#I will be chasing the high of going out every morning last summer and listening to music while bug hunting. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

latetaektalk · 3 years

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(road)tripping for you | jjk

“it was just supposed to be a roadtrip; your best friend, her boyfriend, his best friend, and you. but it gets a little more complicated (and a whole lot more awkward) when your best friend and her boyfriend have to drop out and you’re left to go on the trip with none other than jeon jungkook, a complete stranger. well, a complete stranger except for the fact that you hooked up two years ago.”

— genre: roadtrip! AU, strangers to lovers! AU, only-one-bed! AU, summer! AU, fluff, a bit of angst

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 31.071

— warnings: cursing, light alcohol consumption, awkward situations, clichés

— playlist: click here

— a/n: alright im happy and incredibly nervous to present this baby !! its completely self-indulgent, cheesy as shit, and not really edited, so i hope you guys enjoy! id also like to thank lira @koocycle for listening to me cry about this fic!! couldnt have done this without you! also, this is my entry for @ficscafe’s exchange event, written for @jeonsweetheart !! i really do hope you enjoy this one and sorry that this is so long! i uh also stalked your blog a bit and was inspired by how you assign a song to every fic, so i did the same! hope you dont mind!! my pick for this au is “safety net” by ariana grande !! also, the amazing and incredibly talented @st-octavius has drawn one of the scene which you can find here!! a huge honour, so please check it out and send her lots of love!! do be aware that it contains spoilers for the story!

— lyric: tripping, falling, with no safety net

The summer is always too short.

The realisation comes to you while you’re waiting in the car and fanning yourself with a make-shift paper fan because the AC broke two weeks ago and you haven’t had the money to get it fixed yet, waiting for Sooyoung who just walked into the convenience store to buy some snacks.

You look out to your left. The sun’s still high up in the sky for how late it is, bleeding its last bit of light into the clouds. Couples and families are walking past you, chatting and laughing, holding melting ice cream in their hands. You hear the laughter of children playing tag down the street, another handful are chasing each other with a water gun. Through the cracked window, you feel the warm and humid air come in, hitting your cheek. It’s at that moment you realise it.

It’s sad.

But at the same time, you realise it’s fitting. Summer arrives with magic every year—the nights somehow seeming endless, the days stuffed with almost suffocating and paralysing potential, indeterminate relationships and friendships, and the air filled with infinite possibilities and promises, all within reach, so close and still not close enough, a hopeful humming accompanying it. It’s reeling.

So of course, time passes quicker. Of course, summer is fading and fleeting. Of course, it’s all over in the blink of an eye. It’s magical after all.

It’s that magic that prompted you to ask out your crush your sophomore year (you (fortunately) lasted less than a handful of months), that gave you the foolish courage to cut your hair with a pair of blunt kitchen scissors at two in the morning your junior year (it was a disaster), and made you climb out of your window Tangled style after you got grounded so you could spend the last days of summer with your friends under the night sky your senior year (some of the greatest nights of your life).

It’s the same magic that provokes you to turn to Sooyoung and ask her this when she comes back with an armful of snacks (without the Cheerios you asked for though).

“You wanna go on a roadtrip?”

It’s a stupid idea you conclude halfway through planning.

Because three issues come up. First, neither of you have much saved up (read: barely anything), which makes paying for the hotel stays and the car you’re going to rent (since yours is shit and Sooyoung doesn’t have one) a lot more difficult. And second, Sooyoung can’t drive, which would make you the only driver, which obviously, you can’t be on a cross country roadtrip. Last but not least, Sooyoung’s and Namjoon’s two year anniversary is coming up, and while she hasn’t made it the official third issue, you know she doesn’t want to spend their anniversary apart.

But Sooyoung somehow comes up with a solution to all of the problems.

For the first (and third) issue, she suggests taking Namjoon with you. This way you can split the costs for the hotels and the car. And obviously, if he’s on the trip too, they won’t be apart during their anniversary. You’re more than happy with the solution. The same can’t be said about the solution she suggests for the second issue.

“Look, if he came along, we’d have a second driver and—” You walk over to the snacks section but Sooyoung follows you, her grocery list long forgotten. “—we could split the costs of the hotels and car by four!”

You closely examine two poorly designed bags of cookies, neither looking all that appealing, pretending like you couldn’t hear her. You go with the cheaper option.

“Y/N,” Sooyoung says and pokes you in the ribs. You flinch and almost drop the cookies. You give her a scowl. “Consider it?”

“I already said no.” You turn on your heel and walk away.

“Please, Y/N,” she whines, catching up with you and blocking your way.

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes. “Can’t someone else come with? Does it have to be him?”

“Kook’s Joon’s best friend,” Sooyoung says, and you cringe at the nickname. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to her calling him that. “They’ve actually also talked about going on a roadtrip before, you know? So when I mentioned it…”

She trails off, but you don’t need her to keep talking. You know where she’s getting at.

“No, Soo, I just-” You cut yourself short, and shake your head. “It’s just so embarrassing. I bailed, dude. I didn’t even bother to wait for him to wake up and shit.”

The image materialises in front of your eyes; the morning you woke up next to the doe-eyed boy you never thought you would get this close to, or even talk to. It feels like a fever dream. Not only is it unlike you to hook up with a stranger, but of all people, you could have fallen into bed with it was Jeon Jungkook? Sometimes you’re convinced it was all just a fever dream, it never happened, until you remember you forgot your keys at his place in your haze. Your lost keys remain the only piece of evidence that stops you from convincing yourself you only hallucinated it all.

“Yeah, but it was two years ago!”

You scrunch your face. You’ve heard this all before, and you don’t want to hear it again, so you walk past Sooyoung and head for the checkout, placing the cookies on the conveyor belt.

“Y/N, can’t you at least think about it?”

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t,” she hisses. “You immediately said no! You didn’t even take a second to consider it.”

You look at her. “Soo, you know exactly how I feel about this- him. Don’t force me to be stuck in a car with him, please.”

Sooyoung opens her mouth but is interrupted by the cashier. The arguing ceases then, and you’re grateful. The peace doesn’t last long though, Sooyoung picking up right where you left off as soon as you finish paying.

“You make it seem like you guys have some major history when you just hooked up. And that was two years ago! It’s been ages! There’s literally no reason for you to still avoid Kook.”

You dig out your keys and unlock your car, slipping into it just to regret it. You groan because even though you made sure to park in the shade, the sun had moved when you were in the store and turned your car into a goddamn sauna. You feel your skin glueing to your seat. Ew.

You keep the door open to let in some air, and you’re about to tell Sooyoung to do the same, but she interrupts you.

“I actually think he has forgotten about you,” she says, and you toss the cookies in the backseat and tuck your hair out of your face, grabbing your make-shift paper fan. It doesn’t bring much relief, but it’s better than nothing.

The comment, although you should be happy about it because it’s all you want, irks you the tiniest bit. Because you haven’t. You haven’t even begun to forget him, and the thought it might not be the same for him, that you didn’t leave a single mark in his mind, it hurts a bit

“You think?”

“I know.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because in the past two years he’s never brought you up, or even alluded to you or the night,” she argues.

“That’s because he doesn’t know my name,” you say. “Probably only knows me by my face. I’m probably that dumb girl that left her keys at his place in his mind.”

Sooyoung sighs, rolling her eyes at your stubbornness. “He’s really nice! You’d know if you would have just gone out with us once.”

When Sooyoung and Namjoon started dating, it didn’t take long for your two friend groups to grow into a big one, the two organising parties and meetups. You never participated in anything when there was even the smallest chance of Jungkook being there too. No one ever noticed.

“And he’s also really funny-”

“Date him then,” you mumble, which earns you a deserved hit against your arm.

