#doing the masterlist is going to be a pain in the [redacted]

[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, fin. — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 43.2k idcccccc atp😭 take ur time!

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, hopeless romantic!oc. dont read further warnings if u dont wanna be spoiled: ANGST. im aware i kinda overkilled it here but uh.. hear me out! explicit sexual content [ male mast*rbation, oral s*x (f&m receiving), making out, dry h*mping, penetr*tive s*x (protected and unprotected, missionary, cowgirl, doggy, spooning), a bit of c*mplay, jk <3 boobs, ily kink (redacted) cries during sex lol ]. FLUFFy fluff fluffff 😖 some of the scenes give very much like 2000s romcom vibes but idc sue me also theres a #merder reference ifykyk

NOTES we have finally reached the end! sorry it took me a month to get this out sjdfhd but its here and its long as fuck n im so proud of this and happy that i finished a series!! for once!!! will always love my silly tlp couple and the characters 🥹 let me know ur thoughts on my inbox oki and circulate by liking and reblogging if u enjoyed reading hihi ty ok bye enjoy reading!🫵🏼🫵🏼 [ important: pls make sure to read the note below ]

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

A day passed since the fiasco at the villa happened and Jungkook and you have acted like total strangers since then. The rest of your friends easily took notice of it; the silence between you two on the ride to the airport, the not-so discreet way you avoided each other at the waiting area, even going as far as exchanging seats inside the plane when on any other day, you two didn’t mind being close together physically. 

Jungkook knows absolutely that the avoidance is doing you both a disservice. You’re both grown adults and going to extreme lengths to ignore each other – like not even looking at the other when you bump in the hospital hallways – is a one-way ticket to your relationship’s foundations crumbling. 

That thought terrified Jungkook so much that he decided to come clean tonight. Talk to you properly when his mind is cleared and there was no Mingyu to aggravate his thoughts and project actions he’s not necessarily proud of – because the fight was juvenile, he knows that. Him committing and giving in to violence is not something he wants you to see, no matter the context. You were right when you said that was not him, and Jungkook can’t have you thinking otherwise.

When he steps in front of your apartment door, he thinks if you’re already there. He isn’t entirely sure. You two haven’t seen each other at the hospital and you haven’t been texting him either.  You might still be doing your rounds, he thought, but when he opens the door to your unit and trudges his feet to the living room, he catches a sight of you going out from your bedroom.

The two of you freeze upon seeing each other, but Jungkook’s surprise soon turns into confusion when he notices the carry-on luggage in your hand.

“Oh, you’re here,” You utter, filling the silence in the air. “I was just going.” 

“Where?” Jungkook instantly asks, taking you both by surprise. 

But you quickly recover. You give him a small smile – but what Jungkook clearly sees is a wince.  

“I’m going over to my sister’s,” You must’ve seen the way Jungkook’s boring holes at your pink luggage, and so you take a glance at it momentarily, tugging on the handle to scoot it over closer to your side. You clear your throat. “I’m staying there for a while.” 

Jungkook feels a certain weight drop on his shoulders, his lips parting at your declaration. 

“__, i-if this is about what I said, you don’t have to leave—”

You cut him off quickly. “No. It’s not that. I just… I just need some time away.”

Even though he doesn’t like the implication, he gets you.

Blinking, he thinks what to say next. Jungkook doesn’t want to say the wrong words – he’s well aware of the fact that he's put his foot in his mouth back at the resort, and he’s not fucking up the second time around. 

While he intended to talk to you tonight to address the elephant between you two, he also understands completely why you need time for yourself. It was too much. He told you a lot of things and he can’t expect you to process all of them in a single day.  

So, he nods, still stricken, heart heavy when he looks at you again. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You repeat, voice a little louder than him. A pregnant pause, and you’re pulling up the handle of your luggage again, the wheels gliding on the floorboards as you begin to head towards the door to your apartment.

Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound so alarmed when he suddenly blurts out, “Now?” 

He doesn’t even know why. It was the obvious. You’ve packed your things – you’re heading out. But he couldn’t stop himself. It’s like there’s a sense of fear clouding his mind the more this moment of you leaving stretches out further.

You stop on your tracks, blinking at him. “Y-yeah?” 

“Oh.” Jungkook feels his hand itching to do something. Something stupid like grab your wrist gently to make you stay. 

But he knows that’s futile. He doesn’t have the right to make you stay if you don’t want to in the first place. 

“Seokjin’s actually coming in a few minutes,” you tell him, glancing at your phone. “My sister’s still at work, so she made him pick me up.” 

Jungkook can only give you a nod.

It makes sense for your brother-in-law to come pick you up. It also makes sense for you to stay over their place considering that their apartment isn’t that far from the hospital and you won’t have a hard time commuting to work if you planned to stay there for a little while. 

He wonders, though, why you aren’t staying at Doyeon’s instead… he doesn’t know if you’ve talked already, but from what it seems, you aren’t talking to the rest of your friends, either; judging by the way he hasn’t seen you together with any of them at the hospital. Taehyung had suggested that maybe you just need time, to which Doyeon and Nayeon agreed to. Jungkook can’t help but feel bad, though. You’re seemingly coming out isolated at the end of his own doing. If you’re avoiding your friends just because of him, that would be extremely unfair to you. Taehyung, Doyeon and Nayeon are just as much as your friends as they are his, and during these times, you should feel comfortable taking solace in their friendship like how he’s leaning on them currently.

Guilt washes over him at the thought. He can’t bear thinking about you hurting in the process of all of this. He just wants so badly to make it up to you, for you both to be okay again. You didn’t even have to acknowledge what he said – about him being in love with you. You could totally ignore it and act like it never happened, go on about your days like nothing changed as long as you’re by his side.

It hurts. It hurts that even when you’re just physically within his reach right now, he can’t seem to get a hold of you. And he has no one to blame but himself. 

A phone rings and Jungkook watches as you fish out your device from your pockets. 

“Must be Jin.” you say, picking up the call. You exchange a few words with your brother-in-law for a few seconds before hanging up and looking at him again. “He’s outside already.” 

Jungkook nods, biting back the words that consist of something stupid like “don’t leave”. 

“Your car…?” He hesitates, remembering how you’d drive to work. 

“It broke again yesterday. I’m actually… uh… thinking of just selling it. Get it over with.”

Your car. You mentioned your parents have turned it over to you during your junior year in college. It always broke in the most inconvenient times – like the one time you had a bad date, and you panicked-texted him about the car towing company not picking up. It was a Sunday and Jungkook was supposed to go over some paper works, but he scrambled out of his room to get you – and he didn’t regret it one bit because you were actually crying the moment he arrived. You had been overstimulated, what with another failed date and your broken car – it was all too much. And you just needed Jungkook to be there. You told him so. 

Jungkook cherishes those moments a lot. Not because you cried in them – he always felt like it was a punch to the gut whenever he sees you even an ounce of upset – but because it tells him that you trust him with that vulnerable side of you. It means he’s important enough to you to let him in your life. It’s one of those moments where Jungkook truly steps back to reevaluate your relationship – because sure, it could be merely friendship to anybody, but Jungkook doesn’t really think so. Your bond runs deeper than friendship, and he doesn’t even mean romantic. It’s the… camaraderie. The partnership.

He could’ve confessed a long time ago – that’s what people kept saying, but what they don’t know is that he has so much to lose. You are more than just the woman he would love to kiss and make love to or call his girlfriend – you’re the love of his life, you’re everything to him. And if he can’t have you in any way, he’d truly break. 

And now that everything’s said and done – with him finally baring his truth to you – it’s come to this.

You, leaving.

The silence that follows pricks Jungkook’s skin like needles, and the creak of your steps on the floorboards ring in his ears – a daunting harsh whisper of your farewell – although it’s just temporary. 

But something worries him. 

What if it’s not temporary? What if during your stay at your sister’s place, you decide to completely get rid of his company for the good and better? 

It’s all those frantic thoughts that urges him to call your name, but he doesn’t expect your voice overlapping with his as you say his name at the same time. 

Jungkook’s lips curl up slightly. “What is it?” 

Predictably, you wave your hand at him. “No, you first.”

“It’s okay.” 

Your hand hovers over the handle of your suitcase as you pass by him, stopping on the threshold of your apartment. “I just…” you trail off. You look at Jungkook for a moment. “I just wanted to say bye. And uh… that… I drank all your banana milk in the fridge. But I’ll wire you the money later. Or buy you another batch and I’ll give it to you at the hospital or—”

Jungkook cuts you off by calling out your name, broken by a laugh of amusement. His first smile today, maybe. You look at him wide-eyed. It’s fascinating the way you have him completely wrapped around your finger and you’re not even doing anything.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to wire me anything.” 

“Oh... well, I’m still sorry.” He nods, giving you a small smile. “What was it you wanted to tell me, then?” 

Right now, he forgets what it was even all about. “Just, uh, please tell your sister and Seokjin hyung I said hi.”  

Jungkook doesn’t want to delude himself into thinking that your face flashed a look of disappointment for the briefest moment after he said the words. At the back of his mind, he thinks you were expecting more – but he knows he’s reaching, grasping for straws, and he’s just desperate for anything from you he can’t really rationalize his line of thinking. 

So with a final wave of your hand – a bit timid – you turn around and open the door to your unit, and Jungkook watches as your form disappears completely, leaving him stoned in his position in the middle of the living room for a long time; head empty, body numb, until he gathers time to collect himself and finally move over to the bathroom, where he takes a cold shower in hopes for an improved mood.

It didn’t really do anything, and he found himself having a hard time sleeping – waking up randomly during the wee hours of the morning.

When he stirs awake from his blaring alarm at 5:30, he’s nothing but adrift.

It feels weird when he goes to the kitchen and he doesn’t see you, as he expects you to be there in whatever worn up shirt from high school you still have, making toast or some quick breakfast – with your playlist playing from your phone – but you weren’t. 

And Jungkook remembers that would be the case for another few days to come. Something he has to be okay with.

For the meantime.

He hopes.   

Jungkook doesn’t get drunk often, but now, his friends are assuming he is. For the record, though, he is not drunk and they are just exaggerating. Sure, he’s staggering and he’s mixing up his syllables and grammar – but he swears he just feels a little woozy.

“Jungkook,” Doyeon calls him, laughing a bit. “Come on, Taehyung’s driving you home.” 

“Don’t want to,” He says as he takes another swig of his fifth canned beer he’s been consuming since they all arrived at the barbecue place. “I can handle my alcohol.”

Which — fair. That’s not new news. But still—

“No shit, you have a shift tomorrow at eleven in the morning. Don’t be stubborn. It’s time to go home.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll Uber back.” 

Jungkook watches as Doyeon rolls her eyes. 

“Are you really moping right now?” 

He sends her a glare – one that she predictably does not take seriously. “‘M not moping. You’re moping.” 

“And I’m Kate Bush. Taehyung, can you just drag Jungkook out of here? I think he’s gonna cry any minute now and the auntie is closing. We gotta go.” Nayeon butts in, and even though her words may seem harsh around the edges, she looks at Jungkook with a concerned gaze. The playful atmosphere from earlier now dissipating.

Jungkook appreciates the warmth that he gets from Nayeon’s gentle approach to everything – but right now, all it does is make him feel pitiful. Doyeon’s right. He is moping. Moping for something that should’ve been within his control in the first place.

“Man, you know you bench way more than me. I can’t carry you out all by myself if you’re all drunk and shit.” Taehyung nudges him on the shoulder, enough to make Jungkook move from his seat. He only grumbles.

Doyeon sighs. “What do you want, Jungkook? Call __? Tell her you’re getting wasted and come pick you up?” 

Jungkook visibly flinches at the mention of you.

Ever since they arrived at the restaurant, Jungkook has noticed that his friends have been deliberately omitting your name in the conversation – until now, anyway. He thinks they all planned this spontaneous hang to “cheer him up” or whatever the fuck Taehyung said on their way here – which seemed like a slip-up, because Doyeon had hit the back of his head lightly right after saying it. 

They’re walking on eggshells around him like he’s some kind of house of cards – one nudge and a blow and he comes crumbling down.

Jungkook hates getting doted on like this. It’s not like you two broke up. They just knew that you went to stay at your sister’s place for a while and you never said when you’re coming back. He hasn’t had any encounters with you at the hospital nowadays – you’re getting good at hiding from him and the rest of the gang, and every single day bleeds into countless sleepless nights. You’ve been gone for five days; no calls, or at least a text. And it seems like you deactivated your IG. You aren’t tweeting or reblogging shit on Twitter as well. You’ve gone completely silent – and with every waking moment that Jungkook spends a day without your presence, it feels like you’re slowly slipping through his fingers.

“No.” he glares at the three of them. Standing up, he feels his vision dancing at the sudden action.

Well. Maybe he is sort of drunk. A little. 

“Hey, man, let’s go.” Taehyung ushers once again. This time, Jungkook acquiesces but with a groan. Nonetheless, he lets Taehyung wrap his arm around him to prevent him from tripping on his own feet.

When Jungkook manages to stand firm on the ground, he shuts his eyes tight to get a hold of himself and once again look at Doyeon and Nayeon who are still sitting by the table. With a confused expression, he asks, “Thought we’re all going?” 

“Minhyuk will pick me up.” Nayeon says. Jungkook nods, directing his gaze to Doyeon.

“Somebody’s picking me up, too,” When Jungkook squints his eyes at her, she rolls her eyes. “Don’t start. Tae, drive safely, okay? You didn’t drink, right?” 

Taehyung shakes his head and gives both women a reassuring nod before they head out of the building when goodbyes were bid, with Taehyung still pressing a hand on Jungkook’s back because he’s still a bit unstable on his feet. It’s not bad, though, Jungkook doesn’t think so. He just feels dizzy and shit, but it’s not anything water can’t solve.

Fuck, now he wants to get in bed as soon as possible. After a cold shower. 

“Sorry, man.” he says as he plops down on the passenger’s seat, buckling the seatbelt around himself. 

Taehyung comfortably settles on the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror a bit before starting the engine. But not after he responded to Jungkook with a snort, “It’s fine.” 

It’s a quiet car ride and Jungkook can already feel his eyelids threatening to fall, the haze of sleep already clouding his mind. He can’t recall how far it takes from the restaurant to his complex, but soon enough, Taehyung’s voice wakes him up from his stupor. 

“You okay there?” 

Jungkook hums, leaning back to relax his nerves. A minute flies and he sighs loudly, making Taehyung look at him momentarily.

“Don’t sleep on me. Again, I am not willing to carry you all the way to your apartment, fucker.”

That makes Jungkook laugh, a snicker escaping past his lips. It makes Taehyung do the same, scoffing at his friend as he did so. The car ride continues into a stretched-out comfortable silence before Taehyung breaks it with a question of, “You two still haven’t talked?” 

Jungkook stiffens at the mention, and he knows his friend notices the way he did, but he quickly tries to shake it off. “Yeah. She’s still at her sister’s.” Taehyung nods. When Jungkook looks at him, he decides to ask, “What ‘bout you? She reached out yet?” 

“No.”

Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. 

This is bad. You’re ignoring all your friends because of him. 

“Sorry.” Jungkook says after a pregnant pause.

“What for?”

“Dunno. Feels like it’s all my fault,” a sigh escapes past his lips again. “You guys don’t deserve to get caught up in this.”

“Jungkook,” There’s a lilt to Taehyung’s voice that reminds Jungkook again that the man beside him is older than he is and sometimes, Taehyung can be way more mature, almost like an older brother. He forgets their age difference most of the time. “Don’t say that.  __ just needs her time. She’ll come around.”

The smile Jungkook gives his way is bitter but it’s a smile, nonetheless.

“I don’t know, Tae,” He leans his head back on the seat, staring at nothing in particular. “It’s different this time.”

“You’ve fought before,” Taehyung points out. “How is this different?” 

Jungkook does know what he’s trying to point out. He may be referring to the time in third year of med school when you didn’t talk to him for a month – but still. This, right now – whatever is happening – is far from what happened back then.

“Just different,” He shrugs, a poor attempt at nonchalance so Taehyung doesn’t think he’s being pathetic. “I feel like this is it.” Taehyung looks at him curiously when the red light turns on. It makes Jungkook squirm, but he voices out what he feels, anyway. “I’m losing her.”

That felt weird the moment it slips his tongue. For the past few days, it’s been in his head – making up the mess of his thoughts. When he said that, for once, it felt like finality. Like its verbalization actually made it real. 

He does feel like he’s losing you. And it feels like the absolute truth.

“You can’t say that when you haven’t even talked to her, Jungkook,” Taehyung says and he says it so firmly. When Jungkook studies the older guy’s face, it’s etched with sincerity, especially when he adds, “Do you really think she’ll let go of an almost decade-long relationship just because of what happened? Frankly speaking, even if she does not feel the same way about you at all, I know her enough to know that she’ll have at least the decency to let you down properly. I think she’s just trying to think all of this through. She’ll talk when her head’s clear.” 

Jungkook finds himself processing his words. You are exactly like that. You’re the type of person to need your personal space when you’re confronted by huge predicaments. When he thinks about it – you have so much on your plate. Mingyu, him, your relationship with each of them; Jungkook realizes things must be so hard for you right now, both emotionally and physically. And you’re dealing with all this while still showing up for your rotations.

“You’re right.” Jungkook whispers. 

“Just… time, okay? You both need time.” Taehyung says and for once, Jungkook smiles a genuine one. 

The light turns green, and Taehyung continues to drive. 

Taehyung decided to turn up his jazz playlist and it eased Jungkook’s mind a bit. But it did lull him to sleep all the way to his apartment complex. Thankfully though, it only took Taehyung a few seconds of nudging him before he stirred awake, disoriented when he opened his eyes only to hear his friend say they were already there, ushering him out of his car. 

He said his thanks to Taehyung, and his friend made sure to tell him to take it easy before he took off. When he was gone, Jungkook went straight to the elevator to press his floor, mind and body working on autopilot as he sauntered over the hallway to stop in front of his unit.

When the door opens, he feels a sense of calmness at the sight of his own place with everything at his disposal including the bathroom that he quickly head towards, not hesitating to strip himself naked on the way to the shower, letting his clothes form a heap on the threshold; bare and naked without a care in the world.

Stepping into the shower box, he turns the showerhead on, hissing at the cold water spraying onto his skin. He needed the cold to get rid of his sluggishness – and it works just as instantly as he’d hoped. 

Both of his hands shoot up to brush his hair off his forehead, and he stays in that position for awhile; with the water running on his body and his head leaned back a bit, eyes closed as he relaxes. 

He mindlessly reaches for his shampoo bottle, but when he opens the cap, he smells a completely different product. What welcomes him when he opens his eyes back again is the familiar sight of Bath and Body works bottle. Your water lily springs body wash.

Despite his current headspace, it brings a smile to Jungkook’s lips.

Right.

He’s noticed in the past few days that you left it in your shared bathroom. Considering all the things that you still have around the apartment, it didn’t really look like you packed a lot of things when you left – which should ease Jungkook’s mind. Still, though; the small size of your luggage and the quantity of what you brought with you do not matter when you still aren’t home. 

And with that, Jungkook feels himself slipping back into… mulling again. And he can’t help but heave out a sigh. 

He just… wants to rest for tonight. Just wants his head emptied out. Relax. He feels like he’s been on edge for the longest of time and he just needs some sort of – he’s not sure – comfort? Maybe something along the lines? 

And as if his hand has a mind on its own, he grips the bottle of your body wash and squirts an ample amount on his palm, the scent of water lily springs surrounding the confined space of the shower immediately. 

He lathers it all over his chest, inhaling the gentle waft and how it weirdly calms him from the inside. The room smells just like you. He smells just like you. And it isn’t the first time he’s doing this – he’s always liked the way you smelled, and he may have used your body wash by accident countless of times. Jungkook sometimes does it just to tease you – because you always point it out when you notice that he smells the same, and then you get all irritated and it makes Jungkook keen because you’re just so goddamn cute when you glare at him and when you get mean. Teasing you also means that you’d get mad enough to sulk at him, and that gives him the opportunity to make it up to you; and making it up to you means he gets all of your attention. 

It’s pathetic but Jungkook’s not ashamed to admit that – just to himself, though. He likes when you give him attention, can you blame him?

His mind goes back to the memory of you cuddling with him on the ground at that random playground near your complex, how you snuggled up to his arm, giggling and threatening him to stop using your body wash. He remembers all the times you would cook together on nights when you’re both free – lounging on the couch mindlessly, either watching a show and debating over useless, stupid stuff – or when you would force him to rub your foot or massage your neck. Jungkook doesn’t relent until after you complain for a good five minutes. He’s gotten better at pretending overtime that he doesn’t look forward to touching any part of you.

At that thought, he recalls the way your back felt on his hands when he rubbed sunscreen all over it when you were at the resort. How the plane of your gorgeous skin felt so smooth to the touch, how you make him feel even with just the slightest baring of your skin. 

Jungkook shuts his close when his mind goes into overdrive.

You. You. You and your bikini. You and your short shorts that might as well just be panties in disguise. You and those cute little, tight camisoles you always wear around the apartment. How he could just sometimes see the outline of your nipples where the thin material of your shirt clings to. How your bare legs look so good when you cross them while reading the paper on a Sunday morning by the kitchen island. How your breasts look like they could fit in Jungkook’s big palms with a bit of overspill – enough to drive him insane. 

These are the thoughts in Jungkook’s head as he continues to lather the liquidy texture of your body wash all over his body – and when his hand finally nudges the dick in between his legs, he groans. 

He’s not a stranger to getting off to the thought of you – you’re a gorgeous woman and it doesn’t really help the fact that he’s been in love with you for god knows how long – but it doesn’t mean that he does it guilt-free. He almost always feels like shit afterwards. 

But he can’t help it. Not when you’re all over his head again. Not when he’s thinking about how good it would probably fucking feel if he could just have a taste of your plump lips. How it would feel if he could just suck on your neck, paint you with his love there, down to your cleavage then play with both of your tits with his hands – be greedy with it – get your nipples rock hard and pretty tight for him, suck and latch and nip and lick them, make sure it’s all wet before he goes down more south. 

God. He thinks about it all the time. How’d it feel to go down on you. You’re so fucking pretty he could just imagine how gorgeous you would look down there, too. Were you the type to like getting eaten out? Jungkook hopes so. Because he would do everything to satisfy you. Fuck, he’d be so good to you. He’d tease your clit with his thumb first and you’d tell him that you’re aching for him bad – and he’d cave in and get his first taste with the flat of his tongue and fuck. You probably taste so good he’d crave it for days to come. 

The next thing Jungkook knows, he’s holding the base of his cock firmly, feeling it getting harder every second. It grows in his hand as he continues to think about eating your pussy, imagining the sounds you’d let out, how you’d look extra beautiful getting fucked by his tongue. Shit. He’d do it so well if you just asked. 

Jungkook traps his bottom lip with his teeth as he starts teasing his own cock, already in its full mass, hard and standing tall against his abdomen. He can see the shiny texture of his tip, precum leaking out, begging to be touched. He doesn’t wait any second to thumb the liquid off his head, letting out a half-sigh, half-hiss at how sensitive it felt, especially when he runs it over the veiny base.

Inhaling a sharp breath, Jungkook steps back a bit to cup his balls, squeezing it just enough to make him close his eyes. He repeats the motion of sliding his hand up and down his erect cock, feeling himself getting wetter at every second that passes. 

He gets a picture of you on your knees, and as he pumps himself at a slow pace, he imagines it’s you instead kneading him. You have slender fingers and pretty nails, it would feel so much better if they were wrapped around his cock right now. Your nails would scrape against his length, and you’ve held hands enough times for Jungkook to know that his hand is significantly bigger than yours, so you probably won’t fit all of him in your hand – but that’s alright. You’d tease him on the tip instead, spread his precum all over, get him needing and wanting more. 

Jungkook’s hips start to buck as he speeds up his pace, this time jacking himself harder as his mind jumps to more thoughts of you  — but this time around, you’re not on your knees: you’re pressed on the glass wall of the shower box, your ass bent for all of him to caress and squeeze, and you’re craning your head to look at him with hooded eyes, lips parted into a gorgeous “o” as you beckon him to come closer and put his hard dick in your warm, tight, and aching pussy. 

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses as he lets his forehead fall to the wall, resting there for a few good seconds, other hand scrambling to turn off the shower and quickly shutting his eyes close as he pictures himself thrusting into you instead of his stupid fucking hand.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He hisses, hand going faster around his length, pumping himself desperately to the thought of his dick sliding in and out of you.

Your moans would fill the tight room, and you’d sound so pretty. You’d be so pliant against the strong arm that he would wrap you with — and Jungkook would make sure to flick your nipples and fondle your breasts as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuuuuck…” 

He grunts and he moans, hand impossibly going faster — dick getting harder. He just wants a release. He wants to cum so bad — to kiss you and love you and have you say it back with the same earnestness as him. 

Jungkook wants so badly to have you in his arms right after he eats you out, to cuddle with you and pretend like you have all the time in the world after he’s made sure to make love to every single inch of your body. To caress your hair and press a kiss on your head anytime he likes – because he’s allowed to. Because you love him. He just wants to be able to touch you in any way possible. Run his fingers over your back, kiss your cheeks, and your scrunched nose. Just wants to bury his face in your chest after a long day at work. Hold you tight against him. Have you close to him, whenever and wherever. 

But he doesn’t have all that. He can’t have all that. Not when you don’t even feel the same. Not when you reacted that way when he told you he loves you more than just his best friend. 

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t wrap my head around it. You’re not telling me the whole truth and frankly, I don’t believe you.”  

Your words ring in his ears as he continues to jack himself. 

The memory is still so vivid in his head — the surprised look on your face — certainly not the pleasant one. You were so… surprised. And angry. Like you didn’t believe any of what he said. Like you were trying hard to convince yourself that whatever you were hearing from him wasn’t true. 

Because she doesn’t feel the same way. Jungkook thinks.

He remembers the night you left. How you could barely look him in the eyes. 

“Shit—” Jungkook hisses as he squeezes his balls, hand pumping faster around his swollen cock. He closes his eyes as he tries to regulate his breathing, his stomach tightening at his impending release – and it’s the last thing he does in favor of his own sanity before his mind slips back again to life without you in it. 

He would never have you. He can never be anything to you anymore. 

He will never be, especially as he looks down at his hand on his cock.

How pathetic.

What would you think if you were to see him right now, getting himself off by imagining it’s you instead? You’d be so disgusted. You’d look at him like he’s a different person and feel betrayed because – how could the person you trust think about you like this? 

There’s that sense of self-hatred again that Jungkook feels whenever he jacks off to you. That fear of you finding out and not liking it. 

Jungkook tugs at his cock angrily as he thinks about all that, and he doesn’t notice that the stinging in the sides of his eyes would soon turn into tears running down his cheeks as he tries to reach his climax. 

You would hate him so much. You don’t even like him anymore. Don’t even want to live with him anymore.

But he just wants to cum so bad. Just wants to feel some sort of clarity. Delude himself into basking in that quick dopamine. 

He traps a sob in his throat as he makes quick work of his cock, and with one last squeeze around his tight balls, he shoots his hot cum to the wall, hips bucking at his orgasm. 

Letting out a series of hushed curses, Jungkook continues to pump his cock for more until he feels sensitive, and his dick turns soft and languid against his legs. 

He grabs the shower head to spray the cum off the wall, feeling the water already turning lukewarm. When he finishes cleaning his mess up, he grabs your body wash and exits the shower, throwing the bottle in the trash can with haste as if it burned him. As he turns back around, he catches sight of himself over the lavatory’s mirror. 

There are dark circles under his eyes — not too visible — but they’re there. His eyes are red from crying, and suddenly his body itches. He should shower again and actually clean up this time.

But Jungkook realizes as he stares at himself again… he has never looked so tired. Not even in med school. Or during internship. 

This whole thing is taking a toll on him – he knows that well by now. Even his friends do as well. He’s fucking up his sleeping schedule and he’s not even eating properly. He hits the gym not because he wants to but because it helps shut down his head.

Jungkook sighs. 

He’s long accepted that the love he holds for you is so big it sometimes borders on piteous. He’s spent so many years going into this kind of phase where he just mulls over the same thing; that he loves you, but you will never ever feel the same way back.

And the thing is, he's always been okay with it. Jungkook loves loving you. He’d be a fool not to when he genuinely thinks that you were made to be loved.  

But at this point, he just feels… tired.

Exhausted. Empty.

He wants to sleep. He wants to rest. He wants to wake up the next day and not feel like shit anymore.

Maybe Doyeon was right back at the villa.

It is time to move on.

And maybe… just maybe… unlike all the other times he’s attempted to do the same thing, this time around will be successful.

Your 7am to 2pm shift had just concluded when you arrived at your sister’s place, only to see them both all dolled up, ready to go out.

They told you that you could come with them if you liked, but of course you refused. You’re not the type to interrupt a date and they were certainly too in love for your liking. Don’t get you wrong, you love that for both – but you’re getting pretty sick of romance these days and you’re trying to avoid it as much as possible. Seokjin made sure to throw another one of his “Don’t mope around, okay? We have Macallan in the cupboards. You know the one.” jokes, though – having already known why you’re here in the first place – and your sister pinched his ear painfully enough for you to ignore and roll your eyes at him lightheartedly. 

Which leads you to now, binge-eating a left-over tub of vanilla ice cream on a Sunday afternoon from last night’s impulsive purchase. You know it’s going to make you feel like shit later, but you can’t really bring yourself to care – not when the ice cream tastes too good paired with a Sex and The City episode. 

