#wonton mention
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marmot-bumblebee-231 · 9 days ago
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im convinced the reason threepio can’t impersonate a deity is bc lil 9yo anakin’s adhd brain found it funny for some reason and just decided to do it. as someone who has both been a 9yo with adhd and currently lives with a 9yo with adhd, i can assure you this is realistic.
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catfindr · 1 year ago
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laisai · 2 years ago
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yeah so for wontons be very careful if you don't eat pork. the filling is *usually* pork mixed with some other stuff (maybe some shrimp, chicken, mushrooms, etc) but some places make it with shrimp/seafood only. (I've even had one that had no filling at all lol, just the wrappers)
idk if shrimp/seafood is okay for you guys but wontons are almost always made with some amount of pork so be aware of that.
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ichibankasuga · 4 months ago
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kenobion · 2 years ago
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🍴 - Favorite food(s) to eat?
I love fruit (especially berries), and good cheeseburgers, and foods that have that sweet-hot combination going on (like pad thai and wontons with garlic sauce), and I love that weird romanesco broccoli, and generally I love a lot of seafood, and also cake 😊
Send me emojis
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ahundredtimesover · 6 months ago
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I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK
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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 Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots;  explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex)  (18+)
Chapter Word count: 29k
Series Masterlist
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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
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A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
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You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again. 
Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.
You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again. 
With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his. 
“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”
“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him. 
“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums. 
Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.
“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say. 
“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”
“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”
“What if they contradict each other?”
“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”
“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”
“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”
“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”
“Why did it hurt the both of you?”
“I don’t know about him,” you pout.
“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”
“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”
“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.
“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”
“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.
“But it isn’t,” you argue.
Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do. 
You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same. 
Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.  
All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently. 
“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”
You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.
“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”
His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.
“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”
“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”
“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”
“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”
“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”
“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”
“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”
It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong. 
You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?
You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is. 
You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.
But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay. 
“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask. 
Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been. 
“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”
You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.
“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”
“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.
“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”
The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving. 
“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”
You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.
“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”
Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.
“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”
“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”
“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”
“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”
You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be. 
“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”
“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”
“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”
“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”
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You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life. 
There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion. 
They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.
There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question. 
“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document. 
He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them. 
“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. 
“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?” 
You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.
“We’ll, let’s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”
“VP Jeon?”
“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”
“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.
“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”
“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”
“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”
“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”
You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before. 
“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”
“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”
“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back. 
There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.
“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye. 
You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today. 
You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air. 
The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.
There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.
You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure. 
Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it. 
You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.
You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.
You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.
Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day. 
You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him. 
You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him. 
You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.
You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to. 
Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely. 
Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do. 
It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late. 
You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.
Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow. 
Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him. 
You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook. 
The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.
Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.
His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together. 
There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create. 
You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too. 
You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done. 
But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter. 
You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet. 
You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.
The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.
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Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day. 
It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true. 
Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father. 
He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you. 
He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was. 
Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.
One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away. 
He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you. 
But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important. 
There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes. 
The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review. 
“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”
“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”
“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”
“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”
Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.
The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out. 
He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.
“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”
“Did ___ come to the office this week?” 
“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”
“She… she left a letter on my desk.”
“Oh… What does it say?”
“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.
“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”
“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”
“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”
Jungkook drops the call, noting that he’ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it. 
He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.
Jungkook,
I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you. 
I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way. 
But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.
I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you. 
I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late. 
XX
Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too. 
You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late. 
He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go. 
“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.
“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”
Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror. 
“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”
Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.
“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.
“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”
“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”
“She… she talked about me?”
“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”
“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”
“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”
“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”
“She did. She said she found you.”
The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.
“I found her too late, I think.”
“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints. 
“When did she leave?”
“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”
“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”
You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose. 
“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”
“Where to, then?”
Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to. 
After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.
“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks. 
“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”
The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.
“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”
Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads. 
“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”
“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”
“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”
Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return. 
“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”
“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”
The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.
They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.
The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now. 
“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”
“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”
“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”
“Please?” 
The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you. 
They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door. 
Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.
“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”
“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”
“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”
“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”
“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”
“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”
“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”
She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.
“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks. 
“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”
“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.
“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”
“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”
Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate. 
There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you. 
“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”
She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you. 
“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”
“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders. 
“A lot of things,” he sighs.
“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”
“That would be great.”
Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind. 
There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love. 
Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in. 
And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.
“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”
“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.
She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard. 
The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you. 
Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.
She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground. 
“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders. 
“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”
“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”
“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains. 
The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out. 
“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”
“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created. 
“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”
“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”
“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”
“I… I didn’t know that.”
“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”
At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.
“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”
“I… I know that now.”
“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”
“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”
There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him. 
“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”
Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow. 
But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.
“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”
“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.
“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”
“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes. 
“Is it too late, do you think?”
“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”
She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more. 
“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”
“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”
Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is. 
“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”
It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.
“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”
“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”
“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles. 
He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them. 
“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering. 
She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.
“Chocopie?” 
“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”
“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks. 
“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad. 
“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.
It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you. 
“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”
Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it. 
“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”
“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you. 
It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver. 
“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”
Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.
“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”
“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”
He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.
Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely. 
Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.
He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.
The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”
It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”
It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there. 
Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too. 
“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders. 
“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”
“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”
“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.
“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”
It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too. 
The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did. 
Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.
“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”
It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”
Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you. 
He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years. 
“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?” 
“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”
It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs. 
And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done. 
They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.
“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions. 
There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.
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You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening. 
It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days. 
In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too. 
That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone. 
It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.
The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.
It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.
“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question. 
“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”
You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you. 
But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.
“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”
“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”
“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”
“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”
You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it. 
She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening. 
“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”
“That’s unfair,” you pout.
“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”
You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.
“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”
“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”
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Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not. 
It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it. 
He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.
He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs. 
It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time. 
It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you. 
But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.
Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon. 
There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.
“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”
“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”
“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”
Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.
“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”
He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed. 
Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable. 
They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation. 
He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.
It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center. 
It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs. 
“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”
“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”
“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”
He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.
Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be. 
It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism. 
He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out. 
There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened. 
“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”
He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it. 
Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.
“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”
“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”
Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours. 
“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”
“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”
Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him. 
It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out. 
As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.
He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.
One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset. 
The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you. 
He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.
He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.
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You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems. 