“Y/N, you know I’m in a happy relationship with Joon!”

“So you’d date him if you weren’t with-”

Another hit.

You laugh, but Sooyoung doesn’t join you, glowering at you instead, and you wonder how this conversation took this turn so quickly. Minutes ago she was giving you puppy eyes and begging you to think about it and now she’s scowling at you and scolding you like a mother.

“I’m serious, Y/N. And before you say we’ll do it next year, you know exactly we won’t. It’s like when you said you’d stop buying so many books this year, or when I said, I’d learn Spanish. The moment we postpone the trip, we’re not doing it anymore, and you know that.” Sooyoung stares into your eyes, waiting for you to say something. When you don’t—because unfortunately, she’s right, and you don’t want to admit that—, she sighs. She takes your hands into hers and tosses your paper fan to the side.

“Hey-”

“Y/N, look,” you quiet down when you see the stare she gives you, “I don’t want to force you into anything. I’m gonna respect your boundaries if you really don’t want him on the trip—” You hear the ‘but’ before she even says it. “—but I promise you first, Kook doesn’t remember. Second, even if he does, he’s not gonna be weird about it. And third, I know he won’t be weird about it because Kook’s probably one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”

You think Sooyoung’s done, but she opens her mouth again. “Also,” she sits up, “Joon and I are gonna be there too! So even if it’s weird, which I highly doubt, we’ll serve as buffers! And if you don’t wanna talk to him, you don’t have to either. No one’s saying you have to become friends with Kook, but it’s just-”

She deflates after. She can’t find the right words, but it’s fine. You know what she’s trying to say. You’re not stupid. Without Jungkook this trip won’t be happening. It’s as simple as that.

You sigh and close your eyes. You do realise how ridiculous how you’re acting right now. Like Sooyoung has pointed out, your history only consists of one drunken night. It’s barely anything. Bits and pieces. Scraps really. But it’s enough to have your cheeks burning up.

But if Sooyoung’s right, if Jungkook has actually forgotten about you (which wouldn’t be so unlikely since it’s been two years and you’re sure he’s hooked up with other girls in the meantime), you really don’t have anything to worry about. But if Sooyoung’s not right and he brings it up, you’re fucked. You don’t think you can handle the embarrassment, the questions of why you so rudely fled in the morning.

On the other hand, you really do want to go on the roadtrip. You think it’d be the perfect way to spend the summer, stretch it out a bit more, fill it with memories you’re going to look back on fondly in a few years. You think it would be the perfect way to savour the summer. It’s all you want, to spend time with your best friend and make memories.

You look at Sooyoung. She’s still staring at you. She’s going to wait for your answer, however long it takes. Because (and you know that) she’s convinced it might just be a ‘yes’. You heave out a sigh.

She’s right, unfortunately. You hope the same will be the case with Jungkook.

“Fine.”

It’s almost comical how quickly her face lights up, the corners of her lips turning up into a gigantic grin.

“Wait, really?” she gasps quietly, clasping her hands together, almost like in a prayer. “You’re sure about this?”

No, you’re not, not even a bit. But the things you would do to ensure a great summer with your best friend. You sigh and nod. Just as Sooyoung’s about to burst, you shove your finger into her face.

“But promise me,” you stare her down, “that you’ll stick with me. You can’t leave me hanging!”

She quickly nods, so vigorously you think her head’s going to fall off. “I won’t. I won’t. Don’t worry, Joon doesn’t exist on the trip. You’re my sole focus, I swear.”

“So you promise me?”

Sooyoung stares you down. “Y/N, I promise you I won’t leave you hanging.”

You smile at each other. It’s decided then. Jungkook’s coming on the trip too. You can already feel regret building up in you.

“Also, we gotta get back inside. I didn’t buy shit.” Sooyoung produces her grocery list from her pocket.

You roll your eyes. “You better be quick.”

In your years of friendship with Sooyoung, she has only ever let you down two times.

The first time was in your sophomore year when you had just begun dating your first boyfriend and told your parents you were going to stay over at her place and she screwed up covering for you, which led to you getting a three hour long lecture on honesty and being in a relationship so young.

The second time was two years ago when she forgot to tell you she was going to leave the party early with a certain dimpled boy from her Chem class because you’re convinced if she had, you wouldn’t have wandered around looking for her and landed in the arms of a certain doe-eyed boy. Yes, you blame Sooyoung for you hooking up with Jungkook, at least partially.

But those two occasions were the only times she’s ever let you down. Today, however, marks the third time, and this time it’s bad.

Because when Jungkook pulls up to your apartment, Sooyoung and Namjoon aren’t standing next to you like they should be. And they’re also not running late. No, they’re in a completely different city.

Your emotional state is confusing; somehow you’re nervous and pissed off at the same time. It’s hard to find a balance, to think straight with both emotions brewing inside you.

You think time stretches thin when you watch Jungkook park and get out, eyes meeting yours before searching for the two familiar faces. You can’t figure out if he recognises you or not as he walks up to you. Your heart tumbles more and more with every step he takes.

“Hey,” he greets you, and you can see traces of a smile on his lips.

You search for something in his eyes, anything that will tell you if he remembers you, if you look familiar to him at all, but you find nothing. Either there’s really nothing and Sooyoung’s right, or you’re simply too nervous to process this entire thing to analyse the situation at hand.

“Uh, hi,” you breathe out, sounding vaguely out of breath and reedy. You scrunch your nose.

“Where’s Joon and Soo?”

And with that question, you decide he doesn’t recognise you. Maybe you’re wrong, but it’s the conclusion you decide to come to. It’s the only one that allows your voice to gain some firmness, that allows your mind to clear up a bit, that has the nervosity simmering down to a light bubble, allowing space for your anger at the situation at hand.

“They’re not here.”

“Wait,” he frowns, and looks behind you, like maybe he overlooked them somehow, “where are- oh, are they late? Did they text-”

He’s about to pull out his phone, but you stop him, dropping the news on him.

“They’re not coming.”

Jungkook snaps his gaze to you then, a knit forming between his brows.

“What do you mean they aren’t coming?”

He stares at you with huge eyes, doe eyes so big you think they’re about to fall out. One good slap on the back of his head and they’re out. You’re sure.

You sigh and close your eyes, your jaw on the verge of breaking. Sooyoung’s dead.

“They just called me,” you hold up your phone as if you needed proof, “and well, turns out they’re out of town and stuck there because the railway companies went on strike.”

You press your lips together. “They aren’t coming.”

Jungkook stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head, and you can’t blame him. It took you a number of “Wait, wait, wait, what?”s and “You’re kidding, right?”s to process this information too.

He presses his hand to his forehead. “So, what?” The knit between his brows deepen as he comes to the same realisation you came to just a few minutes prior, leading to you cursing out Sooyoung over the phone. “It’s just you and me? No Joon? No Soo?”

You reluctantly nod.

Jungkook blinks at you in total five times before he reacts again, his face morphing into something you can’t pinpoint. It’s something between worry and fear, you think.

“Can’t we go pick them up?” he suggests, a proposal you’ve already made.

“No,” you begin and look into the distance, repeating what Sooyoung told you over the phone. “The issue is that we already booked all of our hotels, so if we were to pick them up, our reservations would fall through. And no, they also don’t let you reschedule either. I guess that’s the service you get when you book the cheapest hotels possible.”

You can see Jungkook think, desperate to find a solution to this. You want to tell him that you’ve thought about it all already, that you don’t want to go on a roadtrip with just him either, but you refrain, pressing the tip of your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

He lets out a hollow chuckle when he comes up with no solution. The sound arises from the back of his throat. It’s meant to lighten the mood, you think. “Well, what fucking genius suggested booking our hotels beforehand?”