You like to delude yourself you’re the early season Miranda; independent, boss bitch, career-driven, straightforward but kind. But you had a mortifying realization that maybe you’re actually Carrie. You’re both so obsessed with love and glorify the idea of “The One” that you overlook red flags in a guy just to stay in a relationship. And for what? To be completely broken and fucked over in the end of it all. 

But you don’t want to be Carrie – sure, she has a special place in your heart as a fictional character but real-life Carries, with all of their delusions and ideals, are not meant for the real world.  

“You’re watching that show again?”

You almost fall over the couch when you hear a familiar voice behind you, and when you crane your neck to look who it was, your eyes widen.

“Mom!” you exclaim, rightfully surprised. Your mother – in the flesh – smiles as she sees you grin. “Oh my god, I didn’t know you’d be here— wait, how’d you get inside?”

She waves you off. “You know your sister and Jin gave me a duplicate key to their place. Anyway, I’m just here to drop off some side dishes. Also, I know what you’ve been up to. And stop eating that ice cream.”

You pout, taking the tub away from you. When you see her walk towards the kitchen with her bags – presumably the side dishes she was talking about – you follow behind her steps, helping her load the containers in the fridge. 

“What do you mean you know what I’ve been up to?” 

“You and Jungkook fought, I heard.” 

“Mom,” you say with a tone that tells her you don’t want to talk about it at all. 

“You know I’m going over there shortly to give him these, right? Supposed to be for the both of you, but oh well, you’re lounging around here.” She says. 

“I’m not lounging around here. They love that I’m here.” You counter, referring to your sister and Seokjin. It almost sounded like a whine, though, more than anything. But it was true! They like you being here! They’ve always treated you like their child… but you know you’re kind of pushing it with your sixth-day-stay. 

Your mother looks at you disapprovingly, loading the last container before shutting the fringe doors shut. 

“Whatever you’re fighting about, you know avoiding it is not going to make it better.” 

You sigh. “I’m not even sure if we’re fighting, anyway.” 

“What’s that mean?” Your mom asks, sounding confused. You can imagine.

“I don’t know… just – I don’t think we’re angry at each other.”

“Not being angry at each other is worse than being angry at each other. That sounds like withdrawal.” 

You wince at her words. “Maybe.” 

Your mom sighs. She takes out a bit from the container of stir-fried zucchini and slides you both a plate. “Have you been eating real food? You look like you’re not eating properly.”

Teenager and college you would’ve rolled your eyes because she always says that you’re losing weight and blah blah blah, but it’s not even true. However, you do know she’s just concerned, though, and so you nod your head, picking up a zucchini and eating it.

“Yes. Jin’s a good cook.”

She nods, eating as well. “So is Jungkook. He hasn’t talked to you at all?” 

You thought you’ve dodged the topic of Jungkook completely but apparently your mom’s still on that. You nibble on your bottom lip as you think what to say.

“He… uhm… he didn’t text or call.” Well. There was one time. Two days ago. And it was just a simple text about informing you of the sudden change in the OR schedule. You replied to it with a thanks and a smiley face, but he didn’t say anything after that — not that your thanks should guarantee anything. That was not exactly a conversation starter.

Still. 

“Have you talked to him?” 

Shoot. 

You shake your head a bit. 

The truth is that you can’t be sad about Jungkook not reaching out when you haven’t been doing the same thing either. You’re running away from him – you can admit that. The past week hasn’t been your proudest moment. You’ve thought it over countless times; why you just can’t go ahead and speak to him – because heck, for eight years you’ve always done a good job at it, communicating with each other when things went wrong. Like when he teases you too much and you actually get offended, and the same goes for him.

But what happened wasn’t just something that came out of a supposedly lighthearted banter. It wasn’t your usual banter at all. 

“What happened, sweetie?” And this time your mom’s voice is bordering on concern. 

You don’t look at her when you say, “Jungkook said he’s in love with me.” 

You don’t get a reaction. At least – the reaction you were expecting. You thought she would gasp, or at least let out an, “Oh”, but there’s none of that. When you peer up at her, she just nods. 

As if the news was no surprise. 

“And I take it didn’t go well?” She looks at you gently. 

“N-no,” you stammer. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you say, “It was – it was so messy that day, mom. You know we went to that resort for his birthday, right? He and my boyfriend fought, and just – so much happened. I don’t even remember half of it. Just that he told me he’s been in love with me for the past eight years.” 

Your mom nods. “Your boyfriend… is that Mingyu?” 

“Yes.” It feels weird to call him your boyfriend now. You used to be so giddy calling him that. But right now, it feels almost icky. 

“Why did Jungkook and him fight?” 

You told her what Jungkook told you – everything, and your mom is sweet almost all of the time but as she listens to everything that Mingyu supposedly did and say – especially about you – she can’t help but knit her brows in that quiet anger you know all too well now. But it soon dissipates to worry. 

She steps closer to you. You look at her with a sad smile. With that, she encloses her arms around you, and you let your chin fall on her shoulder as you reciprocate her hug. You almost cry when she squeezes you. “How are you feeling then, sweetie?” She asks, voice so gentle and soft. Comforting. You think this has been what you needed all this time.

“Like shit.” you chuckle. “I’ve never been so tired. I haven’t even talked to Mingyu yet – I haven’t been talking to anybody, even my friends. I don't know why I’m like this.” 

“You know I worry for you.”

“Hm?” 

“You’re such a lovely, sweet girl. And these men keep breaking your heart. I wish I can ease your pain, honey. You have the biggest heart in the world.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip as you feel that stinging in your eyes at her words. You remember Jungkook saying almost the exact same thing.

“Jungkook told me that sometime ago.” you say, holding back the cry you know is coming out any second now. 

“He knows you well.” She says as she caresses your head. 

“I just…” you let out a sigh again, trying to shake off the oncoming tears. “When he told me he loved me all this time, I said I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I still can’t.” 

“Do you think he would lie about something like that?” 

It’s firm and final when you say, “No.” Because you know in your heart that was true. Jungkook is anything but a liar. And especially about something like that… you just don’t think he would ever hurt you intentionally. That’d be cruel and Jungkook was never cruel. It’s just not in his nature. 

“Hm. Then is it because you don’t feel the same way at all? That’s why you can’t believe it?” Your mom asks and it’s the most groundbreaking question you’ve ever heard after a while. 

Do you just… not feel the same way? 

That was definitely the biggest question you’ve been avoiding answering. 

But as your mom pushes you slightly so she can look at you earnestly, gently, like she has no expectations whatsoever – just here to hold and comfort you – it beckons you into spilling your emotions. 

“I… I really don’t know, mom.” You intake a sharp breath. “He’s been a constant presence in my life for eight years. We’ve never– we’ve never considered the possibility of being more than just friends. I– I don’t know why he would love me. Or fall for me. He’s never shown interest, the way I saw it – but these days I’ve been rethinking that and I’m beating myself over for being stupid because it’s like – how could I have not known? He’s always been so caring towards me. Always makes time for me. He’s never let me down and he’s just – he’s my person, mom. Always has been. And how could I have thought that he didn’t mean for that to come off as purely platonic?” you stop, feeling your lips wobble. “It’s just… I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel. All I know is that these days without him have been so painful, especially when we haven’t properly talked. I miss him everyday and it kills me that we aren’t like before right now. I want to be by his side all the time, and I think I may have taken that for granted for the past eight years we’ve known each other.” 

You don’t realize you’ve let out so much, but your mom just lets you snuggle closer to her, knowing that you’re feeling a lot right now. And you do. You haven’t talked to anyone about what you really felt – not even your sister, even though you knew she did her best to do so – but as your mom soothes your back with the gentle rub of her hand, you let yourself be comforted. 

“You know what I think, honey?” 

You look up at her with teary eyes, nodding weakly.

She gives you a small smile. “Do you remember that time when I thought he was your boyfriend when you brought him for Christmas?” 

Nodding, you chuckle. Second year of med school it was. Eunwoo was in Switzerland for a a big project – and Jungkook’s parents weren’t in town. You both didn’t have anybody to celebrate Christmas with and so you ended up asking Jungkook to come home with you. 

It wasn’t just your mom who thought he was your boyfriend. Your sister and Seokjin also assumed the same thing. 

Around that time, you haven’t introduced Eunwoo to them yet so basically, they didn’t know that you were taken already. 

“I think this is just me being old… but you kind of… you get to know these things, __. You’ll see somebody's eyes, they way they gaze at somebody. When we were opening those gifts during Christmas eve, I saw the way that kid looked at my daughter with so much adoration that I even thought you were just being coy about him being your boyfriend.” 

Your lips curl into a tight line. 

You… certainly did not notice any of that. Did that really happen?

“I think Jungkook’s a good man, and your dad is fond of him – he asked me yesterday if you’re gonna bring him for Thanksgiving or Christmas, he misses his chess buddy, it seems. No pressure, though,” your mom chuckles. “But Jungkook’s smart, kind, polite, works hard, really charming—” you laugh again, despite yourself, because that’s definitely true. He charmed your parents so quickly with ease. It’s just really about his pleasant personality that attaches people to him. “But most especially, he makes you really happy. I liked that Jaehyun guy and Eunwoo because they made you happy when you were together. Up until they didn’t. I only like people who are good to you, sweetie. That was why I liked your ex-boyfriends for a while,” She begins caressing your head again and you feel like a little girl again, finding comfort in your mom’s bedroom after a bad day at middle school. Your mom smiles softly before she continues, “But those men hurt you. And they leave you. And you know who hasn’t in the past eight years? The only one who’s been consistent in making you happy?” 

It’s Jungkook. He’s always been under your nose while you cried over other men, and he was there to support you through it all. He’s the one who makes you laugh at his stupid jokes. The one who sits with you in your feelings on days when you don’t feel your best. He’s the one who lets you cry on his shoulder when a surgery doesn’t go well, the guy who would drop everything for you with one text or call, the guy who gifts you stupid, stupid random things because they reminded him of you. He’s the guy who shares his playlists with you, comments silly stuff on your equally silly posts, and he’s the only one who has never, ever made you feel like you’re not enough. He’s the only one who has never left and hurt you. 

It’s always been Jungkook. 

Your mom doesn’t need to say the name, though, just one look at you and she knows you're thinking the same thing. 

It’s during midday at the hospital when you see Jungkook again.

The elevator dinged and the doors finally opened on your floor, but you froze in your position when you saw who was inside the whole time. 

It was Jungkook, sitting slightly on the handrails while crossing his arms. His posture straightened for a bit as he met your eyes, looking equally surprised as you. But then he recovered and relaxed in his position just as quickly. 

You couldn’t read the look on his face.

Taking a hold of yourself before the door automatically closes, you stepped a foot inside the lift and pressed on the button of your floor immediately. The 7th floor button is lightened up, so you assumed Jungkook was gonna get off earlier than you since you were going down on the sixth floor. 

The confined space had never felt more suffocating. You could feel there was something in the air – a thick tension that was getting too hard to bear every second you felt the elevator moving down. 

There was a lump that formed in your throat, especially when you caught a glimpse of the reader going floors down fast, and the 7th one was nearing. 

Your heart beat erratically against your chest. You didn’t even feel that nervous back in the OR twenty minutes ago.

But you figured it was the first time you felt close, after all.

It was funny, really – what you felt at that moment. Being physically close to Jungkook had never made you feel like that – like you’re on edge – you’ve always just approached it as something natural, like you were meant to be that way. And those times, you never really thought about the contact ending. 

But in that moment, it felt like he was slipping away – even though you were not even holding him in the first place. 

It was probably why you let out your next words, craning your neck to the side to try and look behind you where you knew Jungkook was at. 

“I miss you.” 

You barely said it. Felt like just a soft whisper as the words slipped past your lips, but there was a break around its edges – like it was the most vulnerable thing you’ve ever said. 

It was. 

And you didn’t exactly know why you did it. 

Maybe you just wanted him to know. Maybe you just wanted him to understand that… that you were still there. And that you missed him. Every single day. Regardless of what happened. 

There was a thick silence that hung in the air after that, and you should’ve taken back your words right after they came out. Embarrassment should’ve clouded you by then. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

That was as honest as you could get. 

You didn’t even expect a reply – assuming that maybe Jungkook hadn’t heard it. 

But you heard the soft tap of his steps on the floor and felt his overwhelming presence coming near you. And just like that, you knew he was behind you. Close. A hair's breadth away. 

Then, you hear him let out a soft sigh, and you could feel his breath brush against your ear as he leaned down. You never realized how much you craved his affection until you felt him slightly nudging his cheek against the crown of your head. 

It made you keen. Made you shut your eyes close. Basking in the moment, but you didn’t ignore the pain that it caused. 

Because somehow, despite what might seem like a sweet gesture – the whole thing felt like goodbye.

It was so intimate, though, that you almost forgot that you were currently on the 8th floor and he was dropping off on the next. 

The elevator dinged like a wake-up call. And when you opened your eyes, Jungkook had already peeled his body away from you. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you fought the urge to cry as you saw him walking out. 

Before the door closed, he took one look at you. His mouth opened, as if wanting to say something. You waited. But he closed his lips again, not bothering to look back for even one last time before the elevator doors closed in front of your face. 

The interaction left a certain melancholy in your heart, and it made you run on auto-pilot when the elevator stopped on your floor. 

You never expected for the encounter to happen – but it did, in its own way. And now you have to deal with the consequences of your impulsive actions.

Your mindless walking has led your feet to somewhere a bit secluded. It’s far across the hall, and you recognize it as some old, empty ward. You and your friends have one on the 5th floor but you don’t think you’ve never really been here before and so you weren’t sure.

But you’re desperate to let out a good cry. Maybe not exactly cry – but just be alone for awhile. The hospital and your schedule are busy enough as they are and it’s enough to keep your mind occupied since the morning – but that interaction with Jungkook at the elevator reminded you of the weight that you’ve been carrying lately and you just… want to dissipate a little. Even if it means sacrificing your three-minute lunchtime. 

You don��t suspect anything as you twist the doorknob open – surprise to see it’s not locked like you thought it would be. 

And the sight leaves your mouth hanging open. 

“Oh my god.” 

“What the fuck.” 

“Shit!” You watch as Doyeon pushes off the man wearing a white lab gown on top of her – a very familiar figure that you can only recognize as none other than the attending surgeon Dr. Kim Namjoon. 

A panicked, “I’m sorry!” leaves your mouth before you turn on your heel, ready to fly off the scene when you hear Doyeon’s voice calling you from behind.

“Wait, __!” 

You hesitantly look back.

It’s obvious what they were doing before you entered the room. Doyeon’s hair is unusually out of the ponytail she always shows up to work with, and Dr. Kim… Jesus. He’s always been so intimidating to you – with his tall stature and his aura that reeks so much of authority, even though he doesn’t even try, it feels so fucking weird to suddenly see him with his hair all mussed up when it always looks kempt every single time you see him along the hallways of the hospital. Right now, he looks coy, like he’s shrinking himself as he avoids looking at you.

“Dr. __, I am so deeply sorry,” His apology sounds so remorseful that you feel bad for even having to barge in. You can see Dr. Kim fumbling with his coat as he looks at Doyeon like he’s looking for help. Doyeon looks at him, but she just… rolls her eyes.

“Joon, just–” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes close. Seemingly agitated. Or embarrassed. You don’t know why you’re still here. “You should leave now, I’ll talk to __.” Doyeon lets her gaze fall back to you and your eyes widen at the declaration, not really knowing if she was serious or not. 

You mean… what are you even going to talk about? Sure! You’re shocked as fuck to see them together in that position but you’re not about to ask her about her sex life!

… Okay. So maybe you are a little bit (only a little) curious about that.

Dr. Kim has always been a mystery to all of you. Taehyung and Jungkook admire him so much, the latter lowkey idolizes him at this point. Nayeon has always spoken highly about him and you’re literally a fan of all his work in his field, especially his books. It doesn’t help that he’s attractive as hell, too, and you all may have gossiped about him at one point in your lives – so sue you for being curious! You’re just human.   

“You sure?” Dr. Kim says, barely spoken, but you don’t miss the gentle way he holds Doyeon’s shoulder as he asks that, the way his face contorts into a concerned expression when he looks down at her. One quick interaction and you instantly realize that oh… this is serious. 

They’re not just having casual sex in this ward.

This is Doyeon’s boyfriend.

Your bestfriend nods at him and you step aside to give Dr. Kim some space to leave the room, still visibly stunned. You thought he was going to leave when he utters another apology again. 

“__, I’m really sorry about this behavior. Doyeon and I—” 

Doyeon groans. “Joon, oh my god. It’s fine.” 

You watch as Dr. Kim’s (who Doyeon apparently calls “Joon”— what the hell) lips fall into a thin line. “Fine. I’ll go. We’ll talk about this later, alright?” 

“I know.” 

He gives you both one last glance before the door closes on you.

You swear you tried to look for cameras everywhere – like they do in The Office – to see if the whole thing was a prank. But no. Your life’s unfortunately not a sitcom.

“I told him to lock the door earlier,” Doyeon starts, sounding defeated as she falls back on one of the emergency beds. Sighing, she covers her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.” 

At that, you can’t help but react immediately. 

“You’re embarrassed about the fact that you’re fucking an insanely stupid hot, intelligent man?” Your brows knit. 

Doyeon looks at you and you both stare at each other. She holds her own, like she usually does, but for the first time ever, she breaks and chuckles. The laughter turns hilarious, and you follow her into the bed. 

“God,” she utters. She licks her bottom lip and looks at you shyly. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” 

“I mean… what did you mean to do instead?” 

She hesitates. “I’m not sure.”

You frown. “So, you just… you just weren’t going to tell me? Us?” You didn’t bother to hide the tone of disappointment in your words. Doyeon looks a little ashamed when you verbalized that.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t know how,” She says. You knit your brows in confusion. “You know I’ve always been… private about my dating life or whatever. I don’t tell you guys I’m dating until I’m sure the guy and I are official. I… I don’t even date a lot in the first place.” 

Well… that was true. You nod at her, giving her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I get that.” Doyeon smiles a little. “How long?” 

There’s a pregnant pause before she says, “Uh… since Feb?” 

“Jesus.” She winces at your reaction. You stare at her with your jaw slack. “What the fuck, Doyeon? Nine months?”

“Well, technically, eight but—” you look at her dryly and Doyeon gives up on her attempt at being facetious. “Okay. I’m sorry. It just happened.” You raise your brow at her. She sighs. “Okay, so we may have hooked up last year in December. You remember the Christmas party at the Ritz?” 

Your mouth just hangs wider, looking at her incredulously. Every drop of information she lets out just grows your surprise bigger, and you have nothing in substance to say except, “You… whore.” 

Doyeon laughs so loud you worry it might have been heard from the outside, but you wince at the slap that follows on your shoulder as she giggles nonstop. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god.” 

“No– I just– Oh my god, was that the reason why you bailed on our own Christmas party over at Nayeon’s?” She nods at your question with her lips pursed. You scoff, still not believing it but just overall amused in general. “You’re really throwing me a curveball here, babe. Like – I have never ever heard you talking about Dr. Kim except when you said you’d totally fuck him in that one drinking session. And then, you actually fucking did.”

She rolls her eyes, scoffing. “He started asking me out on dates in January and he asked me to be his girlfriend in Feb. I don’t even know how it happened. It just did,” She shrugs, as if she just said that the skies are blue. “I’m pretty good at hiding, huh?” 

You don’t hide the way you instantly frown.

“I’m happy for you, Doyeon, I really am. But… did you not feel like you could tell me? Or any of us?”

At least she looks apologetic, nibbling on her bottom lip before she says, “It’s not that, __. I didn’t know how to tell you guys. There’s this – there’s this thing when you date a co-worker, especially in the hospital. He’s an attendant, and he’s about to be chief of surgery next two months, you know that right? And it’s just— I know you will never think it, or the rest of our friends – but I just. I didn’t want anyone to think that I’m… that I’m sleeping my way here, you know? It’s fucking weird. And Ms. Yan from fuckass HR hates me for some reason. I’d be public enemy number one around here, __.”

You wince hearing her explanation. Nodding, you rub her shoulder to offer some kind of comfort, noticing that she’s actually silently fuming just by the mere thought of that. Meaning she must have been thinking about it for quite some time now. 

“But you know we’ll never think of it like that, right?” You confirm with her, just to be sure. You love Doyeon – she’s basically your sister at this point – and you don’t ever want her to feel like she can’t trust you.

“Of course. I don’t… I can’t really offer you any explanation other than I got scared and just wasn’t ready. Joon wants to let people know… and I don’t know. I guess I’m thinking about that too nowadays.” She says, and she’s not really looking at you anymore, seemingly deep in thought.

You begin rubbing her back. “It’s fine if you’re not ready yet.” 

“Oh, this is getting kind of mushy. I hate it.” Doyeon says dryly. You push her slightly which sends her sideways a bit, earning a laugh from her.

“Joon, huh?” You decide to tease to lighten up the mood. Instead of backing down and getting shy like you expected, Doyeon raises her brow. “Can I be honest with you, though?” You say, fiddling with your fingers. She nods so you tread lightly to your next words. “This will sound crazy, I know, but for the longest time I thought Jungkook was your secret boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” Doyeon says, sharp and almost… disgusted. You don’t expect such a reaction. 

“Okay, you don’t need to sound so disgusted. Jungkook’s a good-looking guy and he’s very decent.” You say, sounding weirdly defensive – even to your own ears.

“No– that’s not what I meant—” Doyeon cuts herself off with a laugh. “That’s actually really funny, though.” You look at her curiously. “Somehow, I thought about you thinking that. Especially after that time at the villa when you walked in on us talking by the pool deck.” 

“I…” you try to come up with an excuse, something to deny her claim, but nothing comes, and your eyebrows knit in confusion because you actually don’t know yourself why you felt that way back then. You still remember the weird feeling that flared up in your chest upon seeing them in such an intimate position — with Jungkook’s head on Doyeon’s stomach and her caressing his head. Maybe you’re more malicious than you let on, but can she really blame you for thinking there was more to that? Besides, Jungkook’s second closest in the group is probably her. It made sense to assume they were secretly together. 

“God, don’t,” Doyeon says incredulously. “Obviously, he’s not my secret boyfriend. I don’t like him and he does not like me, at least not that way. That man only has heart eyes for you and I’m only into Namjoon, thank you very much.” 

You wince. “Sorry.”

“But were you really jealous that time, though?” Doyeon asks, intrigued. “I mean, I thought about it. You were acting weird. But I kind of just shrugged it off.”

“I was not jealous, what the hell,” you quickly say. “I was just surprised. And you’re both really close, so I don’t know.” 

Doyeon arches her brow. “You’re also both close, so going by that logic, are you two together?” You frown at her. She laughs, knowing she proved her point. “Alright, enough about that. How have you been these days?”

You stare at her before sighing.

“I’ve been wanting to say sorry.” 

“Damn straight,” she tells you immediately, like she’s been looking forward to it. “Like, you bitch– I thought you died. Not talking to me or to anybody for a week is crazy.”

“It’s not my proudest moment.” 

“Why?” 

You subtly inhale a shaky breath. “I… to be honest? I thought you guys were mad at me.” 

“What?” You can hear the incredulous tone Doyeon’s taking on. And you slowly realize that you completely just conjured a whole ass narrative in your head the whole time. 

“I know. I feel terrible about it. But I just… I couldn’t help but think that I ruined… things.” 

“Oh…” Doyeon says, and she cranes her neck down to meet your gaze as you’re tucking your head down slightly. “Why did you think that?” 

You open your mouth and close it, trying to find the right words.

“I… know I was completely being ambitious when I said I wanted to bring Mingyu along to the trip – and I realize I shouldn’t have done that. Our relationship was still so fresh, and I was already bringing him along to what was supposed to be our vacation. And the fight happened and the whole thing just went to complete shit. We didn’t even get to spend our five nights there because you guys had to book us a flight immediately and I just… I guess I just feel so bad about it. Had I not invited him… the trip would’ve been way more different. Happier, that I’m sure of.”

“__,” Doyeon calls your name firmly. “That was not any of your fault. Sure, you should’ve consulted with us – because I’m not gonna lie, you threw us in for a surprise when you said that Mingyu was coming, but that fight was not your fault. At all. They physically fought each other on their own accord, even though they knew they were already too grown to be doing that shit. Don’t feel guilty about what those men did.” 

You bite your lip. “Still. They— uhm. They apparently fought because of me. It’s stupid.” 

“Exactly. But… Mingyu kind of deserved it. Sorry.” Doyeon comments. 

You wince. “You know?” 

“Jungkook told us about it, yeah.” Doyeon says, as if hesitant to even mention his name in the conversation. 

You sigh. You’re not really surprised. “Did he… did he tell you guys… everything?” 

“He did.” Doyeon confirms. “It’s not actually new news for us, __.” 

You look confuse when you meet her gaze. “How do you mean?” 

She presses her lips into a thin line. “He’s in love with you. We’ve known for a while,” You stare at her, mouth agape. Doyeon reluctantly adds, “Since med school.”

“Oh.” You close your eyes for a moment. “Even Nayeon?” 

She nods. “Yes.” 

You’re silent for a while before you look away. Nodding, you whisper, “I see,” You sigh. “I don’t even… I’m not even surprised about that. Even my mother knows — I mean, Jungkook didn’t tell her of course, but she said she knew he had feelings for me.”

“I think… everybody knows, __.” Your eyes fall to Doyeon. She gives you a gentle smile. “Everybody who sees the way Jungkook looks at you immediately knows right away. He doesn’t have to tell someone he likes you for them to know that. Taehyung and I figured it out ourselves as well. And then Nayeon met you both and she did the same thing. Just had to fish out the confirmation from Jungkook himself.” 

“That’s…” you trail off, not really knowing what to say. “I’m really stupid for not noticing all this time, huh?”

“Hmm… maybe. Sort of. But also, not really. I guess it must’ve been just different for you. We’re just bystanders of your interactions — when Jungkook teases you like a fucker it’s easy to assume he’s flirting with you, but it must’ve been annoying as hell for you.”

You chuckle a bit. But it’s with fondness as you agree, “Yeah…”

“He sucks ass at flirting.” 

“I agree…” you trail off. “I – well, you probably know, but I told him I don’t believe him,” Doyeon hums, listening in. “I regret saying that. It really hurt him. But… who can blame me, Doyeon? I mean, am I not right for having doubts? Being confused? I mean, okay, yes, I was taken for the first four years we knew each other but I was— I was available two years ago and he didn’t— he didn't do anything. Why didn’t he do anything?” The words are coming off as a rant, you’re fully aware, but you let yourself go, anyway. “He was dating all those women and I just… how am I supposed to believe him when I thought he showed me the opposite?” 

“You mean how were you supposed to believe him when he sleeps around?”

You shut your eyes close. “I don’t– I don’t necessarily think he sleeps around, okay? Jungkook’s not a fuckboy or someone who sleeps with anyone with a pulse. He’s too grown for that shit. But I… I just meant, that… he dated a lot all throughout the time we knew each other, so where was I in the equation? You know what I mean?”

Doyeon stares at you for a bit, then she nods, looking ahead. “I know what you mean.” 

“Yeah?”

She nods. Then, “Are you worried he’s not sincere about his feelings? Because he dated a lot of people?”

“I-I’m not sure about that.” But maybe, that thought bothers you a bit.

“When was the last time he was with somebody?”

You don’t mean to sound defensive when you retort back with, “I wouldn’t know that. Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook and I do not actually talk about everything, and that includes our sex lives, but I know when he’s… seeing somebody.” 

“How?” Doyeon asks, looking at you. She wasn’t trying to trick you into anything, just genuine curiosity written all over her face.

You shy away from her gaze. “Four months ago… Nayeon’s engagement party. He was checking that woman out.”

“Oh… Kwon Jihyo?” 

Your brows furrow. “You know her?” 

Doyeon nods. “Yeah. Physio class back in freshman year. I talked to her at the party as well,” you grow more confused and Doyeon adds, “Also, she’s gay. Married with two kids.” 

“Oh.” 

That earns a chuckle from Doyeon. Tapping your arm, she tells you, “You don’t have a gay radar, it’s fine.” 

“Oh my god…” you slap a hand on your forehead. “I teased him about sleeping with her after the party…” 

You’ve always seen Jungkook as a regular ladies man in your head due to the fact that he gets women, quite very easily. Empirically, Jungkook goes on a lot of dates. But to be completely honest with yourself, you don’t even know the extent of those said dates. Jungkook doesn’t exactly oppose it when you lightheartedly tease him about being a playboy, but you do notice when that puts him off a bit.

Maybe you should’ve pried – maybe he gets put off because it’s simply not true? But you don’t think it’s not not true either, so… do you really think he sleeps around?

“Look,” Doyeon suddenly says which makes you look at her, snapping you out of your own messy thoughts. “I’m not trying to defend him or put in a good word for him or whatever. But I do know that you know him better than I do, so I’m sure you don’t actually think he isn’t sincere about his feelings for you. If you’re worried about his dating history, talk to him about that – but if we’re going by technical definition here, I don’t think Jungkook sleeps around, __. He doesn’t have a new woman switched out for another every seven business days, does he? Or is that a wrong assumption—”

“God, no,” you roll your eyes at her. “And anyway, why are we talking about this? I don’t care who he has sex with. He can do whatever he wants. He’s a grown man.”

“Yeah… but you just said it’s sort of the reason why you’re holding back.”