You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for. 
Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in. 
You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out. 
Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home. 
The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring. 
You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.
Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces. 
You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.
It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are. 
“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”
“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”
“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now. 
“It’s—”
“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says. 
You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence. 
“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”
“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask. 
“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”
“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy. 
“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”
“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”
“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”
You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.
“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”
You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.
The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows. 
You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls. 
You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for. 
You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.
But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this. 
You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once. 
“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”
“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”
“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”
“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”
“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”
“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”
“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”
You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.
The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that. 
“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel. 
“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”
There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore. 
You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.
“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”
“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”
“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”
“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.
“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”
You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.
“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”
“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”
“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday. 
There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up. 
You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would’ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.
“___? Everything okay?”
“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”
“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”
“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”
“You can wait for me and—”
“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”
You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.
“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”
“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”
“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”
He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already. 
You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself. 
The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time. 
You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor. 
It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.
You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk. 
“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling. 
He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.
“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”
“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”
“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”
“Is that what your mother said?” 
“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.
“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”
You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again. 
“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.” 
Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate. 
“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”
He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.
“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”
“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”
You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”
“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”
“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”
“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”
“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”
“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”
“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”
“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”
His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.
Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.
He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show. 
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”
“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”
His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease. 
“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.  
“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”
“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”
You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer. 
Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip. 
But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone. 
“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”
Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your  waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now. 
He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you. 
The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it. 
“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”
“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.
Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.
But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.
He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.
His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.
Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.
You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.
“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”
You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.
With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.
You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved. 
The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you. 
You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.
You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips. 
Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.
“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.
“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.
“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”
“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered. 
But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”
“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks. 
“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”
“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”
His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed. 
“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”
The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead. 
It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.
But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.
“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”
“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.
You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.
“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”
“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”
He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened. 
It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too. 
You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him. 
Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further. 
The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night. 
You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.
He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment. 
It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt. 
“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.
“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”
“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”
He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will. 
“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”
His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express. 
But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions. 
Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.
So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway. 
You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages. 
“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.” 
The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.
“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”
“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back. 
“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.
“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.
“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”
He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you. 
“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”
His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves. 
It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way. 
But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.
Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.
“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”
“Who knew I even had one in the first place?” 
“I did.”
“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.
“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”
Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again. 
It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.
You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.
“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.  
Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him. 
He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.
You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.
He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.
You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. 
His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.
He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.
“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.
You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest. 
“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”
He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.  
He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch. 
The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.
He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again. 
You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.
You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom. 
Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels 
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”
Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again. 
“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”
It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.
You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back. 
Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.
He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened. 
It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.
The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are. 
You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.
You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things. 
“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”
“A bit,” you respond.
He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 
You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.
You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you. 
“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”
You nod, giddy again and unable to speak. 
“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.
“I’d like that,” you smile. 
“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”
You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have. 
He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.
“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”
You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive. 
You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 
“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”
“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside. 
He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you. 
There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.
He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.
He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.
Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that. 
But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.
He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come. 
But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers. 
“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.
“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”
“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”
He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be. 
“What about you, what are you thinking about?” 
“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”
“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”
With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you. 
“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”
You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.
“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”
He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.
“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine. 
There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.
“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”
“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”
“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”
He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his. 
“I can do this all night,” he whispers.
And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations. 
You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.
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sooniebby · 1 year ago
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫
𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝟰: 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀/𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲/𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴
Bottom male reader. A character I’ve used before. Reader is 19 while OC is 28. His face claim. Lite Degradation. Reader is mentioned to have a cock. Lite dub con but reader consents for most. Reader hates OC so bad lol.. kinda long too :/
“What the fuck?! Why are you here?”
You stormed over to the living room to see your archenemies, Vincent Yamada, sprawled out on your couch. He looked over at you with mild annoyance before looking back at the tv to watch his soap opera.
“Hello??”
“Motorcycle.”
“Tch, you’re like 35! Get a car like a real adult!”
Vincent didn’t even look at you, knowing you would’ve wanted him to start yelling you or something. He rolled his eyes.
“I’m 28.”
“Don’t care, didn’t ask, old man!” You yelled as you stormed over to the kitchen. On the fridge, you saw a note that was in your sister, Karina’s, handwriting.
‘Sorry, (Name)!! I know it’s weird, ex boyfriend staying at our place but his apartment complex’s electrical system went out so he just needed a few days at someone’s place and I was the only one with room for him… please don’t bother him I’ll be home after work <3 ily! ~ Karina’
You crushed the note in your hand and sighed. Fuck, you were stuck here with that old man for who knows how long?! You shook your head and decided you needed to eat something before you died from anger.
“You cooking something?”
You slammed the pot down on the stove and bit your lip. “Shut the fuck up I don’t want your old stench near me!”
“….im in the living room.”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Vincent seemed to take the hint as he didn’t say anything else. You sighed in peace and began to cook some instant ramen for dinner. The smell of health-ish noodles filled the air as you spilled in some wontons to eat with it.
Just when you were finished, you grabbed some chopsticks only to have it pulled from your hand. You glanced up, god you fucking hated that he was taller than you, and glared at Vincent.
“Thank you, baby.”
“Ba—?! The fuck, that’s mine!”
Vincent grabbed the bowl too and you couldn’t exactly do much with how much taller he was compared to you.
“Hm, I think it’s mine. Compensation for having to deal with your disgusting attitude.”
“I’ll show you disgusting, damn beanstalk!”
Before you could do anything, Vincent placed the bowl back on the countertop and easily grabbed both of your wrists with… just one hand.
He was saying something but all you could really do was just stare in shocked awe that his hand was so large to hold… and properly restrain both of your wrists with ease. You weren’t sure what this feeling was but it felt so.. odd to not feel angry that he was touching you.
His hands were large. Quite large. You could see his veins. Oh god—his veins. One paper cut—you shook the thought away and just continued staring. Shit…. If his hand was this big against you… was… everything else…?
“Hey, are you listening, brat?”
Vincent pulled your wrists up, effectively making you look up at him. Your arms were now up above your head, Vincent’s grip still there on your wrists.
It took you a minute to prepare your comeback as your face soon twisted into a snarl.
“I’m not a brat, old man!”
“Can’t come up with a better insult? I’m pretty sure you called me that already.”