You let the question hang in the air for a moment, scrunching your nose and looking down to your shoes before answering, fingers fumbling in front of your stomach.

“I did.”

Jungkook quiets then. Maybe you should have bitten your tongue and not said it.

“Well, I mean,” he scrambles, “you couldn’t have known-”

“I mean it’s not just the hotels,” you interrupt, probably saving Jungkook from embarrassing himself further and possibly even insulting you again. “We also already rented the car.” You gesture behind him. “And Soo and Joon also don’t want to inconvenience us. They said they’d take the next train back and try to, uh, catch up with us.”

He nods then. A prolonged silence stretches between you like gum, sticky and gross. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t look at you.

In the end, he speaks first again, clearing his throat. “So, uh, we’re going on this trip together then?”

You press your lips together and tuck a strand behind your ear, still refusing to meet his gaze. It’s almost ironic how good the weather is today, perfect for a roadtrip, a roadtrip you no longer want to go on.

“Unless you want your money to go to waste, yeah, seems like it.”

Jungkook stares at you, and then nods. You look down at your suitcase and put your hand on it.

This is happening.

You heave out a long sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sooyoung tells you, and you know there’s an apologetic look plastered on her face. But it does nothing to calm your anger, your grip on your phone only tightening. “I genuinely feel so bad, Y/N. I swear. I’m truly so sorry.”

“If you’re so sorry—” You look out the window to make sure he’s nowhere. All you see is a stressed-out father hushing his kids back into the car, the gas pump still in his right hand. “—how about you get your ass here right now?”

Sooyoung’s quiet for a moment, and you know she’s looking over to Namjoon. She sighs under her breath, running a hand through her hair.

“Y/N, I explained it to you, I-I can’t,” she whispers, sounding as guilt-ridden as she did when she called you to tell you she screwed up covering for you. “I wish I could, but we’re stuck here. We-we can’t get away.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the rigidness of your jaw. Deep down, you know this is out of Sooyoung’s control. Still, you can’t help but spit, “I just don’t get why you guys had to go out of town a day before our trip! Just- what were you thinking?”

It’s then that you hear Namjoon in the background ask Sooyoung to hand him the phone, and although she tries to protest, the next thing you hear is his voice.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Joon, hey.” You try your best to not sound annoyed, emphasis on try.

“Please don’t be mad at Soo. This is my fault. I’m the one that organised this and brought her out here. So blame me.”

You curse under your breath. When Namjoon does this—taking full responsibility for everything, putting the blame solely on himself—, you find it incredibly hard to stay mad. And it’s all you want to be because you’re stuck in a shitty situation. You need to be mad! You have every right to!

You heave out a sigh and curse. “I guess neither of you could have foreseen this, huh?”

You can practically hear Namjoon nod, and knowing him, he’s probably making his ‘yeah, exactly!’ face, the one Sooyoung adores so much.

“Yeah, this was just meant to be a one-day thing for our anniversary, you know?”

You cringe in disgust and annoyance, not wanting to be reminded that the only reason why Sooyoung and Namjoon are out of town right now is because he wanted to be a romantic and spend some time on their own for their anniversary. You feel awfully single and lonely all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes. “It’s fine.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you know exactly what Sooyoung’s about to ask. Your face sours when you turn out to be right.

“Uh, where’s Kook by the way?”

“He’s getting gas,” you say. He’s certainly taking his time, you think. You don’t mind now because you get to talk to Sooyoung for a bit, but you hope it won’t be like this for the rest of the trip.

“How’s it going?” she asks, and you hate that you can hear the smile on her face. “You guys bonding?”

“You know if I hadn’t paid for the car and hotels already, there would be no way I’d be here right now, right? If I could have somehow cancelled it all and gotten my money back, I would have?” you tell her, wanting- no, needing to make it very clear to her that you aren’t on this trip by choice, that if you could have not gone and still gotten all of your money back, you would have.

“But for your information, no, we’re not bonding. We just drove in silence for the last ten minutes until he pulled over for gas. It was awful,” you spit.

“Well, I’m sure it won’t be like this for the rest of the trip. Right, Joon?”

And like the supportive boyfriend that he is, Namjoon’s quick to agree. “Yeah, Kook’s really shy and awkward with strangers.”

“You guys just need some time to warm up,” Sooyoung adds, and you hope it’s just that.

“Or I was right,” you mutter, shuddering at the thought.

So far he hasn’t mentioned anything, but so far your interactions were limited, consisting of you explaining the dilemma you were in, you struggling to load your suitcase into the trunk, a process in which he got into the car and watched you in the rearview mirror, and you two sitting in silence before he (rather abruptly) announced he needed gas and turned into the next gas station.

You don’t remember this awkwardness hanging between you two years ago. But truth be told, you only remember the night in fragments, like a montage in a film, a few handful of images stuck in your brain, nothing concise, pieces of an unfinished film roll—the smile he gave you when you accidentally ran into him, the laugh he coaxed out of you with a joke you wouldn’t remember even if you had been sober at the time, the game of beer pong you won together; and at some point, his place, sitting on the couch, whispers of are you sure? spoken into one another’s ears, whispers that turned from questions into something more delicate, and slowly, also more daring; the taste of alcohol on his lips when he first kissed you, brief and shy, before diving back in, braver this time, almost eager; tender hands that quickly wandered, going beyond where they should be, pieces of garments discarded left and right, a trail to his bedroom; the layer of sweat coating your skin, the air you gasped for however stifling, before finally, in the end, slumber, quiet and peaceful, with smiles on your faces.

You shudder. For once, you want nothing more than to be wrong. You don’t want him to remember you. And before you can hear Sooyoung assuring you of just that (because obviously, that’s what she’s going to say), the sight of Jungkook walking out of the gas station, hands full with snacks, catches your eye.

“Oh.”

That’s why he was taking so long.

“‘Oh’? What did you see?”Sooyoung asks, and you’re too confused to answer her. “Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” You snap out of it. “He’s, uh, coming back. Gotta hang up.”

“Well, yeah, go hang up. Please have a fun time with-”

You end the call before Sooyoung can finish, partially because Jungkook’s getting awfully close, but mostly because you don’t want to hear the rest of her sentence.

“Hey,” he mumbles quietly when he slips inside and you return his greeting, adding a quick and awkward wave too, gripping your phone. “Sorry for the- for keeping you waiting.”

You wave him off. He stares at the snacks. You think he’s going to hand you a bag, offer you some chips or nuts, tell you it’s meant for your trip, to keep your stomachs full, but he just reaches behind and puts them in the back. (After all, you’ve got more than enough space.)

So those are for him, you conclude with a scrunch of a nose, just for him. But that’s alright. He’s not obligated to buy you snacks too, or share them. You’re mere strangers after all. Still, your jaw grows rigid, and you look off to the side to hide it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook do a double take when you take out your earphones. You don’t care. If he wasn’t going to buy you snacks, you’re not going to sit here in silence and twiddle your thumbs.

You don’t pay any attention to the song you’re blasting through your earbuds, much more focused on being the worst passenger possible.

You unlock your phone.

[You - 10:33] : he bought snacks

[sooyoung !! - 10:34] : OH

[sooyoung !! - 10:34] : thats so cute :((

[You - 10:34] : for himself only

[sooyoung !! - 10:34] : wait what

[sooyoung !! - 10:34] : just for himself???

[You - 10:34] : he put them into the back

[You - 10:34] : didnt offer me anything

[sooyoung !! - 10:34] : oh

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : well joon did say he’s shy

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : he probably doesnt know how to interat with you

[You - 10:35] : youd never make these types of excuses for any other guy

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : wait are you on your phone rn?