You feel blood rushing to your cheek because… that is true. You don’t even know why. Because you stand for what you said that he can do whatever the hell he wants. He’s young and he’s objectively attractive and he can have sex whenever he wants…

But somehow, that very thought — of Jungkook being with anybody that way, suddenly made a weird feeling flare up in your chest. You’ve never really paid it mind before, but right now that you now know what you know…

“It just kind of hurts a bit, I guess.” You say, not looking at Doyeon. “I mean, it’s irrational, really. I don’t expect him to be celibate for the eight years he’s claimed to love me, that’s just insane. I’ve also had sex with other people throughout the time and it would be unfair of me to dwell on the fact that he’s been with other people in the past when I also have but… it’s just… you know…” you trail off, and you feel like you’re gonna burst with so much embarrassment from the thoughts running through your head.

“I know… what?” Doyeon says, trying to fill in the gaps.

“I guess I just…” you swallow the lump in your throat. “I guess…. I guess I just expected him to want only me.” 

“Oh.” you look at Doyeon. “Oh wow. That’s…” 

You huff. “It’s childish, I know. It’s so stupid – I can’t think that. It’s unfair for him.”

Doyeon shakes her head. “No, I mean, I get that. I get that completely,” She scoots closer to you. “You have to know, though, that for the past eight years, Jungkook has tried many times to move on from you.” That words felt like a bucket of cold water. He’s tried…? Doyeon gives you a small smile when she notices the way your face fell. “It was really tough for him when you and Eunwoo got serious, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He tried seeing other people, in the hopes that they could make him feel what he does for you. He didn’t do that in vain – like he did it maliciously in hopes that you would get jealous or whatever. He did that – he does that – because he also genuinely wants to be with someone who can reciprocate his feelings. Min Sora was really close… but I don’t really know what happened to that. I’ve assumed since then that he must still probably love you. And he still apparently does, even to this day. I’m not saying all of this in favor of him, okay? But do you not want to give him a chance because of that? He really loves you, __. He admires you a lot. You don’t know how much he’s just in awe of you. He talks about you a lot when you’re not around, and he’d ditch just about anything to get to you with one call. Look… I don’t know what you feel, and at the end of the day, you call the shots. But I think he’s worth it, __. Because I know him as well and everybody knows he’ll treat you right. You just gotta give him the chance.”

You take in Doyeon’s words carefully.

“That’s not really the only thing I’m skeptical about,” you sigh. “Him having slept with other people is not the top of my concern, because we weren’t in any relationship. Again, I couldn’t have expected him to be celibate all this time. What I’m really worried about is the fact that he’s so— he’s so important to me, Doyeon. I’ve known him for eight years and he’s… he’s quite literally the best thing that ever happened to me—” you stop for awhile because you feel your voice breaking, just in time when the sides of your eyes sting with precedent tears. But you can’t cry right now. You’ve done that a lot in the past few days.  “And if— and if I do feel the same, and then we do this thing, what if it all goes wrong? I don’t – I can’t really bear the thought of him not present in my life. I have never considered that ever since I’ve known him. I’m so lucky with my friendships but my romantic relationships all suck. They’re shit. And I don’t want to have a shit romantic relationship with Jungkook, because that would mean I’d lose him. And I don’t want to lose him… do you— do you get me, Doyeon? I’m so scared. Because there's this part of me that wholeheartedly believes what he said, but there’s a bigger part of me that’s in denial because I can’t stop thinking about things going wrong.” 

“Hey,” Doyeon gently calls, and you don’t realize that you’ve been holding back a sob because the moment she scoots closer, arm circling your back, you bury your face in her chest and let out a quiet cry. She cradles your head, and you close your eyes at that. “What if things don’t go wrong, though? What if it works out?” 

You sniffle. “But things always go wrong for me and my boyfriends. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but they just never end well.” 

Doyeon lets out a heavy breath. “I completely understand that. Again, you know Jungkook better than I do. Better than anybody I know, really. You would know exactly what he’s capable of – and that includes the possibility of him hurting you, or the lack of it thereof. It’s really your choice, __. Just… just talk to him, okay? He’s been wanting to, but you’re not reaching out and he said he didn’t want to suffocate you or anything like that.” 

You quickly perk up at that. “He said that?” Doyeon nods. It makes your shoulders deflate. “But… but we were in the elevator today and he…”

“He what?”

“He… uhm… well I said something stupid,” you wince, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. “I said I miss him, but he didn’t – I don’t know. He didn’t say anything,” Nibbling on your bottom lip anxiously, you look at Doyeon reluctantly, gauging her reaction. “I think he actually hates me now.”

Doyeon is quiet for a moment before she speaks. “You just… you really have no clue how much he loves you, huh? You can kill a close relative of his and he’ll make excuses for you, I don’t doubt that even for a second,” She says and for a moment you’re a bit offended because you’re getting kind of tired of people pointing out that Jungkook being into you is obvious like how the grasses are green, but Doyeon shakes her head, face in pure disbelief. And you just know she didn’t mean it that way. She genuinely looks baffled. “You really need to talk, __. This is… it really hurts seeing you both like this."  

You tuck your head down. “I’m thinking about it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I think… I’m going back to our place tonight. But I’m not sure. I’ll probably chicken out last minute.” 

Doyeon pats your arm. “Do it, okay? Just be honest with yourself and to him. You both need that.” 

You give her a small, weak smile.

You’re pretty much drained the moment you arrive at your place. Sighing heavily, you punch in the passcode and almost feel your knees buckling at the sight of the interior of your apartment. 

It feels like it’s been so long since you’ve been here, and coupled with the discussion that you had with Doyeon yesterday, everything suddenly feels overstimulating and there’s an urge at the sides of your eyes to cry. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you breathe in and out as you enter the threshold, noting the fact that nobody is at home. Or Jungkook isn’t present anywhere in the living room. You’re a bit grateful for that if you have to be honest to yourself – after all, the last time that you talked to him did not exactly go as well as you’d like. 

He could be in his room, though. That’s what you assume as you go straight over to the kitchen in hopes to heat up the take-out that you bought at the driveway. As you leave your phone on the counter, you notice the to-go container from Chipotle on the same surface, as well as the laptop that is left open beside it. 

So Jungkook is home. 

The question is, where could he possibly be, leaving out his stuff here in the kitchen? Might be in his bedroom to grab something real quick? 

You don’t mean to do the next thing that comes to your mind, but your feet – your stupid feet – track back from the microwave to the island, and your eyes betray you as they go look and read the words on the screen of Jungkook’s macbook. 

The tab that shows is an apartment listing website, and besides are more tabs that show some familiar real-estate names you’ve come to on the internet before when you were looking for a place. 

It makes you freeze in your spot, eyes glued to the daunting images of the apartment layout that Jungkook must’ve clicked on awhile ago, and you take note that he’s seemingly, specifically, looking for one-apartment bedrooms and studio apartments. 

Your mind goes into a sudden haywire at the sight. 

What does this mean? 

“Oh, hey,”

The embodied voice makes your head snap to its direction, and you see Jungkook standing in front of you in his sweats and shirt – his usual home clothes – with a charger in his hand. 

“Jungkook.” You say, or more like, breathe out. Your heart feels like it’s somersaulting for some reason at the sight of him. 

But Jungkook looks just as surprised as you. 

“I… I didn’t know you’re coming ho– back.” He says, and there’s a twinge in your heart that you ignore when you caught him pointedly avoiding the word home when pertaining to your place. Somehow, that felt intentional.

But you give him a smile. Probably a weak one. Probably doesn’t really look like a smile at all and more like a grimace. If Jungkook notices, he doesn’t say anything. Just goes straight to the direction of the highchairs on the island and plug in his charger for his laptop. 

Then, he turns to look at you. “Uh... you just got off from your shift?” 

“Yeah. You too?” You say, nibbling your bottom lip with your teeth. A nervous habit. 

“Nah, got off a few hours ago.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Yeah.” 

You nod your head. You stand there for a while, letting the silence that’s admittedly awkward hang in the air. 

It’s weird, really. Jungkook and you usually have a lot to say to each other – but right now, there doesn’t seem to be a single thing you can say to one another. 

It breaks your heart that’s the current case. 

“Well, uhm. That’s Zillow.” You say, pointing to his laptop. The moment the words left your lips you swear you could have slapped yourself. 

How stupid to ask him about it. How incredibly stupid for that thing to be your choice of topic after weeks of no proper communication with him. 

Jungkook seems surprised at this, though, turning his head immediately to look at his own laptop. There’s a certain jerk in his movements when he moves his fingers to the trackpad that closes the entire window of the internet and shows his wallpaper instead. 

“Oh. Yeah. That was… Zillow.” 

Stupid, stupid you makes everything even more awkward when you say, “You’re looking for a place?” 

Jungkook stares at you for awhile. There’s a pregnant pause, and then he nods his head. A bit hesitant. But his voice is full when he speaks. 

“Yeah.” 

So, he’s moving out. That’s what you think as you avoid looking at his face and let your gaze fall back to his laptop. 

You give him a small smile. 

“Ah. Good luck with the search, then.”

Your heart completely breaks when you say the words.

Suddenly, the words of your supposed confession get stuck and they die in your throat. You let yourself believe that coming home tonight would fix everything; you just had to go inside, talk to Jungkook, tell him you were sorry about what you said – and the rest would just do its thing and you'll be back to okay.

But he's moving out, and every bit of hope in you shuts down.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, and you’re just about to turn on your heels to go to your room but then he utters lowly, almost like a whisper. 

“It’s not final.” 

“Hm?” You hum, not sure if you caught that. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Jungkook looks away as he says again, “I mean, I’m just looking. I was gonna talk to you before I finalize my plans.”

“Talk to me? Why?”

“Since we’re on a joint lease and all that.” 

“Oh.” You nod to yourself, dumbfounded. It's embarrassing the way you lit up with expectation when he said it wasn't final, for it to completely die anyway when he said that. You feel like you're not wanted. “Yeah. Right.” 

“I assume you’re tired from your shift, though, so maybe we can go over it tomorrow? Or any day you like, really.” Jungkook shrugs. 

“No, tonight’s fine,” You wave your hand, walking towards his direction and seating yourself on the chair beside him. You try to focus all your attention on the screen in front of you instead of Jungkook’s overwhelming presence. You’ve always thought he was big but tonight, he feels even bigger and you’re intimidated. “Are you writing a notice to the landlord?”

“Yeah – I mean, after we talk about the move, that is.” 

“Wow.” You can’t help but let out. “You really thought about all this while I was away?” 

You regret the words just as instantly as they leave your mouth. 

Looking at Jungkook hesitantly, you watch as his face falls, mouth opening and closing, as if at a loss for words. 

You take them back before he says something. “Sorry — I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” Sharp and edgy, clipped and… angry. Sort of accusatory. Like you’re pinning something bad on him.

“It’s fine.” Jungkook says after awhile, returning back his gaze on the laptop. 

His withdrawal makes you deflate. He seems so uninterested. Is he done with you? Just like that?

“You know what,” You utter after a pregnant pause, standing up from the chair and getting back on your feet. “I actually have a headache. I think we should go over this tomorrow.”

Jungkook looks confused but he nods, anyway. “I just… stocked up on Advil yesterday. So, if you need it… it’s just in the kit.” 

“Sure. Thanks,” You give him a small smile. “I’ll, just go, uh, shower for a bit.” You point to the bathroom across from you. 

Before you go, Jungkook calls your name.

“__.”

You turn around to look at him. “Yes?”

“Are you…” He trails off. You wish he’d look at you like he usually does. “Are you back for good?”

You don’t expect that question at all. But you collect yourself on time to respond. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Jungkook’s expression is something unreadable, so you throw him an awkward smile. You’re not sure if he returned it, because everything is becoming too much, and you can’t help but overthink every single thing he does. So, before you can dwell on that, you go straight to the bathroom to do your business. 

You shower quickly – you can’t focus when you know that Jungkook is just outside, and he can probably hear the water running. You’ve never really paid thoughts to these stuff except the first few weeks of moving in with him, but right now, there’s a certain awkward tension in the air and it’s slowly suffocating you. You needed to get out of the shower box quick.

And so you did, but you don’t expect the series of knocks on the door, with Jungkook’s voice behind it. 

“__?” 

“Y-yeah?” You stammer, wrapping your towel around you (that Jungkook thankfully hasn’t thrown out yet) with haste and getting to the door immediately to answer him. 

When you open it, Jungkook visibly freezes for a bit. And you realize you’re in nothing but a piece of cotton; bare underneath, droplets of water running through your body from the tips of your uncovered, wet hair. 

You consciously tighten the towel around your body, making sure to act unbothered when you say, “What?” 

Jungkook seems to snap out of the moment just as you did. When you follow the hand that he lifts, you see your phone in it. Weirdly enough, you had time to notice the way the device fits so small in his hand when you can barely wrap your phone around your fingers yourself.

What the actual fuck are you talking about, you tell yourself at the back of your head. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck—

“You left this on the counter. Mingyu’s been calling you.” 

It’s like you’ve been suddenly hit by a truck upon hearing the name.

“Oh. Okay. Sorry about that.” You take your phone when he offers it to you. You don’t know why but you avoid Jungkook’s eyes as you step out of the bathroom and press the decline button, causing the ringtone to stop abruptly. 

You don’t look back at him as you enter your bedroom, locking the door and throwing your phone on the mattress and going straight to your closet.

Nothing much has changed since the last seven or so days. What would change, anyway? It’s not like Jungkook has some sort of business in here. 

When you finished dressing yourself up with your usual pajamas, a worn-out tee and a pair of short shorts, you go over right to your bed, picking up your phone. 

The notification bar says that you have six missed calls from Mingyu and two texts. An upgrade from his three to four times in the previous days. 

See, it’s not only Jungkook or Doyeon or Nayeon or Taehyung whom you’ve been avoiding. It’s also Mingyu. The last time that you two talked was when you said goodbye to each other when he was catching his flight from the resort. You’ve completely shut everybody out after that thing happened, and again, it’s not your proudest moment. You’re only non-confrontational to a certain degree, but you usually handle your problems like a grown woman. 

You just really don’t know how to handle this one. 

But Mingyu’s been calling, and you haven’t answered or replied to any of his messages ever since. 

It’s just… everytime you think about him… it hurts.

It hurts to think of somebody you’ve given your trust to, only for them to step on it without any remorse. It hurts that you once thought he was going to be the one, only for him to end up as someone you’re starting to… hate. It hurts extremely that just eight days ago, you held this high level of adoration for him, but now you don’t feel anything at all but simmering anger. 

Sighing, you click on his message instead of sliding it out, gearing yourself for what you’re about to read.

gyu😽 [10:15pm]: Dinner at my place tonight? gyu😽 [10:32pm]: Can you pick up my calls?

You scrolled through the other ones he sent in the past week, and you find out that they’re simply just a variation of “do you want to have dinner together tonight”, “why aren’t you picking up?” and shockingly… a couple texts of “i miss you”. 

You’ve only been bullshitting when you told Jungkook that you had a headache, but right now that excuse might be true because you can feel a tick in your head, a certain bang on the front, and you just want all of this to end. 

Letting out a controlled breath, you swallow the lump in your throat as you type a reply. Finally.

You [10:50pm]: Can we talk tomorrow? 

To your surprise, Mingyu responds quickly.

gyu😽 [10:51pm]: of course. dinner?

You [10:52pm]: yeah. i get off at around 8 tomorrow.

gyu😽 [10:52pm]: I have some paperworks to attend to but 8 is fine by me.  gyu😽 [10:53pm]: Can we go to a restaurant? gyu😽 [10:53pm]: I haven’t cleaned my place so I thought we could go outside

You [10:54pm]: It’s alright. Also, no need to pick me up. I’ll uber. 

gyu😽 [10:55pm]: You sure?

You [10:56pm]: Yeah.

gyu😽 [10:56pm]: Alright then.

You don’t get a lot of sleep that night.

“Hey, sorry I’m a bit late. The partners had a meeting over at the firm,” Mingyu says, loosening his tie a little, breathing a bit sharp as he takes the seat across from you. 

You nod, giving him a small smile. Taking a sip from your water, you watch as Mingyu fixes his tie again, some sort of attempt to look kempt, like he hasn’t just run here. He was in a rush, and you feel bad that he had to go over here quickly when the partners meeting was probably something important. He could’ve canceled and you wouldn’t have mind. 

“So. Hi,” Mingyu greets you as if he’s making up for his rash entrance earlier. He gives you a smile, the one that’s his usual charming smile – you remember fawning over it the first time you met him. “How have you been?”

“Fine. I’ve been doing well.” you answer. In your lap, your fingers fiddle with each other.

You’ve thought about how you are going to go over this, but obviously the scenarios that played in your head yesterday and before you went here were so much more different than now. You weren’t an anxious mess in your imagination.

Mingyu nods. “That’s good to hear. Been doing fine as well.” He says casually. 

That makes something flare up in your chest.

Fine? He’s been doing fine? 

Before you can say something, a waiter comes up to your table to give you the menu, and that effectively keeps you from saying the words you were probably going to regret as soon as they come out of your mouth. 

You both tell your respective orders to the waiter before he walks away, leaving you two nodding and smiling ahead. When he’s gone, you’re left alone with Mingyu again. 

You look at him — and his usual suits and tie ensemble would usually make you gush internally about how good he looks, how you can still see the way he’s built under the pristine fabric of his clothes, and how attractive he is the way he carries himself. 

“I’m glad you called me tonight, sweetheart.”

And you don’t expect the way the hairs on your body tingle with… ick. 

“Sure.” You say, drinking from your glass of water again.

Just get over it, your mind convinces you. But how are you going to approach it?

Moments pass and then suddenly, Mingyu lets out a heavy breath. You peer up at him, raising a brow. 

“Alright, I’m not gonna skirt around this anymore, __,” He says, and his eyebrows are knitted in what seems like confusion when he meets your gaze. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been avoiding me.”

The confrontation somehow eases you even though it shouldn’t.

Licking your bottom lip – an anxious habit that you try hard to forgo – you compose yourself before you say, “I have. Yes, you’re right.”

“Why?” Mingyu asks with genuine curiosity. 

Somehow, this bothers you. Does he really not know or he’s just pretending not to know? Whichever it is, it does not really make you feel any better about him. If he’s pretending not to know, then he’s an even bigger asshole than you’re letting him on, but if he does not know, then that’s just even worse. Imagine doing all of those things and not being aware that you did something wrong enough to upset people? 

“I have to be completely honest with you, Mingyu. I want to break up.” 

The words come out easily as opposed to what you expected. 

Somehow, it’s strange, really. You’ve never dumped anybody before. Of course, you don’t count those casual dates you’ve had in the past two years because they were never that serious. But usually, in your long relationships, the other guy does the dumping and never you. 

So, right now, as you sit across from Mingyu, finally declaring what you’ve been thinking over the past week, you feel a sense of liberation. A cliché, really. There’s a feeling of discomfort gnawing at some parts of you, but you choose to ignore it, bravely meeting his gaze instead. 

“What?”

“I want to break up with you.” You reiterate, this time fuller so he knows your decision is final.

His mouth opens and closes, and there’s a pregnant pause that hangs in the air before he finds his tongue. “But why?” 

“Are you serious?” You can’t help but snap. “Do you really not know?” 

“No. Fill me in, because I’m confused.” Mingyu doubles down, and it fires you up a little bit. 

“Mingyu, Jungkook told me everything,” You say, and you notice the way his expression changes into something more… unreadable the moment you dropped Jungkook’s name. “And I mean everything. What you did with his girlfriend back in college, and what you said about me to goad him into a fight. I mean, what were you thinking, Mingyu? All of that was just… low. Even for you. I can’t believe you’d do any of that.” You catch your breath after you say the words, not realizing how heavy it would feel to let them out. You’ve never been confrontational, would prefer if the other person did all the talking, and to do this right now is taking so much from you.

“He told you everything?” Mingyu asks again. You watch as he relaxes his posture, and you grow confused when his lips curl into a smirk. “I knew he would do that. Come crying to you with his lovesick head. Did he finally grow some to tell you he loves you, then?” 

You recoil, not expecting that. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. You’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m not anymore.”

Mingyu inhales a sharp breath. “So, you’re choosing him?” 

“I—I— what?” you blurt out, surprised at his audacity. “I’m not choosing anybody. And it’s really bold of you to assume that you’re still one of my options after all that.” 

Scoffing, Mingyu drinks from his water. He looks at you with a blank stare as he says, “Well, be honest with me now. Do you love him?” 

“Do I love him?” You chuckle, not the least bit of humor in it. “You don’t really deserve my honesty, Mingyu. You had all of those four months to be honest with me and you didn’t do shit. Don’t ask me any personal questions and expect me to give you an honest answer. Because I won’t give you any of it.” 

“You said a lot of things but I know you love him just as much as he loves you.”

“What are you talking about?”

This time, Mingyu’s tone borders on sharp when he leans down to get to you closer so you can hear him clearly. “You think it was easy for me to be in a relationship with you when all you could talk and think about was Jungkook? Jungkook who was only supposedly your bestfriend?” It’s said with so much wrath that you can’t help but physically recoil at his words. When you don’t say anything, Mingyu continues, “Jungkook told me this movie’s good, Jungkook said their aglio e olio tastes great, Jungkook and I were just talking about this — I could go on how many times you’ve always managed to insert him in anything even when we’re together, but I did not want to be that kind of boyfriend who got jealous over their girl’s friends, and I was that for you – and you think I’m the bad guy here?”

You blink, mouth opening and closing. You fish for some words, something to defend yourself with. Have you really said all that? Did you really do that? Did you really talk about Jungkook enough times that Mingyu took notice of it? 

You’ve always thought that your friendship with Jungkook is platonic. You’ve convinced yourself of that and Jungkook seemed to think the same — at least that’s what you thought prior to his confession – and you like to think that your friendship works, even though the majority of people don’t agree that opposite genders can be purely friends.

But… did you think wrong? Did you really just convince yourself it was platonic when all along… it was not? 

You don’t exactly recall the moments that you talked about him while you were with Mingyu. It’s hard to when talking about Jungkook just comes like second nature. You don’t count the times you see the grass being green – because they are and will always be green. 

And that’s what Jungkook is to you. He’s been such a constant presence in your life that you can’t help but bring him up in any case because… because it just feels right to do so.

Now you think about your relationship with Eunwoo. How he never really liked Jungkook. Did he think the same as Mingyu? Did you also talk about your best friend too much in his presence? Did he count the times you mentioned Jungkook’s name in your conversations? Do you really talk so much about him?

“See?” Mingyu says after a while and it snaps you out of your stupor. “Don’t tell me I’m a liar when you’ve also been lying to me this whole time.” 

“How dare you?” You snap at him. You can take him pointing out about the thing with Jungkook, but never this. “I didn’t hide anything from you. I was not the one with the history of cheating with their friend’s girlfriend and I didn’t talk behind your back like you’re merely just a piece of meat.” 

Mingyu visibly stills and you bite your lip after saying the words. You didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Didn’t really mean to say that in the first place. But it’s done and you can’t cry over spilled milk. 

Doesn’t negate the fact that you feel like shit, though.

“You think I didn’t regret what I did?” Mingyu says, a little quiet this time. If you weren’t at the quieter part of the restaurant, in a booth where the sound of the classical music and people’s chatters are muffled, you won’t hear him at all. “Jungkook and I were close, __. We really were. And I fucked up and ruined his trust. But you also don’t know how and why that happened. Jiyeon was already cheating on him before she hit on me–” 

“Oh, so is that the part where you volunteered to be one of her “victims”, too?” You say sarcastically, cutting him off, incredulous about the fact that he’s really trying to make excuses for himself right now. 

“We were fucking drunk– and high, okay? We didn’t know what we were doing.” Mingyu says through his teeth, and it’s the first time you see him lose control. He’s always so kempt and so composed, it’s baffling you’re seeing him in this state.

But you refuse to believe his bullshit. 

“You know what, I don't know why you’re saying this to me. You should be saying this to Jungkook and frankly, I simply don’t care. What happened back then is between you – don’t include me into any of your arguments ever again,” You say exasperatedly. “My issue is that – and why I’m breaking up with you in the first place – is that you lied to me, Mingyu. You lied to me about so much. And If I were to go through this relationship with you longer, I don't know what else you’re going to lie to me about, and I don’t want that. Let’s not waste each other’s time and end it right here, right now.” 

Mingyu leans back on his seat. “I can’t change your mind even if I apologize to you about that, huh?”

You shake your head.

He nods. 

“Alright.” 

You look at him again.

Kim Mingyu has sharp features that usually make him look broody from an outsider perspective, but you’ve seen the way he smiles and how gentle he looks when he does. Right now, though, he looks… genuinely sad. 

He lied to you, yes, but somehow, there’s still some part of you that wants to know if he felt the least bit genuine about you. That it wasn’t all just a ploy to get to Jungkook. 

“Did you really like me? Even for a moment?” You break the silence, voice breaking slightly at the end. 

Mingyu looks up at you and you don’t expect the way his lips curl up into a small smile. “Yes, __. I did. I liked you the first time we met and believe it or not, I still have feelings for you right now.”

You look away to avoid his intense gaze. 

It’s weird. It’s so weird. Because even though you know in your heart that he’s not and will never be good for you and that he’s not a loss, your heart still aches at the declaration. 

“I don’t really know if I believe that.” You say, almost like a whisper. 

“I’m sorry, then.” Mingyu says, and it sounds so sincere that you start to feel some sort of stinging in both sides of your eyes.

In what seemed like forever, the waiter arrives with your orders, and you both look up and offer him a hand in placing them on your table, bidding him thanks as he once again walks away. 

You and Mingyu both look at your food. 

“I think I’m going first. I have a trial tomorrow, so I need to take care of that.” He says suddenly. 

Nibbling your bottom lip, you watch as he begins to fix his shirt, ready to stand up. 

“Okay.” 

“__?” You look up at him when he calls your name. He seems to hesitate for a bit, but he says, “Can you… can you tell Jungkook I’m sorry?” 

Staring at his face, you try to look for a hint of sarcasm. Or anything indicative of malice. But all you see is sincerity. 

At that, you shake your head. “No.” Mingyu’s face falls. “Talk to him yourself if you really are sorry. I’m not your mailman, Mingyu.” 

He sighs. “Alright. I guess you’re right,” And then, “And I’m saying sorry, to you too, you didn’t deserve that. I was angry, and that’s not an excuse. So, I’m sorry. Will you…” he clears his throat. “Will you ever forgive me?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Probably.” 

Mingyu gives you a timid smile. “Okay.” 

When he takes out his wallet and a black card from there, you instantly stop him from calling over the waiter. 

“No, it’s fine, I’ll take care of it. I’m the one who invited you here.” You say, talking him out of paying. 

He shakes his head, insisting, “It’s okay.”

“Seriously, I can handle it.” 

Mingyu lets out a chuckle which makes you smile a bit before you scold yourself. 

“I know. But can you let me? This is… this is probably the last time we’ll see each other.” 

At that, you relax back in your seat, staring at him. He stares right back at you. 

With a slow nod, you let him call over the waiter.

He departs with a small goodbye that you return with a timid wave. 

When you go home that night, you cried yourself to sleep, thankful that Jungkook hasn’t come home from his shift yet.

Things are… fine. 

Unlike your previous break-ups that left you in agony for the following days after it happened, the one with Mingyu did not really leave a huge emotional impact. It makes you wonder if you’ve overestimated your feelings for him… makes you question yourself if you really thought he was the one when things were fine, and you both dated happily. 

You don’t bother yourself looking for answers, because the relationship is done and there’s no point in going over the details when it’s you yourself who ended the ties. 

While that is not the sole reason of your melancholic feeling these days, it lies on another person; your roommate, Jungkook – your best friend of eight years who’s apparently been in love with you the whole time. 

It’s only been a few weeks ever since you talked about him moving out. He said it was about time for him to leave the place – he’s been here longer than you, after all. He wrote and sent the notice to his landlord, and it’s been about two weeks since then, so you assume he’s already got his approval. 

While things may look normal and right from an outsider’s perspective… things aren’t exactly the way they were before.

Jungkook and you are close. You share almost everything together. Your friendship has been honed throughout the many years and obstacles you’ve faced together and so it’s only natural for you two to be as close.

But nowadays… you can feel that closeness slipping away. It flares up something inside you; like that feeling of grief when you remember that friend in highschool who you stopped talking to after graduation. You don’t know exactly what the reason is for the abrupt end of communication, but the finish line is there and you’ve both reached it without the other knowing – and you’re left fending for yourselves, looking ahead at your own worlds and letting your lives flow to the stream of the river. 

It’s strange, really; how everything feels somewhat normal but also really under that condition. 

Jungkook and you would text each other nonstop – he could be in his own room, and he’d still text you about random shit that ends up with him going to your room anyway just to annoy you for a bit before you kick him out and you both go to sleep. He’d ask to borrow something – anything, ask your food preference for the night, and he’d always ask you when your shift ends so you can go together if your schedules align. Meanwhile, you ask him to join you in the living room for spontaneous movie nights, ask him to give you a massage, and you’d both talk about your days, catching up on the hours you weren’t together.

And now there’s none of that. 

Now, you both greet each other when the other one gets home almost like a chore. Like how your roommate from college used to welcome you when you arrived at the dorm from classes. When either you or he is in the living room or something, you’d both tell each other that “Dinner’s in the fridge, you can microwave it”, instead of “What do you think we should have for dinner?”. Jungkook asks if you need a ride to the hospital because he knows you don’t have a car anymore, but you refuse because it’s obvious it’s just for formality. 

You don’t know if it’s just the overthinker in you, but it feels like Jungkook’s pulling back and he has no intention of making things right – or talk about what happened. 

He’s so… he’s so civil.

And you miss him so much it makes you sad.

It makes you confused. Sort of mad. He makes you feel a lot of things – but you hate that you’ve just been compartmentalizing and not doing any processing at all. 

