan huffs, shoulders straightening as he understands the gravity of the situation. If you don’t want to be around Luke, you probably shouldn’t be on your own. “Right, sure, I’ll take her now.”

“Just make sure you text me when she’s safe.”

“Yeah, I’ve got it, man,” Ethan chuckles nervously, “I’ll text you.”

And all Luke can do again is watch - watch as Ethan rushes out the front door, watch through the little sliver of window as you let him shrug the coat around you, as you accept the grip to both your arms as he tries to warm you up, watch as the two of you disappear from what the small rectangle allows him to see.

Watch as he, once again, lets go of the one thing he wants more than anything else in the whole world.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #*writing #guys I'm breaking my own heart fr writing this fic I want one #a luke #I want one real bad

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checkeredflagggs · 4 months ago

Text

The Story of Us: Chapter 4

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 4 of 5, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n3: I still don’t understand instagram so - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also I still hate twitter so I’ve replaced it with Bluesky.

a/n4: Also timelines? Never heard of them. This is set in 2024 but I’ve moved Miami to before Australia and changed some of the results of races.

a/n5: sorry this one took so long! Been dealing with some stuff

Masterlist | Taglist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Valentine’s Day

y/n

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 17,824,192 others

y/n: the vault is open and it’s treasures are yours.

In the process of writing and polishing up my albums, certain songs have been put aside, treasured but not shown the light. Now it’s time that changed — time for the secrets to come out.

view all comments

user1: oh my god yes

↳user2: banger after banger after banger

↳user1: as always!

oscarpiastri: why must I suffer…

↳logansargeant: 🤣🤣

↳landonorris: I don’t like your tone young man

↳oscarpiastri: you are 2 years older than me

↳landonorris: respect your elders!

↳oscarpiastri: whatever you say old man

↳oscarpiastri: as long as you stop squawking about the garage trying to sing

↳user3: so brutal…

↳landonorris: YOU MUPPET

user4: FAVORITE SONG? And if it isn’t All Too Well (10 minute version) you’re wrong

↳user5: Electric Touch!

↳charles_leclerc: timeless!

↳maxverstappen1: say don’t go

↳user6: babe!

↳pierregasly: is it over now?

↳carlossainz55: you all over me

↳lilymhe: Slut!

↳user7: better man obviously

↳alex_albon: Mr. Perfectly Fine

↳alexandrasaintmleux: when Emma falls in love

user8: she still has the grid all up in her comments…

↳logansargeant: they were fighting in the group chat on who’s the biggest fan

↳user8:😂😂 drag them!

↳alex_albon: mate…

↳logansargeant: it was 3:30 in the morning and I couldn’t sleep because of your stupid fight idk anymore

user9: this is the best thing happening so far this year

↳user10: right? Better then some sitcoms

user19: secrets come to light!?!?

↳user53: they’re totally gonna reveal themselves soon right?

↳user19: within the week is my guess!!!

↳user11: you guys are freakishly in sync

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, estebanocon and 92,913 others

tagged: georgerussell63, lewishamilton, landonorris, oscarpiastri, estebanocon, pierregasly, maverstappen1, hulkhulkenburg, kevinmagnussen, alex_albon, logansargeant, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

f1gossip: I Can See You…talking about y/n and her newest album! The fanstage this weekend at Imola was full of people asking the drivers their thoughts on y/n, her newest album, the Eras tour, and even their thoughts on her emerging relationship!

view all comments

user12: one of the best fan stages ever

user13: worth getting up at the ass crack of dawn to watch

user14: I think you mean it was full of them getting asked a tangentially related question and yapping nonstop about her until someone managed to cut in?

↳user15: thank god I wasn’t the only to catch that…

↳user14: you’d have to be blind deaf and dumb to miss is…

↳user16: that’s describing about 50% of the grid when talking or thinking about y/n then…

↳user14: 😂😂😂

user17: poor Oscar, Logan, and Nico looked so done

↳user18: if the past is to be believed, Oscar probably spent the last week listening to Lando try to belt out the entire album…

↳user20: oh dear 🤣

↳user18: and as user19 says…Logan has been dealing with the grid and their girlfriends flirt with his girlfriend for a couple of months now.

↳user19: I vote he just goes bowling this weekend. Knock them all out liked by not_y/n, not_logan, not_oscar

user19

liked by user53, user, user and 18,012 others

user19: I’m guessing the Logan and y/n relationship reveal is happening very very VERY soon. Tonight all of y/n’s outfits were of the blue variety (excluding, of course, the reputation bodysuit and Red combos). I’m guessing she wore blue to publicly support Logan (especially after that shit vowles pulled in Australia). My guess is this weekend — after tonight she has a 5 day break (enough time to jet over to Italy for Sunday’s race and still make it back for the start of the New York shows)

view all comments

user21: I believe it

↳user22: after the last few months of following along with the crazy conspiracy theories…yeah I do too

↳user19: y’all should have just believed me in the first place!

user23: if she shows up at Imola, I’m gonna scream!

↳user24: imagining her as a wag…

↳user25: let’s be real — Logan is still the wag in that relationship 😂😂

↳user24: that’s true!

user26: oh my god I can’t wait! My family has been Williams Racing fans for years — even more fans to join the family

↳user27: oh I can’t wait for her fans to drag vowles through the mud…

↳user26: …yes that’s also a big plus. He desperately needs an attitude adjustment

Bluesky

user28: SHE JUST CHANGED RHE LURICS

↳user29: FOR REAL????

↳user28: FOR REAL!!!

user30: my stream cut!! what happened!!!!

↳user31: SHE CHANGED TBE LYRICS!!!

↳user30: what lyrics???

↳user31: Karma! “Karma is the guy on the tracks coming straight home to me”

↳user30: OH MY GOD

user19: I WAS RIGHT. I KNEW IT. ITS HAPPENING!!

↳user53: congrats baby!!

↳user32: WAIT WHAT

↳user33: BABY??? YOU GUYS ARE DATING NOW??

not_oscar: oh my god this is like throwing fire on gasoline…

↳not_y/n: oh yeah prepare yourself. I’m coming to Imola

↳not_lilyz: really??

↳not_y/n: yes! Want me to stop in England?

↳not_lilyz: please!

↳not_oscar: I’ll set a ticket aside for you lily liked by not_lily

↳not_logan: oh I can’t wait

↳not_y/n: …it’s been a long time coming?

↳not_oscar: ugh

↳not_y/n: come on it was right there!! liked by not_logan, not_lilyz

user34: omg i literally can’t wait for Imola now!!

↳user35: she’s gonna slay it!

y/n

liked by lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, yoursister, and 19,283,913 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: I’ve loved you for 14 summers now but I want them all.

view all comments

user36: oh my god

↳user37: 14 YEARS

logansargeant: you’ll have them all

↳y/n: just like I planned

↳user38: because you’re a mastermind?

↳y/n: 😊😊

↳logansargeant: MY mastermind

↳user39: oh you guys are the type to be publicly gross aren’t you

↳oscarpiastri: yes

alex_albon: WHAT

lilymhe: Oh dear…

alexandrasaintmleux: 😳😳

iamrebeccad: Oh!

user40: ok now that this is out of the way…release the baby photos please

↳y/n: 😊😉

↳logansargeant: what??? NO

user19: hem hem??

↳user41: yes yes yes. You’re right, we’re wrong

↳user41: BUT COUPLE OF THE YEAR HERE!!

user42: never thought I’d be involved in something that broke the internet…

user43: ARE YOU GUYS MARRIED &/OR ENGAGED???

↳y/n: No we’re not

↳logansargeant: yet

↳y/n: 😳😳

Private Messages, the Grid (Unserious)

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 17,284,824 others

tagged: logansargeant, williamsracing

y/n: Imola you are so beautiful — thank you for treating my man right.

Logan, my love, congratulations on the points. It was lovely to see you chase your dream

comments have been restricted on this post

logansargeant: it was one of the best days of my life having you here. thank you for coming out in the middle of your tour

↳y/n: there is nowhere else I’d rather be than right by your side

↳y/n: no matter where that might be

oscarpiastri: it was good to see you again!

↳y/n: you as well Oscar! And congrats on the podium — it was a well deserved 2nd place

lilyzneimer: thanks for the ride! It was good to catch up with you again

↳y/n: it’s always a good day when I get to talk to you Lily!

yoursister: ummm some warning next time! That’s 2 times now — I wanna go to a race too!

↳y/n: next time for sure

↳y/n: I have breaks for Montreal or Silverstone?

↳yoursister: or both?

↳logansargeant: both please!

Private Messages, y/n

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @theendofthematerialgworl

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messyoungie · 7 months ago

Text

HABITS TO DROP WHEN GETTING YOUR LIFE TOGETHER

➝ CREATING UNAUTHENTIC & UNINTENTIONAL GOALS

the biggest mistakes you can make when creating goals is making goals that aren’t true to you and making goals for the sake of making goals.

it can be so exciting when you decide to get your life together. I mean, of course it is! there are so many possibilities! but when you start planning, don’t just write down the goals you see circulating on social media. what works for someone else may not be what works for you. don’t make your goals and habits based on what’s trending or popular in the self improvement community.

think about what you actually need for a minute. what is actually necessary? your goals and habits aren’t here to be glamorous, they’re here to help regardless of how simple or small they are. the point of thinking up new habits is to improve your life, so be intentional with your goals. what will practicing this habit or achieving this goal give you?

when you’re first starting out, your goals don’t have to be anything too crazy or intense. for example, let’s say you want to become a pink pilates girl and get into fitness. you shouldn’t jump right into it and say your goal is to work out for 2 hours 5 times a week. let’s consider some factors first. have you been living a completely sedentary kind of lifestyle? then try looking for exercises that’ll wake up dormant muscles. your goal should then be to repeat those exercises for how ever many times a week. then you’ll work your way up from there. (it’s important we don’t harm the body, so be mindful with your fitness goals.) what about your schedule? how much time can you actually give to working out? can your body even endure working out for that long?

anyways, hopefully you see what I mean. when creating goals, it’s not about having the “aesthetic” habits and goals that you may see on tiktok or tumblr. it’s about doing what is actually good for you and what’ll help you the most with where you are now in your journey. so please put some thought into your goals and where they’ll take you. creating unauthentic and unintentional habits will also mean you’ll be less likely to keep practicing them after a few times. at the end of the day, that doesn’t help you achieve anything and you’re left with a broken promise you’ve made to yourself. which leads me to my next point…

➝ NOT KEEPING YOUR WORD WHEN IT COMES TO YOU

let me start off by saying this— if you don’t even listen to yourself, why should anyone else? (harsh, ik)

a HUGE reason as to why people have no self confidence is because they don’t listen to themselves or keep the promises they’ve made to themselves. if you have no self trust, how could you have any self confidence?

now, building discipline can definitely be a challenge so if you want to start somewhere easy, nip your false promises in the bud and stop yourself from making them. that’s what I did when I was first trying to stop this habit. when my addiction to tiktok was at its peak I would always tell myself the usual “ten more minutes and then I’ll stop scrolling.” when I wanted to stop making false promises, I knew I had no control or discipline so the only thing I could do is be real with myself. I’d cut myself off when I heard myself say “five more minutes” because I knew it wasn’t going to happen. if I wasn’t going to quit my bad habit, then the least I could do is be honest with myself.

the things that you are constantly telling yourself, whether they’re mindless or intentional, matter.

so, stop telling yourself seemingly harmless lies. unnecessary false promises that you know are false will only fill you with tension.