[You - 10:35] : nah im texting you on a brick

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : y/n

[You - 10:35] : wdym am i on my phone?? obviously??

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : you cant be on your phone!! thats so rude

[sooyoung !! - 10:35] : you’re being such a bad passenger

[You - 10:35] : hes being a bad driver by only buying himself snacks

[sooyoung !! - 10:36] : put down your phone

[sooyoung !! - 10:36] : dont make me block you

[You - 10:36] : lmao like youd dare

[You - 10:36] : you dont have the balls for it

And when your last message doesn’t go through, you freeze. You type up a handful more, none of them deliver. This is a joke, you think. Sooyoung must be messing with you. She’s unblocking you any second now. She has to. She’s your only escape from this! She can’t leave you hanging, again.

But she does.

You close your eyes and swallow the sigh, not even able to begin to fathom the situation you’re in right now: you’re going on a cross country roadtrip with Jeon Jungkook, who happens to be a mere stranger to you aside from the fact, of course, that you hooked up two years ago and you fled his apartment like your life depended on it. But not only that, Sooyoung, your supposed best friend, who has let you down once already today, just fucking blocked you. You think the universe has fun seeing you in misery and-

“... please?”

You take out an earbud. “What? Sorry?”

“Oh, I just-” Jungkook clears his throat, and you realise he’s not really looking at you, eyes dancing around. “I asked if you could hand me a water bottle.”

You blink at him before taking out your second earbud. “Sure, yeah.”

“I should have one in my bag,” he tells you, pointing behind. “You see it?”

You do. It’s in the far corner. There’s no way you’re reaching that. Your bag, however, is a lot closer. So you take out your water bottle.

“Here. Couldn’t get to your bag, so if you don’t mind, you can, uh, drink from mine,” you tell him and try to hand Jungkook your water, but he’s too focused on looking at the road, his hand grasping air several times.

“Thanks,” he says when he finally gets a hold of it. Five attempts, you count. You bite away your smile. You fail though when you see how much Jungkook struggles to unscrew the bottle. And when he brings it to his lips with shaky hands, you think you’re about to laugh. You don’t though, and reach out to help him instead, steadying the bottle.

“Oh,” he says, surprised, and takes two big gulps. “Thank you.”

You hum and take the bottle from his lips, grabbing the lid too and screwing it back on. You doubt he’ll be able to do it. You don’t bother putting the water bottle back, keeping it in your lap instead.

For the next ten minutes, it’s silent again. You don’t go on your phone again, not because you feel bad and don’t want to be a shitty passenger. No, definitely not that. You don’t go on your phone again because you don’t want to.

You watch the traffic, and after a while, you let out a yawn. You think it’s a combination of the mundane view and the fact you barely slept yesterday. You rub your eyes, a gesture that prompts Jungkook to look over to you.

You turn to him too, thinking he’s going to say something. He opens his mouth, but clamps it shut the next second. You blink a handful of times and raise a brow because what was that? But you don’t bother asking him, deciding to look away too.

And even though you didn’t make a fool of yourself, he did, you feel deeply embarrassed too. Heat crawls up your neck and settles on your cheeks. You think the Germans have a word for that. They call it fremdschämen. Well, you’re fremdschämen-ing.

“If, uh, you-”

You snap your head around. Jungkook isn’t looking at you, eyes dead set on the road, almost like he can’t bring himself to direct his gaze your way.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and collects himself. Before he begins to speak, he clears his throat, “If you’re tired, you can nap for a bit. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh,” you blurt out, shaking your head to snap out of it. “Thanks, uh, for the offer. I appreciate it. But I’m not tired.”

And even though you can see that he wants to argue with you, bring up how you just yawned, Jungkook closes his mouth.

It’s silent. It feels like a decade passes by.

“If you’re tired,” you say, remembering to return the offer, “just tell me and we can switch.”

“Yeah, but I’m not tired.” He waits a moment. It feels like another decade passes by. “So you can, uh, nap for a bit if you want to.”

You can’t help but smile a bit at his words. It’s a nice thing of him to say. “Thanks. I’ll just see what happens.”

“Alright.” He nods. “You mind if I put on some music?”

You gesture for him to go ahead. “Not at all.”

You don’t recognise the song Jungkook plays, but you like it. You like it so much you ask him for the title.

“It’s, uh, ‘Never Not’ by Lauv,” he tells you, and you perk up at the name of the artist. You know him.

“I think I’ve got one of his songs saved.” You pull out your phone to see which one it is, unable to recall the title.

“‘Paris in the Rain’?” Jungkook says, and you snap your finger at his words.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you say, screwing your eyes shut and pressing your hand to your temple. “How could I forget?”

He smiles at you then, and you mirror him.

And when you fall into silence again after this, it feels a lot less awkward. It’s then that you realise you’ve completely forgotten about your history, the dread that plagued you before at the thought of being in the same car as Jungkook. It disappeared for a moment, but now that you’ve thought about it again, it appears again. You curse yourself.

But before you can spiral, go back to awkwardly sitting in your seat and looking out the window and feeling completely mortified, Jungkook looks over to you. This time he speaks the first time.

“Hey, can I ask?” He doesn’t wait for you to tell him yes. “How did you meet Soo?”

You have to smile at the question. “It’s a long story,” you warn.

“Well,” Jungkook laughs, “I think we might have time.”

You would have rolled your eyes at him for his smartass comment if you knew him better. But since you don’t, you refrain and begin the story instead.

“We went to the same middle school.”

And then you tell Jungkook how Sooyoung and you started by hating each other, for reasons neither of you know. (It was hate at first sight, Sooyoung always likes to say.) You recall how your hatred spawned a series of snarky side comments, snide looks, and scoffs over a period of one year. In the end, it was a boy that brought you together, well, your mutual hatred for him.

Wongshik was his name. He transferred to your school. More importantly, he was obnoxious, loud, arrogant, and overall, incredibly annoying. Class with him was horrible, so horrible Sooyoung and you couldn’t stop cussing him out during break. And ever since, you two have been joined at the hip. You no longer talk about Wongshik, barely think about him anymore. But you are, in a really weird way, incredibly thankful for how annoying he was. You aren’t sure you would have found one another if it hadn’t been for his obnoxiousness.

“How did you meet Joon?”

Jungkook waves you off. “Our story isn’t that great.”

“You don’t want to tell?”

“Well,” he hums, “I don’t mind. I just don’t think it’s all that exciting. We didn’t go from enemies to friends, you know?”

“I’m sure it’s still great,” you try, and Jungkook scratches his neck, sighing in the end.

“We got assigned as partners for an art project in high school.”

“And then?”

It’s after you’ve asked the question that it dawns on you that there’s nothing to it, seeing the pink that dusts his cheeks a second too late.

“Nothing. That’s it,” he coughs and shrugs. “We became friends after that.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say for a moment. “Well, that’s a cute story too!”

Jungkook levels you with an unconvinced look. You hold his gaze for a second before cracking.

“I tried.”

He hums. “I appreciate it.”

And then, you share a laugh. It’s short but genuine. It’s enough, more than you ever expected. This isn’t so bad, you think.

You don’t fall asleep for almost another two hours. The exhaustion sneaks up on you though, slowly coming on around the one hour mark. You don’t know if Jungkook notices, but once he switches to his lofi songs, it starts to lull you to sleep.

It’s the sound of the seat belt snapping back that wakes you up.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Jungkook apologises when he sees you peel your eyes open. “The seatbelt was jammed and I-”

He stops when you wave him off, a soft smile on your lips.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, voice still thick with sleep. You yawn and rub your eyes, taking in your surroundings. You’re at a rest stop. “Why did we stop?”