You spent the past few weeks pointing out to yourself the differences that your relationship is going through. You spend some nights beating yourself up whether to go barge in his room and confront him with everything – but you do none of that. 

Instead, you pretend everything’s okay. At the hospital, you’ve no longer avoided him and said hi which he returns with a smile. Nayeon, Taehyung, and Doyeon, thought at first that everything’s back to normal, but you know they’re slowly realizing that it has not. 

Tonight, though, at Nayeon’s reception party after her wedding, you try hard to ignore all those angsts and choose to enjoy yourself instead. It’s Nayeon’s big day. The last thing you wanted to be was a bum.

Everybody is socializing with each other, and since you’ve had your fair share of conversations with other people at this point, you choose to sit out on the dance.

Suddenly, Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl is playing and the majority coos and exclaims in excitement as they hurry to the dancefloor, some taking their partners along with them.

“Look, they’re playing your favorite song.” 

Your head snaps to the side in reflex to see who it was, only to see Jungkook. Words get caught in your tongue for a moment, a bit surprised to see him. You mean – sure, he’s been here for a while. It is Nayeon’s wedding, after all, but weirdly enough, you two haven’t shared a conversation yet throughout the day. 

Until now, anyway.

Recovering from your initial surprise, you scoot over to the side, giving him space to maybe… sit beside you? 

“That’s not my favorite song.” You scoff, sipping on your champagne right after, looking right ahead as you feel Jungkook situating himself on the chair beside you.

“Oh… has it changed now?” Jungkook says, and there’s a lilt of teasing tone to it that you look at him in wonder. 

Meeting his gaze, you find he’s just smiling at you. He’s in an off-white tux, a lily pinned on his chest pocket. He’s done his hair in that usual way he cleans up for formal events like this, gelled and parted slightly off center to show off his forehead. It’s slightly longer than you’ve last noticed it looked, and you think he hasn’t been trimming it… 

Nonetheless, he looks simply put… dashing. 

“I change my favorite song every five to seven business days,” you say coolly. “Anyway, why aren’t you there?” you point to where the flock of people is having a ball to Billy Joel.

Truthfully, you kind of wish you were there as well. You’ve always danced to that song in your room or in the shower.

“I’m right where I want to be,” Jungkook shrugs. “Why aren’t you there?” 

You lie, “I’m right where I want to be as well.” 

He hums. “You don’t want to show them your moves?” 

You look at him in disbelief, gawking at him. “Are you teasing me?” 

Jungkook widens his eyes, but you know he knows what you’re talking about, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep from laughing when he says, “No. I just happen to know you’re a great dancer.” 

With that, you feel yourself getting carried away by how easily your conversation goes. It makes you think about the old times – where talking to him always made your day because he's funny and he makes you laugh and you make him laugh.

“Fuck off. You know very well I have two left feet.” You chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“Wasn’t the case when you were dancing inside a boiler room during med school at that rave party we went to, but okay.”  

You can’t help but laugh louder, and with that, you jab a lighthearted slap to his bicep without thinking too much of it. 

“I told you that never happened.” 

“Oh…” Jungkook puts down his champagne and cocks his head to the side. “What happened?” 

You giggle. Yes, giggle. Like a schoolgirl. And you watch as Jungkook joins in your laughter, taking the glass close to his face to sip from it. 

Then: “You wanna dance?” Jungkook suddenly says, but he’s looking at the dancefloor. 

“Hm. Dunno. Uptown Girl isn’t exactly rave music.” 

That earns you a chuckle from Jungkook. “But it’s fun music, right?” 

Soon after, he stands up from his seat. You look at him questioningly, but he mirrors it back with an expectant gaze and a raised brow. Seeing you getting apprehensive, he offers his hand and that’s when you roll your eyes, taking his hand as you pretend to stand up against your will and follow him to the crowd.

You chuckle as Jungkook suddenly sways his hips to the upbeat of the song, moving his arms around playfully. You’d like to think he’s doing that intentionally – to make you laugh? Loosen up? Whatever the idea behind it, it’s effective, because you can’t stop laughing as you watch him. 

“Come on, we do this all the time!” Jungkook says over the loud music and people’s candid chattering.

And he’s not wrong because you do have mini parties in the living room of your apartment, pretending like the city before the glass wall across the area is your audience. 

But you two are usually drunk during those moments, and right now, with only one glass of champagne, you’re not near being tipsy. 

“This is so silly!” You exclaim, but you find yourself matching Jungkook’s spontaneous choreography, and it earns you a laugh from him as well. 

“And when she’s walking, she’s looking so fi-i-ne,” Jungkook sings along, gesturing to you. You cover your face because you can’t stop laughing at how he looks – how you two must look – but you’re almost sure nobody’s paying attention because everybody is just having fun on their own. He has a good voice, though – even though he’s trying to act goofy with it. Jungkook doesn’t like when people point it out, or more like, gets shy when you bring it up. 

Suddenly, he steps closer to you and reaches for your hand. Looking at him with confusion, still with that wide grin on your face, he gives you a playful smile before he guides your arm upwards. You utter a sound of a delighted snort, understanding where he’s getting at. With Jungkook guiding you, you do a mildly successful turn that makes you both laugh because as you were just getting back in your original position, you almost trip. Good thing that Jungkook’s there to catch you by the waist, the contact only lasting for a brief second before he lets go to dance on his own again. 

“I wish I was an uptown girl!” You yell over the music.

“You’re kinda an uptown girl if you think about it.” Jungkook responds, nodding his head as if he believes that. 

You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “No.” 

“Yes, you are. You’re sophisticated and elegant.”

“Well, this—” you point between your bodies, “– is not very sophisticated and elegant of me.” 

“Touché.” Jungkook laughs.

“But will you be my downtown man?” You say, not really thinking too much about it but then you suddenly realize what you just said and you’re about to add something to it – like putting a disclaimer that it was just a joke. 

But then Jungkook leans closer, ducks down to level with your ear. “I can be if you want me to.” 

The song ends and you barely had time to process what just happened before the soft piano progression of Carole King’s Will You Love Me Tomorrow begins to play. 

You hear the collective “Aww”s from the audience and you watch as everybody suddenly pairs up with someone else. As the first lyric of the song is sung, you can feel the upbeat energy from earlier dropping to a calmer atmosphere. Romantic, you’d say it is.

When you look at Jungkook again, he has a small smile on his face. It’s as gentle as the piano behind the song. 

“Can I?” He says. 

You nibble on your bottom lip. “You want to?”

Jungkook only nods, still smiling.

“Only if you want to as well.” 

You look around again. It’s not hard to spot Taehyung from afar on the dancefloor as well, with a gorgeous Hyerin in his arms. He doesn’t seem to notice you looking, though, but you watch the way he ducks down to whisper something in her ear, prompting a laugh from her. 

Putting your gaze back to Jungkook, you blink as you say, “It’s… okay, I guess.” 

“Okay?” Jungkook clarifies. You nod your head and he smiles that dashing smile again before he steps closer to you.

Slowly, he puts a hand around your waist. And you know he did it awhile ago, but the contact ended so briefly that you didn’t really have the chance to… somehow… savor it, maybe? But right now, as you fumble with your own hand, deciding whether or not you should put a hand on his waist as well, the proximity makes your breath hitch. 

Your heart beats abnormally fast against your ribcage, and usually, it’s not hard to stare Jungkook in the face – but you find it a difficult task to do nowadays. 

Jungkook, unsuspecting of your inner dilemma, only seems to notice your confusion with your hand placement, chuckling as he guides your wrist to his shoulder. He raises his other arm with yours and interlocks your fingers with his mid-air.

“There,” Jungkook says once you’re in the right position. “Now we look like professional dancers.” 

You wince. “What’s the next step?” 

“You’re taking this very seriously,” Jungkook snorts as he begins to move his feet. 

You try to match his pace, and that distracts you from the fact that you're so close you can smell his cologne very well. 

“Where did you learn this?” You ask instead, quite amazed at how Jungkook is approaching this. It’s not like you’ve never slow danced in your life – but you weren’t kidding when you said you have two left feet. 

“Wikihow.” 

“Wow.” 

“They can be super reliable at times,” Jungkook chuckles as he continues to swing you both gently. “Stop looking down.” 

You groan. “Ugh, no. I’m trying very hard not to not step on you.”

“So what if you step on me? Just relax.” 

Jutting your bottom lip out, you look up at him. “My heels are Louboutin.” 

“Even better.” 

“Stop.” You break away from his hold with your other hand to jab at his chest lightly. Jungkook lets out an “Owe!” but you know it didn’t actually hurt when he just grins down at you, placing his hand on your waist instead so now he’s just… simply holding you.

You ignore the weird feeling in your chest at the action, choosing to keep your hand on his chest. 

“You wanna know something?” You whisper. Jungkook hums. “I didn’t go to prom in highschool.” 

“What? Why?” Jungkook genuinely seems surprised to hear that.

You smile sadly, looking back at the memory bitterly. “Changsub and I were fighting around that time because I saw him at the mall with some girl the previous week. I was so angry that I didn’t care about what I’d be missing out on. My mom tried really hard to get me to attend, but I was very stubborn. Now I still regret not going to prom. My dress was really pretty back then too but I didn't even get to wear it.” 

“Damn,” Jungkook utters. “He really was such a dick to you, huh?” 

“Yeah. But it was still on me, though… I can’t believe I let a boy make me miss out on prom night.” You pout.

Jungkook’s quiet for a while before he abruptly stops his swaying. You look at him in confusion as he lets go of your waist. 

“Well, I don’t have a corsage… but this can maybe do?” He fumbles with his chest first before he takes out the silk lavender handkerchief from his suit’s pocket that matches his tie and the lily on his chest. He looks at you for a while before he takes your wrist in his hand. Your brows knit together as he ties the fabric around your wrist, making sure to finish it up with a ribbon – an attempt at a ribbon, that is. 

You chuckle. “What’s this?” 

Jungkook grins. “You wanna know something too? I didn’t have a date on prom night – was too scared to ask anybody out. I went home after the first hour. Wasn’t really a fond memory. So, prom night definitely sucked for me… what I’m saying is that, it’s not really all that.” 

You duck your head down to laugh, partly to hide the flutter in your heart at his words.

“So, like, is this our – what – our upgraded prom night?” 

Jungkook nods proudly. He takes both your hands as you laugh, wrapping them around his neck, taking you by the waist again. 

This time, you don’t feel like your breath is being taken away.

You feel… serene. The beating of your heart is back to normal. You realize, there’s a sense of comfort that comes from being close to him like this – talking and laughing like good old times. 

You miss him. You miss him so much and you can’t believe you ever considered accepting a life without him in it. 

“The dress looks good on you, by the way,” Jungkook comments, and it sounds so sincere that you can’t help but smile. As if that wasn’t enough to melt your heart, he adds, “And you look really beautiful.” 

“T-thanks,” you stammer, taken aback at the almost intimate way he looks right into your eyes as he said that. You tighten your hold around his neck. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

“Thank you.” 

You both chuckle, though there was nothing really funny said in particular.

Carole King’s gentle voice soothes you as Jungkook takes the lead of the dance. You’re not even doing anything other than just going with the flow, letting him take you wherever. There’s a moment when you were sure you stepped on his shoe, but Jungkook’s quick to dismiss you with a hush and saying it was nothing. 

Tonight with words unspoken,

You say that I’m the only one

But will my heart be broken,

When the night meets the morning sun

You scoff as you finally hear the lyrics.

That may have taken a hit on you. 

“This is so stupid.” You say.

Jungkook’s quick to react.

“Rude. I’m literally giving you a prom night from scratch.”

You look at him and you feel bad because he genuinely seems offended at your supposedly throw-away comment.

Shaking your head, you tap his chest lightly. “No, no. I mean– the lyrics. The song.”

Jungkook arches a brow. “I have a video of you crying over this song in your car when it came up on your playlist.” 

“I didn’t cry over this song.” You roll your eyes. 

“Not as much as you did over Silver Springs, anyway.” 

“Oh my god, why do you know so much, Jesus,” you hiss, embarrassed at being confronted by your dramatic antics. “I just meant, why are they playing such a sad song at a wedding? Who approved this?” 

“Eh,” Jungkook shrugs. “Maybe Nayeon’s a Carole King fan.” 

“Is she?” you ask, genuinely curious. If she is, she never told anybody.

“Maybe…?” 

You can’t help but laugh because of how the conversation progressed. Jungkook laughs as well, and he takes the jab you send to his chest with a light hand. They’re really hard, you think, and you don’t know what comes over you as you lean your head down and let your body fall towards him, laying your cheek on the lapel of his suit. It’s warm.

You feel Jungkook stilling in his position at your sudden action, but soon enough, he does nothing to pry you off like you feared for a moment he would, tightening his arms around your waist and swinging you both in that kind of laxed way. 

Shutting your eyes close, you let the soft melody of the song ease your nerves, basking in Jungkook’s presence and his familiar scent. 

You stay like that for a while, and just when the song is coming to an end, you feel Jungkook’s breathe in your ears, his lips almost brushing to the tips of your ears when he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything back then, but I really miss you too.” 

You drank more champagne than you anticipated and it’s why you wobble your way into the bathroom to do some half-ass retouch. Just as when you were putting away your make-up, Nayeon comes out from one of the cubicles. 

“Hey, you gorgeous, gorgeous girl,” She says with a huge smile, now changed into a much simpler dress, in contrast to her voluminous one earlier.

You mirror her grin, opening your arms wide to engulf her in a hug. “Hi to you too. Congrats again on the wedding. I’m so incredibly happy for you. You and Minhyuk are perfect.” 

When Nayeon breaks apart from your hug, she looks at you closely. “I saw you with Jungkook earlier. Lots of people saw you two earlier.” 

“What?” 

“I mean… slow dancing to Will You Love Me Tomorrow in a weirdly intimate way was kind of insane, if you ask me.” 

“Oh, uhm…” you feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you grow embarrassed at the thought of people catching you in that position. You remember after the song ended, you made up some excuse about going to the bathroom to pee and you did – but you pointedly tried to stay out of Jungkook’s sight ever since.

One step forward, three steps back.

“How are you two by the way?” 

“We’re fine.” You say, giving her a reassuring smile. 

Nayeon stares at you for a moment. Then, she sighs. “You’re not, are you?”

“No, we really are. We’re– we’re talking, right?” You point out.

“But… he’s moving out of your place.”

“Well, he needs a change of scenery. He’s been there for four years so he must be tired living there.” 

Nayeon stares at you again and when you look at her face, your heart twinges as you see the disappointment written all over her features. 

“I don’t understand you both, really. You have this… this beautiful thing going on and you’re choosing to ignore that? It’s obvious that you feel something for him, __. Just be honest with him and see where it goes. I know you two are pretending that everything’s fine but you’re both hurting each other and you’re acting like it’s nothing – it’s all just unnecessary angst at this point. What are you two doing?” Nayeon asks. 

“I…”

“Come on, __. Do you really want to let each other go? Do you really want to drift apart? Because it’s been almost a month of pussyfooting. And I don’t know if you’re just expecting that your luck is not gonna run out, but it is going to. And I know you’re going to regret it.” 

You stare at Nayeon while listening to her words. You don’t expect the sharp edges to her voice. You’ve always thought that if someone was going to call you out on your bullshit – it was going to be Doyeon. She’s the bluntest in the group and would not hesitate to tell someone if they’re being a bitch or not – so you don’t expect Nayeon to be like this at all because she’s always been a soft-spoken sweetheart.

It's not like Doyeon hasn’t been harsh, either, though. You had a drink with her and Taehyung a month ago and let’s just say she kind of ranted about you feeling like you’re in a romcom or something. 

She shuts her eyes close, and you can just feel her frustration emanating. “I’m sorry – I know I’m being harsh right now. But I just can’t bear seeing you two like this. I just got married today and I feel like I’m learning and realizing so much right now and one of those is that I’m extremely lucky to have found someone I’m so sure of, and while Minhyuk was saying his vows I looked back at my past relationships and just thought that… that I’m so glad I was finally at that point and… and right now I can’t stop thinking about you two,” Nayeon sighs. “You two love each other so much. Everybody can see it. Why are you both running away from each other? What gives?” 

You look away.

You both do love each other. They are right.

And while you can’t exactly say if what you feel for Jungkook right now bounds in being in love – there’s quite literally only one thing in the world that you’re certain of, and it’s that he’s the most important person to you – the only one you can think of spending a lifetime with and not get sick of it.

And that was something.

But…

“Because it’s scary.” You say, finally.

“What’s scary?”

You inhale a sharo breath.

“For eight years I’ve always thought that we were only platonic. But somewhere in my head I always thought that he was my soulmate, you know? I thought about us ending up together and I remember liking that thought. But years went by, and nothing ever happened and I swear I was happy with Eunwoo but you know what I’m ashamed of all this time that I never told anybody?” Your vision of Nayeon gets blurry as you begin tearing up. “I think… I have been in denial for so long. I think… I think I secretly looked for a part of Jungkook in Eunwoo and I think Eunwoo knew that. I think everybody who I’ve ever been with knew that except for myself. Because I was in denial. Even right now, I’m still in denial. You don’t know how – you don’t know how strange it is to suddenly wake up and realize that you don’t see your friend as a mere friend anymore. You don’t know how hard it is to overthink things – like what if it doesn’t work out and everything falls apart? Our friendship is so important to me, I hold it in the highest regard, and I don’t want anything to ever go against it. But now I’m doing that myself and I just… I hate it. But I don’t know what to do. Jungkook’s moving out just like it seems like he’s moving on and I’m scared that I’m too late to do anything.” 

Your speech leaves Nayeon’s mouth agape, clearly not expecting your outburst. But she recovers quickly. She steps closer in front of you, and in a second, engulfs you in a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, making sure to not let your tears fall down her dress. “I think I’ve been keeping that for a long time.”

“It’s okay… I’m glad you said that.” 

“Yeah… I think I’m glad too,” you both chuckle. 

“__?”

You hum.

“Just talk to Jungkook. If you’re worried about him moving out, he’s not. I can tell you that much.” 

You break the hug and look at Nayeon. “Nayeon, he literally has everything packed. I think he’s leaving early in the morning tomorrow.”

Nayeon fixes a strand of stray hairs from your hair framing your face. “Hm. He has?” You nod. “Well, as I said, he’s not leaving. Trust me. But you have to tell him everything that you told me just now. Be honest, __. It feels scary right now but, try to take a leap of faith, okay? This is not some toxic positivity shit or anything like that, but just be honest, alright?” 

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you look at her hesitantly. “Are you… are you sure?” 

Nayeon nods, and she looks so sure of herself that it may have fired up a little bit of hope in you. 

The party is still ongoing, but you decide that it’s time for you to clock out. After you bid your goodbyes to Nayeon and her now husband, to Doyeon and to Taehyung, you head out of the venue to try and book a taxi. You couldn’t find Jungkook earlier at the party, so you decided to send him a text that says you were going home. 

“Need a ride?” 

The ever-familiar voice expectedly appears to be Jungkook when you look at him. 

“Hey,” you greet. “No. I was just about to book an Uber.” 

Jungkook’s brows furrow. You think he looks handsome under the moonlight. “We can ride together in my car. I’m going home as well.”

“N-no, no, ‘s really fine,” you wave your hand, emphasizing your point. 

Jungkook grows more confused. Then: “Are you drunk?” 

You wince, hating that he instantly knows right away. 

“Sorta, kinda…” 

“And you want to Uber?” You pout. You hear him scoff. “There’s no way I’m leaving you alone in this state. Okay, let’s get you to my car.” 

“I’m fine, really,” you say but it sounds whiny even to your ears. 

“You can be stubborn all you want. But in the passenger’s seat.” Jungkook gives you a sharp stare, but his hold on your wrist is gentle as he guides you to the parking lot. 

He wears the seatbelt around your waist and lets you settle on your seat, rounding the car to get behind the wheel right after. You look away. You thought he'd be more... not nice to you since you just left him earlier with a poor excuse.

You feel guilty. So guilty. Jungkook is so... he makes you feel so loved but you're just... so confused. You're so scared it doesn't even make sense.

When he starts the engine, he asks, “Why did you drink so much?” 

It's easy to ignore the heavy thoughts in your head when you're half-asleep at this point.

“I dunno. The champagne was so good… I bet it was probably expensive. I can’t have that much free stuff until –” you stop, as if remembering something, sitting upright. “When is Taehyung’s wedding?” 

“He doesn’t have a wedding, ba—__. He hasn’t proposed to Hyerin yet.” 

You slump in your chair hearing that. 

“Why? They’re so perfect together… they should marry…” You say before dropping back down to your seat again. The AC in Jungkook’s car whirrs softly in your ear, and when you look to the side, you find yourself staring at his side profile.

He’s taken off his white coat, now left with a white shirt and his purple tie. He’s pushed the sleeves up to his forearms, showing the veins all over them.

“Jungkook.” you call him.

“What is it?” He says, momentarily looking at you before focusing back on the road.

“Can I…” you look at his hand. You sniff. “Can I hold your hand?”

Well, he does not expect that at all. But he smiles anyway, taking off one hand on the wheel and reaching for your own hand over the center console. You watch the way his huge palm dwarfs your own, and you almost sigh in relief when he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand as he rests it over his thigh.

The last thing you hear is Jungkook’s soft chuckle before you completely drift off to sleep. 

When you awake, you’re in your room. Seconds after regaining consciousness, you notice the banging in your head – and when you blearily open your eyes, reaching around for your phone, you don’t find it. 

Groaning, you stand up from your bed, realizing you’re now in a shirt and some pajamas. But weirdly enough, you seem to still have your bra on.

You peek through the inside of your shirt and alas, the white lace of your bra from last night’s event welcomes you, and when you stretch the waistband of your shorts to check on your panties, you still adorn the pair of white thong, which means only one thing. 

You haven’t changed completely out of the garments you’ve worn to Nayeon’s wedding and you wonder how it all happened. When you look to the side, your clutch is placed on the nightstand and so you grab it, relieved to find your phone there. 

Shockingly, you read it’s only over 2 am. 

With furrowed brows, you go over to the mirror to check your ensemble. Your face isn’t and doesn't feel as heavy with make-up as it was back at the venue, and you’re definitely dressed down now. 

You remember passing out in Jungkook’s car after he insisted that you ride with him… and everything had been a blur since then. 

Suddenly, an idea goes into your head. 

Did Jungkook… change your clothes and remove your make-up? That’s the only plausible thing that you can consider because you honestly don’t remember ever dressing yourself or going to the bathroom to remove your make-up. And if you did change out of the gown, you would've opted out of your underwear as well. 

Maybe Jungkook did all that. 

And the thought makes you smile. But it drops just as quickly. 

You head towards your door and go straight knocking on Jungkook’s bedroom. 

You don’t expect him to be awake at this point, but when you hear steps coming your way and the doorknob clicking, you stare at Jungkook wide-eyed when he welcomes you with his presence behind the door.

“Hey,” He greets, predictably surprised to see you. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah…” your eyes don’t mean to subtly roam his room. Then that’s when you catch it. The bags lying around his bedroom floor and the neatly piled boxes to the side. Your eyebrows meet each other. “You’re packing?” 

Jungkook nods. “I’m leaving tomorrow, I told you that, didn’t I?” 

“Y-you did, yeah.” You stammer, blinking at him. You suddenly feel like throwing up. “Well, I just came to thank you for…” you trail off, gesturing to your clothes.

Seemingly getting what you mean, Jungkook’s lips curl up into a coy smile. “I hope you don’t mind. I tried to wake you up, but you were complaining about your dress when you were sleeping…”

“Yeah… I’m glad you took it off.” You wince. “That sounds wrong. Anyway, the make-up, too. I have to ask, did I throw up on you?” 

Jungkook laughs, incredulous. “No, no, you didn’t. Are you seriously worried about that?” 

“I just feel bad.” You give him a tight-lipped smile. 

“It’s okay. You should sleep now, it’s late. Do you have a shift tomorrow– or later, actually.” 

“Yeah, I do. But it’s the evening shift. So. You?” 

“I have the morning until three in the afternoon.” 

Nodding, you ask, “Are you leaving at three then? I mean, to your new place?”

“Yeah. Will just pass by here to get some of my stuff.”

You try to look for something on his face. But Jungkook looks casual at best. Now you remember what Nayeon told you. Was she lying when she said you’re going to convince Jungkook not to move out? Because from the looks of it, Jungkook doesn’t seem like anything would budge him from leaving tomorrow. He seems so set on a mission, and you can’t lie and say that it doesn’t break your heart. 

You find yourself thinking about the events at the reception party. How he threw you a quick prom, told you you were beautiful… how he said he missed you. 

Was that all a lie? Just something he said to avoid some sort of dead air? 

Because if he truly misses you, then why would he leave? 

You find yourself getting annoyed. 

“I’ll be back to my room.” You say to get out of the situation. You notice Jungkook getting taken aback by the change of your tone, even more so when you turn on your heels quickly to take the two strides it takes you to your own bedroom. 

In there, you throw yourself on the mattress, the impact affecting you a little bit. You must still be drunk because you feel your vision getting blurry a bit but as you quickly shut and open your eyes, everything goes back to normal. 

You sigh. 

Well, maybe you’re actually meant to be alone and it’s true that you’re not meant for any romantic relationships. You’ll die alone and you’ll just have to deal with the heartbreaks you went through your whole life. 

A stray tear escapes your eye, and you quickly raise the back of your hand to wipe at it. You glare at the wall dividing your and Jungkook’s rooms, finding it annoying that you’re not really mad at him. It’d be so easy if you were mad at him… but you have no reason to.

But why is he so stubborn? Why isn’t he saying anything? Can he just… can it just be him who takes the leap of faith, so you won’t have to? You know that’s unfair, though. It’s juvenile. 

In a burst of courage, you take one pillow from your bed and stomp your way out of your bedroom, finding yourself in front of Jungkook’s room again and knocking. 

He opens it, rightfully surprised to see you again. “H-hey, __, I thought—”

“Can I sleep here?” 

You can see the way his face contorts into confusion. “What?” 

“Can I sleep in your room?” You reiterate, but you’re already forcing your way in. You throw your pillow on his own heap of dark ones, frowning when you see the bags on the floor. “Are you just going to pack forever? You’ve been packing since yesterday.”

Your clipped tone throws Jungkook off a little bit, but he doesn’t point that out, though, when he speaks. “No. I’m actually done now.” 

“Okay? Well, then, let’s sleep.” You say, staring at him. He looks stoned in his position from the edge of the bed, so utterly confused. 

“Are you… still drunk?” 

“What? No.”

“O… kay?” Jungkook looks extra cautious when he seats himself on the mattress by your feet. “Are you sure?” 

“About what?”

“I don’t know. About not being drunk and… sleeping here.” 

“Yeah,” you answer, pointing out the obvious. “Why are you acting like we haven’t had sleepovers before? You used to sleep in my room when there was a spider in your closet.” 

Jungkook makes a face. “It was a huge spider.” 

You roll your eyes, going into a lying position, making sure to leave some space for him on the side. “Jungkook.” 

“Okay, I’m going. So demanding.” 

He playfully clicks his tongue as he lays on the bed as well, sliding his body across the mattress. He doesn’t expect the way you take his arm to spread it on your side of the bed, and you don’t let him say another word when you lay your head on it, keeping your hands close to your chest as you snuggle beside him. 

You could feel there was a moment there that Jungkook stiffened for a bit, but he relaxes just as quickly, feeling him caress your head tentatively as if feeling you out before he goes for it completely. 

“This is what you’re gonna be missing out on when you move out.” you mumble.

You’re grateful when he only says: “Hm?”

“Nothing.” You open your eyes and because of the close proximity, your eyes are at the level of the side view of his chest, and you see the way his thin white shirt clings to his body, rising up and down with his breathing. “I saw your keys earlier. I’m glad you like the Claddagh.” 

Jungkook laughs. “The Claddagh, huh? I knew you knew what that keychain meant,” You frown when you realize you were supposed to pretend you didn’t know that. Oh, well, he figured you out right away, anyway. “I really like it, by the way. It was very thoughtful,” Jungkook says. You can’t see him in your position, but you just know he has a smile on his face. He sounds like it. 

“Thank you. I thought about gifting you a watch… but watches are expensive, so…” You decide to joke, and Jungkook laughs which makes you smile. 

“I would choose the Claddagh any day. I just… I really like it. I interpreted it as a deep sense of belonging and shared history, and I’ve known you for eight years, so that seems very fitting. I’m glad you chose to give me that.” 

It was also a reminder of your relationship. Your love for each other. The loyalty that lies in its foundation, and how you’ve managed to build that over the years. Jungkook’s ultimately your soulmate – that you’re sure of – even though that’s a bit of a cliche and you don’t exactly believe in it entirely. A bit of a conflict, really, since you’re a hopeless romantic. 

But you’ve long known that you and Jungkook are more than just friends. You trust and respect each other beyond words – and it’s more than what you could say about your previous romantic partners. Sure, there was that sense of admiration for one another with your ex-boyfriends, but Jungkook is different. He’s always been different. 

You’ve known that all along – but it’s only now that you decided to read between the lines. 

And you want to tell him that. So badly. But you choose to let the gentle tips of his fingers lull you to that comfortable annexe of warmth, easing you from overwhelming thoughts. 

Has Jungkook always felt like the embodiment of comfort for you? Has he always felt like everything good you can imagine having in your life?

Then, you feel him lean down to the top of your head. “You smell so nice. You aren’t my soulmate after all.” 

That makes you violently crane your neck up to look at him. “What?”