➝ SEEING FAILURE AS AN INVITATION TO GIVE UP

this applies to so many things.

you wanted to be consistent with your reading goals but haven’t read a chapter in a week? dont give up. don’t tell yourself that being consistent is too hard for you, that since you missed a week this habit isn’t for you. make your goal a bit easier or give yourself another chance.

you wanted to spend more time doing art but it’s not turning out how you expected? dont give up. dont give yourself the title of a “bad artist” and never pick up a pencil again. move forward, give yourself another chance.

you wanted to quit your Instagram addiction but after a couple days you went back to scrolling for hours on ig reels? Don’t give up. dont tell yourself that this addiction isn’t gonna go away, don’t go back to the bad habit because you slipped up. give yourself another chance.

I think a lot of us (myself included) tend to give up at the first sign of failure, instead of reminding ourselves to keep going. it’d be wonderful if you could get it right on the first try. if you could read ten books a month right away after not reading a book in three years. if you could watch hours worth of tutorials and sketch the perfect portrait on the first attempt. if you could uninstall instagram for good and never feel the urge to go back. that would all be so amazing, but it’s not always the reality. expect the best from yourself and do the best you can, but also give yourself some compassion. keep in mind that you won’t always do things perfectly right away and that’s one thousand percent okay. when you feel yourself slipping up on your brand new goal, don’t end it there at the first failure. allow yourself to move forward, because the only other direction to move is backwards.

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year ago

Text

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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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 18] || [Chapter 20]

Rating: E Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. handjobs/fingering (unspecified). ejaculation (mentioned). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: smut. smut. sweet. sweet. smut..

Chapter 19: Slippery Slope.

“Fuck… Johnny…” You whine as his hand slowly strokes up and down, his fingers rubbing over every inch of your skin.

“Shh… The acoustics, bonnie…” He tells you. “The neigbours are goin’ t’ear ye.” He whispers.

“W-Well…!” You try to complain but the words die in your lips as your head dips back against his chest.

Your bathtub isn’t the biggest, but you and Johnny were able to fit yourselves inside, with him sitting behind you, spooning you. His thick, muscular arms are wrapped around you the same way they were at the shop a week ago, protective, warmth… strong.

He’s been surprisingly gentle this whole time, washing your body and helping get your back, his rough hands sometimes sliding and coping a feel of your skin as it was lathered up with soap.

Somehow that evolved into his hand being between your thighs, making you moan and squirm in his embrace. “Shh…” He keeps shushing you as if he’s not doing anything that should warrant them.

“Stop shushing me, Johnny…” You whine. “You’re so frustrating!” You grumble.

“Don’t be giving me lip now, bonnie…” He whispers as he bites your earlobe and then draws his lips down the side of your neck and onto your shoulder.

“F-Fuck…” You shiver as he sucks onto the skin right where you neck meets your collarbone, his tongue lapping at the skin as his fingers work you over.

The water’s getting cold, and your legs are the first feeling the change in temperature, propped up on the edges of the tub so he can keep touching you, while his own are barely contained inside.

But you don’t care. The pleasure he’s wringing out of you with surprisingly nimble fingers considering how thick and big they are makes you whine and moan, your sounds of pleasure echoing off the tile in the bathroom.

The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter with each second he spends playing with you, your legs trembling and your whole body twitching and squirming in his embrace as you chase your orgasm.

And when it finally crashes onto you, you jump a bit, almost headbutting Johnny in the process, your head falling back on his strong, hard shoulder, some water spilling over the edge of the bath.

His name falls from your lips as your eyes flutter closed and your panting becomes the only thing heard in your bathroom. He grunts behind you, clearly enjoying the sight of you coming undone, his face resting against your shoulder as he sighs against your back.

Once you’ve finally caught you breath, he kisses your shoulder. “That feel good?” He coos in your ear and carefully licks up a stripe from your neck to your jawline before peppering kisses around your jawline.

You nod at him, eyes still closed and sigh happily, snuggling into his warm, robus embrace. “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes’.” He murmurs with a chuckle.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed, the water’s getting cold.” He tells you as he moves up and presses a kiss to your temple.

That stirs you a bit from the moment and you look up at him. “But… You didn’t get anything…” You whisper.

“Oh, mo leannan…” He says with a playful smirk on his lips. “I literally just shot come all over your back.” He admits, causing your eyes to widen.

“You…” You say with shock and he immediately laughs at the look on your face.

“Oh yeah. Why’d you think I said ‘let’s get you cleaned up and dressed’ and not just… ‘let’s get you dressed’?” He teases.

After the bath, he helps you both get dressed and takes you back to the living room, snuggling up with you on the couch, wrapping the blanket around you both.

Unlike with Kyle, who laid under you and let you rest between his legs against your chest - or Simon who you makes you sleep on his chest, with one arm around you - Johnny prefers to spoon you, the two of you fitting just so on the couch before one of you (aka you) are teetering on the edge.

He gives you one of his biceps to rest on, while his other arm wraps around your waist and stomach, his hand resting right on top of your sternum and carefully rubbing your chest. It’s not necessarily a dirty touch, but not an innocent one either.

You find yourselves dozing off, wrapped up in one another, the TV playing some silly action movie which, despite the loud explosions and gunshots, is surprisingly easy to tune out and sleep through.

It’s already dark outside when you stir awake. Johnny’s sleeping right behind you, his breath slow and even, his warm exhales tickling the back of your neck. The sitting room is completely dark, the TV playing some other movie now, lighting everything in a blue-ish light.

Atop the coffee table is a phone, vibrating and buzzing, the screen lit up with a phone call. Still groggy, you grab the phone, assuming it’s your own, and flick the green button to accept the call without looking at the number.

“Uhm, hello?” You greet before you force yourself to suppress a yawn.

“BLOODY FUCKIN’ HELL, I’VE BEEN CALLIN’ FOR AN HOUR!” A gruff, manly voice shouts on the other end. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

The shouts stirred you a bit more awake and made you stiffen. “Excuse me?!” You complain.

“Wait. Who’s this?” A gruff voice asks on the other end.

“I should be asking you, you’re the one calling me and losing your bloody mind shoutin’ at me?” You murmur in confusion, keeping your voice low to not wake up Johnny.

“And I’m asking you, because I know bloody well I called MacTavish and not… whoever you are.” The man you’re speaking with is rude, but his voice is… vaguely familiar.

That’s when your brain fog clears enough to allow you to realize that you just picked up Johnny’s phone, not your own.

“Oh, shite.” You grumble. “Sorry. I heard a phone ringing, I thought it was my phone-” You try to justify yourself.

“Oh, bloody hell, I’m sorry for yellin’ at you.” The man on the other end ends up saying, a bit more politely. “MacTavish’s with you?” He grumbles

“Yeah… He’s asleep…” You reply. “The phone was on Vibration.” You explain. “That’s probably why he didn’t wake up…” You explain.

“No wonder… I’ve called 42 times…” The male voice complains on the other end. “You mind waking him up and putting my damn soldier on the line?” He fails at his attempts at politeness.

And that’s when your brain fog clears even more. ‘My soldier’... The only person who’d call Johnny ‘his’ soldier is his captain.

“John?” You ask him in earnest. The memories of the night you spent with John come flooding back. Not that you ever forgot it, but you’ve been a bit more preocupied.

And that’s when John Price realizes who he’s speaking to as well, likely also remembering the way the dulcet of your voice called out his name while he buried himself inside of you. “Bloody fuckin’ hell…” He murmurs.

After a brief pause to breathe, he speaks again. “Hi, darling.” He ends up saying.

“Hi, John.” You say softly in return.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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sxcretricciardo · 4 months ago

Text

impossible (l.n) - pt. 4

part three here

author’s note: hi guys, i’m really happy you’re enjoying the story <3 this chapter is a smaller one, but bare with me :) love u

(Y/N) had barely gotten any sleep after the argument with Lando. Even though he had called and asked to talk, there was nothing left to say—not right now, at least. She had a flight to catch, a tour to finish, and she refused to let all of this mess with her head before one of the biggest shows of her career.

So she did what she always did: she pushed it aside, got on the plane, and prepared for her final concert of the tour.

The energy in the venue was electric, the crowd louder than ever, and for a few hours, she let herself get lost in the music. But the moment she stepped off stage, sweaty and exhausted, reality crashed down on her again.

Lando was here.

She spotted him the second she walked backstage, standing beside Magui. Max was with them too, his arms crossed like he was just waiting for things to go south.

Lando took a step forward, his expression hesitant. “Hey.”

She forced a small smile, even though her stomach twisted. “Hey.”

“I just—I wanted to apologize,” Lando said, rubbing the back of his neck. “For everything. I overreacted, and I wasn’t fair to you. You were just… confused. And maybe a little drunk. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

(Y/N) stiffened slightly at his words, but she didn’t let it show. Of course, this was how he was going to play it. It wasn’t that she might have been right—just that she was confused, intoxicated, seeing things that weren’t there.

She could feel Max’s eyes on her, watching closely, but she ignored him. Instead, she nodded, forcing a lighter tone into her voice. “Yeah. Maybe I was.”

Lando seemed relieved, giving her a small smile. Magui, standing beside him, looked just as satisfied.

“Good,” Magui said sweetly. “I’m glad we’re all good now.”

(Y/N) didn’t trust herself to respond, so she just smiled. She wasn’t stupid—she knew what had just happened. Lando wanted to smooth things over, wanted to believe that she hadn’t actually seen anything, and because she still wanted to be his friend, she let him believe it.

But deep down, something still didn’t sit right.

She excused herself soon after, saying she needed to change and cool down from the show. But as she made her way down the hall toward her dressing room, she heard footsteps behind her.

Turning around, she found Magui standing there, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You and I need to talk,” Magui said, her voice low.

(Y/N) exhaled slowly, already exhausted. “Magui, I really don’t—”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Magui cut her off, stepping closer. “Stay away from Lando.”

(Y/N) blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor. “Excuse me?”

Magui’s expression hardened. “You heard me. I don’t know what your little stunt was, but it stops now. Lando and I are happy. I don’t need you getting in his head, making him doubt things. He trusts me. And I’m not going to let you ruin that.”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, her heart hammering. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything.”

Magui tilted her head, smiling slightly. “Then prove it. Stay out of our relationship. Stay away from him.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, another voice cut through the tense silence.

“That’s interesting,” Max said, stepping out from the shadow of the hallway. “Because it sounds to me like you’re afraid of something, Magui.”

Magui’s face paled slightly as she turned toward him. “Max.”

Max gave her a pointed look, his arms crossed. “You really thought no one would hear you? That no one would notice?”