He released your wrists much to your dismay as you let out a whine. You clamped your mouth shut, hoping Vincent didn’t notice. It seemed he didn’t as he grabbed the bowl of ramen.
“Thanks. I’ll enjoy it.” He smirked before walking away to the living room.
You stood in the kitchen for a moment, trying to think about what the fuck you had thought about. His hands. Fuck, his hands. You groaned as you tried to stop thinking about his hands.
What the hell? Was this the first time you noticed just how big he was compared to you.
He was like… 6’3! And muscular… a good amount of muscle. You shook your head and sighed, trying to think about anything else beside your nemesis’ body.
You didn’t like him. You couldn’t. Seeing him always sent you into a bad mood.
He broke your sister heart… well you hated him even when they dated so that wasn’t quite the reason why you hated him.
Why’d you hate him?
Don’t ask that—it didn’t matter.
With a huff, you stormed off—again—to your room. You slammed the door shut and plopped down onto the bed. It was only around 5 pm. How long would I take for Karina to get home?
God, what the hell was she insist to take night shifts?
You turned on your tv and decided to just wallow in your bed watching some random kdrama.
Deep into the kdrama, when the main couple was having their steamy kiss—you (unfortunately) began to think how it’d be to kiss Vincent.
You shook your head and continued watching the drama until you fell asleep.
It was when your door slammed open that you shook awake in fear. You stared at the door in shock and saw an unimpressed Vincent. He glanced around your… more kiddish room and walked inside.
“Guess you haven’t had the time to change it, huh?” His finger moved around, pointing at your more kiddish decorations that looked out of place to your more mature furniture.
You rolled your eyes. You didn’t feel in the mood to do anything. Vincent seemed to take notice of that but he didn’t say anything.
“Did you eat? It’s past ten.”
“Why’d you care?”
You look over at his face, a curious expression on your own. He didn’t actually care—he was just making stupid small talk. But—
His face.
His face when you saw it showed pure anger. His lips pulled up into a snarl as you blinked in shock. Wow. You never got him to be this angry—only one time.. that time you—
“Did you even eat at all today?”
You blinked. How’d…?
“I was here all morning, damn brat. I knew you didn’t come to the kitchen once and unless you have food stored in your room— you didn’t eat a single thing this entire day.”
“Why… do… you… care?” You muttered.
Vincent didn’t say anything. He worked over to you and with great strength, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of bed. You yelled at him to let you go but you didn’t much to his grip.
He dragged you out of the room and to the living room. Vincent forced you to sit down on the couch and he walked over to the kitchen. You stayed in the couch, a bit scared in how he’d react to you moving.
Why was he so angry? It wasn’t like you didn’t eat all the time..
It’s just one day.
Before you knew it, a bowl of ramen was being placed into your hands. You glanced up at him as he plopped down on the couch, staring straight at you.
He didn’t say anything—his gaze straight on you.
You blushed heavily and began to eat, trying to ignore his gaze on you. It wasn’t until you were finished that you felt a bit more relaxed. You were pretty hungry.
You couldn’t help but glance over at Vincent once you finished, curious to see how he’d react. And.. he smirked. Fucking jackass.
You huffed and placed the bowl on the coffee table. “Idiot.” You whisper to yourself.
“What was that?”
“Idiot. What; can’t hear properly anymore? Must be the old age.”
“You really are just a little brat…”
“Asshole! You can’t just call me a brat!” You moved close to him, ready to try and hit him but he grabbed your wrist.
Oh god.
“You aren’t acting like an angel are you? Where’s the thanks for preparing your food.”
“Tch, you stole my own dinner, dick!”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “So dramatic. It was just instant ramen, you could’ve made another.”
“Piece of sh—”
You raised your other hand but was swiftly grabbed by Vincent’s free hand. It was so weird—to be so close to your sister’s ex boyfriend. He kinda smelled like motor oil.
Damn motorcycle…
“You’re such a virgin…” he suddenly laughed, moving one of your hands to his other and keeping it together as he easily pulled you close, draping you over his lap. “You think I couldn’t tell from those looks?”
“You….! Those weren’t looks, damn pervert!”
You flinched as you felt his hand rub against your shorts, pulling at it as it snapped back against your skin. You didn’t whimper—no way!
“And these shorts… fuck, you walk around the house with these with any man here?”
“They’re normal shorts!”
Vincent only hummed as he rubbed your ass a bit more through the shorts. He reached up and grasped the waistband, pulling it down slowly. You squirmed, trying to move but his other hand kept you down on his lap.
“You practically fit your role well… a little brat who needs a good spanking.”
“Span—?!”
You cry out, your body shaking at the first ever slap you felt against your ass cheek. Your shorts saved it from any direct contact.. but it was close—so close.
Your legs were tight together for a sense of comfort as you tried to think of ways to run away. But you didn’t really try moving…
You wanted to see how far he’d go. How far he’d go in fucking his ex girlfriend’s little brother.
“You’re like those small dogs—picking fights with the big ones.”
A whine left your lips as he spanked your ass again—the shorts once again a barrier.
“Count.”
“I’m not—”
He spanked you.
“Three!”
A soft little rub against your ass was your reward. Vincent reached back up and pulled down your shorts to your knees. His hand rubbed your ass a bit—as some sort of prep before rising up.
“Four!”
You whimpered, clutching at the couch beneath you as a lifeline. Your body shook this new direct slaps on your bare ass. It felt so odd to have someone else, especially him, touching your butt.
Even if you didn’t see, you could feel that his hand easily engulfed your ass cheek with one hand. Your body didn’t even fully cover his thighs.
“T…ten!”
You weren’t even sure how you didn’t even get side tracked.. or even remembered the numbers. Your ass cheeks feel sore—this was so brand new and even though your cock was leaking you felt overwhelmed.
Just as his hand raised up again, you began to squirm violently.
“No…! No more! Stop it!” You cry, having no hope that he’d actually stop. But he did. Vincent maneuvered you to sit properly on his lap.
“What’s wrong?”
He… actually looked concerned. Wow.
Ugh, you didn’t like that look.
“Tired…” you simply muttered, too embarrassed to state that.. you were getting scared. You never thought about kinks or what not—so springing this on you was just—a bad idea honestly.
Vincent hummed, his hand moving to rest on the curve of your hip. It felt nicely there. You couldn’t help but blush at the thought… he should rest it there more often.
You blinked. Fuck.