“There was this article that Tae sent to me. It was from Cosmo, I think. It says you’re not supposed to be able to smell your soulmate.” He says, looking so serious that you can’t figure if he’s bullshitting you.

You lean on your elbow so you can look down properly at him, saying, “That’s not even plausible. Since when was Cosmo reliable to you? That’s ridiculous. We literally have four hundred different types of olfactory receptors which help us perceive various smells – I mean, unless you’ve damaged them somehow, or there’s a disruption in your signal transduction, or you’re anosmic – which I know you’re not – then I don’t think that’s true.” 

Jungkook laughs and you can’t help but frown. 

“It made sense, okay? If you ignore the science stuff.”

“You’re a doctor.” You quickly counter.

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, for the record, I believe in the existence of extraterrestrial life, so that’s that.”

“Ugh,” you flop down on the bed again, falling back on Jungkook’s body. He scoots closer to hold you close against him, which you welcome casually. You don’t even know how you got this comfortable, but you’re glad either way. He feels so big and warm. “Are you going to show me that Youtube video of top ten UFO sightings around the world again?” 

“You don’t think that Nebraska one looked very real?” Jungkook says with disbelief.

“No,” you turn to Jungkook only to find him already looking at you. “They were college boys, Jungkook. They probably just turned nineteen or something. Have you seen their eyes in the video? It was pixelated as hell, but if I were that high—”

Jungkook suddenly snorts, effectively cutting you off. “Ohh, if you were that high?”

You jab at his chest which only makes him laugh louder. 

“I tried my first weed with you.” You pout.

Jungkook catches the stray hair that falls from behind your ear and hides it back there again as he says, “You coughed nonstop and had a sore-throat the next day. You have baby lungs.” 

You roll your eyes and go back to lying on his arm. “Whatever. All of that still doesn’t justify that we’re not soulmates.” 

“The concept of soulmates doesn’t even have a scientific explanation.” Jungkook chuckles. 

“No…? But there's psychological research about it; the attachment theory, look it up.” 

“There’s also cognitive dissonance.” Jungkook pitches in. 

“That’s so mean!” You gasp, but you know Jungkook’s only teasing when you see that he’s got that huge stupid grin on his face.

He apologizes in between his laughter, squeezing your waist a bit before he says, “Okay, okay. But what if you’re my soulmate, but I’m not yours?” 

“That’s not how soulmate-ism works. Isn’t it nice to think that there’s like a system to it? Like if you’re my soulmate, then that would automatically make me your soulmate. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.” Your eyebrows knit together as you explain.

“I guess you’re right…” Then you hear him letting out a loud sigh. “For what it's worth, I think I’d be really happy if I was your soulmate.”

You smile against his pec after he says the words. 

You like Jeon Jungkook. You like him so much it’s starting to feel unbearable.

There’s silence that hangs in the air for some time before you look up at Jungkook alarmingly. “Kook.” He doesn’t say anything. You lean on your elbow again to peer down at him, only to see that he’s now closed his eyes. “Jungkook.” 

Finally, he stirs. But his eyes are still closed. “Hm?”

“Don’t sleep yet.” 

“Uh-huh.” He gives your waist a brief squeeze again.

“I’m watching you.” 

He chuckles. “What is it?” 

“Let’s talk more.” 

“How are you still not sleepy?” 

“Because…” you drop your head down to his chest this time. “I want to know if you could ever —” you shrug, staring at his ceiling. “—cannibalize someone.”

“I like this. Conversation’s getting raunchy,” You hear him snorting through his breath. “Is this your pillowtalk?” 

“Yes.” 

“In that case, that’s an interesting question. I have never really thought about that.”  

“Really? Never?” 

“I’ve never been in any situation where I had to think about that, thank god.”

You laugh together. “Okay, but if you really had to, would you?” 

“I don’t know… I’m a huge germaphobe, you know that. But I guess humans inherently have indomitable spirits and that conditions us to do whatever it takes to ensure our survival under extreme conditions. I don’t think I’m beyond that.”   

You nod against his chest. Mindlessly, you start tracing random lines over his shirt, and you wait for Jungkook to pry your hand off or say something to stop you or ask you what you’re doing, but he doesn’t really say anything. 

“It’s fascinating, right? The way we can just alter our brains and mindsets when we’re put under certain conditions. It’s amazing and weird at the same time how we work psychologically.” 

“Exactly.” You feel Jungkook nodding. 

“This is– of course this is not an extreme condition where I have to cannibalize someone,” you chuckle, which earns the same thing from Jungkook. You continue, “but you know when you’re experiencing a heartbreak and you think it’s the end of the world but then you wake up one day and suddenly you’re fine? 

When Jungkook turns quiet, you know you’ve touched on a subject that feels personal. 

You sigh. “I broke up with Mingyu awhile ago.” 

“Oh.”

You hum. “Yeah… like a month ago?”

“Ah. I had a hunch.”

“But you didn’t ask,” you smile. “Well, anyway I just want you to know.” 

Silence.

Then, “Do you feel… do you feel sad about it?” 

“That’s what’s weird,” you say. “Because I don’t necessarily feel sad about the break-up, or the relationship. But it’s more like – the thought of breaking up with somebody again.” You chuckle, but there’s no humor to it. “I feel like you can only take so many break-ups in your life before you completely give up on love, you know? And it’s like… I don’t even get it… I mean, I’m decent, aren’t I? I can hold up a conversation, I make sense, I have a good job, and I don’t look bad – although, maybe that’s what’s wrong all along?” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Am I ugly?” 

“Hey,” Jungkook calls, and you feel him rising from his lying position just as you feel tears slowly streaming down your face. 

You scold yourself for it – because what the hell even is this about? Just earlier you were talking about cannibalism and now you’re tearing up. Your emotions are all over the place, and it doesn’t help that Jungkook’s quick to dote on you, guiding your back as you both sit on the bed instead.

You inhale a sharp breath. “Look at me, I’m a mess,” you look at him through blurry eyes, hoping to look apologetic at the very least for barging in his room at fuckass o’clock and disturbing his packing and not noticing that he’s been in love with you for the past eight years. God, you want to say sorry for a lot of things. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying, it’s not that deep.” 

“If it’s bothering you then it’s a big deal. And I’m looking right at you,” Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulders as he looks you in the eyes. “I’m looking at you and you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent, and you’re the funniest person on Earth I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. I’m so glad I met you.” 

“Well… do you still feel that way when I only ever seem to come to you when I wanna vent or cry?” You ask, attempting to joke, but your voice breaks at the end.

It cracks a smile on Jungkook’s face though. “That’s not true at all. You also come to annoy me.” 

Your laughter turns into a sob and that’s when Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you close to his side, letting your head fall to his bicep and resting his chin on top of yours. It’s a barely-there gesture, but you’re pretty sure you feel him kiss the crown of your head. 

“I know… I know we still have a lot to talk about, __. That we’re glossing over the important things. But I want to say sorry. I never said sorry about what happened back at the resort. For Mingyu. For doing what we did. I never said sorry about bombarding you with all those things and for taking so long to talk to you just because I was scared. But right now, I’m saying sorry. I have been completely unfair to you all this time.” 

You quickly get out of his hold to look up at him. “No, you—” 

“Just…” Jungkook cuts you off. “Just let me, okay? I know you’re gonna say none if it was my fault but you’re right about what you said. You’re right about doubting my feelings for you.” 

“Jungkook…”

He nods. “I was in denial for the most part about my feelings for you. Ever since that thing happened with Jiyeon in college, I found it hard to trust somebody again. I slept around in my last year of college because it made me feel good about myself, made me think I was desirable and that someone cheating on me doesn’t mean shit when I had all those women who willingly slept with me. I was like that during my first year in med school, too. Couldn't really get serious with somebody because – because what if they do the same thing again?” Jungkook smiles bitterly. “And then… I met you. It started out as a crush and I was so sure it wasn’t going to be more than that, but then, we were in almost the same classes and we became friends,” Jungkook looks at you fondly and you almost melt in his arms. “And then I found myself liking you, and then I fell hard – really fucking hard,” he chuckles to himself. “It was during spring break of second year when I realized I was fucked and that I was in love with my best friend.” 

“S-spring break?” You whisper, not sure what he meant. 

“You don’t remember it?” Jungkook asks. He looks over your face and suddenly he’s caressing your cheek with his fingers. He swipes his thumb over it, wiping a stray tear away. He smiles before he says, “I caught the flu that time. I called you, but you were over at your parents. Then the next day I woke up and you were at my place telling me to take care of my health because how can I study medicine when my immune system is shit.”

“Oh, that…” you trail off. Suddenly, the fragments of that time become clear to you. The flu wasn’t that bad, only took him three days to fully recover.

“Yeah. But then that was also the time when you told me Eunwoo asked you to be his girlfriend and that you said yes.” 

You inhale a shaky breath.

“I– I tried to forget about my feelings, because I didn’t want to harbor all those feelings for you when you already had a boyfriend. I went to all those dates in the hopes that I could feel something from someone. I tried to date Sora. It was good. It was a good partnership. But then… Eunwoo proposed, and I don’t know – I guess I deluded myself so bad that I have fully moved on from you since then – but then I was faced with the reality that you were going to spend your life with somebody else and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was so bad at handling my emotions. So stupid. Sora broke up with me because she figured I love you.” 

You stare at him with your mouth agape. You would've never guessed why they broke up. You always thought they were so perfect for each other… 

“And yeah, the break-up with Eunwoo happened and it took you two years to heal. I didn’t want to make a move because I simply didn’t want to be that kind of guy who takes advantage of a woman’s vulnerability after a break-up, you know? And we moved in together two years ago and…” You wait as he trails off. “I guess I just got comfortable with our set-up.” 

“How do you mean?”

“It was like, everything I imagined us to be. Living together, sharing everything together. I thought no one could take that away from me, even if I didn’t ask you out. I’m not telling you to believe it, but I wasn’t with a lot of women for the past two years… yeah, sure, I dated them very briefly, but it was out of genuine attempt to find somebody for myself because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by confessing. Being your best friend was and still is more important to me than being your boyfriend. I couldn’t care less how I can have you; I want you in any way – and if that meant being your platonic friend the rest of our time, then I was that. I am that. Even now.”

You can’t find your words. You’ve imagined your talk countless times in your head, but they all fell short to give you a taste of what the real thing would be like. 

“So… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for keeping my feelings for nearly eight years. I’m sorry I kept something important to you about Mingyu. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. Just… I apologize. I feel like I broke your trust.” 

It’s quiet for a while before you break the silence.

“Jungkook,” You call him. He meets your gaze. It’s soft and it’s sweet and you realize he’s always looked at you like that. How could you have not noticed? “You’re very important to me.” 

“I’m glad.” He smiles. A small one that makes him look all boyish. The urge to keep him in your pocket even though he’s much bigger than you becomes huge.

“And I want you in any way, too.” You say, staring intently at him. 

You watch as Jungkook stares back at you. There’s an agonizing stretch of seconds when you see his eyes darting down from your eyes to your lips, and you don’t mean to bite the bottom one, suddenly feeling the thick tension rising in the air.

“Can I hug you?” You swallow the lump in your throat. 

“I would really love that.” 

You don’t know how it happens, but the last thing you see is Jungkook’s wall clock pointing to 3:15 am before you let your eyes rest.

[ READ BELOW ]

this chapter is not over yet! tumblr has a 1k paragraph/block limit in a single post and so i can't put the whole thing in this. please look thru the reblogs to read the last scene of the chapter and the EPILOGUE or click on this [ link ]

[astonmartinii]

brother's best friend | lance stroll social media au

pairing: lance stroll x fem schumacher!reader

there's something about the guy your brother tells you is off limits...

MASTERLIST | MY TIP JAR

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,458 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: happy birthday to the biggest pain in my ass

view all comments

user1: y/n is so mother that her birthday really should be a national holiday

yourusername: what ass? babe you built like an ironing board

mickschumacher: you're talking real loud for someone who has a smaller ass than me 🤨

yourusername: you wanna get the tape measure out ???

user2: I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

liked by lancestroll

yourusername: HAH

mickschumacher: i'll give you this one FOR ONCE only because it's your birthday

yourusername: you're SO generous

user3: both mick and y/n really got the unhinged gene from michael

user4: now we know why toto separates them in the paddock LOL

lancestroll: mick you were such a cute kid, what happened?

mickschumacher: EY stay out of it this is schumacher business

mickschumacher: or at least call y/n ugly too ugh 😩

lancestroll: my dad taught me that it's wrong to tell lies sorry

mickschumacher: BACK UP ??? what's that supposed to mean?

yourusername: is no one allowed to compliment me anymore?

mickschumacher: NO. especially not a man. especially not an f1 driver. they're all whores.

estebanocon: ????

maxverstappen1: ????

lancestroll: ????

yourusername: is that why you got dropped? too bitchless?

mickschumacher: HOW DARE YOU? I PULL. I DO.

yourusername: sure you do

mickschumacher: that's it. if you're going to use my loneliness against me, then i invoke the kat stratford rule. you can't date until i do

yourusername: that is so horrifically tragic. who says i'm not already seeing someone?

this comment has been deleted

mickschumacher: I SAW THAT

user5: everybody pray for y/n

user6: for real i think mick lost all of his patience at haas 😭

yourusername

liked by lancestroll, mickschumacher and 983,409 others

yourusername: all my birthday wishes came true

view all comments

user7: cue the mick meltdown

mickschumacher: WHAT 😭 THE 😭 FUCK 😭

yourusername: yes?

mickschumacher: does ten things i hate about you mean nothing to you?

yourusername: no ! but i like [redacted] more

mickschumacher: you can use [redacted] all you want but i will literally break in to your house I'M GETTING IN THE CAR

yourusername: soz girlypop but i'm at [redacted]'s house xoxo

mickschumacher: don't think i won't call sebastian i know he has you on find my friends

yourusername: go for it buddy i am completely confident in mine and seb's relationship

mickschumacher: @sebastianvettel pick up your phone

sebastianvettel: leave me be mick, i have met [redacted] and i think he's a great match 👍

mickschumacher: WHAT

user8: well that was dramatic

user9: get that man back in the car before he genuinely runs across europe looking for y/n

user10: i love how they're all going along with the [redacted] nonsense

user11: i know seb was having way too much fun with it

estebanocon: happy birthday y/n, i hope [redacted] treated you well !

yourusername: why thank you esteban, i have had a great time

mickschumacher: do not tell me you know as well :(

estebanocon: i don't but saying [redacted] is super fun 🤩

lancestroll: [redacted] does make them sound like a criminal

mickschumacher: when i found out who it is, they may become part of a criminal trial

lancestroll: okay buddy...

yourusername: thank you lance, at least someone here is talking sense

mickschumacher: don't use my friends against me 🤨

yourusername: maybe he's my friend too dumbass

user12: or more 😏

mickschumacher: do not even speak that into existence

user13: i need it to be lance or at least another driver just for mick's reaction at this point

lancestroll

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,077,487 others

tagged: yourusername

lancestroll: just appreciating the birthday girl

view all comments

user17: WAIT !! let me grab my popcorn 🍿

user18: i am sat for this mick meltdown

user19: it might be an all-timer

yourusername: before mick inevitably throws all his toys out of the pram... i love you sir lancelot !! thank you for the amazing birthday and for being the best boyf eva xxx

lancestroll: i love you too darling, glad we could spend all this time together before the season starts again

yourusername: booooo i don't wanna share you :(

lancestroll: you could just join me ...

yourusername: do NOT threaten me with a good time

user20: i think i can hear mick having a tantrum from all the way across the world

mickschumacher: ABSOLUTELY NOT. NO. NOPE. NADA. THIS IS NOT HAPPENING. DELETE.

lancestroll: you done?

mickschumacher: NO I AM NOT. TAKE YOUR MOUTH OFF OF MY SISTER. THE ONLY SCHUMACHER YOU WILL BE KISSED BY IS MY FIST

lancestroll: bit too late for that

mickschumacher: HALT. i do not need to know that :(

yourusername: have you got it out of your system? because i really love lance and i'm sorry we kept it from you, but we thought it was best while we figured it all out

mickschumacher: i am happy for you. all i want to see is you happy, and if that is lance so be it. just no pda in front of me

lancestroll: you're saying this like i'm a monster? i'm literally your friend, surely that's a good sign?

mickschumacher: wait. i thought we were best friends :(

lancestroll: yes! we're bffs ! best friends forever + este

estebanocon: yes we love you mick even when you scream all the time and call us whores?

yourusername: gosh you're such a drama queen, have this heart to heart in the group chat this is a birthday post for ME

user21: well this got suprisingly heartfelt

sebastianvettel: happy birthday y/n, i'm happy for both of you!

yourusername: thank you seb ! x

lancestroll: thank you seb, wingman of the year

mickschumacher: WHAT

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, lancestroll and 923,766 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: my boyf just won point with broken wrists, what the fuck are y'all doin?

view all comments

user24: this was so sexy of lance honestly

maxverstappen1: winning the race bozo

yourusername: the question was clearly rhetorical genius

maxverstappen1: i don't care 🤷‍♀️

user25: i always forget that these two technically grew up together

lancestroll: the doctors said i still need to be looked after, will you be my sexy nurse?

mickschumacher: EW this is exactly what i was talking about. keep this shit to yourselves

mickschumacher: PLUS, i don't think that would be wise with broken wrists

lancestroll: gotta ruin all of our jokes now?

yourusername: so me being a sexy nurse is a joke :( ?

lancestroll: no! you can definitely look after me and you're definitely sexy

yourusername: good good. sit back and relax baby

user26: what if we also want to be seen by sexy nurse y/n?

mickschumacher: choke

lancestroll: choke

fernandoalo_oficial: so no mention of my podium 🤨

yourusername: bore off old man you've got completely functioning wrists

fernandoalo_oficial: still impressive no?

yourusername: cry me a river

lancestroll: it was very impressive fernando

fernandoalo_oficial: at least one of my kids respect me

yourusername: god i think being a drama queen is a requirement for being an f1 driver

user27: she's not wrong

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by lancestroll, yourusername and 1,452,887 others

fernandoalo_oficial: accidentally acquired two kids this season

view all comments

user28: grid dad fernando is back baby

user29: who is the mum and can i be her?

yourusername: soz mark beat you to it

oscarpiastri: does that make us all siblings?

mickschumacher: absolutely not. the schumacher gang is very exclusive

fernandoalo_oficial: who said i claimed you?

mickschumacher: as if you wouldn't want to claim me

yourusername: soz mick, looks like only one of us slays

lancestroll: fernando has taste 💅

mickschumacher: i hate you both

yourusername: love you too x

user30: golly gosh these girlies are so dramatic

user31: lance, y/n and oscar is the chill trio we need

yourusername: also thanks pa for the cute pic x

lancestroll: and for not complaining the whole time

yourusername: SOME people could learn a thing or two ....

mickschumacher: hey! i am a good photographer you're just ugly

lancestroll: you take that back

mickschumacher: you were my friend first you should be on my side :(

yourusername: you snooze you lose mickster

lancestroll: :p

user32: so glad that this relationship is bringing out lance's sassy side

user33: now all we need is the return of the racing point hair

yourusername: i'm on it 🫡

yourusername

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 1,099,432 others

tagged: lancestroll

yourusername: the romance books didn't lie, there really is nothng like your brother's best friend

view all comments

user34: boyf!lance got me going feral

user35: third pic is defo going platinum on pinterest

lancestroll: all the turmoil was worth it :)

yourusername: turmoil being mick pouting at you for like three hours

lancestroll: i am a sensitive man! i don't like people being upset with me :(

yourusername: mick is just a drama queen, probably his way of hazing you, or distracting himself from being lonely

mickschumacher: for that lonely comment you just got yourself stuck with a third wheel

mickschumacher: FOR LIFE

estebanocon: and me !! don't forget about meeee

user36: my fave unproblematic foursome

yourusername: hold your horses babe two of that four are siblings maybe we should reword this

sebastianvettel: is mick finished now? can i safely go back on my phone without getting ten billion calls about you and lance?

yourusername: yeah i think he's got it out of his system

sebastianvettel: good. but you and lance are still on babysitting duty for putting my through this

lancestroll: not the punishment you think it is we love those kids

yourusername: plus lance is cute with kids and gives me major baby fever

sebastianvettel: oh no...

mickschumacher: WHAT ABSOLUTELY NOT NO BABIES YET I ONLY JUST ACCEPTED YOU DATIGN I DON;Y WANT TO THINK ABOUT... THAT

yourusername: but baby lancelots would be so cute :(

lancestroll: baby y/ns would be cuter

yourusername: that's it. seb sorry we will be a little late

mickschumacher: DELETE

fin.

note: this request has been in the bank for a while and i know i took a lil creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed!! also thought lance deserved some love after the recent tomfoolery ... alas! happy new year and i hope everyone has a great new years eve xx

[andy-15-07]

Yo can we have more Joaquin Torres x assassin reader where shes always been compassionate and kind but got forced into the assassin life so whenever she has the chance, she would help hide her targets instead to killing them outright

Kindness in the Shadows

PAIRING: Joaquin Torres x Reader 💋

WORD COUNT: 1386 ✍️

REQUESTS: Open! 💌 (send yours my way — I love writing them all!)

🌟 Danny Ramirez Masterlist 🌟

Joaquin had read the files. All of them.

The photos. The surveillance footage. The redacted lines and endless aliases.

You were the ghost with too many names and too few mistakes. The assassin who didn’t leave bodies, just questions. And most importantly?

You were always gone before anyone could blink.

Until now.

He crouched behind a rusted-out sedan, watching through a cracked warehouse window. You were on the second level, standing far too calmly beside a tied-up target who,according to every report,should already be dead.

Except… you were untying him.

“What the hell,” Joaquin muttered.

His earpiece crackled. “Torres, do you have eyes on her?”

“I do,” he whispered back. “She’s not doing what we thought.”

“Repeat?”

“She’s untying him. She’s letting him go.”

A pause.

“She’s not a killer,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You knew you were being watched the moment your fingers slipped the last knot loose.

Your heartbeat had been calm,steady, even,until now. Now it skipped, fluttered, tugged at the edges of your ribs like a warning.

He was here. The Falcon.

Joaquin Torres. Government-trained. Wings sharp, instincts sharper. Charming smile. Steel trap mind. He was everything they said. Everything you weren’t supposed to get close to.

And still…

You stood up slowly, raising your hands in the air, back still turned to the cracked window behind you.

“You going to shoot me?” you asked, voice soft.

A beat.

“No,” came the reply.

You turned.

He stood just inside the window now, wings tucked, eyes trained on you like he didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing. You were supposed to be dangerous, lethal, untouchable.

But your eyes were kind. And your hands were shaking.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

Joaquin blinked. “Hi.”

“Surprised?”

“A little.”

You glanced at the man you’d just untied. “He’s not what they said he is.”

“I know.”

That stopped you. “You do?”

Joaquin exhaled, lowering his stance. “I’ve been following you for two months. You’ve had six ‘confirmed kills’ in that time. Only one of those people is actually missing. The others? New identities. Witness protection. A woman in Nebraska just had a baby.”

You swallowed.

“I didn’t come to bring you in,” Joaquin said, voice gentler now. “I came to figure out why you do it.”

You looked at the floor.

“I don’t like hurting people,” you whispered. “But they made me very good at it.”

Fifteen minutes later, you sat across from him on the rooftop. The man you'd spared had slipped into the shadows, vanished into whatever second chance you’d carved out for him.

Joaquin passed you a bottle of water. “So who are they?”

You gave him a hollow laugh. “If I tell you, they’ll find me. Or worse,find them.”

“The people you’re helping?”

You nodded. “Some of them… they’re not saints, but they didn’t deserve a bullet. I’ve watched enough people die. I decided if I was going to be forced into this life, I’d rewrite the rules.”

He studied you for a moment.

“You hide them. Help them disappear.”

“I give them what I never got,” you said. “A choice.”

He was quiet for a long time.

Finally, he said, “You could’ve run. Why not disappear too?”

“I tried,” you said. “But they found me. And when they did… they reminded me what they could do to the people I care about.”

Joaquin frowned. “There’s a list?”

“There’s always a list.”

Something sharp flickered in his chest. You were too good at hiding pain. Too soft for the stories wrapped around your name like barbed wire.

“You’re not what I expected,” he admitted.

“Yeah,” you said, tired. “Most people expect a monster.”

He shook his head. “I expected someone colder. Someone who didn’t ask her targets if they were okay before untying them.”

You looked away.

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done. But I sleep at night because I don’t finish the job.”

“Even though they think you do.”

You nodded. “It’s safer if they believe that. It buys time. For everyone.”

Joaquin leaned forward. “So let me help.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“Let me help you stay ahead of them.”

“I can’t drag you into this. They’re,”

“Dangerous?” he said. “So am I.”

You stared at him. “You’d risk that? For me?”

“You’ve risked your life to protect people you barely know,” Joaquin said. “I’m not going to let you burn alone.”

The next few weeks blurred into a rhythm neither of you expected.

He covered your tracks.

You saved people.

Sometimes, that meant escorting a cartel informant across a state line. Other times, it meant burning files and staging scenes that looked a lot bloodier than they were. Joaquin became your shadow, your air support, your backup.

And sometimes, your quiet at 3 a.m.

Like tonight.

You sat on a motel bed, patching a cut across your rib cage. Joaquin leaned against the dresser, arms folded.

“That guy nearly gutted you,” he muttered.

“He was scared. I still got him out.”

Joaquin walked over, crouched in front of you, gently pushing your hands aside. “Let me.”

You stiffened for half a second, then let him.

His fingers were warm, gentle.

“Why are you like this?” you whispered.

“Like what?”

“Kind. With me.”

He looked up at you. “You don’t think you deserve kindness?”

You didn’t answer.

He smoothed a bandage over your skin. “You’re not a weapon. You’re someone who was used like one.”

Your breath caught.

“And that’s not your fault,” Joaquin added softly.

You looked away, blinking fast. “If I stop… they’ll come after me.”

“Then we take them down first.”

You laughed shakily. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s not. But it’s possible.”

You looked at him. Really looked at him. “You believe in me.”

He nodded. “Have since day one.”

Your next job went sideways.

Someone tipped them off. You barely had time to slip your target out the back before the warehouse exploded in gunfire.

Joaquin swooped in last second, knocking you out of the way, catching a graze across his shoulder in the process.

“Shit,” you breathed, dragging him behind a stack of crates. “You’re bleeding.”

He hissed. “Could’ve warned me about the welcoming party.”

“I didn’t know,They were early. They never come early.”

He reached for his comm, but you grabbed his wrist.

“They’ll trace the signal.”

Joaquin looked at you. “Then what’s the move?”

You swallowed. “We run. No trace. I know a place.”

Two days later, holed up in a safehouse in the desert, you finally spoke again.

“I think they know I’ve been sparing the targets.”

Joaquin winced as you cleaned the bandage. “Then it’s time to stop running.”

You shook your head. “They’ll go after everyone.”

“Not if we strike first.”

You froze. “What?”

“You’re not alone in this anymore,” he said. “Let me in. Let SHIELD in. We can dismantle them. With your intel.”

“I can’t promise everyone makes it out.”

“I’m not asking for a promise,” he said. “I’m asking for a chance.”

You exhaled. “Okay.”

He looked up. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Let’s burn it all down.”

The takedown was ugly.

Fast.

Clean.

Brutal.

You watched from a rooftop as the last of your handlers were led away in cuffs. Joaquin stood beside you, wings out, blood on his cheek.

“You did it,” he said.

We did it, you wanted to say. But the words tangled in your throat.

Instead, you whispered, “I don’t know what to do now.”

Joaquin looked at you. “Start over. Live.”

You gave him a watery smile. “I don’t know how.”

He stepped closer. “Then stay close. I’ll show you.”

You looked at him.

And for the first time in years, you let yourself hope.

ONE MONTH LATER

You stood on the rooftop of your new place, coffee in hand. No guns. No orders. Just sunrise.

Joaquin landed beside you.

“Still awake?”

You smiled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He leaned on the rail. “Thinking about them?”

“No,” you said. “For once… I’m not thinking about anyone except me.”

He smiled. “And?”

“It feels terrifying.”

He chuckled. “That’s how you know you’re alive.”

You glanced at him. “You stayed. Even after everything.”

“I told you,” he said. “You’re not alone.”

You looked away, cheeks warm. “I know.”

He reached for your hand.

You let him take it.

[andysdrafts]

Me posting this is like my awakening, I'm excited but at the same time I hate it because I just changed the aesthetic of the account and now it doesn't match

ANDY'S INTRODUCTION

Andy. Nineteen. She/Her. Mexican. Inherently flawed. Red lover. Light sleeper. Absolutely delusional. Multifandom. Arts enthusiast. Sanrio worshiper.

Introduction. Masterlist. Carrd.

Andy's note: Can I get a hurray for the way I finally finished this thing when I was supposed to finish and publish it like a year ago? No? M'kay, I'll go back to my corner ( ˊᯅˋ )

[lieutenantbatshit]

01 - no good deed | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

previous chapter | next chapter

----

The room was dark. Not the artificial, humming darkness of the dormitories. No flickering overhead lights, no sound of desperate breathing in the shadows. 

This darkness was deeper, becoming quieter, then still.

Hwang In-ho bolts upright in his bed, breath caught in his throat, chest heaving beneath the black robe of the Front Man. Sweat clung to his skin like blood once did. The black mask sits abandoned on the table beside him, and for a moment, he remembers who he is. 

Not Hwang In-ho.

The Front Man.

But the dream, kind of a memory, doesn’t let him go. He can still feel it — the warm pool of his blood beneath him, the shouts, the silence, and the pain.

And then, there was you.