“Uh, toilet break,” he admits, not daring to look at you when he speaks. Adorable, you think. Does he think you don’t pee too?

“Yeah, what time is it?” you ask and stretch as much as you can, your joints cracking in relief.

Jungkook shows you his phone, and you think you must be hallucinating when you see you’ve been asleep for the past three hours. You’ve been on this trip for four hours now, and you slept for more than half of it. Not only that, Jungkook had to drive all this time. Great, so where’s your award for being the world’s shittiest passenger?

“God, fuck, I’m sorry. I slept so much.”

“What? No, don’t apologise! It’s fine,” Jungkook quickly assures you and gives you a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He pauses, and looks off to the side when he says it. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

You don’t know what to say to that, your mouth drying up at his words. Your brain is especially slow, still half asleep. So you end up not saying anything. Which is probably the worst thing you can do because an awkward silence hovers around you.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you tuck your hair away, “you said you needed to pee?”

“Right, yeah, yes, I did. I said that. I gotta pee, yeah.” Jungkook clears his throat, and even though you’re not facing him, he knows you’re cringing. Even he is cringing at himself.

“Let’s just… go.” You click off your seatbelt and get out before Jungkook can even answer. You throw the door shut and begin walking, not waiting up for him. And as you make your way to the little convenience store, you shove your earbuds back in. Maybe you’re being a little rude, but you can’t bring yourself to deal with this right now. You just woke up for God’s sake!

Inside, you beeline for the snacks, needing to look busy. You pick up a bag of chips and pretend to read the back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook head towards the restrooms, and you think you catch him glancing in your direction. You refuse to think about it.

You read the ingredients lists like you know what any of these things are. It’s stupid, you know, but it’s the only thing keeping you sane since panic texting Sooyoung isn’t an option anymore. Your music blasting through your earbuds helps too.

However, it’s also your downfall. You don’t even hear him approach you.

“Hey.”

You instinctively take out your earbuds. The wrong move because you can no longer pretend you can’t hear him.

His greeting sounds harmless enough, friendly some might even say, but when you look at him, you know you’re in for it. God, fuck. It’s obvious. His smile gives it away, the corners of his lips turned up a little too much. You already know, getting him to leave you alone won’t be easy at all.

“Uh, hi,” you mumble before pretending to go back to reading when really, his presence is the only thing you can focus on. You’re more than aware of how close he is to you, too close.

“I’m Minki,” he tells you, and you give him a hum, regretting not buying those big noise-cancelling headphones. “And you-?”

He inches closer to you. Your grip around the bag of chips tightens. You swallow and take a step back. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he’ll get the hint. He doesn’t. He steps closer.

“Uh, I’m Y/N,” you mumble, voice weak, your heart beginning to thump a bit louder. You look around yourself. No one is here. The store is hauntingly empty. You feel your throat tighten. You are on your own.

“Y/N?” he repeats, and you don’t think you’ve ever had anybody say your name like that. On his tongue it sounds wrong, sticky somehow. He emphasises the wrong syllables, rushes and slurs the wrong letters.

“I like it.” His smile widens. “Fitting for someone as pretty as you, sweetcheeks.”

And you think you’re going to retch. No, seriously. You think you’re going to start dry heaving in the corner right fucking now. Disgust doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel. You don’t think there’s anything grosser than a guy unironically calling you sweetcheeks. You want to throw yourself in front of a car.

“It’s Y/N,” you assert, your face hardening.

“Oh, do you not like sweetcheeks?” he asks and smiles innocently at you. Your jaw locks at his question. “Babydoll then?”

Your grip on the bag of chips tightens, the sound of it crinkling pierces the air. But he never looks away from you, eyes relentlessly staring into yours. He’s trying to get you to break and crack, to cave. He wants to see you squirm, enjoys it, you know that. It takes you everything to not give him the satisfaction he’s craving. Especially when he dares to take a step closer to you.

“Buttercup?” He raises a brow. “How about we talk about it in my car? It’s parked just outside.”

He points to the doors, like you care where his stupid car is parked.

You grit your teeth, heart pounding in your chest at this point. He takes another step towards you, and you take one back. You’re about to hit the wall. He’ll have you trapped then. You swallow.

It requires all of your courage to keep your voice level. “Please leave me alone.”

“But why? I feel like there’s a connection here, baby-”

“Connection?”

Your knight in shining armour comes just in time. You’ve never believed in perfect timing, but you might now, convinced Jungkook has it.

Relief flushes through you at his sight, something you never thought his appearance would elicit. So far it has only ever been apprehension and anxiety. It’s a welcome change.

“I don’t think so, buddy.”

And even though Jungkook’s smiling, he looks scary. There’s a threat tucked between his teeth, pulling on the upturn of his lips. It’s not directed at you, and still, you swallow. The guy’s actually a bit taller than Jungkook, but he looks shorter, probably because he’s cowering under Jungkook’s gaze.

He puts on a brave face though, a frown settling on his features. “Don’t call me buddy. My name’s Minki-”

“Well, you just called my girlfriend baby, didn’t you? Why can’t I call you buddy then?” Jungkook laughs, but it’s hollow and mocking. “What? You don’t like it when people don’t call you by your name?”

You make sure to make no movement or sound. Not that it would make a difference. They are far too invested in staring each other down to pay you any attention. You could have probably knocked over the display, and they still wouldn’t have turned to you.

“I-”

“What do you even want?” Jungkook interrupts, words sharp like daggers, snapping off from his teeth. “What are you talking to my girlfriend for, huh? Interested in sharing maybe?”

Jungkook doesn’t put an arm around your waist or pull you close to him. You think he would, expect him to, but all he does is stand close enough to you to not raise any suspicion. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but you appreciate him making an effort to respect your boundaries even in this situation.

“I was just trying to be nice,” the guy mumbles, disgruntled and annoyed. “No fucking need to get all defensive and shit.”

Jungkook quirks a brow at his attitude. He tongues his cheek. His features darken.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” he spits and you think you hear a growl too. The smile stays on his lips, and you think that makes him even more intimidating than if he had just dropped it.

You find absolutely zero traces of awkwardness in Jungkook’s words. It’s like he’s unlocked another version of himself, a confident and confrontational one. You’re in awe, to say the least.

“Who are you calling defensive? You’re the one that just dared to bother my girl,” Jungkook hisses like a snake, on the edge of attack, his eyes fixed on him. You don’t think anyone has ever called you their girl before. It has your heart rumbling in your chest.

“Look, I was just-”

“Trying to be nice?” Jungkook scoffs and clicks his tongue. “Go be nice somewhere fucking else.”

The guy looks ready to protest, nostrils flared and chest heaving with deep breaths, but when Jungkook takes one step closer to him and levels him with a glare that would have hell freeze over, he backs away. Of course, not without hissing something about Jungkook being unreasonably hostile and him just wanting to be nice. Jungkook doesn’t jump on it. He just drills his eyes into the guy’s back until he’s out of sight. And the moment he’s out of sight and earshot, Jungkook relaxes and backs off from you, stepping out of your personal space.

“You alright?”

You almost get whiplash by how quickly his demeanour changes. It’s like a whole new person is standing in front of you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer dumbly, unable to quite wrap your head around what just happened. “I’m alright. Yeah, uh, thanks.”

“You don’t gotta thank me,” he tells you and rubs the back of his neck, looking shy, and you don’t know how to make do with the different versions of Jungkook presented to you right now. You’re fascinated by how he seamlessly shifts between being both awkward and confident. It should be impossible, but he does it, somehow.

“You wanna get those, uh, chips?” he coughs and takes them from you before you can answer. You don’t, but you don’t find it in you to tell him that. You follow him to the checkout counter.