“Need to cum?” He asked, glancing down at your leaking cock.
“Yeah.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow—as if he was waiting for you to answer him. Properly.
You frowned and rolled your eyes. “Pl… ugh—”
“—I guess you don’t have to cum.” He began to remove his hands from your hips.
“No…! P…pl…. please….”
Vincent’s lips pulled into a cruel smirk as he reached over and grabbed your cock. You flinched and immediately began to thrust into his hand, but his hand… still large hand reached down and gripped your leg, holding you down.
“I didn’t say you could move, brat. Take what I give you.”
You whimpered and despite every fiber in your being wanting to move, obeyed his command. His hand job was slow and teasing, daring you to buck into his hand. But you did your best to keep still.
“Y….your hand..”
He raised an eyebrow.
“So… big..”
“This is big for you? Imagine… my actual cock inside of you.”
You blushed, staring at Vincent in shock.
“Aw~ the brat is shy? Don’t be… I’m sure you imagined it—my cock deep inside that hole of yours.”
His free hans trailed up your stomach, circling around an area of it as he gently pressed down on it.
“Can’t wait to see how far my dick print will be.”
You cummed.
Fuck, you actually came at the thought of his dick would look deep inside of you. You shook as your first ever orgasm from another person practically changed you forever.
You groaned and leaned into Vincent’s chest, resting your head on his shoulders.
“I didn’t say you could come… but I’ll allow it—this time. Now clean.”
His grip on your hair pulled your head back. Fuck, you definitely wanted more of that. His fingers that was covered in your cum, was shoved directly into your mouth.
You choked, tears prickled your eyes but you didn’t bite his hand. You were once again too tired to act like a brat. You diligently licked his fingers and moaned around them.
You could hear Vincent grunt as you unintentionally began to suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue between them. Certainly looked like sucking a cock.
“Fuck… you little—”
“(Name)! I’m back, I hope you did….”
Karina’s voice trailed off as she caught the sight of you, bottomless and sucking Vincent’s fingers. And Vincent, rock hard in his jeans and a look of want in his eyes.
Well…
At least it wasn’t cheating….?
This was way longer that it needed to be :( hope it was still good lol it’s fun writing a reader who is actively a bitch to the character
Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @nakedtoasterr @ofclyde @tomoeroi @remdayz @mello-life69 @iwishtobeacrow @kaedezu @tehyunnie
Special tag for @teyvat-writer hopefully I delivered on a naive brat reader lol
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hamsterclaw · 8 months ago
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Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.
Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader
Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader
Rating: 18+
Word count: 6.6k
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns
The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.
Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.
Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.
He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.
His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.
The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.
He’d done it anyway.
Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.
Unlike Yoongi.
Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.
Only madness lies that way.
Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.
Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.
Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.
The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.
The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.
He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.
The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.
Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.
Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.
Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.
There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.
It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.
He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.
Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.
He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.
Jesus, is he getting old?
Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.
He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.
He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.
***
Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.
He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.
Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.
There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.
‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’
Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.
‘What’s the case?’ he asks.
Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.
Yoongi waits.
He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.
The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.
It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.
Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.
Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.
Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.
He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.
‘The reaper of Seoul?’
Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.
The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.
Last year.
‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.
Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’
You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.
‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’
***
The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.
The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.
Oh dear.
Better luck this time?
Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.
Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.
You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.
He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’
It’s a statement you answer to like a question.
‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘
‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.
You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.
‘Her family wanted answers.’
Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.
She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.
She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.
You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’
‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.
The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.
‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’
You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’
Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’
‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.
Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’
Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.
You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.
Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.
His email pings.
‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.
You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.
‘Our notebooks,’ you say.
Yoongi looks at the stack.
Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.
The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.
This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.
You blink at him.
‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’
In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.
***
The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.
There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.
You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.
The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.
She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.
The bath of blood she’s lying in.
Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.
You wait until forensics turns her body over.
The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.
Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.
‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’
***
You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.
There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.
You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.
Two minutes from her own front door.
Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.
The audacity of it.
He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’
You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.
Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.
‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.
‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.
He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.
‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.
‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.
Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.
‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’
There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.
They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.
You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’
Yoongi waits.
‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’
You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.
You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’
‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.
‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.
‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’
You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’
‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.
‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.
Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.
‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’
‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.
‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’
Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.
***
The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.
Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.
‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.
Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.
‘Yeah,’ he answers.
‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’
Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.
Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’
‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.
Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.
‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’
Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’
He fills Namjoon in.
‘I’ll follow it up.’
Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’
Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.
He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’
He ends the call, unlocks the car.
‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.
‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.
The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.
He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.
***
Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.
‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’
There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.
‘You mumble in your sleep.’
Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’
‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.
Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.
You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.
In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.
‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.
‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.
Yoongi passes you a cup.
‘Problem?’ he asks.
‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’
‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.
Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’
Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’
He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’
***
The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.
It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.
Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.
You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.
You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.
You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.
It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.
Kiho extends a hand.
‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.
Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.
‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.
Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.
You’re looking at Yoongi.
‘We can tell him now.’
***
‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow.
You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.
Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.
Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.
Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.
‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’
‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’
Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.
The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.
You turn to Yoongi.
‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’
‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.
He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.
What’s he going to do to you?
‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.
Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.
Yoongi doesn’t falter.
‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.
***
The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.
Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.
He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.
He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.
He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.
You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.
Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.
‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.
His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.
It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.
‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.
Yoongi takes a moment.
‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.
‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.
‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.
‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’
You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’
‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.
You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’
‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’
Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.
‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’
***
The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.
The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.
Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.
Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.
‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.
‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’
Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.
Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.
His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.
He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.
***
The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.
Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.
Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.
Get the monster locked up where he belongs.
You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.
There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.
He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.
There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.
You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.
Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.
He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.
He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.
Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.
‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’
He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.
You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.
Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.
You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.
It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.
He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.
‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’
Yoongi chews on that a moment.
‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’
Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.
‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’
His voice trails off.
He risks a glance at you.
You’re still not looking at him.
‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’
Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.
‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’
It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.
***
When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.
He hands Yoongi another case file.
‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.
‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’
Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’
He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’
As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.
‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’
Yoongi heads for your joint office.
There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.
The cleaner apologises and bows politely.
Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.
‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.
He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.
Outside, it’s raining again.
***
Yoongi wakes with a jolt.
You’re perched on the edge of his desk.
‘You should go home, get some sleep.’
‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.
‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’
At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’
‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.
‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.
You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.
‘I should go —‘
‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.