Your gloved hands pressing down his wound with a whisper against the chaos, “If you live, don’t forget who you were.”

In-ho’s hands tremble as he reached for a glass of water beside him. He had forgotten, hadn’t he? Bit by bit, piece by piece, until all that remained was the mask, the control, the machine. 

But that voice —  your voice — it never left.

He brushes his hand through his damp hair, eyes burning as they stare at nothing. You were just a shadow then, a mask among other masks. A rule-breaker in a place where mercy was punishable by death.

He doesn’t even know your face or your name. Yet your presence lives in the cracks of his memory, in the fractured quiet of his mind that he never allowed himself to touch.

Except in his dreams.

Or nightmares.

He rose slowly, each movement deliberate. There’s something cold and restrained about him now, but the weight behind his eyes was unmistakable. He walked to the system terminal as the soft glow of the screens hummed to life, illuminating the sharp edges of his face, the shadow of grief still etched across his expression.

His fingers tapped on the keyboard as the screen flickered.

Pink Guard Personnel Records: 28th Squid Game

He shouldn’t do this.

He knew he shouldn’t. Everything about the games was built on anonymity, everything encrypted as if you were expected to forget, bury the past six feet beneath protocol and power.

But he couldn’t forget you. 

His voice was low, hoarse, as he spoke into the silence. “Who were you?”

The system begins its search as the man behind the mask isn’t the Front Man tonight. Tonight, he’s a survivor… still trying to find the one person who made him feel human again. 

Lines of data flicker across the screen — guard IDs, biometric logs, movement patterns, shift schedules. Thousands of entries. Most were clean, categorized, and controlled.

But one file stalls.

ID: P-132-20152745

In-ho narrowed his eyes as he noticed the file. He hovered his hand on his mouse as he clicked, only for the screen to shudder.

ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. ACCESS DENIED.

He leaned closer as he squinted at the file number. He doesn’t recognize the number, but something about it pulls at him. The timestamp matches the night he was injured. That narrow window between the second and third round.

His fingers fly over the keys as he bypasses standard security. Firewalls resist him, but he wrote the protocols himself. He cracks through the surface code, digging deeper.

REDACTED ENTRY: UNAUTHORIZED INTERVENTION DETECTED.

P-132-20152745: Disciplinary Report - MISSING

Security Footage - DELETED

Status: UNKNOWN

He sits back slowly, the air tight in his lungs, realizing that someone had scrubbed the record. 

Not just a name or a face. Just plain everything.

As if that guard never existed. 

As if the system had tried to erase the very moment he clung to all these years.

His jaw tightened, rage pulsing beneath the surface. Not just for the system, but for himself for forgetting, surviving, and becoming the very thing he once feared. 

Still, there’s a silver of data remaining. A slashed fragment of a voice file that was compressed and corrupted.

Yet, it was still playable.

The static nearly swallows the sound, but in the middle of the distortion, something cuts through.

“—wasn’t supposed to do this…”

“…remember who you are…” “—forgive me.”

In-ho’s eyes closed, his heart pulsing through his chest. Though it was comforting to feel that you were real, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. 

As his thoughts almost swayed him, he immediately snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a heavy thud. Not from the room, but from the recording.

He sat up as a sharp intake of breath was heard, then another sound that seemed like a hit. Then, another sound that pierces through even the most distorted noise.

A soft, broken whimper. A woman’s voice.

“Please…” A muffled cry as another strike seemed to be done, and then, there was silence.

In-ho froze as his jaw clenched while the recording looped, replaying that single moment of helplessness. Something cold grips his chest, curling around his ribs like barbed wire. 

Someone definitely made sure he wouldn’t remember it. 

The file ends with one last, choked breath — one that doesn’t quite sound like fear, but grief.

“He wasn’t supposed to see me.”

The silence after felt suffocating. In-ho’s fingers curled into fists as the final realization sank in. This wasn’t just a disappearing act.

Someone silenced you, covered you up, and buried your existence under codes and protocols. In-ho scoffed, a smirk forming as if an idea shone all over his face.

They didn’t bury you well enough.

His eyes hardened as he locked the terminal.

You saved him once, now it was his turn.

——

The incinerator hisses as the body bag disappears into flame.

It was either buried or harvested for organs — you couldn’t care at all. In fact, you don’t flinch anymore. You haven’t, in a long time. 

The stench of burnt cloth and blood clings to your mask, thick and stubborn, as if even the scent refuses to die here. You stand still, posture straight, hands clasped behind you just as protocol demands.

You were only a pink circle guard. Just another pair of obedient boots, another ghost in the machine.

Your boots echo softly down the corridor. Rhythm is everything here—footsteps measured, spine straight, eyes forward behind a mask that tells the world nothing. Now, you’re Guard 427.

You swipe your card at the checkpoint and enter the security control wing. The guards here don’t speak unless ordered. The walls hum with surveillance feeds, and one screen, larger than the rest, projects the black mask of the Front Man. You’ve worked hard to become invisible. You are precise in your tasks, silent in your duties, unremarkable in your movements. You erase yourself every day, bit by bit, in service of survival.

Still, you remember him. Not as the Front Man. But as Player 132.

He was bleeding when you found him, struggling beneath the weight of survival. You should’ve walked away. Left him to die like all the others. But something in his eyes that night — numb but furious, cracked but not yet broken made you stop.

You knelt. Whispered. Touched his bloodied chest with trembling fingers.

“If you live, don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

And now, he sits behind the glass of power, voice modulated, mask unshifting, his judgment absolute. You wondered if he dreams of you, if your voice ever slips into his nightmares. You wondered if, when he stares too long at the monitors, he's chasing something his mind won’t give him.

You kept your head down and your steps even. You cleaned blood off the walls. You followed orders. You pretend you’re not the one he’s unknowingly searching for.

Because if he ever does remember… If he ever sees through the perfect circle painted across your mask, what then?

Would he thank you? Punish you? Undo you?

You weren’t sure. In a place where mercy was a foreign concept, such a situation of his finding you would cause more complications.

The alarm blared. A low tone thrums through the walls, and every Circle in the hallway stops in unison.

“VIP arrival. Level Six. Escort detail.”

Your fellow pink guards peel off wordlessly, boots pivoting toward the service lift that leads to the opulent corridors you’re never meant to see. The ones draped in gold and smoke, the ones that reek of indulgence and blood.

But not you.

Your earpiece buzzes with a separate frequency.

“P-427, Report to Sub-Level Three. Clearance Sigma Red.”

Sigma Red.

You hesitate for half a breath before responding.

“Confirmed. On route.”

It wasn’t your first time.

You walked alone now, past the steel hallways, the flickering fluorescents, the guards who pretended not to see. You made your way towards the door marked only by a red triangle and the faint scent of disinfectant beneath it.

Inside the room was quiet, warmer, and cleaner. There was no briefing. No other guards. Just a room with a solitary mirror and a rack of clean clothing with soft fabric, unlike your uniform.

“Change. Protocol 09 is in effect,” the voice over the intercom says.

You obeyed, not needing to be told why. 

You’ve done this before. You remember the way the Front Man had just taken the mask then. How his presence had loomed even before you could name it. The first time, you’d done what you were told because not doing so meant punishment. 

You were a standard circle guard who was quiet, efficient, and obedient. Not until that night during the 28th Season where you chose mercy. 

He was bleeding out during lights out where his eyes had pulled you in — the hollow ache of someone who wanted to die but was too proud to beg for it. You broke the rules, yet they let you live.

Only so they could strip you down slowly — the escort class.

The lowest, most degrading designation in the hierarchy of this twisted system. You are masked, dressed in thin civilian mimicry, and handed over to the VIPs—not for pleasure, necessarily. Sometimes just for company. Sometimes for cruelty. Always for obedience.

“Escort detail begins in thirty minutes. Await further instruction.”

The door clicks shut behind you. You sat and waited, listening to the hum of the walls as you wondered, what if this is the time he speaks to you? What if he looks at you a second too long? What if he asks your name? And what if you're too afraid to give it?

The walls here were too quiet. No screams, gunfire, and barking orders. Only silence — deliberate, echoing, and unnerving.

The mask stays on. It always stays on. It's the only part of yourself you're allowed to keep. As you sat, the intercom crackled again. A different voice this time. One you know. One you’ve heard before during your disciplinary hearing. 

“Protocol 09 in effect,” the speaker hisses.

No acknowledgment required. They know you understand.

“You aided a player in the 28th Season. Unforgivable.”

A pause, long enough to let the weight settle. “You will not speak of it. Not to him. Not to anyone. The Front Man does not know. He must never know. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, because that’s all you're allowed to do now.

“VIPs arrive in thirty. Escort mode active.”

You fixed the mask over your face as you changed layer by layer, its garments feel like silk-wrapped shame. 

You remember how, once, your hands shook as they held a bleeding man. The one who now runs the games, one who sits behind a mask of black steel, haunted by something he can’t quite name.

He lives because of you and now you serve because of him.

He must never know.

But you remember.

Every time.

——

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and smoke clung to the velvet of the VIP lounge. The lighting was warm, golden, and suffocating — designed to flatter the depraved. Laughter cuts the air like broken glass. Masks of beasts and emperors lounge across gilded sofas, their voices slurred, their gaze predatory.

One of the VIPs snaps his fingers lazily. You pour his drink, bow just enough, and say nothing — as trained. You don’t speak. You don’t blink too long. You don’t feel.

“You’re quiet,” the VIP, masked as a Minotaur, slurred, brushing his fingers against your mask. “That’s good. Quiet girls know their place.”

You don’t flinch. At least, not visibly.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you slightly closer, examining you like a possession. “You’re prettier than the last one. I like the silent ones.”

You remain still and silent. Fighting the urge to pull away because if you did, they win. And if you speak, you lose more. Your hands rest on your knees as you lowered your gaze.

“You’re not new, are you?”

The question stung, but you didn’t flinch. You were burning inside, but you stayed silent. 

“That means you know not to fight.”

A murmur of laughter from the others. One of them raises a toast. Another gestures toward you and makes a cruel joke about how easily the silent ones break.

But something shifts in the room. The air tightens. The laughter dulls into murmurs. 

The door opened, revealing the Front Man.

Black mask. Black coat. His movements sharp and deliberate. Authority trails behind him like a shadow.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You straightened your back, holding your breath as you felt your pulse surge. You kept your head bowed. 

He shouldn't be here. Not during the lounge sessions. Not unless something’s wrong. Yet here he is.

He walked slowly through the room silently as if he were observing and calculating something. His presence stills the most obnoxious of the guests. Even the ones who believe they own this place lower their voices when he moves near.

From across the room, the Front Man’s visor tilts toward you. He seemed to see your… situation. But, he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t speak.

He simply watches.

You don’t know what’s worse. The VIP’s hand curling around your waist…

…or the silence from the one man who might have stopped it.

The VIP’s hand had finally left your side—only because another escort had arrived, younger and easier to control. You’d bowed out with the grace expected of you, even though your fingers trembled behind your back.

“Go help the servers,” one of the Square guards said. 

You obeyed.

It was almost a relief to stand by the bar cart again, serving champagne, bourbon, whiskey, gin. Anything they asked for. Anything to stop being seen.

“You,” the Square guard pointed at you. “Pour for the Front Man.”

The air around you dropped ten degrees, but your hands moved on instinct. The Front Man stood near the edge of the lounge, silent and still as the walls themselves. You could feel the room shift around him. 

You approached with measured steps, a crystal decanter in hand.

He didn’t look at you when you poured, though you could smell his cologne even beneath your mask. As you were about to finish filling up the glass, he suddenly spoke.

“Stay.”

You froze. You expected to be dismissed. But instead, he stood there, drink in hand, and allowed you to remain beside him. One step behind. Within reach. Claimed without announcement.

“Careful with that one, Front Man!” a portly VIP calls out with a laugh, drink sloshing in his hand. “Keep her too close, and you might find yourself using her for more than just drinks!”

Laughter erupted from his circle as your breath hitched a bit. You didn’t move, and the Front Man didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if he reacted beneath his mask, but he stayed still. There was no reaction and defense.

He sipped his drink slowly, his gaze never leaving the room. Not even a glance toward the man who joked. Not toward you. But then, you felt a sting inside you.

It wasn’t because of the VIP’s words — you’ve heard worse.

But because he didn’t stop it.

You stood at his side obediently, and he let the insult hang there, untouched. You forced the pain down like glass, straightening your spine. Somehow, his silence hurts more than the joke ever could.

By day, you sweep floors, distribute rations, check that the cameras are functioning. Your circle mask stares back at you from polished metal when you pass the infirmary door. You speak to no one. You salute when required. You blend in easily and invisibly. 

You are not meant to be remembered. That, too, is part of the punishment.

At night, it changes. The suit comes off. The silk goes on. You trade your mask for another kind — faceless still, but far more exposed. An escort — a role no one envies.

No one asks how you ended up there. They already know. 

It’s all because you interfered and saved someone you weren’t meant to. You’re not even sure he remembers. Or if he ever knew. Or if he’s simply chosen to forget because acknowledging what you did would mean acknowledging that even he was once weak enough to bleed.

And weakness isn’t allowed here.

Sometimes, when you stand beside his chair in the VIP lounge and pour his drink, you think about that moment in the dark, years ago. When he was gasping, wounded, barely clinging to life behind a player’s uniform soaked in blood. And you chose to help.

That was the night your position was stripped from you.

Because you weren’t always a circle.

Your hands remember how to hold a gun with authority. Your voice remembers how to give orders.

You were a square.

You remember the weight of command.

But mercy is a betrayal in this place, and your punishment is to be seen and not recognized. It is for you to serve quietly the man you once saved and to suffer silently each time he looks right past you. 

----

A/N: We're back! This time, it's more of a slow burn type of fanfic so please bear with the story. What did you think of how you're a Pink Guard saving the Front Man back when he was still a player and him trying to find you in the crowd? This whole fic will be based on the events of Squid Game Season 1, as it would be like one of the first years of In-ho as the Front Man. :D

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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|| masterlist ||

taglist: @roachco-k @goingmerry69

[scarscribblesstuff]

Masterlist!

₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊

Bc I'm losing track and my google docs is a mess rn. If you have any requests or anything I'd love to have a go! I can't guarantee I'll answer or fulfil all of them but I'll try my best :3.

Here is my ao3 (also scarscribblesstuff) if that's easier to access! I'm working my way through uploading all my stuff onto there :D

Any fic with a ⭐ next to it is one of my personal favs ahxbsh.

₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊ ₊˚ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ˚₊

Redacted Audio

⭐ Cinnamon Buns - Sam & Lovely, where they have a chat post inversion

Good Morning Sunshine - Elliot/Sunshine, where they wake up together

3:29am - Huxley/Freelancer, where Huxley comforts Freelancer they can't sleep

An Evening In - Damien/Freelancer, where Damien comes in from the rain with a surprise

Glitter - Freelancer/Gavin, & Caelum, where they do crafts together

⭐ Hi! Welcome to Max's Rustic Pizza - Honey/Guy, where Honey walks Guy home after work

Smile for Me Dear - Lasko/Dear, where Dear visits Lasko in his office after an overwhelming day

3 times Morgan surprises Seer Obscura, and 1 time they surprise him - Morgan/Seer Obscura, where we see snapshots of domestic life together

Shadows and Shades - Elliot/Sunshine, where he comforts them post the events of The Balance

⭐ Three Idiots, One Braincell (yet to be found) - Angel, Asher, and, Darlin, where three idiots get stuck on a raft in a lake

When it rains, it pours - where the DAMN crew comforts Freelancer about what Kody did

Take the Time Off - Milo/Sweetheart, where Milo convinces Sweetheart to take the day off sick

Breathe, Sweetheart - Milo/Sweetheart, where early days in their relationship, Milo helps comfort Sweetheart when they get overstimulated in a restaurant

Snow is the best alarm - Aaron/Smartass, where Smartass surprises Aaron with a late night date in the snow

A Short Visit - Warden/Vega (kinda), where Warden visits Vega and they're both feeling a little more vulnerable than usual

Daisy, Daisy - Marcus/Asset, where we see snapshots of the decline and then a snapshot of the consequences

A Moment of Peace - David/Angel, where David takes care of his mate while their joints are sore

Confessions - Aaron/Smartass, where they confess their love for the first time

Just in Case - Treasure, Sam & Darlin, where Treasure finds their way to Sam and Darlin's house after the argument with Porter

Pancakes - David/Angel, where Angel has a surprise for David one morning

He's a Real Party Dog - Asher/Baaabe, where Asher faces the consequences at Baaabe's promotion party

Home is With You - Gavin/Freelancer, where Gavin gets Freelancer to take a break for once

Still Hell, Maybe Not so Bad - Avior/Starlight, where Starlight has a bit of a breakdown and braids Avior's hair.

Like a Dog at Your Door - Hush/Doc, where Hush stops by for a visit after reading something new in the library.

⭐ Dream a Little Dream of Me - Elliot/Sunshine, where Sunshine has to deal with a creep at work... but there's something else there.

To Live and Love With You - Sam/Darlin, where Sam comes home late to find Darlin in the kitchen.

⭐ Rest - Ollie/Baby, where Ollie stops Baby from overworking during a pain flare up.

Recipe for Love (me and you) - Vincent/Lovely, where Vincent comes home after studying with groceries.

Deserve Better - David/Angel, where David finds Angel after a bad day with their parents.

My Love - Anton/Love, where Anton comforts Love after a long week

⭐ Beach Day (Night) - David/Angel, Asher/Baaabe, Milo/Sweetheart, Vincent/Lovely, Sam/Darlin, where the Shaw pack and their new vamp friends have a party on the beach

⭐ Tales of Redactia: Redacted Audio Fairytale AU

Map - Hand-drawn map of the world I had in mind for this fic :)

Chapter 1 - The Sword in the Stone, Gabe/David's Mother

Requests!

Gavin with his loves - Gavin flirting with the DAMN Crew.

[joshusten]

love me in spite (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy and Honey get into an argument early into their relationship.

(angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, fluff)

3k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: swearing, arguing, insecurities, overthinking, breakdowns, descriptive?? crying?? I think??, idk they’re both having a bad time. probably a lot of grammatical errors lmao. also honey is implied to be empowered!!]

Honey doesn't remember the last time they felt like this, but they’ve always known their personality would bite them in the ass someday.

“Aww, is my beloved mad again? Oh, pray tell, which heinous crime did I commit this time, officer? Robbery? Public indecency?” Guy stroked his chin, pretending to rack up his mind on any possible offense he could have made. “Hm…jaywalking?"

“Guy.”

“Oh! Or maybe—just maybe—it was wanting my ever-so-affectionate lover to stop their pretty head from fussing over me?”

"Guy, can’t you take this seriously for once?” 

“But I am! It’s just not that big of a deal, baby! Look, a manuscript can’t just write itself, y’know? Especially one with a little flair from yours truly!”

“You haven’t slept properly for days now, you work overnight most of the time, and on your days off you pull all-nighters writing!” 

“Oh, you’re one to talk!”

“Well, this one’s more serious! I haven’t even seen you eat a proper meal and anything I offer you gets left out cold!”

They continued to have a back-and-forth confrontation, voices raising and words getting crueler as time goes on, with both parties not intending to back down anytime soon. Honey thought it was the first time they ever heard Guy let out an actual annoyed scoff and they noticed the slightest change in his demeanor. 

“Jesus, Honey. Of all the times you can finally act like you care for me, why now? Hm?” There was a playful smile on his face. It almost made them believe he was still joking around but his words were laced with an unmistakable annoyance.

But something inside Honey snapped. Their chest tightened at the thought of their partner thinking they didn’t care. They felt themselves flinch from the comment and Guy seemed to notice that too as his smile drops. “Shit. Honey, I didn’t–”

“I’m–,” They scrambled to get their bag, keys, wallet, anything they would need because they just want to be anywhere but here.“I’m going out. Let’s finish this later. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

They didn’t mean that. Didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Then again, they don’t mean to sound so harsh most of the time but end up doing so either way. Grumpy. Mean. Intimidating. A common descriptor from most people. But Guy wasn’t like most people. ‘Unless,’ they think, ‘That was just a lie you told yourself to believe in.’

Honey shuts the door behind them, leaving the building and the warmth of their partner.

The pain in their chest almost distracts them from the exhaustion currently catching up to their body after a long day. They can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming as they rub their temples gingerly with one hand, the other guiding the steering wheel. ‘Damn, it started to rain too. What a great way to lighten the mood,’ they think bitterly. Their mind eventually goes back to the fight earlier.

“Of all the times you finally can act like you care for me, why now? Hm?”

They do care. They care for him so much it scares them . He knows that, right? Even if they groan at his flirtatious quips and innuendos or if they grumble at his (very creative) attempts to give them as many hugs and kisses as they would allow, he knows that that’s just how they are, right? 

Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe that never was enough to begin with. Maybe Guy finally realized he deserves better than an ill-tempered partner who doesn’t even know how to properly show any affection to their own fucking boyfriend.

A sharp car horn snaps them out of their thoughts. Shit, it’s a green light. They continue to drive until they see the familiar soft glow of a nearby 7-Eleven sign despite the persistent rain. 

Honey's entrance was signaled with the chime of the bell above the glass door. It’s relatively empty save for what they recognize to be a few D.A.M.N. students buying some late-night study snacks. Walking through the aisles while the pop song they heard their partner hum before softly plays in the background, slowly but surely calming them down. Muscle memory makes Honey reach for Guy’s favorite snack and they wonder how he’s doing. 

---

Guy doesn't remember the last time he felt like this, but he’s always known his personality would bite him in the ass someday.

Sure, he and Honey had their disagreements, but they were all accompanied by playful slaps and teasing laughter. Never had it gotten to the point of an actual argument that caused them to spit such venom toward each other like the one they just had. 

“I’m going out. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door closes and Honey leaves, bringing the warmth of their shared apartment with them. Guy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to get to work. He wordlessly distracts himself by cleaning the living room—picking up stray plastic chip bags, vacuuming crumbs that settled on the cheap shag carpet, and fixing up the pillows on the couch that he’s been nesting on for the past few days while he works on the final draft of the project he was writing. 

Piles of paper littered their second-hand coffee table. Every inch is covered in Post-it notes and wrinkled pieces of paper filled with ideas that he had haphazardly scribbled in an attempt to record them before it leaves his mind. Most of them, he recalls, are just random doodles of spirals and honeybees that he absentmindedly drew as he was typing away on his laptop. The spaces left exposed on the table were adorned with faded mug rings on the old dark oak wood.

He tries to compile them into a neater collection, pausing as he notices a doodle he made of his Honey. It was far from a masterpiece, but the cute cartoony style paired with heavily exaggerated furrowed brows in order to replicate their partner’s usual expression pulls a smile from his lips. There was even a jumbled-up line inside a small text bubble next to it to symbolize the adorable grumbles they always make. 

Fuck, he misses them so fucking much.

A sudden wave of exhaustion almost makes him drop the stack of papers he’s holding and it dawns on him how much he really has been neglecting his own health for this project. The stress of trying to find a job where he can utilize his degree and finally get out of that godforsaken pizza place has been taking a toll on him. All Honey was trying to do was for him to take a break that he so desperately ( and, he embarrassingly admits, unknowingly ) needed. And he just treated it like some silly joke. Granted, it really was because he wasn’t used to being coddled after, but, it definitely wasn’t an excuse to dismiss their worries like that. 

The guilt builds up in Guy’s throat like bile. He feels worse now, especially considering how much they struggle with expressing themselves like that to him in general, even if they don’t say it aloud.

He finishes cleaning up but the restlessness doesn’t leave him as time passes by with no word from his partner. Maybe this is it? Maybe he fucked it all up like always? Maybe they finally came to their senses and got fed up with him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to think he was a bit too much. Too chaotic, too irritating, too overwhelming. He ever minded those comments in the first place, but the thought of Honey possibly thinking like that too makes him sick. 

It’s getting late and he can hear the rain outside get louder. The anxiety that has been settling in their stomach flares up. He reaches for his phone to message them before concluding they might not want to be bothered right now. Shit, he’s feeling a little sluggish. 

Guy begrudgingly trudges to the wardrobe of their shared bedroom to get a change of clothes. He glances over as he pulls a familiar-looking hoodie from the hanger. Their double bed, adorned with a pizza plushie that Honey had given to him as a joke gift, was more inviting than usual. Maybe he should just take a rest and go to sleep. 

No, no, no, they might want some space from that too. Guy wants to talk this out with them instead of sleeping it out. If this persists, he isn't sure how his poor heart could take it. He ultimately decides to go back to the couch, stay up, and (at the very least) greet them when they come back. 

If they come back. God, please come back.

What if they don’t?

The thought felt like a mere whisper in his head but it left him numb. Guy's aware of his tendency to overthink but before he knew it, he was lying down on his side, hand clamped to his mouth as he forced his eyes shut. He lets out a quiet sniff. His breath hitches. Then he hears himself choke out a small sob. 

Then another.

And another. 

And another.

The dam breaks, his eyes water and he heaves as much air as he can into his lungs. It suddenly became a struggle to breathe and it definitely became a struggle to calm the ugly thoughts that plague his mind. Shaky, broken sobs fill the room, he cringes at how pathetic it sounds.  He hates this. He hates this feeling. Just come back, I’m sorry.

After what felt like hours, his sniffles slowly died down. With heavy eyes and a heavier heart, he finds himself drowsy from all the crying. The hot tears streaming down his face had begun to dry, but, the warmth on his cheeks reminds him of his Honey and the thought of them finally lulls him to sleep.

---

Honey returns, a little haggard but with a calmer mind. The drive around Dahlia and their quick run to the local convenience store definitely helped lighten their mood but the guilt still followed them around like a shadow. Shaky hands find their way to the lock of their shared apartment and Honey opens to a dim living room, with the forgotten hanging bulbs from the kitchen barely providing a sense of light. They noticed the place was tidier than they remembered.

It was eerily quiet, as well. The wrinkling sound of the paper bag that they were holding filled the room.

"Guy?" Fuck, they can hear their voice getting wobbly. 

"I'm home. You there?" A shift from the room was all they heard accompanied by a sniffle. Honey suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the soft snores matching the rise and fall of a figure on the couch.

They couldn't really explain why their heart started to pound with their pulsating headache. Why they made a beeline inside their apartment. Why they started to get down on their knees in the living room despite the protests of their tired body. Why their chest sank deeper as they saw their partner all bundled up on their battered couch. 

They don't miss the frown on his face and his tear-stained cheeks.

Fuck. Tears? Guy was crying? 

Honey quietly (urgently) sets down the paper bag from their grasp and slowly places a hand on his shoulder, patting it ever so gently.

"H-hey? Guy, what are you doing over here?" They noticed how cold they felt to the touch and remembered their thermostat wasn't working that well. "It's freezing. You're freezing. "

After a few gentle pats and caresses (and reminders of how it's cold here, the bed is warm. Take it, please. ) Guy manages to blearily open his eyes, rubbing away the sleepiness and the few tears that managed to slip.

Cute. His eyes are so cute. Honey would have thought if their mind wasn't filled with thoughts and questions. Why was he sleeping on the couch? Was he waiting for me? He didn't need to do that. Why was he crying? Did he cry himself to sleep? Was it because of me?

Did I do this?

"Honey?" Guy's voice croaked and Honey's heart aches after hearing how hoarse it was. It aches a little more to see him smile at them despite the argument they had earlier.

"You're back…" he mumbles, slightly adjusting his body to prop himself up with his arm. He was wearing their hoodie again.

"Guy, why are you sleeping here? It's cold," they repeated, the worry in their tone becoming more and more evident. 

This had Guy fully sitting up, giving his full attention to their Honey with a slight grin that was preparing to give out a smug reply before dropping his smile and deciding otherwise. If he noticed that their eyes were starting to get just as glassy as his, he didn't mention it. “I-I mean, you’re…mad, right? I thought you’d want some more space from me or something…” 

“N-no! I mean, yeah, thank you for that but that doesn't—” Honey cuts themselves off with a groan. Why can’t I just say what I want to say? What do I even want to say? Guy immediately notices their partner’s frustration and sits down beside them.

“Hey, hey, it's okay. You’re okay, Honey,” he says with a reassuring smile and slowly raises his hand near their cheek, “Can I touch?” 

Honey immediately nods, almost melting at Guy’s warm hands. The familiar calluses from working countless graveyard shifts and delivery jobs all over Dahlia for Max’s kept them grounded. They notice a newly formed bump on the ring finger of his dominant hand from the number of handwritten notes he’s been doing recently.

After a few moments of soft breaths and the sound of Guy's rough thumb gently gliding across their cheek, Honey let out a weak laugh but the words that followed were by no means a joke to them. “You’re so good for me.” Too good. I don’t deserve you. 

It was Guy’s turn to let out a confused chuckle. He felt anything but good to them at the moment.

“What do you mean by that, hon?” He caresses their cheek and he forgets how much his chest hurts when his Honey leans into his touch. “Hey, c’mon. Do you…do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Honey nods once more. "I'm…I'm sorry," they choke out as if the words got caught up in their throat. Everything was overwhelming again. The sound of the remains of the rain, the ticks of the wall clock, and most of all, Guy's unwavering attention to them. They avoid his gaze. 

"I know that…I'm…I dont have the most…pleasant attitude," The nervousness in their tone was obvious but the quick squeeze of their hand from their partner was enough for them to go on. "And I know that you didn’t mean that. About me…not caring,” They felt him give another squeeze, a bit tighter than the last. “Fuck, god knows you’ve put up with me long enough for me to know you wouldn’t mean that.” 

Honey manages to finally look him in his eyes again, they think it's their favorite color. “I…I just don’t know why I act like this. Why can't I just…care for you in a normal way.”