(Y/N) glanced at Max, confused but relieved that he was there. He had heard everything.

Magui straightened her shoulders, regaining some of her composure. “This isn’t any of your business, Max.”

Max let out a short, humorless laugh. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because when you start threatening one of my friends? That makes it my business.”

Magui’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. After a moment, she huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever. Just stay out of it.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving (Y/N) standing there, still processing everything.

Max sighed, shaking his head. “And Lando thinks you were the one confused.”

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath, looking up at him. “What do I do?”

Max gave her a reassuring look. “We’ll figure it out. But one thing’s for sure—you were never the problem here.”

He didn’t waste any time. As soon as Magui walked away, he turned to (Y/N), his jaw clenched. “I’m telling Lando.”

(Y/N) hesitated. “Max—”

“No,” he cut her off. “He needs to know.”

She wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but she nodded anyway. Maybe—just maybe—Lando would finally listen.

They found Lando still backstage, scrolling through his phone while he waited for Magui. When he saw them approaching, he frowned. “What’s up?”

Max didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “Magui just told (Y/N) to stay away from you.”

Lando’s expression immediately darkened. “What?”

(Y/N) shifted uncomfortably. “She pulled me aside after the show. Told me to stay out of your relationship and away from you.”

Lando’s jaw clenched, but instead of looking shocked or even concerned, anger flickered in his eyes. “Are you serious?”

Max folded his arms. “Yeah. I heard the whole thing.”

Lando let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “This is unbelievable.”

(Y/N) took a small step forward. “Lando, I’m not making this up. Max was right there—”

Lando’s gaze snapped to her, and she instantly knew she had lost him. His expression was cold, defensive. “I should’ve known. You just can’t let this go, can you?”

(Y/N) blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You want to ruin this for me,” Lando snapped. “You and Max, both of you. You can’t stand that I’m happy with Magui, so now you’re making up some bullshit to try and make me doubt her.”

Max groaned, running a hand down his face. “Lando, are you even listening to yourself?”

“I’m listening just fine,” Lando shot back. “And I’m done with this. First, (Y/N) starts throwing accusations around, and now you’re in on it too? This is insane.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard. “Lando, I didn’t want to fight with you. I didn’t want any of this to happen—”

“Then why are you doing this?” Lando demanded, his voice rising. “Magui hasn’t done anything to you. She hasn’t done anything to either of you!”

As if on cue, Magui appeared beside him, her eyes wide and glassy with tears. “Lando, what’s going on?”

(Y/N) stiffened. She wasn’t sure if Magui had heard anything or if this was just perfect timing, but the second Lando turned to her, his entire demeanor softened.

“They’re trying to turn me against you,” Lando told her, his voice heavy with frustration. “Max and (Y/N), they won’t drop it. They keep twisting everything, trying to make me think you’re some kind of villain.”

Magui’s bottom lip trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why would you do that?” she whispered, looking at (Y/N). “I thought we were okay.”

(Y/N) felt her stomach churn. This was exactly what Magui wanted—to play the victim, to make it look like they were the ones hurting her.

“I—” (Y/N) started, but Lando was already pulling Magui into his arms, glaring at them over her shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear another word about this,” he said coldly. “From either of you.”

Max exhaled sharply. “You’re making a mistake.”

Lando shook his head. “No. The mistake was trusting you two in the first place.”

(Y/N) felt something inside her crack. She had known this wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected him to turn on them so quickly, to believe Magui so blindly.

Max shot her a look that said leave it, and she nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

They walked away without another word, but as they left, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

(Y/N) felt numb as she walked away with Max. The echoes of Lando’s anger still rang in her ears, but it was Magui’s fake tears that unsettled her the most. She had played the part perfectly, twisting everything to make Lando believe she was the one being hurt.

Once they were far enough away, Max let out a sharp exhale, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

(Y/N) barely had the energy to respond. “I knew he wouldn’t believe me. But you… I thought maybe he’d listen to you.”

Max scoffed. “So did I. But Lando’s got his head so far up Magui’s ass that he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

She winced at his words, but he wasn’t wrong. Lando had made up his mind, and nothing they said would change it.

“Maybe it’s just not worth it anymore,” she muttered. “If he wants to believe her so badly, then let him.”

Max shook his head. “No. I’m not giving up on him that easily.”

(Y/N) shot him a tired look. “Max—”

“No, listen to me,” he interrupted. “Lando’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid. Magui’s got him wrapped around her finger right now, but sooner or later, she’s going to slip up. And when she does? He’s going to realize that we were right all along.”

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? And what if he doesn’t?”

Max’s jaw tightened. “Then that’s on him.”

She sighed, leaning against the wall. “I just don’t get it. Why is he so blind when it comes to her?”

Max hesitated, then shrugged. “Because it’s easier to believe the lie than to admit you were wrong.”

(Y/N) stayed quiet, letting his words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe Lando wanted to believe Magui because the alternative—admitting she wasn’t who he thought she was—was too painful.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Max’s voice softened. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

He sighed, nudging her shoulder. “Look, I know it feels like we lost him tonight. But trust me, (Y/N). This isn’t over.”

She didn’t know if he was right. But for now, she nodded anyway.

Because deep down, a part of her wasn’t ready to let go of Lando just yet.

- months later -

It had been months since that day, the day Magui had warned you to stay away from Lando. Since then, things had been quiet. Too quiet. The once-easy camaraderie you shared with him had turned into a distant memory, the connection severed by his choice to believe his girlfriend over the people who cared about him. You hadn’t heard from Lando, and, truthfully, you’d stopped waiting for a message that would never come.

You had tried to move on, focusing on your own career, and it was working. Your music had started gaining traction, and you’d been invited to various events and shows. One day, out of nowhere, you received an invitation to the Aston Martin garage during a race weekend. It was a huge opportunity, and you couldn’t pass it up, even if it felt strange to be back in the paddock after everything that had happened.

As the race day unfolded, you tried to focus on the excitement of the event, the thrill of being at the paddock, after a long few months. But there was still that nagging ache in your chest when you thought of Lando. You tried not to think about him, but his absence felt like a hole in your heart.

But then, something happened during the race that you could never have predicted.

Lando’s car crashed.

The screech of tires, the sudden roar of sirens, and the chaos that followed was enough to make anyone’s heart drop. You didn’t even realize you were running toward the pit until you were there, your legs moving on their own. There were frantic calls on the radio, people shouting orders. The crash was serious. Lando’s car had spun out of control, and he was taken away in an ambulance with the paramedics.

You didn’t think. You just acted, rushing to the hospital where Lando had been taken.

The sterile smell of the hospital brought you back to reality as you stood in the hallway outside Lando’s room. Your heart raced, the last few hours feeling like a blur. You weren’t sure what you expected when you stepped into that room, but seeing him—his face bruised and battered, the cast on his arm, and the cuts along his forehead—made everything come rushing back. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the confident driver who had once brightened every room he walked into.

Lando’s eyes flickered open, and when they met yours, there was a brief flash of recognition. But instead of the usual warmth, there was something else—something quieter, more remorseful.

“Lando…” you whispered, your voice shaky despite your attempts to hold it together.

He swallowed, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He winced as he shifted slightly in the bed, clearly in pain. “Magui… She… she did cheat on me.” His words came out in a rush, his gaze dropping to the blanket as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I didn’t want to believe it. You tried to warn me… but I was too stupid to listen.”

Your heart ached at his words, the frustration and sadness that had been building over months finally breaking free. “Lando, I—”

“I know,” he cut you off, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know you tried to tell me. You were right. I should have believed you. She—she was with that guy the whole time, and I didn’t see it. I was so blind. But… one night, there was a guy at a party, one of her exes, who pulled me aside and told me that she had cheated on him too, and… I went trough her phone saw and saw the text messages between them… they’ve been meeting up for months… that’s when everything fell into place.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you fought them back. “Lando, I never wanted this. I never wanted to be the one to tear you two apart. I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze with raw regret. “I hurt you. I pushed you away, and for what? I chose to believe someone who didn’t care about me. I hurt you in the process, and I—I’m sorry. I’ve been such an idiot.”

You could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt and the sorrow that weighed on him. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago, he hadn’t wanted to hear the truth. But now, there was no escaping it. Magui had betrayed him, and in a way, he had betrayed you too.

“I should have listened,” he whispered again, his voice full of regret.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your emotions. It had been a long time coming, and as much as you wanted to be angry with him, the sight of him—so broken, so remorseful—made it hard to hold onto that anger.

“You’ve been hurt, Lando,” you said softly, your heart aching for him. “And I know I’m not the only one who’s been hurt. But I think you need time to heal. Both of us do.”

Lando nodded slowly, his hand reaching out, trembling. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away… but if you can, I want to try to make things right. I don’t want to lose you again.”

You stared at him for a long moment, considering his words. The hurt was still there, deep in your chest, but so was the understanding. It wasn’t just his fault. You had both made mistakes, but maybe, just maybe, there was a way to move forward.

“Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with the weight of everything that had happened.

Lando gave you a small, tentative smile, the kind that hadn’t been there in months. “One step at a time,” he agreed.

And maybe that was all you could ask for—one step at a time.

The days after Lando’s accident were a whirlwind of emotions. He was released from the hospital a few days later, his body bruised but recovering. But emotionally? He was a mess. It wasn’t just the crash that had shaken him to the core; it was the realization that the woman he had trusted, the one he thought he loved, had betrayed him. That, combined with the guilt of pushing you away, left him feeling raw.

You had agreed to take things slowly, and that’s exactly what you did. You stayed in touch with him, but not in a way that felt forced. It was a lot of texting, some phone calls, and slow-paced catch-ups. Lando seemed to be going through a personal transformation, one that required time and space to really grasp what had happened, and what needed to change. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness—at least, not yet—but it was clear that he was committed to earning your trust back, step by step.

A few weeks later, Lando invited you to dinner. It wasn’t anything extravagant—just a quiet, intimate place where you could talk without the pressure of anyone around.

When you arrived, he was already there, seated at a table in the corner, looking a little nervous but hopeful. The air between you two had shifted, but it was still filled with uncertainty.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, his smile small but sincere.

“Hey,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “Better. Physically, at least. But, you know… mentally, it’s a process.”

You nodded. “I get it.”

The waiter brought the drinks, and for a while, the two of you just talked—about everything and nothing. You shared stories of what had been going on in your life, and he did the same. It felt different than before, though. It wasn’t just small talk; there was a genuine attempt to rebuild a connection that had been strained.

Eventually, the topic shifted.

“Lando, what happens now?” you asked gently, leaning in a little. “You and I… I think we’ve both been through a lot. And I don’t want to rush into anything, but we have to figure out if we’re even capable of rebuilding what we had.”

Lando took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with vulnerability. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I want to prove to you that I’m not the same guy I was before. I was stupid for not believing you, and I can’t change that. But I want to be better—for you, for me, and for us. If you’ll let me.”

There it was—the raw honesty. The same honesty you had tried to offer him months ago, but he had been too blind to see.