You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’
‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘
‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’
***
It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.
You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.
Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’
‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’
‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.
‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’
You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.
‘Yeah?’
You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘
This time, Yoongi interrupts.
‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’
Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.
Your knee brushes his under the table.
‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’
***
Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.
You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.
He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.
You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.
He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.
Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.
His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.
You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.
Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.
Close up, you’re soft.
Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.
You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.
It’s been a hell of a fucking day.
You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.
A human connection in a day filled with monsters.
Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.
He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.
He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.
Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.
You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.
‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’
You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.
You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.
‘Just let me —‘
You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.
When did he last —
His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.
He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.
The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.
Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.
‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.
‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’
***
In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.
Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.
His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.
He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.
You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.
At least he doesn’t.
You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.
Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.
Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.
Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.
‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.
‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.
He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.
Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.
He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.
He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.
‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’
You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’
Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.
Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.
Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.
***
There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.
The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.
Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.
You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’
Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.
He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.
There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.
His phone vibrates in his pocket.
Namjoon.
‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’
‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’
Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.
Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.
There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.
Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.
The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.
He’s seen her face before, and recently.
Coming out of your office.
‘Fuck,’ he swears.
He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.
Your phone rings, and rings.
Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.
By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.
His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.
‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.
He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.
***
Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.
She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.
She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.
Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.
The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.
And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.
He’d been right. Your place was fancy.
You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.
He realises you’re looking at him.
‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.
‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.
He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.
If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.
It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.
‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.
You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.
‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.
‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’
You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.
He realises that he’s smiling.
Fuck, it’s been a while.
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stxrmylxve · 1 year ago
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ιт’ѕ тσσ вιg! ♡¸.•*
Pairing: Geto Suguru x fem! Reader
Warnings: oral (m!receiving), cum swallowing, nicknames (good girl, darling, baby, princess), overstimulation if your squint really hard, belly bulge, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, a lil bit of cussing, geto is sadistic lol, smut with fluffy ending, not really proofread
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Geto would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on as you sat pretty beneath him, your mind beyond fucked out as you gagged on his cock.
Even if it was just a quick suck because he had a big meeting coming up soon, or if it was a reward for you waiting so long for him to get home, he loves every second of it. The way your warm mouth and cunt fit snug and perfect around his member, almost as if you were made for him.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving his cock impossibly deeper into your mouth as you gripped his pants, drool seeping down the sides of your mouth as you fought for air. A small whimper came from your mouth, the vibrations enough to send him over the edge as he threw his head back, emptying his load down your throat with a long groan.
The strong grip in your hair was released as you gasped for air, a string of spit connecting your lips to his red tip as you coughed. His dark eyes fluttered open as he looked down at you, a grin forming on his lips as he leaned over in the chair.
“Did you swallow it all, darl’?” he asks, brushing stray hairs behind your ears as he tilts your head up by your chin. You stick your tongue out, showing him that it was all gone as you wiped some of the spit off of your chin with a snicker.
“Good girl. Wha’cha think you deserve now? I had a long mission after all, so I will let you decide anything we do tonight.” he asks, rubbing your cheek with a soft smile as your doe eyes wandered off to think.
“M’wanna ride.” you say finally, a small smile forming on your lips as he leans back in his chair. Slipping his pants off all the way, he situates you to float right above his cock. You hiss as the tip slips through your folds; it was always a big stretch for you to battle. Not only was he long, he had girth too.
He lets out a satisfied sigh as he leans his head back, resting his hands around your waist as you sink down on his length. Your breath hitches when you're buried down to the hilt, the tip kissing your cervix as you squeezed your eyes shut. You thought that you had been prepped enough, sneaking in a few thrusts with your own fingers when you had been sucking him off. Yet here you were, your walls fluttering around his member as your hole stretched as far as it possibly could.
You let out a sharp gasp as your arm gave out, falling into his chest as your back arched from his length somehow driving itself even deeper than before. Your arms swung around his neck as you held on for dear life, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest as he placed a hand on the small of your back.
"You're acting like this is your first time again. Have I let my sweet baby down and haven't been tending to you enough?" he asks, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh as you nodded silently. He let out a small 'tsk' as he shook his head, "Well that just won't do, will it?"
He lifts up from the chair, not daring to pull out of your warmth, as he sets you down on his desk with your back against the cool wood. He lifts your legs up and throws them over his shoulders, pressing warm kisses along both of your inner thighs as he starts his slow thrusts. He grins as he watches your lips part, your eyes rolling back as he hits the spot you always love.
You babble a few incoherent words, pausing to let out a wonton of moans before you croak out a small "more, please." His eyes lit up at the words, pausing his kisses with a satisfied grin as he begins to ram into your cunt. Your eyes shot open as you gripped the corners of the desk, your knuckles turning white from the sheer grip.
"What? You said- hah- you said you wanted more. Look at this, I'm fuckin' you so well you can feel me." he says as he takes one of your hands and places it over the bump appearing and disappearing near your stomach. "I should go ahead a breed you, y'know? You would get pregnant in no time, easily. You want that? You want me to fill your sweet cunt up for being so good for me?"
You tried your best to nod, the thrusting doing the work for you mostly, as your hand traveled up to clutch his wrist. Your glossy eyes met his animalistic ones as your bottom lip quivered, muttering 'close' under your breath as your nails dug crescents into his skin, letting out a high-pitched moan as you came all over his cock.
Even though he was close to his own release, he slowed down just enough to loosely grasp it still but not overstimulate you (yet). With curious yet proud eyes, he watched a thin white ring form around his shaft. His eyes bounced up to your face as he watched it contort in pleasure, your brows knitting together with your eyes shut tight.
”Cum inside, please. M’want it.” you plead, your hands loosening on his wrists and moving up to cup his face. He leaned into your touch, leaning down to press your foreheads together with a smile as his hips snapped into yours.
He began back with his ruthlessly paced thrusts when suddenly your walls clamped down due to another oncoming orgasm, pulling him over the edge quicker than he thought as he threw his head back once again, spilling his thick seed into your sweet cunt. You followed in suite, cumming for the second time in a row as you gripped his shoulders, shaking in his hold like a leaf.
He pressed a long kiss on your temple, brushing back your sweaty hair with a soft smile.
“You did so good, princess.” He coes, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled.
“Doing what I’m best at.” you reply
“Oh? Ready to continue what you’re ‘best at’ then? I have plenty of stamina too, you know.” he says with a laugh as you smacked his arm.