“Oh, Honey…” 

“I’m just so fucking sorry. I really, really care for you, please know that,” they sob out. Guy thinks he’s never seen them this vulnerable. His arms slowly circle and stop around their body as if he was waiting for their permission but Honey beats them to the embrace, burying their head on his chest. He knows they can hear his heart speed up.

“Hey, I know, I know,” The hands that were once on his partner's cheeks find their way to their back, rubbing circles and tracing shapes. “I’m really sorry for what I said too. The stress from work and writing these past few days is catching up but please don’t let that ever be an excuse for me to talk like that, especially to you and especially if it makes you think of all these lies.”

“And all this talk about…caring for me in the ‘normal’ way. Don’t say that.” Guy slowly pulls away to tilt his partner's chin up for their eyes to meet again. The way his Honey looked so distressed was a sight he decided he never wants to see again. “What matters is that I know you care and I want you to know that the way you show it is… fuck, I’ve never felt so cared for like this until you, Honey. Okay?”

“I’ll work…on not neglecting my health too. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve actually collapsed from exhaustion,” he adds, lips upturned into a sheepish smile. “So, thank you.”

Guy isn’t prepared for the way their Honey finally graced him with a soft smile. He’s had them laugh and grin at his…eccentric behavior before, but this smile held so much fondness and sincerity (directed towards him of all people! ) that made this moment all the more intimate. 

I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack. He doesn't recall having butterflies for lunch but he definitely feels them flutter up and about in his ribcage. He wants to treasure this moment. He wants to treasure them.

Honey looks down, uncharacteristically flustered and Guy’s heart soars again. “Thank you,” they whispered. “For that.”

“Of course, Honey. Though, I must say,” he grins. “Although your methods of conveying your love for me are a bit… unconventional , you could say I’m on the more bizarre side, too. I guess we make a perfect match after all then, don't we?”

Honey snorts, a reaction that's endearingly familiar to him and he smirks even wider. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Well, for the record, if anybody here is fucking stupid, it would be you!” Guy shoots back, “Hi, hello, I’m stupid, by the way, ehh– Ow, ow, ow!”

The pair continues to laugh and banter at each other like before, but, as they comfortably settle down to cuddle on the couch, they both don’t miss the way the grip on their entangled hands tightened for the slightest bit.

---

hope you enjoyed!! please let me know if i had any mistakes or just some feedback in general!! i kinda wanna continue doing these kinda stuff :DD

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #15

Masterlist

Previous

Next

Warnings: torture, explicit non-con, light starvation, slight death wish

Once upon a time, a few years ago or more, there was a slave. His name was [REDACTED] and he served his Master faithfully. Because anything less than perfection was punished. But [REDACTED] couldn’t remember if he was being punished or not. It was hard to remember much of anything when his back was on fire.

He cried out as Master brought down the cane again. And Again. And Again.

“Please, I'm sorry, Please-” Master scoffed. His head and back hurt so much and the room was spinning and he just wanted it to stop.

“Get up.” [REDACTED] sobbed in relief. It was over.

But his arms were too weak to push himself up off the stone floor, and his legs refused to move at all. 

“I said. Get. Up.”

“I- I’m trying Master, please, I-”

Master’s boot slammed into his back, grinding the heel into the fresh wounds and welts. He wailed, the pain turning his vision to white.

“Get up,” said Master, but it was impossible. [REDACTED] didn’t move, too confused to react, and Master twisted his heel again. Now he understood. This wasn’t a punishment or even for Master’s amusement. This was a lesson. 

___________________

Master’s hips slammed into him. Breathe he reminded himself, but then Master grabbed his hair, and the air escaped him. Master moaned behind him, and his legs throbbed. His lungs struggled to keep up, but Master enjoyed this position and that was all that mattered. 

Soon enough Master let go in favor of a bruising grip on his hips. [REDACTED]’s arms gave out, and he heard Master groan again. They’d been at it for a while, and blood dripped from between his legs and stained the bed sheets. It hurt so much. He tried to relax, tried to make his thoughts drift somewhere else, but his brain wasn’t working today.

Finally, Master finished, and the warmth of his cum was indistinguishable from his own blood. 

Master shoved him away, and left to clean himself up in the bathroom. [REDACTED] sat on the floor for a moment, catching his breath. He had precious few minutes to change the sheets before Master wanted to sleep, and he planned to use them all. His cock was still hard, unfortunately, and that had its own awfulness. Why couldn’t his body hate it as much as the rest of him? The best he could do was ignore it. 

He changed the sheets, careful to keep his own disgusting mess away from the soft fabric. Thankfully he’d stopped bleeding by the time he got to wiping the floor. Once, he hadn’t managed it, and Master mocked him for trying to clean while still dripping.

Master was nicer, after sex. Or maybe he was too sated and tired to do much more than yell at him. Either way, it was a break. Even if it came with a high price.

___________________

He hated winter. Master’s stone floors were unforgiving. [REDACTED] wasn’t allowed more than what Master gave him, and Master seemed to forget his slave felt cold too. His only allowance for winter was a threadbare pair of socks in addition to his usual shirt and boxers. 

Lighting the fires was the warmest he'd get for months.

His teeth chattered all the time, and occasionally Master gagged him to stop the sound. Of course, he wasn’t allowed to take it out, so sometimes he missed his meal of the day. 

Master was lazy during the cold months, and his punishments were lighter. [REDACTED]’s favorite punishment was more of a reward, so he tried really hard to hate it enough that Master wouldn’t catch on. 

It was a tiny closet Master would lock him in, sometimes for days. But the small room heated quickly from his meager body heat, and it was nearly pleasant. If he curled up really small, he could sit and enjoy the warmth.

Spring would always come eventually, but some years he wondered if he would die before the snow melted. Sometimes he even wished he would.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Roll for Persuasion

I'm back with more Shaw Mates group chats. And it's still literally nothing but crack. Enjoy!

CW: GN Listener characters (any gendered terms are purely used for the meme and should not be taken seriously), Cursing, Crack, Kind of suggestive because Angel can't stop

<< Previous -- Redacted Masterlist -- Next >>

Summary: Angel needs to be jailed, Baabe is an accomplice, Sweetheart has a masterplan, and Sam is barely surviving in this.

Taglist: @wib-was-here @4letteraroace @moon0o

Angel: i learned smthn togay

Baabe: to gay or not to gay that is the question.

Sweetheart: Is this an actually valuable lesson or do I need to call the morgue to prepare for your body to come in

Angel: ...

Angel: n e wayz

Angel: i learned that daveys bag is in fact not waterproof

Sweetheart: Oh my god what did you do

Baabe: howd you find out?

Angel: i spilled water in it

Baabe: water in his valentino white bag?! WAGAOUWAH

Angel: mm doesnt hit the same

Baabe: no it really doesnt.

Sweetheart: Youre fucked

Angel: ah ha ha chad lip bite

Sam: Put it in the dryer?

Angel: ...

Angel: oh

Baabe: i just banged my ankle.

Angel: oh my god why did u do that

Baabe: IM GONNA CHOKE YOU! IT WASNT ON PURPOSE

Angel: ehrfiuerhfr i just dont know why youd want to fuck your ankle

Baabe: i banged it against a cabinet corner! i bruised it. it hurt. i did not fuck my ankle whats wrong with you?

Angel: must be the lack of oxygen

Sweetheart: I just went through the drivethru like twelve times and left each time because i didnt want to talk to people

Baabe: omg thats so asher coded of you.

Sam: I promise it will be okay. You'll even get food.

Angel: you were comin and goin

Angel: kum and go

Angel: ejaculate and evacuate

Baabe: i hope you know that jesus sleeps in your hair every night.

Sweetheart: Peanut butter is an ointment fight me

Baabe: i want proof.

Sweetheart: Its thick and can be used as a protective coating

Angel: you know what else is thick and can be used as a protective coating

Angel: daveys

Sam: That's enough internet for Angel.

Sam: Lirc?

Sweetheart: If I remember correctly

Sam: What's that?

Baabe: acronym for iirc.

Sam: What's iirc?

Angel: if i remember correctly

Sam: Remember what?

Sweetheart: I am fearing for my life

Sam: Why?

Sweetheart: Im home alone and theres a single slice of cheese on the counter

Sweetheart: Just lying there

Sam: Oh dear?

Sweetheart: I DIDNT PUT THAT THERE AND AGGRO SURE AS HELL DIDNT

Angel: were in your walls

Baabe: feed us the cheese

Baabe: we crave it

Angel: c h e e s e

Angel: what uni did yall go to

Baabe: stanford. worst years of my life

Sweetheart: DAMN

Sam: Same as Sweetheart.

Sam: What about you, Angel?

Angel: i went to ugh

Sam: I don't recognize that acronym.

Baabe: AHHAHAHHAHAHA

Angel: university of giving head

Sam: Goodbye.

Angel: CATSUP BLAST

Sweetheart: This is why we need to destroy capitalism

Baabe: CATSUP BLAST

Sam: What the hell is Catsup Blast?

Angel:

Baabe:

Sweetheart: Unrelated but Im seeing a lot of 6 x Gabriel stuff

Baabe: not surprised.

Sam: Is this that "old man yaoi" Angel keeps talking about?

Angel: KAHFDSGHHJ

Sweetheart: Sometimes self care is watch an hour and a half video about the JFK assassination

Baabe: you might benefit from some therapy.

Sweetheart: Homestuck is for true warriors. Those who have been heartbroken so many time they dont know how to feel or see anymore. Homestuck is for those who have experienced true pain yet still push through knowing no matter how much they face Homestuck is by their side supporting them. Homestuck is the reason for so many differences in the world and is the reason outcasts and popular kids have one thing in common. Homestuck is for those who dont feel emotions as theyve lost the ability to feel them years ago when that flame died out because of childhood issues and now the only thing they have left to bring them the tiniest bit of inspiration is Homestuck. Homestuck is for kids that have no where to turn to, teens who are on the brink of killing off their family, and for adults who have lost complete control of their lives. Homestuck is badass. Homestuck has caused many wars and won all of them, Homestuck has no barriers and does not abide to any man nor woman nor god, homestuck is above god itself. Homestuck doesnt even have a concept of god inside its intellectual brain because it knows its the reason for every good, bad, and neutral thing to happen to mankind and thats what matters. Homestuck could be legally clarified as a bible. Homestuck is for the fainthearted and isnt for the sensitive types or the crybabies. Its for true motherfuckers who know where they are in life and what the fuck theyre doing with themselves. Of course you think its cringe but maybe youre just projecting onto the homestuck because you have never felt such power or control over your own life and need to belittle those who have something greater than power. They have homestuck. Homestuck fans are the type to find your exact location and multiple different closed off social medias because you dont have the same opinion as them. I suggest next time you know your place and keep your mouth shut. Homestuck isnt cringe and isnt for weak nerds like you

Baabe: fuck you im not reading all that.

Angel: all i asked was if you wanted pesto on your pasta or marinara omg calm down

Sam: What is Homestuck?

Baabe: i havent cleaned my kitchen for a month blegh

Sweetheart: If it isnt gross I think youre fine but if it is then clean your damn kitchen

Angel: HOLY SHIT a month??

Baabe: yeah theres twelve of them.

Angel: *leans on expensive buffalo* heyyy

Angel: *bugatti

Baabe: nope youve sealed your fate.

Sweetheart: Im gonna cook your buffalo.

Angel: LEVAE HERBERT ALONE

Sam: I'm done.

[aliceismypixie]

The villain of my story ∥ All the way to the north

Summary - "The villain will always be the villain if the hero tells the story" or atleast that's what they say. No one knew why you became what you are. But you wanted your revenge on Isabella Marie Swan and you were ready to do anything to have it.

Pairing - Twilight x villain!reader

Pronoun - she/her (but can be read as a male reader or gn reader)

Warning - The reader is an immortal child, burning people, mention of dying (burning)

Words count - 1.43k~

Set - After Breaking-Dawn Part 2

Chapter 3 - Masterlist

"Soooo, is this what villains usually do all day ?" Redacted Renesmee asked, putting a red yellow on the piles of cards.

"Well, I don't think so. But your parents are taking too long to get you and you were being annoyingly talkative so I had to shut you up somehow." You replied, putting a plus four on the piles with a smirk and she glared.

"You're so cheating ! How come you only have good cards while I have almost half of the pack !" The hybrid weird kid exclaimed and you rolled your eyes.

"Life isn't fair child, I don't see why I should use some fair-play when no one was ever fair to me. Plus I love to see your face fall each time you take four cards." You calmly explained and she scoffed before throwing her cards on the ground.

"That's just rude and mean ! Why are you so mean to my family and I by the way ?! It's unfair. We did nothing to you !" Rikki Takki Tavi Renesmee pointed out and you glared at her with a scoff.

"Your mother specifically did nothing when we were younger ! She would never do anything ! Watch from the side or just ignore the truth ! I'm making her suffer like she made me suffer !" Your answer was cold and the kid frowned in confusion.

"My mom wouldn't just make you suffer for nothing !" The golden brunette defended and you rolled your eyes, feeling the fire slowly taking over your palms.

"Spoiled brat like you could never understand." You walked away and locked Renesmee's door behind you.

You could feel the flames wanting to burst out of your fingers as you reached the mail room of your lair and you immediately punched the wall in one swift yet hard motion causing the wall, as well as your cold stone skin, to crack.

You could feel the unshed tears in your eyes of anger as you remembered your childhood. It was horrible. Kids like Roseate could never understand the struggle of being in foster care. Kids like Renesmee were spoiled to the core and they thought that they were better than the rest because they were. They had the power, the looks, the love anyone envied. You never had it. Jumping from house to house but always ending up in the same mess every single time. You were lonely but then you got fostered by the Swans, then adopted by them under Isaella's request and then, she stabbed you in the back and never looked back at you.

You could feel your lips trembling as a few sobs escaped and you fell on the floor, broken, with a cracked hand and a cracked heart, not being able to let out those pained cries nor tears as you closed your eyes.

You were once again suffering.

And only by yourself.

They only had three more days. Most of the Cullens feared that something happened to their little treasure in the past week but Jacob's imprint link was still there. As long as it was there, Renesmee was still alive. And as long as she was alive, they had a chance to save her.

"Do we at least have any clues ?" Leah asked.

"We know that the scent of the stranger is their way of hiding. They smell like lavender and wet grass which makes them blend into nature and hide themselves but, we've got you three. As much as it pains me to admit it… your sense of smell is better than ours so we'll need you." Jasper started and everyone nodded, they were all around the table of the meeting of the Cullen's house.

"When we went out with Seth two days ago, he could pick up their scent going south but we don't know more as we couldn't track it after the river. But we have a lead." Alice explained and once again everyone nodded.

"But what if this was a fake trail, what if they have Renesmee captive but more toward the Canadian border ?" Rosalie asked and everyone took in her words.

"This… could be an eventuality but for now we will check the south. A small group will go up toward the Canadian border to take a look and we will alarm the others if we notice anything." Jasper finished.

Being an ex-soldier of the army was actually pretty cool, and very hot but that was Alice's point of view (and mine), in this type of situation. Everyone could be organized in a military way and knowing that their enemy was a child was just better. Why ? Because as a child you don't think like an ex-military soldier. So they had the upper hand.

They could take their enemy by surprise and for all they know, their enemy was alone while they were twelve. Whoever was targeting them stood no chance.

Or at least they thought so until Alice's eyes turned glossy.

Once again there were flames everywhere. But this time they were still fighting, or at least they were trying to.

In the middle of a battle field stood a little girl, fire bursting from her palm as she aimed toward Emmett who quickly moved out of the way.

Thought there was someone who didn't move behind the big vampire.

It was Rosalie.

And the blond Goddess fell on the ground, screams escaping her lips the fire took over her cold marble skin.

And Emmett turned back around, his expression fell as he saw his wife slowly dying and in his moment of weakness, the little girl shooted him too.

But then the vision changed.

Jasper and Carlisle were the one burning on the ground.

But it changed again.

Esme and Edward.

Seth and Alice.

Jacob and Bella.

Leah and Seth.

Jasper and Emmett.

"Every single duo sent to the north is going to die either way…" Alice trailed off her eyes still looking elsewhere and Jasper clenched his jaw.

"You don't see any alternative ending ?" He asked softly to his wife who shook her head.

"Then we're abandoning the idea." Jasper solemnly announced and Bella frowned.

"But we will need to go to the north eventually. Renesmee could be there !" The shield expressed and everyone turned their attention toward Jasper.

"We can not. Two lives for one isn't―"

"But we're not just talking about one random life Jasper. We're talking about my daughter !" Edward replied stubbornly and Jasper scoffed.

"And I'm not talking about two random lives either Edward. I'm talking about two lives of our family. And Renesmee is not dead yet. We can not risk two lives to save someone who doesn't need saving at the moment." The ex-soldier pointed out and Edward growled.

"Edward, you saw it just like I did. You couldn't possibly think about killing two of us in vain. You already know that the plan couldn't work. Why would you want to send two of us there ?" Alice harshly pointed out and her brother looked toward his tortured wife on the side causing Rosalie to scoff.

"We should have known. You were always like that anyways. Putting everyone's life in danger for a human and now because she's your wife you're ready to sacrifice two of us just for her." The blond beauty expressed with a hint of venom.

See Rosalie Lillian Hale was the perfect example of an anti-hero. The one who does good only if it serves their interest. At least that's what she was in Bella Swan's story. No one clearly tried to understand her point of view. See Emmett tried, but most of the time he simply sticks to his wife. Rosalie Lillian Hale was only on Bella's side when it benefited her. But on the other side, she was probably the most attached to the family after Esme, holding on to the last thing that made her feel human.

But we will not talk about that. Rosalie Lillian Hale was only the anti-hero of Isabella Marie Swan's story.

"Rosalie please…" Esme tried to sooth her first daughter as much as possible until a paper plane passed through the opened window of the living room and posed itself on Rosalie's lap.

"What is that ?" Emmett asked and Rosalie opened the paper, her frown turning into an horrified expression.

"There's not only two of us that will go north." The blond vampire announced putting the paper on the table for everyone to see the words written on the unfolded half burned paper plane.

'All the way to the north you go. Or all the way to south she falls'

Chapter 5

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education, Chapter 34

Masterlist link

Chapter 34

Pacifica, California

October, 2002

Daylight had long since made itself known, spreading soft buttery sunlight across the shoreline, yet Eddie still sat on the black beach in his pajama pants. He sat and fidgeted, raking his fingernails through the pliant ground and feeling the sand dampening his skin and clothes.

He shivered and nestled his mug securely into the grainy ground. He knew he couldn't keep putting this off. This was what he came here to do, after all.

Eddie brushed the sand off his fingertips before they dipped into his pocket and reverently removed a yellowed, dog-eared paperback.

The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson.

He took a deep fortifying breath, released it, and flipped to the cover page. There was Leia's unusual script dancing across the tawny pages in blue ink; a message lovingly penned to him a year ago. It was time (well past time, actually) to read it.

Eddie cradled the paper spine in his large hands as if it were hers, gathered his courage, and read.

___

(Location Redacted)

November, 2001

Being born isn't something anyone can remember, but Leia reckons it must have felt something like this; being yanked from a soft-focus stasis, into the bright lights and piercing sensations of the larger world, every nerve and neuron jump-started into life.

“Eddie!” she howled in a voice so pained and piercing and raspy she could barely recognize it as her own. She lurched up and hastily wiped the smears of blood from her eyes, desperate to clear her vision.

Then she saw him, pale and unconscious on the table next to her. The world blared and bleated around her; machines and doctors barking warnings and orders. Leia couldn't make out any meaning in the cacophony. It all blurred out, except for a singular point of focus.

Once she saw Eddie, he was the only thing she had eyes for, and she wouldn't look away.

“Is he okay?” She gasped out, and grabbed the tunic of whoever was closest to her, begging, “Tell me he's okay! Tell me!”

------

Pacifica, California

October, 2002

Eddie sat for a long time. He read with razor sharp focus and the world around him blurred into irrelevance. What he read, he read over and over again.

My Dear Brave Scoundrel, My Holy Diver, My Eddie,

I know it's only been a few weeks, a little early to call you mine, but we were pining for each other long enough, don't you think? I think life is short and scary and precious so we should hold onto what's ours...who is ours. Hold on tight and never let go, because there's no time to waste.

That's kind of dour for a love letter, isn't it? Sorry. I've never written one of these and I've never been expressive with my emotions to begin with (but you already know that).

Anyway...I picked this book as your gift for a reason. I know you've read it too, so you know all about the “cup of stars” and never letting anyone take it; insisting on what's precious. We've both spent so much of our lives fighting for ourselves and never quite winning those battles, never quite able to keep that teacup in our grasp...until now.

You're my cup of stars, Eddie. I'll always chose you first; insist on you and only you. You're so unique and vibrant and talented, so full of life and love and tenacity. I'll defend and protect that with all I have, always. I'll hold on tightly.

Your presence falls around me like bright confetti and makes everything a special occasion; something to celebrate and break out the good china for...the cups of stars.

I know that in the book, things don't end so great for poor Eleanor, although she did so well in the beginning, insisting on getting her way for once. I think that's beautiful too, though, because no matter what the ending is, the lovely sparkling details of good mattered so much. They mattered more, in fact, in light of all that pain.

I know I'm pessimistic sometimes, Eddie. I know we both have damage and cracks in our porcelain that made us shrink from connection; kept us expecting the other shoe to drop and every fragile good thing to shatter underfoot. So, maybe this is just me looking around for that other boot to fall. In case it does...in case, for whatever reason, our story doesn't end happily, remember that it's beautiful now. It matters now and it will forever. Nothing is diminished. The cup is still gorgeous, even if it's broken (sometimes even more so, because of how those broken bits glimmer in the light).

We make each other better, fuller, more complete. We glue our patterns back together so they make sense again. I believe that. We mend each other's cracks in ways no one else could. I want to continue doing that until whenever the story of my life ends. So, whatever sad or wasted time there was in the previous chapters, remember that they make the rest of the story all that much more stunning and important, because they led to so much love and meaning.

I love you, Eddie. I always will. Thank you for carefully restoring all my shattered pieces and kissing the cracked lines, the flaws, and weak spots. You've done the impossible and loved me back into one piece; unshattered me. Whatever horrors and terrors and worries surround us in the future, you'll always be my cup of stars, my hero, my space scoundrel, my rockstar. Let's draw our swords and fight for it together, for always. I love you.

Leia

Eddie sobbed. He sobbed like he did when he lost his mother. He sobbed like he did when his father never cared enough to come back, then broke his heart when he did. He cried like he had into Wayne's jacket when he was eight years old in a hospital lobby. He cried in a way he hadn't cried since he was a child; in absolutely unrestrained face-aching hiccuping sobs.

But this was different. This wasn't overwhelmed sobbing because of what he'd lost, but because of what he'd gained. It felt right to close the chapter this way...with a release. This time no one would tell him to suck it up, and for once, he wouldn't tell himself to. On the contrary, this time someone would be there to hold him.

Eddie felt a warm hand massage his shoulder gently, then the drape of a warm fabric around his goosebumped arms. He hadn't heard her steps through the muffling sand.

Leia didn't say a word, only opened her sweater to gather him in and share the warmth with him as they sat. She cried with him. They held each other for a quiet, sacred moment that stretched out like the coastline itself. It might have been hours or minutes. They couldn't tell and didn't care.

Finally, Eddie sniffed and wiped at his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He gave a little smirk, and said a raspy, “Hi.” Though his eyes were wet and red, the edges lifted into those adorable laugh lines. Leia traced them and then pressed her lips to the same spot.

“Hi, scoundrel,” she said kindly, then raised the sweet cupid's bow of her lips into that smile he loved so much. “So, you finally read it, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispered as held her close to his chest in the cocoon of worn wool, smelling the familiar almond scent of her hair and skin as he nuzzled against the top of her head, inhaling deeply, catching his breath again.

His hand ran up and down the length of her arm, over and over again, like he couldn't believe she was really here, still here, and needed the evidence. He held onto to her, gripping the thick fabric like a security blanket.

He sniffed and tilted her chin to face him. “It was beautiful. You're so beautiful. You're so goddam beautiful.”

And he, rather uncharacteristically, couldn't find any other words for a long time. He couldn't ramble or babble in that way the Leia found so endearing, but he always worried would annoy her.

The silence took on a kind of reverence after Eddie's ritual. They walked hand in hand back to their little beach house, stepping past the Halloween decorations strewn generously around their quaint garden. They stepped gently and through all their ghosts, their little makeshift graveyard. They were laying their past to rest, finally.

It was still quiet in their bedroom as he unwrapped her from her wool layers and warmed her with his own body. When their mouths met and they touched, their skin still glowed from the presence of the strange materials continuing to knit their bodies together (into whole people again, and in a way, to each other). They glowed from the inside out every time they touched like this. It was like flashlights beneath beige blankets. A glowing secret under layers of soft lust-warmed flesh.

The first time it was alarming, and left them concerned enough to ask the doctors following their case about it. From the other side of the phone, Dr.Willis assured them it was an expected side effect from their otherworldly medical treatments. After that, they embraced it as a beautiful and unique part of their lovemaking. Their skin literally glowed in recognition of each other. It seemed to them acutely symbolic and poetic.

Against the backdrop of a gloomy autumn afternoon, they glowed together. They glowed when he kissed the rough marks on her neck where she was still healing from Vecna's attacks. They glowed when she kissed across his ribs and shoulder blade where the upside down had tried to tear him apart and eat him alive, where the wounds still ached sometimes.

Her teeth grazed over his lower stomach as her mouth circled the faint trail of dark hair. Eddie groaned, and she noticed the silvery white line of a faint scar she hadn't noticed before.

Leia shuffled up to him and held his face, eyes wide with concern. “Oh! Eddie, I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He laughed loudly; that full boisterous, mischievous, Eddie laugh that she adored. “No...no sweetheart. That was a good sound,” he kissed her as he growled the last few words against her lips. “A very good sound.”

When she broke away from the kiss and searched his face, she asked, “It doesn't hurt?”

He shook he head and smiled warmly, tears of joy welling in the dark pools of his eyes.

“Sometimes it hurts. But, not now. Whenever you touch me, nothing hurts.”

*Hello, my dear friends! A thousand times, thank you for going on this journey and being so incredibly supportive and patient with me. You're welcome to end the story here, however there will be an epilogue later on involving a visit from the crew for Thanksgiving, and maybe a little slice of retroactive smut as a treat.

@veemoon @elegantkoalapaper @sweetsigyn @little-wormwood

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

CELEBRITY | chapter 02

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist knows for a fact she'll be famous someday. The way it happens is not as she planned, though. WARNINGS: mentions of minor injury; mentions of medical care; cyber bullying; minors dni.

|[previous chapter]| — |[masterlist]|

CHAPTER II — THE PHOTO

The sterile scent of the hospital hangs in the air as Rúben navigates the parking lot. The protagonist sits quietly and when the car comes to a stop, Rúben turns to her.

"Here we are. Take care." He says, a genuine concern in his eyes.

She nods, offering a small, appreciative smile. Stepping out into the crisp hospital air, she finds herself alone in the parking lot. Her friend isn't answering the phone. With a sigh, she heads towards the reception, her footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

Medical care follows, the professional faces offering comfort as they tend to her minor injuries. She glances at her phone while waiting for discharge. Still, no response from her friend. The hospital lobby is a mix of hushed conversations and the hum of fluorescent lights. Alone, she orders an Uber, her eyes scanning the parking lot for the familiar sight of Rúben's car. Surprisingly, he's still there, waiting.

"You're still here?" She asks, surprised.

"Of course. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Rúben replies with a reassuring smile. “Let me drive you home.”

The protagonist is too shocked to refuse; the bandage on her hand is making her uncomfortable, and the pain medicine hasn't kicked in yet, so she just nods and gets into his car.

The hum of the engine is not as loud as the silence between them in the car; she feels the need to say something.

"I appreciate you doing this." She says, her gaze fixed on the Manchester streets.

"Anytime. It's not every day you find yourself in a situation like that." Rúben replies, his eyes focused on the road.

A hesitant smile forms on her lips. "You stood up for me back there. I didn't expect that. Thank you."

He glances at her briefly. "Nobody should go through something like that. REDACTED is an asshole on his best days, but lately… Anyway, you don’t have to thank me."

His words hang in the air, and there's an unspoken acknowledgment that there's more to the situation than meets the eye. They continue the journey in silence. When they arrive at her apartment, Rúben breaks the silence. "Take care of yourself. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Thanks." She says, a newfound appreciation in her eyes.

The apartment door swings open, revealing the familiar chaos inside. One of the protagonist's roommates, let’s call her Sarah, sits on the worn-out couch, scrolling through her phone. The ambiance carries the scent of instant noodles and a mix of perfumes from different corners of the room.

The protagonist steps in, still reeling from the day's events. Sarah looks up, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone.

"You won't believe what happened." The protagonist starts, her voice a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

Sarah raises an eyebrow. "Try me."

The protagonist begins recounting the ordeal, from the video to the confrontation at REDACTED's house, and the unexpected ally in Rúben. Sarah listens intently, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern.

When the protagonist finishes the narrative, Sarah lets out a low whistle. "Wow. That's crazy. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, physically, I'm fine." The protagonist replies, glancing at her bandaged hand. "I tried texting you from the hospital."

Sarah's eyes widen, realization dawning on her face. "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry! I was caught up with Mark's news. He got a job in the US, and we decided to go for it. It's a great opportunity for both of us."

The protagonist takes a moment to absorb the information. "That's huge, Sarah. I'm happy for you. When are you leaving?"