The clerk comes out from the back and silently rings you up. You’re about to pull out your wallet when Jungkook beats you to it and puts a five-dollar on the counter and slides it over.

“Wait, no, let me-”

“It’s fine,” he tells you, waving you off. The clerk takes the money before you can tell him not to, and you’re left to put away your wallet.

“I’ll pay you back,” you say, and Jungkook shakes his head and gives you the bag of chips. He’s about to repeat himself, but he stops when he sees the guy from before.

You thought he would leave the store, but you guess you shouldn’t have had any expectations for someone like him. Your face sours when you realise he’s standing right between you and the exit.

Before you can think of ways to avoid him, Jungkook takes your hands into his, fingers perfectly slotting with yours. You look down, the sight making your stomach twist in your stomach—his tattooed hand cupping yours.

“Let’s go.” He gives you a smile over the shoulder. And somehow, that gives you the confidence to walk past the guy from before with your head held high.

By the time you’re back in the car, you’re smiling.

“Thank you,” you tell him again, and Jungkook waves you off.

“Anytime.”

You put the chips to the other snacks in the back and pull the seatbelt across your chest. “He looked so scared of you.”

“As he should be,” Jungkook laughs and you hum. He slots the keys into the ignition, seatbelt strapped in place.

“Can’t believe you just did that,” you mumble when you pull out of the gas station, spotting the guy walking out of the store from the corner of your eye.

Jungkook laughs again. “Sorry if I made you, uh, uncomfortable by the way,” he mumbles, and you sit up.

“What? No, you didn’t!” you quickly assure him. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “Just, uh, so you know I didn’t step in because I thought you couldn’t handle yourself or anything, but I just,” he avoids your gaze, “couldn’t help myself. He was being so aggressive and pushy- I just had to step in, you know? He triggered something in me- I don’t know.”

You smile. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook glances your way as if to make sure you weren’t lying to him. He smiles when he sees no trace of deception in your eyes.

You let a beat pass. “I do have to say,” Jungkook stares at you with big eyes, clearly expecting the worst, “I was surprised by your… confidence.”

“Oh.” And then he laughs, hiding half of his face in his hand. “Yeah, uh- I-I can’t explain it either.”

He clears his throat, and you let him take his time to find the words. Jungkook sighs at his inability to form a sentence.

Finally, “I’m sorry for being so awkward,” he looks your way for a split second before focusing on the road again, grip tightening around the steering wheel. He clears his throat one more time. “I just-I just don’t wanna mess this up, you know? You’re Soo’s best friend and she’s dating Joon- and I know she means everything to him, so I don’t want to make a bad impression as his best friend, you know?”

You learn once he starts, Jungkook doesn’t stop, words spilling from his lips in an endless stream.

“I’ve been told I give off a rather unfriendly and rude vibe too. Like I know how shitty I must have looked when I, uh, didn’t help you with your suitcase, and when I kinda insulted you before- also, actually, the snacks I bought earlier?” He gestures behind him. “They were meant to be for you too. For some reason, I just... couldn’t offer them to you?” He shakes his head. “You must think I’m a douche.”

Jungkook looks at you then, and you would have made fun of him then if you were closer and if he hadn’t just heroically saved you from a creep. A smile finds a place on your face, one that bothers on a grin.

“I mean, yeah,” you tell him but are quick to cut back in when you see the mortification set in with him. “I mean, no. I’ve figured you’re kinda awkward. I mean everybody is, right? Some more than others, I guess.”

You realise what you’ve done a second too late. You should feel sorry, incredibly remorseful, but instead, you have to laugh. The face Jungkook pulls amuses you in ways it probably shouldn’t. You’re definitely going to hell.

“No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” you say but the laugh that accompanies your words makes it certainly hard to believe you. “Sorry, I just can’t help myself. I swear I don’t mean it like that.”

Jungkook gives you an unimpressed look.

You gather yourself, but the smile doesn’t disappear completely off your lips. “Okay, look, it’s fine. Now that you’ve explained it, I get it. You’ve got nothing to worry about!”

Jungkook presses his mouth into a line. “So you’re not gonna tell Soo I suck?”

You don’t try to bite away the smile. “No.” He lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m just gonna tell her you’re a douche.”

And for a second, Jungkook believes you, his doe eyes meeting yours. You laugh. He doesn’t join you. He does roll his eyes. It does nothing to lessen your laugh, to his dismay.

“I’m kidding,” you say, just to make sure he won’t get any wrong ideas. “You’re fine. Just… relax. No need to be awkward.”

Jungkook huffs, but there’s a smile on his lips. “I’ll try.”

“Great.”

And when you go back to silence, the air feels much lighter than before.

You switch after a quick stop at McDonald’s for a cheap and greasy lunch. It sits heavy in your stomach, but you don’t have the courage to suggest walking it off. So you get back in the car.

“Can I skip this song?” you ask because you’re the driver and the song makes it hard for you to concentrate. It’s awful. You hate it. You don’t tell him that though.

“Yeah, of course,” Jungkook tells you and skips to the next song. You don’t like this one either, but you don’t say anything. “You can put on your music too if you want, you know?”

“It’s fine. Your music is good.” And you can’t help but quietly add. “Most of the time.”

Jungkook gawks at you then. You have to laugh. “Sorry, I’m just joking.”

“No, no, actually-” He doesn’t finish his sentence and pauses the song. “How about we make a playlist together? Since we’re gonna be stuck in the car for a while, let’s try to make it as enjoyable as possible.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you say, really liking the suggestion, and Jungkook’s quick to open Spotify and create a new playlist, sending you the link to it too.

“‘Y/N’s and Jungkook’s Ultimate Summer Roadtrip Soundtrack’,” he says. “What do you think?”

You smile. “Great name.”

“Great.” He grins. “And obviously, the first song has to be ‘Midsummer Madness’ by 88rising, right?”

You actually agree. The song belongs on every summer playlist.

“Add Jeremy Zucker to it too. ‘supercuts’ and ‘all the kids are depressed’,” you tell him.

Jungkook hums and does as you say. “‘Indigo’ by Niki and ‘100 Degrees’ by Rich Brian, yeah?”

You laugh. “You really like 88rising, don’t you?”

“You don’t?” he shots back, and you roll your eyes. Of course, you do.

“‘Everybody Talks!’ and ‘Animal’ by Neon Trees.”

“Bringing back the 2010s, huh?” Jungkook hums. “‘Sunday Best’ by Surfaces?”

“I don’t think I know this one,” you tell him, and he gasps at you, shaking his head and typing into his phone. A second later, the song plays over the stereo, and instantly, you see his point. “Okay, yeah, add this one.”

“How about ‘Electric Love’?”

You’re more than quick to agree. “Oh, that one for sure.”

“Okay, great,” he hums, and counts the number of songs under his breath. “Nine songs. That’s enough for now, right? We can add to it later.”

You nod. “Now, put it on.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He adds a salute too, and you roll your eyes.

By the time you get to the hotel, it’s late, the sun is long gone. You shut off the engine with a sigh, ready to collapse on a bed.

“Oh, we made it,” Jungkook groans, rubbing his eyes and stretching in his seat. You hum, too tired to speak. “Thank god. I’m done.”

You stretch too, your back cracking like a glowstick, and click off your seatbelt. But your seatbelt clearly doesn’t want you to leave, staying put even when you repeatedly press the button to unlock it.

“Wait, let me,” Jungkook says when he notices you struggling.

He moves to help you. And right then, your hands brush. It’s stupid, really stupid, but you feel heat crawl up your neck, reaching the tips of your ears, rivalling the warmth of the summer. You even freeze for a second. When you thaw back to life, you flinch and turn your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut as if doing so would change anything.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, and you’re grateful he keeps his gaze trained downwards. You’re certain you would have died of embarrassment if he had looked at you.