“I’m not saying everything will be perfect,” Lando continued. “But I want us to start fresh. And I want to take things slow. No pressure. Just… us figuring it out, together.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. There was no doubt in your mind that he was genuinely trying to make amends.

“I think… I think that’s all we can do,” you said after a pause. “I don’t want to rush either. But I’m willing to try if you are.”

A weight seemed to lift off both of your shoulders as Lando’s smile widened. “One step at a time, right?”

You chuckled softly. “Exactly.”

part five here

taglist: @angelluv16 @yara011 @olivia-zaq @formulaal @chloes-book-corner @freyathehuntress @dodo1328 @henna006 @chlmtfilms @sailorinthesie @at-a-rax-ia @star73807-blog @hurtblossom @thatsnotaddy @couppy

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #f1 imagine #lando norris insta au #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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wayiiseetheworld · 2 months ago

Text

Espresso

{ Chapter Two }

Summary: Robby's normal shift ends with Abbot's wife in the ER.

Warnings: Jack Abbot x OC!Wife. Established relationship. Age gap marriage.

Word Count: 1,013

Author Note: I am obsessed with Abbot, Robby, and The Pitt. Slowly going to post my stories from A03 on here. Rewatching ER and Animal Kingdom because of this show. Thank you so much for reading! || Not my gif.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64238392/chapters/164875135

Prev | Finale

Jack felt as if his legs were encased in concrete as Dana led him through the dimly lit corridors of the Pitt, the flickering fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.

He was oblivious to the concerned glances from his coworkers, feeling a strange sense of gratitude for Dana’s silence after she had insisted—almost commanded—that he follow her to the family waiting room on the surgery floor. He didn’t want to go, but deep down, he understood there was no other choice. Each step grew heavier, weighed down by a turbulent mix of emotions—the fear of losing his wife, the fury directed at the person who had harmed her—and an unsettling uncertainty about what awaited them. He desperately hoped that somewhere, someone was doing everything possible to save her.

“How serious is it?” Jack finally managed to ask, struggling to suppress the tremor in his voice and the panic swelling in his chest. He kept the dark thoughts of losing his wife at his place of work to himself, he knew there was no reason to let those thoughts out of his mouth. For a fleeting moment, he considered calling his wife’s parents, but he needed answers first—answers that would guide his next steps, even though the question felt like a double-edged sword. He didn’t want to know anything if she wasn’t okay. “What did they say? I know you were in the room.”

Dana hesitated, briefly averting her gaze. She didn’t want to lie; she was aware that Jack was too perceptive for that. He would see through any attempt to shield him from the truth. “She has a broken nose, and her face will be bruised all over.” Dana said, taking a breath as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to close the doors behind him. “The stab wounds are severe. They managed to stop the bleeding from the wound in her thigh, but her stomach was still bleeding when they brought her in.”

Taking another deep breath, Dana reminded herself of Aila—the kind woman who always ordered meals for every shift twice a week, bringing in coffee mid shift, or giving out free drink coins to her bar when she knew it was a bad week. “They’ve taken her into surgery to address the internal bleeding in her stomach. That’s the biggest concern right now. We won’t know more until they’re finished.”

The next words slipped from Dana’s lips, and she immediately regretted them when she saw the look of anguish on Jack's face. “I think Collins mentioned something about her arm being broken, but she woke up asking for you, and it caught me off guard.”

Jack's heart sank deeper, a sharp pain twisting his stomach as he confronted the horrifying possibility of losing her. “Internal bleeding,” he repeated, the words heavy and foreign in his mouth. As the elevator doors opened to their floor, he hesitated, reluctant to move, but he followed Dana nonetheless. “How did this happen?” He knew it was a futile question—there were no real answers to be found, if what happened last week at The Pitt Fest, bad things happen for no reason. “My god—she was just doing her job; she should be safe!” When Aila woke up and began to heal, they would have a serious talk about her job, but for now, all he could do was cling to hope.

Dana’s expression softened with empathy. “I’m so sorry, Jack—” She noticed he seemed lost in his own thoughts, and her heart ached for him. “Abbot!” she called gently. She felt a twinge of regret for using his last name, but it succeeded in drawing his attention back to her from whatever thoughts were in his head. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but you have to stay strong—for Aila. She’ll need you when she wakes up.”

They arrived at the waiting area outside the operating room, a stark, sterile space engulfed in the distant hum of machines and the hurried footsteps of medical staff, moving like echoes through the night. A wave of nausea washed over Jack; he had never experienced this side of the equation—receiving news rather than delivering it. He was momentarily haunted by memories of the times he had to share heartbreaking news with others.

The reality of Aila’s vulnerability crashed down on him again, and he found himself unable to bear the thought of losing her. She was his salvation, the light in his life, even if she would insist that they had saved each other from the darkness that lurked within.

He murmured to himself, the words too soft for Dana to hear. He knew it sounded irrational, but the thought of losing her weighed heavily on him; he couldn’t shake the belief that if she didn’t survive, he would never forgive himself. “If only maybe…” His voice trailed off into a whisper before he turned to Dana and sank down into one of the hard chairs behind him, letting his head thud against the wall.

“Jack,” Dana said softly, placing her hand on his arm as a comforting anchor. “This isn’t something either of you could have controlled. You had no way of knowing she was in danger; she’s always been okay at work.” Kneeling beside him, she angled her face so he could see her clearly. “They told me she fought back. I asked about the scene, and they found broken bottles and blood. She fought back, Jack. That alone shows she’s a survivor. She will pull through.”

His breath caught at the thought of Aila—strong, resilient Aila—navigating this nightmare all on her own. He could almost hear her laughter echoing through their home from that morning, when she wore his t-shirt from the night before and danced to a Taylor Swift song on their Alexa while waiting for him to return from his shift at the hospital, busy making breakfast. Her warmth lit up his world, and he couldn’t fathom how he would endure the day without her. The prospect of that light fading into darkness was simply unbearable.

#The Pitt Fanfiction #The Pitt Fanfic #Jack Abbot Fanfiction #Jack Abbot Fanfic #Jack Abbot x OC

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imperfectskeleton · 4 months ago

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I’ve started on my animorphs read (got a whole heap of notes on the first three chapters somebody help me) and I was thinking about how it’s neat that visser three is the one to say elfangor’s name but also. <an honour to meet you>

like probably nobody else knows this isn’t their first meeting because of Chapman’s apparent memory wipe. And like wow, this is a big moment. Their first face-to-face meeting since the alternate universe.

Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, decorated by the Andalite military, mortally wounded and the last survivor of the ambush on his dome ship. A hero so big that nobody will ever hear of his crimes, who just wanted to do things right.

And he’s facing Visser Three, who nobody has fought and survived.

Whose face he has personally been spitting in - as well as a creature without a mouth can - since he was just a subvisser in a hork-Bajir body.

Whose hands he played into better than the visser could ever have hoped, allowing this abomination - an andalite controlled by a yeerk - to be created.

And he knows he has to die. There’s nothing he can do, but he makes his ship fire, one last time - not on alloran though, he could never kill alloran, this is all his fault after all, but people have been freed before, and he’s just met the son he never even saw and he needs what he tells these human children to matter.

So he shows them how to fight, how to be brave, as one of the biggest moments in the war against the Yeerks happens in an abandoned construction site on Earth, with five human children as witnesses. Elfangor probably isn’t arrogant enough to think he’s a big moment, but to the yeerks, to the andalites, to the animorphs, he is. So really, of course, the biggest moment in the war was before visser three landed and showed the animorphs what elfangor meant. It was when a dying alien crash-landed in front of a bunch of mall rats who should’ve taken the long way home.

#got a little carried away as usual. but man. this book sets the stakes #and I know andalite chronicles almost certainly wasn’t planned at this point #but it kind of adds to Esplin’s flair for dramatics. He knows this is a huge moment #and to treat elfangor like he knows him only by reputation gives the moment more. He acknowledges he’s great - downplays it sure #but it’s not the time for bringing up past failures. they’re both heroes of their armies so he makes sure everyone watching knows #this is a big moment. he’s the one with the power but this is no ordinary warrior that’s been brought down #way too many thoughts sorry #animorphs spoilers #in case anyone is on their first read #animorphs #animorphs book club

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lemonlover1110 · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 17] Father and Son

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru tries to make up for the past four years of Ren’s life in a matter of weeks. His focus drastically changes, from his work to his son. He ignores the matter of so many people knowing before him, he avoids his mother and his so-called friends. His main and only priority is his son.

You both wish you could say that your relationship has gotten better, but you don’t really speak to each other unless it’s about the son you share. You’re hopeless that it’ll progress past what you have. Neither of you have the courage to bring up the situation, either way, your attention should be on Ren.

Ren is finally meeting the man that he’s been dreaming of, and he’s getting to know his father after four years. You’re mostly excited for your son, while also regretting hiding it when you had the chance to tell him. Your relationship is the last thing on your mind– It’s certainly the last thing in Satoru’s mind.

He visits daily, bearing many gifts for his son. Satoru has become a regular at the toy store, buying something each day for his son, something that he thinks Ren would like. He hopes that material stuff will make up for the time wasted. Sometimes he brings some candy, but he doesn’t do it often. Satoru is still his father, he can’t just spoil him rotten, he also has to care for Ren’s wellbeing. He’s slowly growing accustomed to becoming a parent.

“What’s this, Ren?” Satoru holds up a cute white cat plush, one that Satoru always finds on the bed. He wonders if that’s the toy his son has had ever since he was a baby, he guesses it is since Satoru feels like he’s seen it in the background of a picture before.

“It’s whiskers.” Ren answers, taking the plush from his father and putting it back on the bed. That’s before he turns to other matters. Ren doesn’t mind sharing his toys (because you’ve been the one raising him), but whiskers is someone that Ren doesn’t like anyone touching. Anyone and anything can get the toy dirty, and when that happens, you refuse to let the toy on the bed, at least not before you wash it and get it clean again.

Satoru doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the plush that he sleeps with, because that’s most certainly a yes. Ren wants to talk about other important matters though so Satoru gives his undivided attention to his son. Ren then asks, “Are you sleeping over?”

“Uhm… No.” Satoru answers. You most certainly wouldn’t want that. Plus, Satoru has a wife at home who has her suspicions that something is going on. He doubts that she’ll care too much, but he wants to keep Ren protected from the world. If Sayo finds out, so does her family, and if her family knows, the whole world will know. “But I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Ren.”

“I want you to stay.” Ren sticks out his bottom lip, obviously disappointed that his father isn’t staying for the night. You let him on your bed all the time and you sleep together, why can’t he do the same thing with his father? Satoru can’t help but feel bad, so he thinks of how to respond to cheer him up.

You commented how you had plans of going on a small trip with Ren before summer ended, but summer evidently has come to an end. It’s colder now and the leaves are changing color. Satoru finally decides, “We can go on a trip soon, and we’ll be together all day every day.”

“Really?” The little boy’s eyes light up, making the biggest smile come to Satoru’s lips. Satoru now wonders how he was ever happy without him– Well, with you… But that memory slowly fades away since your relationship is now filled with awkwardness. Satoru nods his head in response. He can lie and make it a business trip, it’s not an issue for him really.