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fettuccin-e · 1 year ago
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Think About It
Kinktober Day 23: Dirty Talk
Tags: Santiago Garcia x Reader, talk of Frankie Morales x Reader x Santiago Garcia (ie. talk of threesome), unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life I beg of you), dacryphilia, plenty of dirty talk like it's a lot, light degradation, breeding kink whoopsie, Santiago Garcia is a filthy motherfucker do Not blame me for this (w/c: 1.3K)
A/N: So this may have gotten out of hand a tad so do Not fucking look at me okay??? Santiago Garcia the man that you are I love you sm and also there are so many Frankie mentions in this fic so it could be a prelude to this fic I wrote earlier this month where they actually have a threesome (For Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)
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Santiago Garcia doesn’t get overwhelmed easily. He’s a soldier; he’s been conditioned to withstand the harshest conditions, brave horrible situations without breaking, without letting his hard exterior crack.
But fuck, when he’s with you like this, that exterior shatters like fragile glass, all over the floor in front of your shared bed.
You’re so fucking tight and wet around him as he keeps a hard grip on your hips, yanking you back on his cock, plunging himself as deep as he can fucking get.
“God damn it, baby, taking me so fucking good,” he grits, yanking your hips up further, your face pressed into the pillows as you scrabble at the sheets, clinging for purchase against Santi’s onslaught. “This pussy’s so goddamn wet, she’s fucking leaking around my cock, baby. Making a goddamn mess.”
“Santi,” you whine, “You can’t just-”
He lands a swift smack to your ass, watching as your skin recoils against him. It’s hypnotizing, makes him want to fuck you into these sheets for hours, just to watch your gorgeous body react to him over and over.
“What, baby?” He growls, leaning close and fucking into you hard enough that the headboard smacks against the wall. “Can’t what? Can’t tell you how fucking tight your little pussy is? Can’t tell you that she’s fucking sucking my cock in like you can’t get enough?”
You whine, loud and high-pitched, burying your face in the pillows. Santi snarls in return, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanking your head up until you’re gasping air into your lungs. He fucks you harder, slamming into you violent and fucking reckless. His careful control has burned to ashes before him, lost in the heat of your body.
“Look at you, fucking desperate slut just sobbing on my cock. It’s spreading you so wide, honey, ‘s gonna split you apart,” he snarls, and you hiccup over your moans. “Think this is enough for you baby? This needy pussy just needs more and more and more.”
Your hips will probably bruise under the strength of his grip, but God, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think you do either, with the way you moan, high and wonton every time he buries himself so deep.
“Should get Frankie, fill you up even more, get you all fucked and loose on two cocks,” he grits, and Christ, the way your cunt clenches around him has him biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from busting inside of you right fucking now.
He chuckles darkly, and you squeak softly when he leans close to you, covering your back with his warm body. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” he grins, and you shiver beneath him.
“Fuck, I don’t- I don’t know,” you whine, pushing yourself back and fucking yourself on Santi’s cock. 
“I do, baby. I know you want it,” he growls, leaning back up again to fuck into you hard enough that you scream. “Could get Fish and we could both fuck you so good, hermosa. Get him buried in this sweet little pussy while I,” he pulls your asscheeks apart to expose that little hole buried between. You jerk and moan when he brushes a finger over it. “I could take this sweet little ass.”
You sob into the sheets, humping involuntarily back into Santi’s harsh thrusts into your heaving body. Tears are dripping down your face and landing on the pillow below you.
Santi groans, fucking lost to it, rambling as he fucks into you like a man possessed.
He leans over you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pulling you up until you’re only pressed against him, your tits exposed to the air while he humps up into your cunt.
“I could eat your pretty cunt while Frankie fucks this mouth, show him what a good little cocksucker you are,” he murmurs into your ear, and you gasp his name.
He pulls his arms tighter around you, holding you so fucking tight as he gets so deep into your hot cunt. You’re dripping all over his thighs, his thrusts making lewd snapping noises when his thighs stick to yours every time he shoves his hips in, in, in.
“We talk about you, baby, me n' Frankie,” he mutters, and you can’t do anything but let your mouth gape open as he forces little moans out of your mouth. “Talk about how pretty you look, how good you fucking taste. Frankie needs a taste baby, wants to bury his tongue in this sweet pussy still you’re fucking drowning him.”
“Jesus, Santi, fuck- ah, oh my God,” you slur between labored breaths, and you can feel Santi’s cocky grin against your neck, before he bites sharply into it.
“My gorgeous fucking girl, can’t believe you’re fucking mine,” he snarls snapping his hips up, up up. You dig your nails into his forearms as he breaks you apart, jamming the thick head of his cock up into that little spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him.
“Gonna knock you up, just like this, baby, wouldn’t you like that?” he says, and you hiccup a little yes that has him growling, one of his hands coming down to clutch over your stomach, pawing at your skin.
“I’ll pump this sweet pussy full of my cum, make sure it fucking takes.” You sob like you’re dying, blinking fat tears from your eyes. “And if it doesn’t,” he continues, “I’ll keep fucking you, over and over, flood this cunt till you’re dripping everywhere, leaking down your fucking thighs.”
“Santi, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna-”
Santi talks like he can’t hear you, maybe he fucking can’t, too lost in the heat and wetness and the need to hold back his own orgasm brewing deep in his bones. “I’ll fuck this pussy everywhere, I’ll make sure that you have a baby, watch you so round and goddamn beautiful baby, you’ll fucking glow, I just know it. Shit, I’ll fuck you in the kitchen, the goddamn shower, keep you nice and full of me no matter what. I’ll make you nice and loose so you can take my cock all the time, no matter what, just give me the word, sweet girl, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars.”
You scream, wordless and overwhelmed, when you cum, your pussy gushing all over Santi’s thighs even as he ruts into you like a goddamn animal. He growls, littering your neck with kisses and bites and licks. The guys will give him shit when you see them next, but he can already picture it: the way Frankie will eye the marks, his pupils blown wide, and Santi will fucking know.
“Please cum, Santi, please fill me up, give me a baby,” you whimper as you shake through your orgasm, and who is Santi to refuse you?
He groans, shoving himself hard into you, as deep as he can get, and floods your cunt with his cum. He hopes the first time will take, that he’ll be able to see the way you get rounder and rounder, carrying your beautiful baby.