“This seatbelt- it’s a bit, uh, tricky” He fumbles with it as he explains. “You gotta—” He speaks through pauses, voice strained. “—really push it down and-”

It clicks off.

And even though it wasn’t too tight before, you can breathe much better now. Maybe it was the seatbelt and you, somehow, didn’t notice all this time, or maybe it was because breathing got a little difficult when Jungkook was so close to you. But you’re convinced it’s not that. Sure, could you count all of his long eyelashes (which, might you add, are also unfailingly naturally curled too)? Yeah, but that’s not the reason why you feel so relieved. It’s because the seatbelt was digging into your ribs the entire time. It had to be.

“Thanks,” you cough out and avert your eyes, looking out the window to the hotel. “Let’s, uh, check in, yeah?”

The thing about being four broke college students that are hellbent on going on a cross country roadtrip is you’re willing to cut corners at any point. And one of them is your accommodation. Four people means four hotel rooms. That’s not in your budget, not even when you take three rooms instead of four (with Sooyoung and Namjoon being a couple and whatnot). Two would be in your budget if you weren’t such ambitious shits and insisting on going cross country, meaning you’d need to stay in hotels at least a couple of times throughout the trip. So in the end, you settled for one room.

One room for four people.

Well, now it’s just two people.

“Oh,” you say when you walk in, stopping dead in your tracks, the key card still sitting in the lock, hand hovering over the light switch. Jungkook almost bumps into you when you abruptly stop.

“What?” he asks, and you will yourself to respond, but your throat is dry all of a sudden, so you step to the side.

You glance in Jungkook’s direction, curious to see his reaction. He doesn’t react much at all, his lips parting only the tiniest bit as he sees what you did when you walked in.

“Uh, didn’t we ask for two beds?” he asks, a knit between his brows.

“We did,” you say, frantically scanning the room. Maybe you overlooked the second bed. Maybe there’s one and it will magically appear if you look around once more-

You stop. There’s only one bed.

“They must have forgotten, I guess,” you mumble and take a few steps inside, still holding out hope that maybe just maybe there’s a second bed somewhere. It’s foolish and naive, you know.

“I could go ask if they’ve got another room,” Jungkook proposes, putting down his huge travel bag by the door.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ll be back in two.”

“Don’t forget the key card,” you remind him on his way out, and he gives you a smile before grabbing it and shutting the door. You sigh and wander over to the bed, carefully sitting down on it like it was made of glass. It is big enough for the both of you, but there’s no way you’re sleeping in it together.

You feel the duvet. It’s softer than you expected it to be, with how cheap this room was. You scan the room one more time before finally letting yourself fall back. For a moment, you lay there in silence before pulling out your phone and checking it for the first time in hours.

Two missed calls from your mother, alongside a handful of texts. You call her back, already knowing what’s about to follow. You hold your phone to your ear. She picks up after just a ring. She’s been waiting.

“Hey, mom.”

“Honey! Are you alright? You didn’t answer my calls and texts!” There’s obvious worry laced with her words. You swallow. Maybe you should reconsider and not keep your phone on silent, at least for the duration of the trip.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m alright,” you tell her. “I was driving, so I wasn’t on my phone. We just checked in.”

“Oh, well, how’s the trip? Are you having fun?”

You close your eyes and hum. “It’s fun, but I’m also tired.”

“I can imagine. Driving so long isn’t good for your health. You sound very tired,” your mother says, and you think she’s going to launch into the speech she gave you when you first mentioned to her you’ll be going on a roadtrip. She doesn’t though, thankfully. You’re too tired for this.

“But you know that already. At least, you’re having fun, right?” She only continues when you hum. “Well, how’s Soo?”

You peel your eyes open and grip your phone a little tighter. “Great,” you lie, knowing better than to tell the woman who sat in the kitchen in the darkness, waiting for you to come home after Sooyoung fucked up covering for you, that you were on a roadtrip with a complete stranger, a guy on top of that too.

“Is she doing well? Are you two eating well? What did you have for lunch? Dinner?” your mother asks.

“Uh, we stopped by McDonald’s,” you tell her, and you cringe at how reedy your voice sounds.

Your mother immediately makes a disapproving noise, of course. “For lunch and dinner? You should get something proper. Don’t eat too much McDonald’s. That’s not good for you.”

“Noted.” You decide to keep your answers short, and you hope your mother chalks it up to you being exhausted rather than you trying to hide something from her.

“And how is it with the two guys? What were their names again? Namjoon and-?”

“Jungkook,” you supply with a cough.

“Ah yes, right, Jungkook. Are they trustworthy?”

“Yes, of course, mom,” you quickly assure, chuckling but it sounds wrong. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. They’re really nice.”

Your mother hums. “Well-”

It’s then that you hear the sound of the key card being inserted into the lock. You shoot up.

“Uh, mom, I gotta go,” you tell her, the words stumbling from your lips clumsily.

“What’s the hurry? I thought you were in the hotel-”

“Well—” You lock eyes with Jungkook and you’re quick to gesture for him to not say a word, panic in your eyes. “—uh, Soo just called for me. She needs my, uh, help.”

“Oh, in that case... go help her,” your mother says, and you think you can hear suspicion in her voice. You cringe. She knows something’s up. Why can’t you be a better liar?

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that,” you mumble, and Jungkook slowly closes the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”

And then, you end the call. You breathe out.

“Who-”

“My mom,” you say and throw your phone on the bed. “So? What did they say?”

Jungkook looks confused, taking a moment to connect the dots. “Right, uh, yeah, well they told me we didn’t actually book a room with two beds. Only one with one bed.”

You stare at him. “Oh.”

So you fucked up the reservations, huh?

“Anyway, I asked if we could maybe switch, but they said,” he rubs his neck and averts his gaze then, “that they didn’t have any other rooms left.”

“Oh,” you repeat and sink back down on the bed. Jungkook leans against the closed door, staring at his shoes. “No rooms?”

“No rooms,” he confirms.

You press your lips into a thin line and search your brain for a solution. But you come up empty. Sooyoung has always been better than you at this. You’ve relied on her for problem-solving since middle school, so that part of your brain is rusty, to say the least. It doesn’t help you’re tired too.

“I could just sleep on the couch.”

You jerk your head up, and follow Jungkook’s gaze, to the shabby little grey thing you don’t think classified as a couch.

“What? No!” you exclaim and shake your head. “That’s too small.”

“It’s fine,” he says, and you frown at him.

“It looks like it’s about to fall apart.”

“It doesn’t.”

You level Jungkook with a hard gaze. He doesn’t cave, to your dismay. You sigh.

“Fine,” he perks up, “I’ll sleep on it.”

“No- what? I’m gonna sleep on it!”

“No, sorry, I am,” you tell him. “Look, my phone’s already on it.”

He frowns. “It’s not.”

“Now, it is.” You’re just about to toss your phone on the couch when Jungkook beats you to it, throwing his gigantic travel bag across the room. You watch as it slowly tumbles from the couch to the floor.

“Sorry, my bag is on it.” Jungkook points at it like it didn’t just fall to the floor.

“It’s not.” And at your words he quickly rushes over and places his bag on top of the couch before sitting down himself. You stare at him.

“Yes, yes, it is.” He smiles.

You grit your teeth. “You’re not gonna sleep well on that thing. I slept in the car a bit, so it doesn’t matter if I don’t sleep well now. Plus, I’m the one that fucked up the reservations, so I should be the one sleeping on the couch for it.”

Jungkook hums as if he’s considering your words, but then he clicks his tongue and pats the couch. “I think I’m gonna sleep just fine on this thing.”