“We’ll have to talk to your mommy first, honey. Then we can plan it all.” Satoru answers, and Ren turns around to go look for you. Satoru feels awkward sitting alone on a bed that’s far too low and small for him. He stands up and follows Ren. They both look for you around the apartment until they land in your bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, and Ren immediately knows what to do.

Ren opens the door to the bathroom, and you immediately make eye contact with Satoru. Your face grows hot of embarrassment, and obviously Ren doesn’t see an issue with it. Ren’s issue is when he actually steps into the bathroom, and he just has to comment, “It stinks.”

“Yeah, I wonder why. Get out, Ren, and close the door!” You raise your voice, your embarrassment getting the best of you. Ren closes the door, leaving you to it, and Satoru chuckles. He ruffles Ren’s hair as both walk out of your bedroom.

“You gotta learn how to knock, baby. Give your mommy some privacy.” Satoru says, but it goes one ear out the other. Ren isn’t going to knock, you’re his mommy. If you want your privacy you better lock the door. They take a seat in the living room, where Ren grabs the remote to put on a movie. He knows how to get the movie he wants, even when he’s just learning how to read and spell.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks, wondering where his son wants to go. Ren drops the remote on the couch, putting his tiny index finger on his chin, humming and tilting his head to the side as he thinks of the answer.

“The beach.” Ren answers, but it’s cold. They can go out of the country though, go somewhere warm. He needs to talk to you first, of course. When you finally walk out of your bedroom (after mentally cursing your son for not having any manners when others are around), you go to the living room to see what they needed.

“What did you need, Ren?” You ask, and he looks excitedly at you. Satoru is the one that speaks up for him though,

“We want to go on a trip, can we?” You almost laugh since Satoru sounds like a hopeful child.

“Where are you two going?” You respond. You can’t really say no because Satoru is supposed to have equal authority as Ren’s father.

“Ren wants to go to the beach.” Satoru answers, Ren nodding in agreement. You cross your arms, your brows furrowing.

“It’s too cold to go to the beach, do you not have any other place in mind?” You point out, making Ren pout. The pout doesn’t last long though since Satoru says,

“We can go to another country. Somewhere warm with better beaches.” You’re certainly not convinced since you doubt you’re part of the plan. You’re not letting your baby boy in another country without you– Well, technically he’d be with his father, but you’re still not convinced. Until Satoru says, “Of course, you’re included! I doubt Ren would go anywhere without you.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ren affirms, and you laugh.

“If you plan everything, then sure. We can go on a trip. You need to give me time off though– Paid time.” You say, and Satoru nods in response. He does pretty much everything you ask of him, and you certainly can’t complain about it. Ren focuses on putting on one of his favorite movies, and you begin to walk to the kitchen, asking, “Are you staying for dinner, Satoru?”

“Yeah.” Satoru answers. He’d definitely rather eat here with his son and you than dine alone at home. He helps Ren put the movie on, and they both begin to watch the movie. He’s watched this movie around five times the past week, and to be honest, Satoru is sick of it. But he’ll watch it because Ren loves it.

He’s grateful when you call his name, and he has to tell Ren that you need him, so he can’t stay to watch the movie. Satoru walks to the kitchen, and he finds you trying to reach something that’s far too high for you. Satoru’s eyes land on the white bowl and he reaches for it before handing it to you. You mutter a thank you, and you expect him to go back to Ren, but he doesn’t. You then tell him, “That’s all I need from you, you can go.”

“Do you need help with anything else? You know I love Ren but… I’m sick of that movie.” Satoru answers, earning a chuckle from you. You think about what he can do for a moment, and he patiently waits for you to answer.

“You can make the salad, and then set the table.” You respond, and you think you’ll regret it for a moment. Satoru has had everything done for him, he probably doesn’t know how to cut a cucumber; but then you remember that he lived alone for some time, he had to cook for himself for a while. Satoru immediately gets to work, opening the fridge to get all the vegetables that he needs. He looks around the cabinets and drawers for the cutting board and knife, and he quietly begins to cut the vegetables.

“Have you talked to Shoko?” Satoru asks, washing the lettuce throughout. Pretty much everything is wrong between the two of you, but you can’t just stand in awkward silence every single day. You have to talk to each other, after all, you doubt you’ll stop seeing each other.

“I haven’t. I’m not going to for a while.” You reply. In Satoru’s eyes, she did nothing wrong. He’s glad that Shoko told him, otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be with Ren. But in a sense, he understands why you don’t want to talk to her. “Tell her to stop calling my phone because I’m not going to answer. I’ll call her when I’m ready.”

“I’m not really talking to her either.” He responds.

“Is it because she has the hots for your wife?” You blurt out, and you bite your tongue the moment the words leave your lips. Satoru’s brows raise, definitely surprised by your words. You can’t be serious, can you? Before he can ask more questions about it, you change the topic, “Speaking of… When are you going to tell Sayo about Ren? She’s your wife, she has to find out eventually.”

“Maybe after our trip… I’m not sure how to tell her.” Satoru shares, and you understand that it’s a tough situation. He has to figure out a way to tell his wife of almost five years that he had a kid that’s almost five– And he never cheated, he just found out about him. This was all before their marriage. It’s definitely hard. Satoru clears his throat, mustering up the courage to ask about Suguru, someone else that he has been ignoring. “So… How are you and Suguru? Are you still seeing each other?”

“We’ve been busy, but we’re still… Talking.” You answer. You won’t lie and say that you don’t feel nauseous every time you talk to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest for the simple fact that you lied to him. He has to find out that you lied eventually. “Have you talked to him?”

“I’m not talking to him. I’ve been ignoring him. I’ve been ignoring everyone.” Satoru responds. He puts the knife down, watching you as you begin to cook. He bites down his lip, holding back on saying a couple of things that are on his mind. About this situation, about you and Suguru, maybe an apology. Satoru has been a complete mess with so many things going in his mind, but not voicing any of them. He does have to ask one question though, “Is Ren the reason why you quit school?”

“Yeah…” You feel embarrassed to say it. “I couldn’t afford both. It was either my baby or school, and that was an easy choice.”

“Sorry…” He mutters, and it’s barely audible but you hear it. You don’t really pay attention to it, in the end it was your decision. Given the option, you’d do it all over again.

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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checkeredflagggs · 4 months ago

Text

The Story of Us: Chapter 6

pairing: logan sargeant x famous!fem!singer

summary: logan and you have been keeping a secret from everyone but it might be time for it to come out

a/n: while I do my best on most of my works to be race neutral, this one is very very very self indulgent 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: this is part 6 of 7, which will be released when they’re finished and I’m using pretty much everything from Taylor Swift

a/n4: all this was supposed to be in part 5 but everyone got really chatty in the text messages…also you can blame @sinofwriting for the cliffhanger, they encouraged me 😈😈

GO READ PART 5 FIRST!!

Masterlist | Taglist

logansargeant

liked by y/n, georgerussell63, oscarpiastri, and 1,992,813 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: I find myself running home to your sweet nothings…you’ve been such a large part of my entire life, I don’t think I’d be able to recognize myself without you. This is just a small thing really (especially compared to everything you’ve done for me) but thank you y/n for being my constant support, for being by my side, for being my biggest cheerleader, supporter, defender…for years you’ve watched me chase my dreams and now that I get to have you actually in my corner while I do it? A dream come true

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user1: ok who’s cutting onions

↳user2: I knnnnnoooowwwww 😭😭😭

↳user1: who knew Florida boy could be so romantic…

oscarpiastri: yeah we’re all asking for you to stop raising the bar thanks

↳logansargeant: not a chance

↳y/n: just get on our level

↳oscarpiastri: why am I friend with you guys again

↳logansargeant: we grew on you like mold

↳user3: this trio is something I didn’t know I needed…

user4: so so so glad mother has a man who knows her worth

↳user5: right?? He’s a good one

user6: he’s getting love songs sung about him and writing such lovely things back…google how to be Logan Sargeant?

↳user7: this!!

↳user8: I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

alex_albon: I didn’t know you had such a poetic soul Logan…

↳logansargeant: for y/n? Of course I do liked by y/n

↳alex_albon: oh you’re gonna be a mushy one aren’t you…

↳oscarpiastri: you really have no idea

jensonbutton: first congrats kid! But y/n? How’d you pull that one off?

↳logansargeant: me? I had nothing to do with it. Y/N is the mastermind in this relationship!

↳y/n: you knew all along what I was doing

↳logansargeant: and I wouldn’t change anything

↳y/n: neither would I!

↳jensonbutton: oh go be gross somewhere else please

↳y/n: why? Afraid of looking bad?

↳user9: love that we’re getting catty y/n interacting with the gird now! liked by logansargeant

y/n: oh my lovely Logan…there isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be than supporting you

↳logansargeant: have I mentioned I love you lately?

↳y/n: not in the last 10 minutes at least!

↳logansargeant: You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.

↳y/n: Mr. Darcy and donuts? A+++

↳user10: he got you donuts?

↳y/n: he did!

↳user11: where can I get my own Logan?? liked by y/n

Bluesky

Logan’s Email

williamsracing

liked by y/n, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, user and 2,982,915 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon, oscarpiastri

williamsracing: Team Torque is back at it this week! This time it’s all about relationships, both on and off track, with special guest Oscar Piastri!

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user12: god this is everything I ever needed

user13: this is Logan —> 😍😍

user14: oh my god what happened? I can’t get the episode to load…

↳user15: so much ngl you are missing a lot! But most of it was the boys publicly simping for their girlfriends (like 95% of was talking about how amazing their girls are)

↳user16: as they should!

↳user15: oh I’m not arguing! But also Logan talked a lot about y/n’s love songs and how they came to be

↳user14: oh my god I’M MISSING THAT???

↳user15: I’ll dm you don’t worry

user17: ok but love story being written while they were at a cousins summer wedding?

↳user18: that’s just perfect…

↳user14: really 🥺🥺??

↳user17: yes! It was one of y/n’s cousins wedding and she brought Logan as a guest. He woke her up one night by throwing small pebbles at her window

↳user17: one of her relatives caught them running around after their curfew and they had to sneak around together after that cause they were ‘grounded’

↳user14: that's just 😍😊🥰

↳user17: right? Finally y/n’s parents got involved and let them out of their restrictive ‘grounding’

↳user14: how are they so romcom???

user19: I was right on choosing enchanted as my favorite

↳user14: spill!