"In a couple of weeks. Sorry for dropping the news like this, but I just found out!"

"No, that’s great! It’s fine..." The protagonist replies, forcing a smile. "It's just a lot to process in one day."

Sarah puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I get it. And I'm sorry about all the craziness with REDACTED. If there's anything I can do..."

The protagonist nods appreciatively. "I'll figure things out…"

Their conversation is abruptly interrupted by the voice of another roommate.

"You won't believe what's happening!"

The protagonist turns to face the new arrival, who wears an excited yet slightly frantic expression. "What's going on?" She asks.

"Your name is trending on social media! Seriously, you need to check it out!" The roommate exclaims, her eyes wide.

The protagonist and Sarah exchange anxious glances, their minds racing to the darkest possibility – the video. The room suddenly feels stifling, the air heavy with fear. The protagonist hesitates, her hand trembling as she reaches for her phone, her heart pounding in her chest.

With a deep breath, she unlocks the device and navigates to her social media. The anticipation hangs in the air as the screen reveals the notification, and she clicks on it. The moment freezes, and then relief washes over her.

It's not the video.

However, her relief is tinged with a different kind of worry. A picture of her and Rúben, taken during their encounter at her apartment, is all over Instagram’s gossip pages. The captions all claim they are dating, and her personal profile is tagged. The protagonist's initial fear transforms into a mix of surprise and anger. 

"Seriously?" She mutters, showing the phone to Sarah.

As the protagonist scrolls through the comments on the gossip page, her heart quickens. The relief of it not being the video she feared is overshadowed by the unexpected storm brewing in the comment section.

userChicVibes23: another insta model. who’s surprised userMSeeker: i thought she was a singer?? userGossipInsider: she recorded a single a few years ago, don’t think that counts as ‘being a singer’. userUrbnSpec: her singing voice is mediocre, so she’s pretending to be a wag for attention

The words hit her like tiny daggers. Instinctively, she places a protective hand over her chest as if shielding herself from the virtual blows. Sarah notices the change in her expression and leans in, concern etched on her face. "What is it?"

"I think I’m getting canceled?”

|[masterlist]| — |[next chapter]| join the taglist @kcharlyy @melanieph321

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k 

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real. 

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut  

A/N -  im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me  

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The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound. 

“When did this happen?” 

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”  

“Any meds?” 

“Shot of adrenalin.” 

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.   

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members. 

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital. 

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.  

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”. 

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway. 

That was where you were right now. 

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast. 

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.   

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him. 

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm. 

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.” 

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?” 

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.” 

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.  

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.  

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”  

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings. 

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation,  “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”   

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave. 

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been. 

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname. 

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.  

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.” 

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown. 

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you. 

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”     

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.” 

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?” 

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you. 

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed. 

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.” 

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe. 

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.  

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.” 

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission. 

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him. 

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say. 

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price. 

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.   

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.” 

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him. 

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.   

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.   

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

 The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious. 

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble. 

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something. 

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream. 

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself. 

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left. 

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off. 

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes. 

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion. 

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck. 

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. 

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums. 

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage. 

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.  

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. 

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight. 

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering. 

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.  

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.  

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. 

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath. 

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself. 

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered. 

“You’re fine,” he repeated. 

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.” 

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre. 

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage. 

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding. 

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan. 

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again. 

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.” 

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2 

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

[rottenrosethorns]

Leon or Carlos with a chubby! reader? Maybe... smut??? I love your work😭🫶

Pairing: Carlos Oliveira x chubby!Reader 

Genre: Established Relationship AU, Smut 

Synopsis: Carlos’s arms aren’t just for show. He’s ready to show you how strong he can be to hold you as he worships every inch of your body. 

Word Count: 3.4K 

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; body image insecurity, pet name: sunshine, spanking, lingerie, mirror sex, fingering, air sex? Idk, body worship, praise kink 

A/N: CARLOSSSS !! latin men >>> ahem ahem anyways thank you for supporting me and requesting this!! I hope you enjoy it <33 (and if u dont , im so sorry i literally wrote this on a red eye flight with a fever :P )

…..

- masterlist - 

…..

Was this too much? 

You twisted your body, analyzing your figure through the floor length mirror. Spring was here, the sky was clear and the breeze was warm. Thus, warranting you to have a rare sliver of confidence to dress up for your lunch date with Carlos. Conjured in your mind, you thought you were going to pull off the outfit stored deep in your closet; however, physically being in the outfit redacted your confidence and called forth the insecurities which made you bury this outfit in the depths of your closets way back when. 

It wasn’t that the outfit was bad, per say. It’s just that the folds and flow of the fabric wasn’t falling where you wanted it to or how you wanted it to. You were a perfectionist when it came to looking good for Carlos – although his arguments always say otherwise – and currently, you did not feel perfect. So, you spent the next few minutes second guessing whether or not you should change your clothes, redo your hair, and add more makeup. 

“Almost ready, sunshine?” Carlos peeked his head through the door of your shared bedroom instantly fixating his vision on your figure. 

“Almost,” You mumbled, fixing your hair in the mirror before turning to Carlos and gesjuring towards your body nervously. You’d made it a habit to ask him how you looked before going out, although he always had the same but caring response, “Do I look okay?”

Carlos shuffled his way over towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and giving you a chaste kiss, “You look perfect.”

You returned his kiss with another before glancing at the mirror again, “You don’t think I should I change?”

“Is there something wrong?”,” Carlos furrowed his brows, “I can buy you something else if you don’t like it.”

With the way that Carlos was looking at you, you would’ve felt guilty for putting yourself down, especially since he was the type to drop everything and worship the ground you walked on just to get that thought out of your head. As much as your insecurities hurt you, disappointing Carlos hurt you more, so you did your best to suck up your worries and not dampen the mood for a happy date night. 

You shook your head, deciding to just deal with your outfit. Thankfully, Carlos dismissed it and led you towards his overly fancy sports car and choosing the one of your favorite color. Although his fancy car came with an equally fancy key fob which automatically opened the passenger door, Carlos still made it a point to run around his car and manually open it for you. 

“Why thank you, kind sir,” You teased, ducking to crawl into the lowered vehicle. As you ducked, Carlos not-so-sneakily checked out your ass before giving you a lighthearted smack and earned a small yelp from you. Carlos was quick to close the passenger door as he laughed from hearing your muffled scolding from outside the car. 

Once he seated, you slapped his arm, wincing when your fingers connected with toned muscles. Pouting, you held your hand close to your chest in feigned pain and muttered, “Damn you and your biceps.”

Carlos smirked, taking your injured hand in his and pressing a soft healing kiss to your knuckles, “And, you love them.” 

You looked out your window to try to hide your blush, not wanting to give Carlos the satisfaction of teasing you. Momentarily, he released his hold on your hand to start the car and change shift gears before settling his one hold on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel. Once recovered from your blush attack, you peeked over and giggled as you watched his messy waves get tousled even more from the rolled down windows, “So, do I get to know where this mystery date is?”

“That ruins the surprise, doesn’t it?” Carlos continued to rub your thigh, hands large enough to cover most of your skin. From the surfaces where he couldn’t reach with his open palms, Carlos made up for it by tracing random patterns back and forth from left to right. 

You exaggerated a groan, hating surprises from Carlos. Undoubtedly, you loved it when he planned cute dates for you, but this man was extravagant enough to book a two week stay in Bali and call it a date night. Despite this, you graciously let him off the hook with a shake of your head before zoning out for the rest of the car ride. Sitting in comfortable silence, your consciousness was regained when the vehicle approached a fancy sky high building near downtown. 

“You’re kidding…” You spoke breathily with disbelief as you looked at the three star Michelin restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to, “How…?”

“That’s for me to know, sunshine,” Carlos took your hand and pressed a kiss with his smirking lips, knowing that he’d done a good job impressing you. Exiting the car, Carlos passed his keys to the conjoined hotel valet and helped you out of the car. 

You felt bad about stepping on the cleanest red carpet you’ve ever seen in your life, but you sucked it up once the red carpet led you towards an even more expensive looking marble flooring of the hotel lobby. Clinging on Carlos’s arm, you tugged him down to whisper, “Don’t you think we’re kinda underdressed?”

You squirmed as your eyes meet the grand chandelier, intricately framed paintings, and well-dressed staff members. Saying that you felt self-conscious was a major understatement. 

“Kinda? We’re very underdressed,” Carlos pointed out like it was obvious. 

You pinched his arm in retaliation, “I asked you if I should change! You knew we were coming here!” 

The stubble of his beard prickled your hairline as he reassuringly kissed your temple, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”

Your mild annoyance was quickly dissipated as you recanted previous dates with Carlos. It was true he always planned your dates very well, always having every detail accounted for and a Plan B for unsuspecting events. But still, you could’ve at least walked the carpet looking done up! 

“I’ll meet you later, okay?” Carlos gently pushed your grip off his arm, causing you to panic from the thought of being left alone. 

“Wait, where-”

Carlos didn’t wait for your response as he separated from you, going into a separate elevator and flashing you a cheeky smile accompanied with a wink. You would’ve grumbled out a curse at his retreating figure if a heavily French accented voice interrupted you. 

“Carlos Oliveira’s guest?” 

You turned to accompany the voice with a short, older woman, clad from head to toe in designer brands and accessories. You politely introduced yourself with a soft smile towards the woman before being escorted beyond the lobby. 

“Please follow me this way.” 

Nervously, you followed the woman closely, not willing to get lost in the very tall and expensive building. You feared that even looking at something for too long could cause it to break, and you definitely did not have the funds to financially recover from your clumsiness. Stepping into the elevator, you mustered up some small talk to kill the silent awkwardness. You figured out that this woman named Ludivine, was a personal stylist flown out from Italy. Her career and experience was riddled with luxury as she mentioned having many encounters and personal relationships with some of high fashion’s biggest brands. 

“So, where are we going?” 

“Monsieur Carlos requested that we prepare you,” Ludivine explained, “He said, make them look like a God that walked the Earth to enchant their people with their grace. I can already tell you must deal with a handful being with an admirateur like that.”

You coughed to cover your choke from Carlos’s explicit verbiage. You made a mental note to scold him later for it. The small chime of the elevator drew you from your thoughts as Ludivine showed you to your suite which housed an entire team of stylists, makeup artist, and hair dressers. One section of the room transformed to the equivalence of the behind the scenes studios of any global fashion week. One crisp snap of Ludivine’s manicured fingertips sent the team scarabling as they hovered around you and began to prep your appearance. From cleaning to settling the finishing touches, you felt like Katniss getting ready for her interview as the workers completely altered her appearance as a coal miner’s daughter to a prim and proper woman. 

After what felt like hours sitting and waiting, the team finally revealed your freshened look. You were definitely more done up than what you’d do to yourself, but it still had that natural and comfortable feel. You were impressed with their work and thanked them. From the corner of your eye, you spotted a clothing rack filled with various expensive fabrics protected in plastic dust bags, “Am I wearing these?” 

You sifted through the clothing rack, inspecting each hanger one by one and determining which one suited your best style. 

Ludivine shook her head, “Non, mon cher. Monsieur Carlos had insttructed us to dress you in something personally chosen to his liking.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Carlos rarely ever commented about your clothing choice, let alone being the one to choose your outfit. He was a firm believer that you were allowed to wear whatever you wanted as long as you felt comfortable in it. After all, he made it a point that he could fight whoever decided to bad mouth or nonconsensually touch your figure anyways. 

Ludivine brought in the outfit and hung it up on the bathroom door. As curious as you were, the cotton protective sleeve over the outfit kept your glances at bay. Focused on the outfit, you missed Ludivine sneaking in a fancy box and handing it to you, “Please change into this and come out when you’re done.”

You took the box with you into the bathroom. Placing the box into the counter, you unraveled the silk bow and took off the top to reveal a black laced lingerie set. Taking a closer inspection, you noticed the center of the bra bejelwed with the letter “C” amongst the lace and sheer mesh fabric. This set offered no coverage at all, especially the bottom half with nothing but a string covering your ass. 

Obediently, you quickly dressed and threw on the provided bathrob before heading back out to Ludivine, “Please keep your eyes closed.”

You nodded compliently, thinking about the consistency of Carlos and his surprises as you closed your eyelids and patiently waited in your bathrob. You hear a series of shuffles which sounded as if she were walking out of the room instead of towards the location of where the outfit was hanging. 

“Ludivine? Ludivine, are you still here?” You called her name out many times, hoping to hear some sort of indication from her presence still in the room. Silence accompanied your voice as you grew worried. Just as you were about to open your eyes, the sound of a zipper and rustling fabric calmed your nerves from the fear of being left alone. 

You were aided into wearing your clothes, cautiously stepping into it one leg at a time. Once fitted and securely snuggly on your body, familiar arms enclosed around your waist, causing you to melt into the touch and open your eyes, “Since when did you become part of Ludivine’s stylist team?”

“Since I saw your outfit on the store’s mannequin and pictured you underneath me in it,” Carlos pressed a kiss on the soft spot of your neck, causing you to shrink back from being tickled. Carlos followed your movements until he had you backed up against a wall made of one large sheet of mirror which reflected just about every inch in the hotel suite. 

Face to face, Carlos looked you up and down to admire his work before pressing his lips on yours, giving you the most gentle kisses you’d ever received. He treated you as if you were so fragile even breathing could corrupt your innocence. His lips moved down to your neck again, eliciting a soft but muffled moan from you. 

“None of that, even your voice is perfect.”

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we be leaving?” You said inbetween his kisses, although not really wanting to leave his arms. 

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting?” Carlos’s hands began to run up and down the sides of your body, squeezing and caressing every so often. Once at your hips, Carlos pulled you forward to rest against his hips and slowly grinding on you. You whimpered, pressing your things together as he snuck his hands to grope your ass. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. I’ve seen they way you’ve been looking at yourself and how you always ask me if you look good,” Carlos licked the shell of your ear before teasingly nibbling, “Don’t forget I notice everything about you.” 

Carlos wrapped his hands under your thighs and tapped twice. Responsively, you got halfway to lifting yourself up before planting the soles of your feet back onto the ground defeatedly, “I can’t. I’m too heavy for you.” 

Carlos’s heart broke as he watched you shrink back, arms crossing as if to shield his view from your body. With a newfound flare of passion, Carlos turned you around and pressed your face on the cool mirror, “Let me prove you wrong.”

You couldn’t help but stick your ass out and desperately rub against Carlos’s hard on through his dress pants. Carlos grabbed a handful of fabric and harshly tugged on it, ripping the top half completely off of you before the entire thing collapsed around your feet. 

“I should’ve chosen something easier to fuck you in,” Carlos grumbled in annoyance, “Oh well.”

You gasped in shock, turning your head upwards to look at Carlos through the mirror’s reflection, “Carlos! That was-” 

Carlos shushed you by slipping your thong to the side and sliding his fingers through your wetness, “Don’t worry about that, just focus on me. Eyes on me, sunshine.” 

Carlos dipped his fingers again, teasing your clit before sinking a finger in. You mewled in response, watching through the mirror as his fingers disappeared within you. Carlos only gave you a second to adjust before kicking your legs further apart and burying another finger into you. Your hands stretched across the mirror, a small fog of condensation forming from how sweaty you were becoming. Carlos hawkeyed you through the mirror, eyes trailing all over your outstretched body, “Look at how well you wear my lingerie. Lace looks so good on you, I think I want to fuck you with it still on.”

Carlos curled his fingers, whispering sweet nothings into the shell of your ear. Your orgasm was building up with the familiar tightness settling in your lower abdomen. Slightly bending your knees for Carlos to have easier access, you made the mistake of looking downwards. Just as you were on the edge of cumming, Carlos ceased his movements and removed his fingers, leaving you desperately unsatisfied. He used his other hand to caress your chin and tilt your view upward to see him in the reflection, “I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this fucked out?”

You shook your head weakly, mildly disappointed at yourself for forgetting a simple rule. Nonetheless, Carlos was feeling generous today, prompting him to spin you around and press his body against yours. He rested his forehead against yours, giving you another gentle kiss, “Can I continue?”

You gulped, feeling nervous about being eye to eye with Carlos. Nodding your head, you spoke, “You can. Can you undress too?”

Carlos’s heart ached with how cute you were under his gaze. He shook his head, bringing both of your hands and placed it on his chest, “Do it yourself.”

You slid your hands, all along his torso and relished in the feelings of his muscles under your fingertips. Your curious hands made their way to the buttons of his shirt and slowly worked your way through them. Once all unclasped, you brushed off the crisp white shirt and let it fall to the floor neighboring your ripped attire. You took a second to admire his physique, never failing to leave you breathless. You trailed your hands over his abs, relishing as your hands felt the texture of his chest hair and happy trail. Looking up at Carlos, you thought you’d be met with his signature smirk, yet you were surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to explore him. Non-judgemental and non-condemning. With that in mind, your hands lowered to his happy trail to unbuckle his belt and push down his dress pants just low enough to free his erection. Without notice, Carlos wrapped your hand around his cock to stroke him, “This is what you do to me. This is all you, no one else.”

Releasing his hold on your hand, he massaged them into your hips again, “Let me show you how perfect you are.” 

Hesitant yet curious, you agreed and took a deep breath to prepare for whatever Carlos was brewing in his mind. Without a second delay, Carlos took himself into his hand and guided himself into you. You went to curl one leg up to allow him more space to thrust into you, but Carlos had other plans as he hooked both legs in the nook of his arms and supported all your weight. He took a moment to adjust before stepping away from the mirror wall and holding you completely. Startled, you clasped your arms around his neck and pressed yourself as close as possible to him, “Carlos! You’re going to drop me!”

Carlos chuckled, flexing his arms as if to show off his strength, “I’m never gonna drop you.” 

He kissed you lovingly once more before his eyes darkened with lust, “Hold on, Sunshine, because I’m gonna fuck the insecurities out of you.”

Carlos proceeded to prove his point by lifting you up with both your legs hooked over his forearms and bouncing you up and down on his cock. You clenched from fear, having never been in this position before. Carlos grunted as he felt your muscles constrict against his shaft, “You feel so good, no one can take me as much as you do.”

Carlos pressed a loving kiss on your shoulder, a reminder to you that he’ll always be there to take care of you. Melting from his kiss, you relaxed in his arms and let him bear your weight. He hoisted you up, thrusting into you again before setting a steady pace. Everytime, he let gravity aid him to bottom out as the slaps of your skin echoed throughout the suite. Your nails dug into him as he voiced out his pleasure in your ear, letting you hear how good you were making him feel. He shifted, so that you could see the both of you in the mirror, “Everything about you is perfect. You are my favorite part about you.” 

Squatting, Carlos readjusted your weight and pistoned faster into you, “Look at how pretty you are, doing so well for me.” 

Your hands tangled themselves into his messy hair, pushing it back to place sloppy kisses on him. Your moans got louder as Carlos steadied his pace, bringing you towards your much needed orgasm. He felt the walls of your pussy constrict around his wet cock again, letting him know that you were near, “Carlos, I’m- I’m-”

“Shh, I know. Don’t hold back, let it go. Cum for me, Sunshine,” Carlos urged you with another deep thrust before you withered completely in his arms. Your body fell limp against him as he held you safely and walked you to the bed. Putting you down, you took a moment to catch your breath, “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I can do anything for you,” Carlos leaned over to kiss you. 

You laughed, “Should we get going now?”

Carlos’s eyes hungrily looked over you and your lingerie clad body, licking his lips, “You thought I was done worshipping you? That was just the first course.”

[astranne]

— HALFBLOOD

a greek/roman mythology x blue lock series

— synopsis ;

„blessed we are, they all say, the ones who don‘t understand“, you whisper and trace the shape of his lips with your finger.

„blessed we are, say the stories of old, say our legacies, the mortals who only hear the glory and fame of the tales“, you continue, while he takes a shuddering breath. your words hit hard but they are the truth.

„i say we‘re cursed. cursed to be born painfully, cursed to life painfully and cursed to die, not only in pain but also alone.“ you lean closer, and it shouldn’t be allowed, when you utter so paining words, whisper the following so softly, as if you confessed him your love.

„and if we ever fall in love… then we shall love with all our heart and mind, until one of us dies. nothing else can destroy the bond we have, because i have given you my soul.“ and you pledge your words with a kiss.

— summary ;

in which you, a halfblood and bastard child of [REDACTED], have a mortal lover who‘s heart only beats for football and you.

— genre ;

may vary from each work, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive

— warnings ;

each work will have it’s own warnings, will contain spoilers (for non-manga readers), may go really into mythology stories, may be suggestive, may contain curse words, may have different genders than gn!reader in some works

— characters ;

isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, noel noa, oliver aiku, julian loki, + more to be added!

— author notes ;

blue lock really has me in a chokehold. so here i am. once again 😭 starting to write this when i should be doing important school stuff... this series has my current obsessions put together, blue lock AND my returning pjo/mythology phase. please note that it will take some time for each piece to be written, as i want them to bit longer than my usual works (more than like 200 words lmao) and i'm in a rather studious phase in school rn. i should definitely not start another series, when i already have an event going on but spare with me. because i think this will just continue to grow and be definitely a longer series, spanning over several weeks. maybe i'll never close it.... requests are closed for this series (for now) until i put a notice on it. i don't wanna kill my currently insane motivation to write with restricting myself. other than that, i think everything has been said. enjoy!

— greek pantheon masterlist ;

aphrodite; divine beauty.

ares; fire in our blood.

itoshi sae x fem!reader

— roman pantheon masterlist ;

…

— taglist ;

@stellumi , @keqism , @wanderersbell , @venexus , @lilikags , @kuminarim , @mael-0 , @dervaaas , @aly4a, @yanfei-kisser , @isentsworld , @tsukishiro-yue2402 , @him3ru , @horologiumwise , @aoi-turtle + more to be added!

-> if you wish to be part of the taglist, which includes every new posted work, please comment below this post or send me a quick ask!

-> if your name is bold, this means i can’t tag you!

ASTRANNE 2023

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Another universe, another chance. Pt.1

^ based on this idea. Natasha Romanoff x reader, slow and character driven. @lildevilsworld

Pt.2

Masterlist

Shelter for survivor!Natasha Romanoff

When she asked the Watcher to bring her to a new universe. She didn't care about the consequences. She didn't think about how she would feel in the new and so different place. "You are not my Natasha." Fury's words where still ringing in her ears after weeks of trying to adapt to other versions of people, who once mattered so much to her. Yes, she again was an Avenger, but she had to start all over again.

She never met Carol Danvers, with whom she immediately started having a subtle competition for leading the remaining team. Nat did expect Fury to support her, but that "not my" stopped him, he didn't know her and didn't recognize her. And when he tried to see "his" Natasha in her, he was failing. This survivor, who looked like the best agent he ever had, behaved so differently. She was tougher, more ruthless, more resilient. Her approach to missions changed. Not infiltration and cunning, but brute force and pressure. Natasha didn't want to waste a single second of her life anymore on unnecessary actions if the price of loss was the fate of the world. Fury didn't see an agent in her anymore, he saw a warrior and so did Carol. But their wars were different. Nat was never supposed to win hers.

Steve of this universe never knew her, but immediately recognized such a familiar pain of losing the whole world in mere seconds.

Nat even never heard about the others and wasn't ready to bond with them yet. In a few first weeks she had more important things to realize. All her friends in this universe were dead: Tony, Thor, Bruce, Clint. She had to mourn them the second time. Again and again cherishing the memories of the only family she ever had. Laying alone in her bed, wallowing in tears, she didn't think this universe was a present to her, it was a punishment.

"Are you going?" Sam's voice pulled her out of trance. For the last 15 minutes Nat was just blankly staring at the bow in her hands.

Clint's old weapon, that was left in the compound. She was surprised to see it just lying on the pile of junk in the armory.

"What did you say?"

"Drinks, Nat. Are you going with us?"

Redhead shrugged, she wasn't called like that for many months. Clint was the last one, who did. The last person she failed to save.

"No, I've got to do reports." Lies.

"Right."

Sam left her alone in the locker room. He clearly didn't believe her and surely this was the last time he asked her to go with them.

Nat finished packing her stuff and was ready to return to her empty apartment, when she suddenly saw a small brown box in the corner with her own Black Widow insignia. If it wasn't hers, that it belonged to the one who... Nat came closer, feeling her intuition practically screaming not to go there, not to open the box. If it indeed belonged to the other, how would it help her? How could it make her feel

better about herself? Peeping in another person's life was just weird. Why would this Widow even keep anything essential in the damned box?

But her broken heart wanted to know what kind of a different life she could have. Maybe this Widow was happier, had a chance to become a better person, didn't lose everyone she loved?

With trembling hands, she carefully removed the lid, half expecting to see malfunctioning batons and maybe a stack of redacted documents.

She never talked about that Widow, not even calling her by the name they shared. A few times Fury tried to talk about it, but she always stopped those unnecessary sentences.

But what she saw, surprised her and even scared a little. She suddenly was embraced by the aura of foreign lost memorabilia. This Widow was different, she was sentimental. Dangerously sentimental. Nat couldn't believe that. She was taught never to leave personal things, not even to have them. There was only one photo inside. It was a very different Widow, from what Nat imagined her variant would be. It wasn't the hair or the clothes. It was that light in her eyes, wide grinning smile and coquettish tilt of the head. But Nat didn't need to guess the reason for this perfect manifestation of happiness. There was another person in that picture, apparently hugging Widow around the waist with one hand and taking a picture with the other. Nat never saw this face and never even allowed anyone to be so deep in her personal space. Something in your features was so sincere, so pure, so serene. You both seemed so calm and yet excited for your next moment. Nat couldn't help, but anchor herself in your image. She didn't know why, but her broken heart felt, that if she met you before in her own universe her life would drastically change. "First weekend together" Nat read the sentence on the other side of the photo out loud. Her voice asking the universe for only a possibility of such a day, of such adoration, of such love.

She spent minutes devouring your image, remembering it, ready to see your face again only in her fiercest dreams. But the more she looked at that photo the more her hope and curiosity were taking over her pain and insecurity. Maybe you could help her adjust in this new world, maybe you could tell her a secret of how a Widow can become happy, maybe you could just for a second look at her the way you looked at your Natasha. Already hating herself Nat decided to take the picture.

____

That tiny piece piece of paper became her faithful companion. You already were her closest person, even though she didn't even know your name. To lull herself to sleep, she was imagining your life. At first just your routines, in time her place in them. In a few weeks, she started almost hearing your voice, feeling your scent, touching your softness. Her broken heart needed you and one day she decided to find you. It wasn't hard, after just seconds of analyzing the picture, Nat got your address. You were in the same town as her, in the same town as her grave. Nat didn't tell anyone about her plans. But she didn't know what her plans even were. She didn't think about it past the knock on your door. And now standing anxiously waiting for your answer, she didn't know what to expect.

"Give me a minute!"

Your steps were getting closer and Nat's panic kicked in. For a brief moment, she just wanted to run away, feeling tension in her body. But her heart demanded at least to see you once.

The door slowly opened and Nat heard a whisper that could deafen.

"How is this possible?"

You couldn't believe your eyes. Natasha was standing in front of you. The woman you mourned for months, wept for nights, remembered for days was now looking at you, waiting for your embrace.

"Tell me, it's not a dream." Your tears were begging for her comfort, but you were afraid to close your eyes even for a second.

Nat couldn't bring herself to come closer. She knew, you would know the difference, but she needed those moments of your confusion, those drops of your remaining love.

"You're not her, are you?"

As a veil of pain was weakening, you noticed that this Natasha wasn't yours. She was far more broken and lost than your woman ever was. Her need for warmth was far greater than your woman's ever was. Her heart never belonged to you, you were never in her veins. You knew, she wasn't a skrull or a spell.

"I'm not."

A Familiar husky voice brought back all those memories of your previous life. The one you crafted, the one you cherished, the one you were already living with your Redhead.

"But you are Natasha Romanoff?"

She nodded and that was enough for you to let her in your life.

Redhead entered your apartment already regretting her decision to find you. You were too close with your Widow and now she was only turning the rusty knife in your chest.

"I'd better leave."

"No, no." You touched her shoulder but immediately stepped back. "Fury didn't tell me about you. How are you here?"

You guided her to the kitchen, knowing that both of you would need something to drink to continue. You didn't ask what this woman preferred, you knew. Smirnoff. That bottle that your Nat always kept in the top drawer.

"Спасибо. (Spasibo, thank you)"

You knew that word, one of many you learned, while living with your Russian. You even recognized that intonation. You always were shocked, how she could easily drink this poisonous alcohol.

As Nat inhaled sharply, you drank away your own sob.

"I found this." Nat put down your photo on the table.

"I had no idea, she had it." You raised your eyes from the picture to the flushed cheeks of the deadliest assassin. Maybe she was a menace for the others, but whenever she was with you, she just couldn't hide the heat in her blood.

"Your reaction is..."

"I've worked for the Shield. I've encountered unexplained things." You tried at least to pretend to be stoic and keep your hysterics for your future loneliness. "Still, I asked you to explain."

"It's not that simple."

Nat didn't want to make it harder for you, than it already was. Her broken heart couldn't handle seeing you gasping for air and comfort. Her primal instinct was to protect you, to shield you, to hide you from anything bad that could ever happen. It took all of her self-control not to pull you into her.

"Everything is simple enough, if you have the time to explain it." You couldn't let her leave. You couldn't let those green eyes vanish again. You couldn't lose another chance to have just one instance of your woman.

"Maybe you're right."

"I assume you have my phone number. Text me, when you're free and we'll grab a coffee. And you'll tell me absolutely everything."