When you’re both finally wrung dry, he keeps you hugged tight to him as he lowers you both to your sides. He keeps himself buried deep inside, not wanting a drop to slip out.
“Fucking Christ, Santi,” you mutter, running your hands over his forearms as he buries his face into your hair. He groans, but stays mostly quiet. “Gonna blow your knees out if you keep fucking me like that,” you giggle.
“Worth it,” he mutters, and grins into your hair. “But if I do, we can always call in Fish to keep you satisfied.”
“Shut up,” you chuckle, but Santi doesn’t miss the way you clench around his soft cock at the prospect.
He files the thought away for later.
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penvisions · 6 months ago
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unexpected bloom {joel miller x reader}
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Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: A single flower and a chance encounter brings color to your life.
Word Count: 965
Warnings: none really, fleeting sexual content, allusions to adult content, kissing, fluff, pre-outbreak / no outbreak au
A/N: this was done to try and shake some writer's block, as a part of the 'flora and fauna' writing challenge by @morallyinept
ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi
A single flower.
That’s how it all started.
And you thanked every lucky star in the universe as you felt the heat of the body you now curled around as you slowly woke from your slumber. The broad back your front was pressed to was bare, skin on skin in the most intimate of ways that turned from barely conscious and sensual to wide awake and desperate.
Grunts fall from the man’s full lips as he presses his hands to the backs of your thighs, his hips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. Your own fingers tangled almost painfully with his as they hold you in the position he’s found you like the best. The one that punches the most wonton and guttural sounds from deep in your chest as he brings you to the shattering crest of pleasure over and over again. His curls may be graying, his hands weathered and callous, his back aching and sore. But he always seemed to find his youth when you smiled at him over the rim of your mug or trailed a hand over his broad shoulders.
He had certainly found his youth when you had approached him in front of your workplace to compliment the flowers he had been contracted to plant all along the buildings entrance. Enough so that he hadn’t even thought of how completely sappy and unfounded his plucking of a single one to deliver to your desk with a handwritten note had been until well after he had done it. The nervous panic setting in once he was back in the safety of his home and the deed had been mentioned by a tittering Sarah as she recounted her first day as an intern in the very same building.
Of how she had giggled and fawned over the move he had made without much thought beyond how you had to be prettier than all the flowers he had been dealing with. He felt embarrassment flood him, his fork suddenly clinking between his teeth and his ears tipped pink as he watched his daughter rave about how romantic and sweet it had been for someone to do that. How no one seems to care about stuff like that anymore and all she gets are text messages she doesn’t even know how to respond to their so dry and unoriginal. He puts aside his embarrassment to tell her that if she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t have to engage. That she deserves only the best because she is the best. His whole world in the most perfect package right across the table from him.
She pauses, her own ears tinging as she smiles brightly before teasing him for being such a dad.
But he takes it in stride, because that seems to be his whole purpose in life. To be her dad, to be the one person she could rely on for anything and everything. But that since she had graduated from her university program and moved from their home into a dorm to get the full experience and now an apartment with her friend Ellie while they worked internships, he didn’t get much of a chance to be that.
His newfound purpose was to be your boyfriend.
Something he took just as much pride in because you were perfect too.
He had taken you another single flower the following day after Sarah’s gushing of how lucky you were and how excited you had been to find the first on your desk. How your eyes kept falling on the gift he had left throughout the day. One each day until your schedules had aligned and he could take you out on a proper date. The once single flowers had turned into bouquets, his once written words became spoken affections. You had smiled so gorgeously and laughed so genuinely that he had fallen even deeper in his feelings for you. The ones you returned with bashful and then teasing words. Wit sharp and endearing as time ticked by.
Something you reminisced on as he laid beside you now, both panting for air. Skin sticky with sweat and hands idly wandering over each other.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” He rumbles, seeing the way your gaze is both focused and faint. Not wanting him to worry, you press a kiss to his damp temple, rolling over to lay half over him. His arms come to rest on your lower back, anchoring you to him.
“Thinkin’ about flowers,” You grin, teeth catching the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains. Resting your chin atop folded hands over his chest.
“We need to plant some for the season, before it’s too hot.” He touches the tip of his nose to yours, causing your face to wrinkle as you scrunch against the tickle of his moustache across your lips.
“Let’s get peonies.”
“Anythin’ for you, you know that.”
“I think…I think I want those for my bouquet too.” Your eyes trail from his handsome face to the ring that sits on your finger. Warm from your skin, from his.
“Yeah?” His eyes soften as he watches you admire the jewelry. He had been so nervous when he begun to plan his proposal, the whole thing thrown out the window one morning when you had peered at him through the open window of his truck as he dropped you off at work. The words had burst from his chest in one solid breath, shocking you both. Another step with you that felt so natural he had done it without thinking. But it paid off, because here you were with him still.
And to think, he had almost turned down the job for worry of embarrassing his daughter at her first job.
“Yeah.” You pressed the single word to his lips.
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motley-cunt · 11 months ago
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they don’t like me because I consume them in multitudes
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wontob
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catfindr · 1 year ago
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slavic-roots-western-mind · 10 months ago
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Types of dumplings in China
Prior to my arrival to China, I only knew about wonton and jiaozi, which I assumed to similar to pelmeni.
As it turned out, there is no end to the variations of dumplings, so here are some of the most common dumplings in China that I've come across so far!
饺子 - jiǎozi These are thin veggie or meat filled dumplings, and they can be steamed, boiled or fried but I've only tried the steamed variety so far which is pretty tasty. They somewhat resemble pelmeni, but the tast is noticeably different.
馄饨 - húntún (wonton) These dumplings are similar to jiǎozi but thinner and they're usually eaten in soup.
生煎包 - shēngjiānbāo These are slightly crispy, fried dumplings usually with a pork-filling。
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锅贴 - guōtiē These dumplings are the crispy-ish type, deep-fried and steamed with various fillings like veggies and meat.
水饺 - shuǐjiǎo They're quite similar to the 锅贴, but these dumplings are boiled (note the 水) without the frying.
小笼包 - xiǎolóngbāo These are steamed buns, usually filled pork but they can also have other fillings like veggies and seafood.
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Honourary mentions: These aren't dumplings, but they're adjacent enough imo.
肉包子 - ròubāozi These are biggish steamed buns with a meat filling. I have these for breakfast and they're really good.