↳user19: 😂😂 Logan snuck into one of y/n’s sponser’s? Partners? party (Idk Logan was kinda vague on whose party it was) to see her

↳user19: it was a masquerade but y/n recognized him immediately and they spent all night dancing with each other

↳user19: this was during y/n’s first big tour and they hadn’t seen each other in a while and Logan says they were both worried about how strong the relationship actually was with the distance

↳user19: that’s why the song asks who he loves and she’s asking for it to be the beginning not the end

↳user19: she apparently wrote it that night after the party and released it within the week

↳user14: everything I learn from this episode (WHICH I STILL CANT WATCH WIFI YOU SUCK) just gives me all the feels

user20: user14 mine was another song talked about and I guess it was one of the last ones wrote for the album and it was written on the floor of their new apartment

↳user14: gimme gimme gimme

↳user20: 🤣

↳user20: not much more to know — she bought them an apartment shortly after her 17th birthday (her family moved back to Florida) and they had some friction when they were actually living together

↳user20: apparently they had an argument, she ran out the door, and he followed right after her

↳user14: 🙏 WiFi please. Please. I need to actually watch this

user21: ok but my favorite part was Oscar laughing at Logan when Alex brought up All Too Well (10 Minute Version)

↳user21: user14 Alex brought up that song because it really talks about like a bad unhealthy relationship and a bad breakup and toxicity…

↳user21: Logan almost burst a lung laughing (seriously it’s like 2/3 minutes of it) but he finally manages to calm down and explain

↳user21: apparently she wrote it at a restaurant while waiting for him because he got held up in traffic

↳user14: seriously??

↳user21: yup! He had had to make an emergency stop because he saw some kittens on the side of the road and his phone was dead

↳user21: so she was waiting on him on their anniversary and he was making a stop at the vets to make sure the kittens were all healthy

↳user21: he made it right before she got in her car to leave and he like ran over to her car with a kitten in one hand and petal-less flowers in the other

↳user21: she polished up and released the song and it’s like an inside joke between them now

↳user14: are you serious??? One of the most heartbreaking songs is a joke for them??

↳user21: yup 😂😂

logansargeant

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 3,293,916 others

tagged: y/n

logansargeant: that feeling when your girlfriend gets the entire MetLife Stadium to wish you luck from the other side of the world

Thank you everyone for the well wishes!

view all comments

user22: you got this Logan! Monaco will be good to you

↳user23: it better be!

y/n: all the well wishes and best of luck my love!

↳logansargeant: I’ll win it for you babe

↳user24: winning in THAT Williams is definitely a true declaration of love liked by y/n

oscarpiastri: wait where’s my well wishes??

↳logansargeant: how about you get a world famous girlfriend first then ask that question?

↳lilyzneimer: hey!

↳logansargeant: nothing against you lily of course!

↳y/n: be nice to lily Logan!

↳logansargeant: I am! I’m just trying to make fun of Oscar

↳y/n: well that’s ok then!

↳oscarpiastri: hey! Liked by lilyzneimer, y/n, logansargeant

charles_leclerc: what a beautiful moment

↳y/n: don’t worry Charles! We’ll wish you luck tonight

↳carlossainz55: Please dont worry about him — he’ll respond later. He just straight up fainted first

↳y/n: 😂😂

user25: go prove Williams wrong Logan!

↳user26: am I the only one that thinks something fishy is happening with Williams?

↳user25: oh absolutely not. I know it’s only been a week since y/n and Logan went official but they haven’t capitalized on it at all

↳user27: it doesn’t have to mean anything? They’re probably just as shocked as us

↳user25: oh mark my words. Something fishy is up

Bluesky

user28: they are Not wrong

↳user29: man those free practices were awful

user30: James Vowles I’m in your fucking walls

↳user31: fuck his walls I’m chasing after him with a goddamn bat

↳user32: start treating Logan with respect! jv.f1

user33: Seriously vowles?? Logan has brought you more points this season than Alex??

↳user34: right?

↳user35: this is only Logan’s second season (in a WILLIAMS) and he’s already outperforming his more experienced teammate!

↳user33: ALL GOOD POINTS jv.f1

user36: jv.f1 DO BETTER

↳user37: THEY ARE BOTH YOUR DRIVERS TREAT THEM THE SAME

user38: jv.f1 go get an attitude adjustment

↳user39: we’re the Captains now and we say fucking treat your drivers as people jv.f1

↳user40: that’s fucking right

see more comments

y/n_gossip

liked by y/n, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 3,724,618 others

tagged: logansargeant, alex_albon

y/n_gossip: another Team Torque episode came out! And it’s still all about y/n!

view all comments

user41: another one so soon???

↳logansargeant: tbh we got bored 😂

user42: y/n is really hosting a dinner party for everyone?

↳logansargeant: she is! She’s really excited to actually meet everyone I’ve been talking about

↳user42: that’s so precious

oscarpiastri: Lily has been talking nonstop since y/n texted her

↳logansargeant: y/n is also really excited

↳user43: the fomo I have right now…

alex_albon: raise your hand if this is the only thing you’ve heard about recently? 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳carlossainz55: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳charles_leclerc: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳maxverstappen1: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳danielricciardo: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳pierregasly: 🙋🏼‍♂️

↳georgerussell63: 🙋🏻‍♂️

↳landonorris: 🙋🏼‍♂️

user44: ok but what are the chances of everyone going to the tour again beforehand?

↳user48: highly likely I’m guessing

↳lilymhe: oh it’s happening!

↳charles_leclerc: oui

y/n_gossip

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 778,445 others

tagged: pierregasly, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, carmenmmundt, aussiegrit

y/n_gossip: it’s Philadelphia night 1! We know from the recent Team Torque episode that most of the grid were planning on going to the tour again ahead of the Montreal race this weekend!

view all comments

user49: I saw Lando, Max F, Max V, and Danny Ric arrive!

↳user50: what I wouldn’t give…

user51: my sister managed to get a picture with the Haasbands!

↳user52: I did! And I traded bracelets with them 💜💜

oscarpiastri: definitely an experience

↳logansargeant: sorry you got left with Lando!

↳landonorris: I wasn’t that bad!

↳maxverstappen1: you absolutely were

alex_albon: the friendship bracelet trading business is very serious…

↳user54: of course it is!

↳logansargeant: y/n is loving it!

↳user55: you gave her our bracelets?

↳logansargeant: gave? No no no — I earned those bracelets. But she does have a collection of them and she loves seeing people trade them!

↳user55: omg 😳

user56: this is still the best thing happening this year…

↳user57: it really really is

y/n

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 13,294,638 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/n: Montreal you were so beautiful…congratulations on the podium Logan, it was certainly well earned!

view all comments

logansargeant: you are clearly my lucky charm and I’m going to need you to come to all my races from now on

↳y/n: as often as I can and as soon as my tour ends, my love!

↳user58: I want what you guys have…

oscarpiastri: what a race mate!

↳logansargeant: thanks dude!

↳oscarpiastri: such an American…

↳logansargeant: you knew that already!

user59: what an amazing fucking race today Logan!

↳user60: I have no idea what f1 is but go Logan!

↳user61: I’m living for the new formula 1 fans…

↳user60: it’s been fun learning! So far most everyone has been really nice and welcoming!

↳user62: the more the merrier!

alex_albon: good job Logan!

↳logansargeant: congrats to you too! P6!

↳alex_albon: 🎊 🥳🥳 definitely been a Williams weekend!

user63: and still jv.f1 can’t be actually happy can he???

↳user64: oh good I’m glad someone else caught it!

user65: jv.f1 be happy for both of your drivers challenge failed!

Bluesky

user66: please be a new chief engineer!

user67: Adrien Newey to Williams?!?

user68: dare I say…new team principal??

↳user69: you dared. And you did…

↳user68: come on! I can’t be the only one thinking it!

↳user69: oh no you’re not…just that I would never say it

user70: watch it just be new liverly or something

↳user71: that’s not big changes…

lilymhe posted a story, iamrebeccad posted a story, francisca.cgomes posted a story

[getting ready for dinner! @.y/n][an amazing hug a day keeps the doctor away @.y/n][the best grwm are with best friends @.flavy.barla @.y/n]

alex_albon replied are you gonna be done literally any time soon?

↳lilymhe I’m getting to know my new best friend. Leave us alone

user72 replied so so so jealous

user73 replied you went from creepy flirting to closed friends so fast…tell me your ways

carlossainz55 replied taking notes 📝

↳iamrebeccad not your hugs — just hers!

↳carlossainz55 corazón…

user74 replied I don’t know who to be more jealous of…

user75 replied which star did you wish upon?

pierregasly replied you’re still not ready?

↳francisca.cgomes you can’t rush perfection…

↳pierregasly I’m not rushing y/n…I’m rushing you!

↳francisca.cgomes you’re sleeping on the couch tonight

user76 replied I’m gonna need a full YouTube video on this grwm…

user77 replied Netflix get in there stat

user78 replied who all is there getting ready for the dinner???

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story, lilyzneimer posted a story, yoursister posted a story

[cheers 🥂 to new friends @.y/n][ready for night out on the town @.y/n, @.carmenmmundt][what a night…thanks for the invite @.y/n]

charles_leclerc replied 🥂🥂

↳alexandrasaintmleux she’s so lovely Charles…

↳charles_leclerc you both are Mon amour

user79 replied how the turntables…

user80 replied ok let’s just switch lives right now…

oscarpiastri replied finally!

↳lilyzneimer don’t you dare try to rush us Oscar! We’ll get there when we get there!

↳oscarpiastri we could have already been done with dinner if you guys were on time!

↳lilyzneime: leave us alone!

user81 replied you guys are all so pretty…

user82 replied absolutely stunning

y/n replied thanks for coming Lily…I didn’t even understand myself how nice it would be to have a friend when meeting everyone

↳lilyzneimer of course! And don’t worry — they already said they’d be on their best behavior…

↳y/n 😂😂

y/n replied now stop whining! I took you to a race and to a fancy dinner

↳yoursister no! Now I wanna go shopping! And to Silverstone! And Vegas!

↳y/n fine to the shopping, maybe to Silverstone, and you have to ask mom for permission for Vegas

↳yoursister you’re no fun!

↳y/n that’s me! The no fun sister

logansargeant replied thanks for coming — y/n was worried about meeting everyone and I know you coming with us helped her a lot

↳yoursister of course! Invite me to more places and events!

↳logansargeant Vegas is up to your mom

↳yoursister damn it

user83 replied now that’s a slumber party I want to be invited to…

user84 replied the fomo…

user85 replied no pictures of the actual dinner??

logansargeant

liked by y/n, landonorris, estebanocon and 2,97,455 others

logansargeant: dinner was lovely. Thanks to everyone who came!

view all comments

y/n: thanks for helping me out this all together Logan!

↳logansargeant: anything for you sweetie

user86: damn she really got the entire grid to come…

↳user87: not only the current grid but past members AND the reserves and academy drivers too?

↳user88: the power she has…

charles_leclerc: it was a lovely dinner! Thank you y/n and logansargeant!

↳y/n: thanks for coming!

↳charles_leclerc: I wouldn’t have missed it

oscarpiastri: such a great evening! Thanks y/n

↳y/n: anything for my favorite Aussie

↳aussiegrit: me?

↳y/n: no

↳danielricciardo: me?

↳y/n: close but sorry

↳oscarpiastri: what do you mean close???

↳y/n: Danny didn’t spend years thinking he was Logan’s best friend! liked by logansargeant, danielricciardo

user74: ok I know who to be jealous of…

↳user89: all of them?

↳user74: all of them!

user90: I would kill all of you to be at that dinner

↳user91: extreme but I understand

lewishamilton: it was lovely to meet you y/n 🖤

↳y/n: same! And our conversation was enlightening!

↳user92: XNDA collab?!?

Bluesky

user93: you better say sike right now

user94: this is obviously a joke

user95: they can’t be talking about y/n and Logan right??

↳user96: they better not be!

user97: he’s done better then Alex has this entire season!!!

↳user98: I’m going to riot if this is true…

↳user99: you better check Williams social right now oh my god

Bluesky

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala--67 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @theendofthematerialgworl @angstyntasty

368 notes · View notes

soapybutt17 · 1 year ago

Text

The Doctor Is In

Summary: Simon was not one to look to get himself involved with women that was also part of his line of work. May it be women also in the field or anyone working in the background. But somehow, even he would eat his words at times as he was now dealing with the fact that he is far too enormed with the infamous doctor in scrubs that liked her coffee with tons of sugar and a dash of cream who also happens to be the little sister of his ever gruff of a Captain, John Price. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Price!Female!Reader Word Count: 3,958 Chapter Warnings: General Chaos. Sibling Bantering. Unedited. Lol. Author's Note: for @glitterypirateduck;s #Ghost Challenge Scenarios:

Soft Simon

A Kiss on the inside of the wrist

"They are right behind me, aren't they?"

You're Price's sister

Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

“You good?”

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley was a big tough man, but in your care, with your touch he was the biggest baby. If he knew you would be the one attending to any injuries he might accumulate during missions, he would showcase each and every single wound or bruise he might have in his entire body, some imaginary ones to just to prolong his time with you. You knew as much and you enjoyed the fraction of time you get to spend time with him because of it.

“Just one thing left.” Simon finds himself answering, eyes peering along the now empty medical room. When the coast was clear, he had lifted his mask halfway off to showcase his lips. “You missed a spot, Love.” He smirked, full of himself at this point.

“You’re impossible, Riley.” You rolled your eyes making your way to the door and locking it just for safe measures before making your way towards him.

Arms rested on his shoulder before you pull him in for a kiss. Simon has had his fair share of kisses in his life, some memorable and some that he wished never to remember, but nothing could truly compare to your kiss, your lips were soft and tasted so much of the coffee that he was certain filled your veins. Overly sweet with a hint of cream—just like what you always want in your coffee. It was you and he would not have it any other way.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Smirking into your lips as you left out a surprised yelp for him as he continued to consume you with his lips. He took everything from you in that moment, your voice, your breath, and your bloody sanity as you moaned further into his kiss.

The sound of the knock on the door and the voice of his Captain had you pulling away and fixing yourself up from his lap. You glared at Simon then even with shit eating grin on his lips as he finally pulled his mask back on as you opened the door to the sight of his Captain—and your older brother.

“What is it now, John?” You questioned your brother and to this day it still amazed him how easy you could return back to this little character of professionalism to anyone that might come your way—even after the make out session that just occurred between the two of you.

“Wanted to check if Ghost would be indispensable for the time being?” Price inquired turning his attention away from you and right back to Simon that was still seated on the chair, didn’t even bother with the pleasantries.

“All cleared, just double checking for any hidden wounds he might have under his sleeves.” You answered turning your attention towards Simon too. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Doc.” He nodded. A good thing he has his mask on with the smirk resting on his face.

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” You spoke turning towards your own brother now. “Both of you.”

That was Simon’s cue to stand in his full height, he looked right down at you. A knowing was shared between the two of you before he followed his Captain out of the room.

“Bloody woman thinks she could boss the both of us around.” Price muttered under his breath as the both of them walked away from the medical area of the base.

“She does, you know.” Simon supplied.

“Whose fucking side are you on, Lieutenant?”

“Happy Doctor, happy soldier.” Simon shrugged knowing how true that statement truly was.

You tried your best to comb your hair after the mess that one Simon Riley had caused your current state and your entire life to be more specific. You were uncertain how and when this relationship with the Lieutenant had started but you had decided since then that it wasn’t something you’d want to deal with knowing anymore.

You were happy with this relationship with the man and that was more than enough and what was important.

“Will you be bringin’ that boyfriend of yours home for Mum’s birthday?”

You practically jumped at the voice of your brother. You turned, glaring at the man and slapping him on the arm for surprising you. This was what you hated about him, even with how different your lives has turned out him being a man that took lives if the circumstance was needed and you being the person that save lives whatever means necessary—he felt no separation between the two of you because of it. It only your sibling relationship with him grow stronger. You trusted him as much as he trusted you with his own life. It’s just too bad that you had your own secrets you weren’t so ready to admit to him just yet—or if ever.

“Who said I had a boyfriend?” You quipped subtly trying to fix the shirt you had on.

“I think the hickeys and the whispers around base is indicator enough you are seeing someone on base.” He spoke calmly, but you know him enough to understand that he was anything but calm.

He was being an overprotective older brother.

“John.”

“I want to know the name before you even think about letting the family know about him.”

You raised a brow at him, unfazed by the underlying threat in his words. You weren’t scare of his threats and you were more certainly sure that neither would Simon be. You were both consenting adults and were more than certain that whatever relationship you might have would never affect your work.

“No.” You answered.

“No?”

“What is it with men and not understanding the word no?”

“Give me a name.” He repeated.

“Really John?” You looked at him in disbelief. “Will this be the hill you die on, Jonathan?” You questioned him.

“You are my sister and you are the sister of the Captain of the Taskforce. What goes in this base is my problem.”

“I will cut you off for less, John. Do not make me do so.” You warned him, walking away from him without giving him even a single about the identity of the man.

But you knew your brother, you know him well enough to understand that he would not heed into your warning, instead finding himself getting his most trusted men involved. Little did he know that one of his most trusted man was the very person they were looking for.

“You really sure you’re not set on letting your brother know?” Simon had inquired the moment he had arrived in your apartment—shared apartment now that you both decided he could move in here on a more permanent basis.

“And give him the satisfaction of me agreeing with him? No.” You answered already handing him his tea. “And I love see him suffer from time to time.” You grinned knowing that Simon was getting bolder with the hickeys and making your brother more agitated.

“One of this days, a bullet would be placed on my head because of you.” He granted pulling off his mask and pulling you in for a kiss, a welcome home kiss. “Hi, Love.”

“Hi, Handsome.” You smiled, rubbing his chest before pulling away and plopping down onto the sofa with your boyfriend following besides you, his free arm wrapped around your waist. “Any new gossip I need to hear about?” You inquired.

“Your brother is zoning in on some poor private and I am washing my hands from whatever shit he has planned for the bastard.” Simon muttered taking a sip of his tea.

“You really have the actual balls to join him on this witch hunt?” You snorted knowing the man wasn’t innocent in all of this.

Your brother trusted every single one of the main members of his taskforce—Simon most especially, but to have him be the very man he was haunting down was just ironic for so many reason.

“Until you tell me otherwise.” He admits. “And I think it’s good to have me cleaning my tracks when I can along the way.” He pointed out.

You nodded, diabolic this man was when he wants to be.

“I wanted to ask…” You trailed off remembering the conversation you just had with your mother before he got home. “My Mum is inviting me and my secret boyfriend for her birthday and I wanted to know if you’d want to join or not?”

You looked at him more intently now. It was a subject you didn’t truly want to have with him especially when you had both decided to begin your relationship. But at the same time, it’s just been a long time coming. You loved your family, but you wanted to set a new boundary when it comes to your boyfriend and how he would be comfortable with interacting with your family going forward—especially when it comes to his past.

“If you’d have me, then I’d love to go.”

You smiled kissing him on the cheeks.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to force you into anything you are not comfortable with.”

“As long as you can promise me that your brother wouldn’t place a bullet in my head, then I don’t think we’d have much of a problem.”

“Can’t promise that, I’m sorry.” You giggled but knowing the worry was all the more lingering in you at the possibility. “You think if I bring Johnny and Gaz along, it wouldn’t be as awkward?”

“I’d actually like that.”

Simon Riley did not fear anything in his life—well, he had a few that were more irrational than anything. But something that he truly feared in this moment was the fact that he would be meeting his girlfriend’s family—who one-third of the member wasn’t so much of a stranger to him. His superior, more specifically.

“You alright?” In the car ride from your shared apartment to your childhood home, the question was almost like a broken record in your lips. Always ensuring his comfort and safety when you could.

“I’m fine.” Simon tried to reassure, hand tighten around your own. Both of you stood in front of your childhood home, a home he was certain held so much good memory of yours—something he never truly had in his own.

“Fucking hell you two, you beat us here!”

He pulled his hand away from your own as the sound of an all too familiar Scot’s arrival. Soap and Gaz had arrived as late as the two of you had. He wondered if to this day the two have yet to know about him and you being in a relationship even with the few unintentional slip ups.

“I drove that’s why.” You had quipped immediately wrapping an arm around Gaz’s waist with a smile. “What took you two so long?” You inquired.

The duo lifted a gift wrapped box on each of their hands. A playful smile resting on their faces.

“Can’t join a birthday party without a gift for the Mum.” Soap explained all too proudly.

Simon looked back at you, a playful eye roll escaping before you had pulled away from Gaz to finally open the door to your childhood home. The smell of food consuming him and making it all the more evident that he hasn’t even had breakfast because of his nerves for being here.

“Darling!” A older version of you stepped out of the kitchen. She was shorter but was a spitting image of you that scared him for a moment. “And you brought friends too!”

He watched you wrap your mother into a tight hug before ushering everyone into the living room to the sight of your father that was a spitting image of the Captain and the Captain himself surprised by the sight of not only him, but as well as Soap and Gaz.

“What are you Muppets doing here?” John questioned, it spoken to be amused by his tone, but the look on his eyes was showing something else instead. He was hiding his annoyance from the looks of it.

“I invited them, John.” You were quick to answer hand holding onto Simon’s own.

“I’m surprised you didn’t invite that plaything of your instead.”

That certainly hit a nerve out of you but you were quick to wear a smirk on your face.

“I brought three of them.” You quipped right back in the same breath that your parents began scolding your brother for his words.

“Why don’t you introduce your friends?” The Head of the Price household had interrupted what he was certain would be a cat and mouse fight between siblings.

You did just that, introducing Soap and Gaz fairly easily before your attention solely turned to him and what would now be the very reason why this small celebration for your mother’s birthday would turn to the worse.

“And this is Simon Riley—my boyfriend.”

“WHAT?” All three heads turned to you in question even in the delight and humor that laced in both of your parents’ face. This was the first time that you had introduced a boyfriend to them from how they talked.

“Let’s eat. It’s a good thing I made food for an army—pun intended for this.” Your mother insisted, dragging both you and Simon along as an excuse to help her with setting the table for everyone else.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Simon.” Your mother explicitly states handing him the plates to set up the table. “And I’m happy to see my daughter happy again.”

Those words shot straight to his heart. He did his best on most days, if you weren’t patching up his injuries, you were the comfort he had in the nightmares of his past. He never thought that you would be happy with someone like him—sometimes he even wonders why you would be with someone like him.