菜包子 - càibāozi Same as the ròubāozi, but with veggies and also pretty tasty.
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If I missed any, let me know which ones as I'm always looking to try new things!
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sea-lanterns · 8 months ago
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MASSIVE neuron activation for empress au.
Chiori is seen usually with the empress and is regarded as her seamstress for making and mending her outfits this then snowballs into her being a courtesan. And while she does help in the empresses clothes, she find finds herself working on the empress’ giant plushie pile more often than the empress’ clothes. Normally she would decline, but the puppy dog eyes that the empress gives makes her relent. She makes plushies or helps in making them more chonky if the empress wants them to be derpy and chonky.
GWSIWIKDLEKDD COURTESAN CHIORI STITCHING UP PLUSHIES FOR THE EMPRESS 🥹🥹
You bet the Empress wants her plushies to be bigger, more chonkier. Shes always bringing her plushies to Chiori and begging her with puppy dog eyes like “pleaseeee Chiori. Make chibi Eula all big and derpy pleaseeeee?”
Chiori has most often than not, had to stitch up the Empress’ courtesan plushies as well. I’ve mentioned this before in a previous post that the Empress would have derpy, chibi plushies of her courtesans. So imagine if Wonton, the Empress’ dog, has a the tendency to chew up the plushies of the courtesans he dislikes, so now Chiori has to stitch up the courtesans plushies every time Wonton ruins one 😭
Poor Chiori. But she loves the Empress so she does it for her anyways <3
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weepingwillowwonder · 4 months ago
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#4 Hazbin Hotel Things I ✨️LOVE✨️ the idea of (because I can't share these things with people irl...)
[Explicit content: minors DNI!🫸🏿🔞]
Vox x Brat!Reader x Valentino
CW: Punishment, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Sub/Dom, Masturbation, Daddy Kink, Hair Pulling, Dacryphilia, Spanking
Brat!Reader getting in enough trouble with Vox that he bends you over on a nearby surface. One hand gripping the back of your neck and the other pressing down on your lower back. When he leans over you, you defiantly attempt to push your ass back against him, but he pulls away and firmly tells you not to move. At this point, you don't dare to disobey, content with his reaction and excited about what's to come. Surly in this position, he would choose to spank you, right? Or maybe he'd slide his hand between your legs, teasing you until you beg for more... When you shift the weight onto your other leg, your thighs rubbing together, making you moan softly. Hearing him shuffle around only gets you more excited in thinking he's preparing something for you. Suddenly breaking the silence, you hear a door opening and closing and an exchange of greetings.
A wave of shame comes over you when you hear Valentino's voice behind you, bracing yourself for his filthy commentary. However, that never comes. You're confused at the lack of acknowledgement and shift your weight impatiently, still staying in position. "...I'm sure the project with be in production soon. We're waiting on the suppliers..." Vox says. You hear bit and pieces of the conversation but are distracted by their complete indifference to the compromising position you're in...Is this your punishment? Frustration starts to build as time passes and you quietly whine as your legs start to tire. In that moment, you swear you hear a brief pause in the conversation. It's pathetic the way you feel a throb in between your legs at the thought someone might give you the attention you want.
As quickly as the moment passes, the conversation begins again, as does your annoyance that Vox would put you in a position such as this. Your press your legs together, earning a pleased sigh as you feel some sort of relief. At this point you're weighing your options: Getting up would be blatantly disregarding Vox's orders. Who know's what he'd do then? You bite your lip, not wanting to find out. You could call out to him and beg for forgiveness... But that would mean surrendering, not to mention there was a possibility he didn't accept your apology. Their conversation drones on about work and you convince yourself they're probably not even looking at you right now. Regarding you like a piece of furniture or a decoration...
Taking a deep breath, you quietly slide your hand down the counter and slip your fingers into your pants between your legs. There's a thrill in trying to touch yourself so openly in front of the two without them knowing. When you don't hear a lull in their discussion, you continue onward, pressing your fingers lower to rub yourself. It takes a lot to not immediately cry out at the contact. You press your forehead into the surface and squeeze your eyes closed. The position is awkward since your hand doesn't have much room to move...But any sudden moves would absolutely not go unnoticed. Trying to reach lower, you whimper as you finger the rim of your hole. Unconsciously stretching up on your tip toes to feel more, you don't realize the room is silent.
Lost in the desperation of trying to get yourself off, you're startled when a hand trails down your lower back, purring, "tu chica sucia.~" Valentino chuckles. "This is no good Voxxy! Your little toy is so desperate that they're willing to fuck themselves in front of you instead of listening..." He tilts his head at the way you arch up to his hand. "What they need..." he pulls his hand back and slaps your ass hard, forcing out a wonton cry from your lips. "...is something inside them. That's how I get the bitches to behave.~"
Vox scoffs and rolls his eyes in the background. He crosses his arms as he watches you both, feeling himself get hard at the sight of you wiggling underneath Valentino. "They won't behave if you give them what they want...What they need," he says leaning back in his chair, palming himself. "Is to learn what happens when they don't listen." Valentino hums and leans over you to grind himself against you, holding your hips steady with two hands, the other two holding himself up. You moan out his name, making him grin as he kissed up your neck. "Come on baby...why don't you tell daddy you're sorry, hm?" He pulls you closer and reaches down to slide his fingers up your shirt, "We know you didn't mean it.." He gropes your chest until he finds your nipple and pinches roughly. "Just wanted attention right?"
He slips his hand from your shirt and sits up, suddenly gripping your hair to pull him along with him. You cry out and reach upward to where he grabs you and whimper when he drops you on the floor. He quickly bends down, wrapping his fingers under your chin, and lifts your head to look at Vox. You blink away the tears and take a few deep breaths to settle yourself as you make eye contact. Vox's pants are undone, openly stroking himself at the display. He watches you with half lidded eyes, making you bite your lip. Valentino leans in close to your ear, watching him as well. "Tell daddy you're sorry, chica..." Your lip wobbles as you whine out to him, "D-daddy..." Your back arches as Valentino's hand slides down your pants, cupping you, "Tell him, baby..." He grinds the heel of his hand down hard, earning a gasp. "I'm sorry! Daddy, I'm so sorry! P-please I want...I want - " Vox shushes you, grinning at the tears streaming down your face. "Oh baby... Daddy knows what you need."
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