“She makes me happy too.” Simon admits, the blush was all too present in both of your faces at his little admission.

“When can I begin expecting grandbabies then?”

“Mother!” You were quick to protest, the blush on your face grew deeper.

You’ve just moved in together, began a routine for yourselves, a child might not be in the picture just yet.

“Maybe marriage first, Ma’am.” He placates instead.

“Call me Mum, Darling. You are now part of our family.” Your Mum spoke and the way his heart tighten almost had him in tears.

It’s been years since he had his Mum in his life and how easy it was for her to give him such a privilege. He will put a ring on your finger one day. He already knew when or how, it was just the opportunity to deal with everything else that he needed to fix beforehand.

“Thank you—Mum.” He whispered his eyes glazed turning away and focusing with setting the plates on the table, hiding away the tears that were fighting to fall as you began arguing with your mother about such things so early on in your relationship.

“Your brother and that girlfriend of his are taking it too slow and if I can’t have him give me grandbabies, you might have hope before me and your father are long gone?”

“Girlfriend?” Simon smirked at that. Your brother, his Captain had been so deadset in the secret relationship you had but somehow he had his own secret that was unintentionally spilled.

The pot calling the kettle black.

“I don’t understand it with you kids this days. You’re both already showing a few grey hairs, but no kids. You two will be the death of me.” Your mother continued to rant playfully as one mother does and you were left to just deal with it.

He wasn’t much help, the revelation of the Captain hiding his own girlfriend was still had him reeling in at the moment it was something he will be making good use of if the need arises—which would be today now that the cat was out of the bag.

Your mother announced it was time for lunch and immediately the rest of the men was barreling into the dining room. He could feel the intensity in the eyes of his Captain but you were quick to pulling him besides you, as far away from the man and his peripheral.

“So how long have you known each other?” It was your father that finally broken the ice of the little secret Simon was keeping with his daughter.

“When he first stumbled onto the infirmary with an open bullet wound to the shoulder.” You answered without a hitch.

“Where are your table manners?” Price immediately retorts.

“Oh shut up, we fucking talked about worst.” You quipped right back not taking your brother’s shit.

“Children.” Your father’s voice was quick to stop the banter that was about to come between the siblings. “Behave, we have guests.”

That was quick to halt the two siblings from their argument.

“Now, once this meal is over, I would like to talk to you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Simon was quick to answer realizing it wasn’t his Captain that he needed to actually worry about, it was your father that would do so much worse.

Lunch would be any longer as Simon now finds himself in the garden with you trying and failing to convince your own father not to go through with his talk with Simon and your own brother giddy and wanting to join in on the mess.

“Inside. Now.” Your father’s voice boomed had both you and the Captain running with your tails between your legs back inside the house. Who would have ever thought that at your ages, you both still feared your father?

“Now, where were we?” The man smiled, a sheer contrast of him in front of his own children only moments ago. “I’ve learned so much about you from my son, how much he cares for you after your own past.”

Simon was left wordless wondering why his Captain would even think it was a good idea to ever tell anyone else about his life. He had no right whatsoever, as a captain, a friend, nor the brother of his girlfriend.

“My son, he might not show it as much as he cares for you lot and he treats you like his own sons without even realizing it.” He chuckled and it irked him why he would continue this conversation.

“And I know for a fact that my son would not place you on his team and his circle if you weren’t good at your job and a genuinely good person.” The man’s smile slowly fell as he got more serious with his words. “But I want you to also know that if you even think about hurting my daughter in any shape, way, or form, you do not need to worry about what my son or my daughter might do to you when I find you.”

Now Simon understood where his Captain got his personality and aura from.

“I promise I won’t hurt your daughter, Sir.” Simon finally had the strength to answer. “I love her too much to even think of hurt her. I want to marry her someday and I’m doing my best to ensure that when I ask her to marry me, she would never have any doubts about me and my love and devotion to her.”

He still didn’t have the ring, nor did he think it was the right time or place to say such words especially to your own father, but it was what he felt needed to be said. He loved you, more than he would have ever loved someone in his life and after all the shit he has experience in his life, all he would have ever wanted was to have his own peace and his peace was with you.

“Well, you have my blessing, son.” The man’s face lit up now at his words. “I don’t need to tell you how much my little girl means to me and I still think no one would ever deserve her, but you’re close as it could possibly get.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Please, call me Dad.”

Again, his chest ached. The connotation of a father only brought so much bad memories for him and his childhood, but in this very moment it was a new memory and a new family he never thought he would ever need in his life.

“Thank you…Dad.” Simon spoke hesitation still lingering in his words.

The shared smile between the two men were finally interrupted by you and your insistence that you wanted some private time with your boyfriend before throwing him to the fish (the rest of the taskforce). This time, your father had happily accepted heading back inside leaving him all alone with you—finally.

“You good?” You asked, immediately cupping his cheeks and looking for any visible signs of injury on him. The pros and cons of dating a doctor.

“Took it like a champ.” He tried to downplay everything including the threat that was somehow all too common for fathers to make when it comes to their daughter.

“Tell me if its too much and we can leave, alright?”

He nodded arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“Simon…” You warned.

“I’m okay.” He reassured holding onto one of your hands still on his cheeks. He placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist, he was still uncertain if this was an appropriate place to pull you in for a proper and much needed kiss. “I promise.” He continued to reassure you.

“I’m sorry we have to spring our relationship out of the blue but I honestly just wanted you to meet my Mum and Dad.”

“It’s fine.” Simon smiled down at you, swaying you slightly in his hold. “At least now I don’t need to deal with your brother at the base with everything out in the open.”

Simon knew he would deal with something worse now but he dealt with worse and he has you, if it comes to him getting beat up by your brother he has you to tend to the wounds and bruises like you’ve always promised.

“You’re gonna tell me if he ever does anything to you.”

“He won’t.”

“I think you and I know how petty that bastard could be.”

Simon rolled his eyes being reminded of such a moment in their earlier times on missions together.

“I can handle it, I promise.” He continued finally pulling you in for a kiss taking your breath away in the process.

Simon’s heart skipped at beat at your kiss. There was always something special about you and your lips against his own, and without hesitation he gently lifted your chin and pressed his lips deeper into your own. His arms wrapping around your tightly.

“I owe you tonight.” You gasped for breath as he finally pulls away. “For keeping up with me and my entire family’s shit.”

“You keep up with my shit and more and your head is to die for.” He quipped wanting to end all the seriousness.

Unfortunately the moment was ruined at the sight of you looking over his shoulder with widen eyes.

“They’re right behind me, aren’t they?” Simon resigned knowing what was bound to happen now that he can hear the Captain’s array of profanities all directed at him.

“You good?” You asked ready to defend his honor.

“I’ve got it, Doc. Just tend to the wounds after.” Simon sighed finally turned to see his Captain fast approaching with Soap and Gaz trying and failing to keep the man at bay.

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #ghost riley #simon riley fluff #GhostChallenge

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year ago

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I Want You to Stay (05) | 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 Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days.

Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day.

This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions.

You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost.

Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are.

“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask.

It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.

“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”

You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet.

“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”

Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events.

“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”

Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.

“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”

The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.

“Is there a problem?” He asks.

“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”

“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”

You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising.

“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”

Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out.

You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock.

“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”

“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”

“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs.

“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week.

Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do.

“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive.

“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”

“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”

You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough.

It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.

The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week.

Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day.

He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead.

Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.

“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”

“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”

You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.

“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”

She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard.

“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.

There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”

“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”

“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.

“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”

The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them.

“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.

Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic.

You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold.

You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.

“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports.

Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well.

“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”

“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”

“So they won’t offer to help.”

“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”

“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”

“It’s just that you’re not—”

“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.

“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.

“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.

“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”

“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”

There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.

You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday.

“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you.

“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask.

It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well.

“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”

You purse your lips, holding something back.

“Should I not?” He wonders.

“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise.

“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”

“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head.

He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.

Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been.

He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause.

Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain.

He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.

He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas.

Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight.

But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it.

It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is.

As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something.

There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it.

“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”

Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.

“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”

Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”

“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”

There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”

“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”

“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”

“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.

“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”

“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”

The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone.

“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing.

“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”

“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”

“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.

“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”

“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.

“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”

“Yes, but only for his presentation.”

“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”

Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then.

This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone.

You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.

“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”

“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”

Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”

“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”

You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.

“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts.

“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”

“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs.

He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.

“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.

“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”

“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under.

“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”

“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”

“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”

“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”

Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.

“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”

“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”

“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”

“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”

“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”

“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”

“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”

“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.

“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”

“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.

“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”

Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue.

“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.

“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”

There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him.

“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.

“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment.

“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”

He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.

Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him.

You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday.

The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.

Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”

“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines.

Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it.

“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”

The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing.

“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.

“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”

Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there.

“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.

“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”

Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was.

But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.

The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber.

You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.

Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he’s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.

That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.

When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again.

You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”

His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head.

It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.

So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”

Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity.

“Is there anything else you need, sir?”

He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees.

Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected.

He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.

Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too.

He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier.

But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.

“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”

“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.

“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have.

“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

“What do you—”

“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”

“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”

You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.

“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?”

“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything.

“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.

You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with.

Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between.

Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.

“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”

He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.

“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”

Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.

“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”

He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.

You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it.

For ___. Do not touch!

At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.

The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment.

You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel.

You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now.

Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him.

Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible.

That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.

But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you.

You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”

“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”

This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.

“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.

“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”

“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”

“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”

“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”

Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher.

“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”

You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do.

Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face.

“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”

“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons.

“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”

The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.

He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.

“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”

“She doesn’t.”

It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.

“I’m… I’m, uh—”

“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”

Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does.

“I’ll head to meet with her now.”

“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”

Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.

“No,” you say softly.

“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”

“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.

“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.”

“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”

“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”

“You–what?”

“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”

“Is that why he made me meet with you?”

“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”

“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”

“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”

“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.

Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in.

It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.

You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.

Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.

“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”

“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.

“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.

“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”

“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to.

You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.

“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.

“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi.

You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately.

“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”

You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.

Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more.

The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another.

It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces.

You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.

“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”

You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.

“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down.

He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”

“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”

He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.

The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day.

And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.

You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.

“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.

“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”

“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”

“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”

“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”

His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.

“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”

There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.

“We do,” he nods.

“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”

“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?”

“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”

“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.

“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now.

You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee.

“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”

“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”

“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”

“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.

Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team.

The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing.

You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.

It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him.

This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.

You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.

You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times.

Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you.

He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know.

He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions.

Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”

“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”

“Hot?”

“Yes.”

You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.

You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved.

“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.

“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”

You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.

“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling.

“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.

“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”

“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”

“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”

“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now.

“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.

“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”

“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.

“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.

“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”

Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much.

The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.

The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.

You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”

Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted.

“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.

You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”

“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.

Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.

They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them.

He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving.

It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly.

He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.

Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project.

The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week.

Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting.

There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest.

You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication.

You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.

“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”

Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright.

“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”

“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”

“I will.”

You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous.

Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with.

You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note.

Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do.

But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds.

The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him.

And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table.

You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest.

The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.

Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?

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