“Stop lying-”

“Someone’s calling you.” He points to your phone in your hand, the screen lit up with a call.

You look at it.

Sooyoung.

You contemplate not taking it to continue this argument, but before you can make a decision, Jungkook does it for you. “Go take it. We’ll continue after.”

So even though you’re more than unhappy about this interruption, you do as he says, accepting the call and pressing your phone to your ear. Jungkook gestures over to what you assume must be the bathroom. You don’t bother locking the door when you walk inside.

“Hey-”

“Oh, so you’ve finally unblocked me, huh?” you hiss and blink a couple of times, the fluorescent lights of the bathroom far too bright. It strains your eyes.

“Look, I had to,” Sooyoung says. “You were being a bad passenger and texting me when you should have been talking to Kook!”

You roll your eyes. “You left me hanging, again. I needed you, you know?”

“Oh, please.” You know exactly what look she has on her face right now. It’s the one where she thinks you’re being dramatic. “You survived, didn’t you?”

“Barely,” you spit. “A creepy guy approached me and wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What? Are you alright, Y/N?” Sooyoung quickly asks, voice dripping with a mix of worry and exasperation.

“Yeah, yeah,” you assure her, looking at yourself in the mirror and brushing through your hair with your fingers. “Jungkook came and did the entire ‘why are you talking to my girlfriend?’ shtick.”

“So, you’re alright?”

You hum.

Sooyoung waits a moment. “So, Kook saved you?”

You practically hear the smirk in her words. You groan. “You’re so annoying, you know?”

She cackles.

“Seriously, Soo, shut up,” you hiss, deciding to change the topic. “Are you guys still stuck?”

“Yeah, the railway companies are on strike until tomorrow morning. We’ll be back in town in the early afternoon. But that’s not important. What’s important is how it’s going with Kook and you. Is he still being awkward?”

You press your lips together. “I mean, no? It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be, but still... I’d much rather have you here too. I really wanted to go with you. It would have been so much fun.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sooyoung mumbles, and you’re both quiet. She’s about to cry. You can hear it in her voice. You know she must be wracked with guilt, so in an effort to spare the tears, you change the topic, “Oh, by the way, officially, you’re still on the trip with me. I didn’t tell my mom.”

She chuckles then, but it doesn’t sound all that real. “Alright, I’ll cover for you.”

“Do it properly though this time. I swear to God, if you fuck this up again, we’re done,” you joke and elicit another chuckle. It sounds more genuine, but it’s still not quite there. You sigh and tell her something you know will definitely take her mind off things.

“Did I tell you? I fucked up the reservations.”

There’s a pause.

“What? How? Are you roomless?”

“Worse,” you tell her. “There’s only one bed and the hotel is booked out.”

For a moment, Sooyoung doesn’t say anything until she bursts out into laughter, prompting a ‘What’s so funny?’ from Namjoon.

“Holy shit, Y/N! You’re joking, right?” You screw your eyes shut. At least she doesn’t sound like crying anymore. “What in the Wattpad fanfiction is this?”

“Stop fucking laughing, Soo. I’m miserable, alright?”

Your embarrassment triples when you listen to Sooyoung explain the situation to Namjoon.

“Soo!” you hiss.

“Sorry, sorry.” She’s still laughing though. Sometimes you wish your rivalry in middle school never stopped. “I’m just- this is just so funny. So what? You guys gonna sleep in the same bed?”

You hate the teasing tone swinging with her words, hate it so much you’re ready to just end the call then and there.

“You’re being a bad friend, you know?” you press through gritted teeth. “But no, we’re obviously not sleeping in the same fucking bed.” You make an effort to keep your voice low, aware that Jungkook’s just outside, sitting on the couch. You doubt the door is soundproof. “That’d be so weird.”

“Why not? I think that’d be a great bonding activity.”

You pause and if she was in front of you, you’d stare daggers into her. Your lips press into a line.

“Soo,” you begin, low and threatening, almost like how Jungkook spoke to the guy at the rest stop, “are you telling me to sleep with Jungkook?”

Sooyoung waits a moment, the silence that stretches between you feeling like forever. And then, “Hey, babe, Kook’s single, right?”

You faintly hear Namjoon's affirmative answer, followed by a confused ‘Why?’, and you think you’re ready to break off your friendship with Sooyoung.

“I fucking hate you,” you whisper, eliciting another round of obnoxious laughter.

“Look, I actually didn’t mean that,” Sooyoung tells you when she’s finally calmed down. “I was strictly speaking about actual bonding, as in friendship, you know? You’re the one that went there!”

“You said ‘bonding activity’!” you exclaim, clamming your hand in front of your mouth when you raise your voice a bit too much. You look at the door, listening to any sounds from the other side, but luckily, it stays quiet.

You lower your voice into a hiss. “Don’t blame me for going there! You worded it weirdly.”

“Ah, so it’s never your fault, is it? Just accept it, you’ve got a dirty mind-”

“I’m hanging up. Goodbye.”

And without hesitating, you end the call, watching as your screen darkens. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, shaking your head and her words out of your mind. Sooyoung’s stupid and absolutely wrong.

With that conclusion, you take one deep breath, making sure to compose yourself before heading out. One look into the mirror, you realise the frown plaguing your features has deepened. You smooth it over as much as possible.

When you walk out, you’re ready to pick up right where you left off, but instead of seeing Jungkook sitting on the couch, you find him curled up on it, knees uncomfortably tucked to his chest, a pillow under his head and a blanket thrown over him. You don’t know where he got both of those things from as the bed is still untouched. His travel bag sits on the floor next to him.

Jungkook’s sleeping.

Or well, he’s pretending to be asleep. It’s obvious he’s faking it with how stiff he’s lying on the couch.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath and throw your hands into the air. “What happened to talking about it after?”

No response.

You walk over to him, expecting Jungkook to open his eyes at one point. You know he can feel your gaze on him. There’s no way he isn’t. You’re practically digging daggers into him.

“I know you’re faking,” you say, but again, no response. You contemplate pulling off the pillow and blanket, but you can’t bring yourself to even lift your hand.

With Sooyoung, you wouldn’t hesitate at all, but with Jungkook, you’re still careful. Because even though you just spent the day getting comfortable with each other, you’re scared you might cross a line and catapult you back to your starting point. You definitely do not want to be the reason for that.

So you don’t try anything.

You heave out one heavy sigh.

“Jungkook, you said we were gonna talk,” you mumble, tired and disappointed. “You’re not being fair.”

You think you see the slightest twitch in his face, the tiniest knit between his brows like he’s contemplating maybe opening his eyes. But then, it’s gone, the lines smoothed over and you know you’re not getting him to drop his act.

Admitting defeat, you wander over to your suitcase and open it, grabbing your toiletry bag and a change of clothes.

“Just gonna say you’re gross for not brushing your teeth. They are gonna fall out, you know?”

You wait for a reaction, but of course, you don’t get one. You roll your eyes and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

Getting into bed feels weird. You’ve never liked sleeping in a bed beside your own, but you especially don’t like it when you see Jungkook curled up in that same uncomfortable and stiff position as before. You want to say something, but you know it’s in vain. So you turn off the lights and crawl under the covers.

You close your eyes, trying to sleep for a few minutes before giving up, eyes peeling open. And it’s not because it feels strange sleeping in a foreign bed. It’s because there’s a coil in your stomach, brewing and stewing in there.

A coil of guilt.

Taking a deep breath, you throw the covers off you and swing your legs over the mattress. You’re determined as you walk over to Jungkook.

“Get up,” you say with confidence you don’t know where you got from. “Jungkook, stop pretending. I know you’re not sleeping”

You think it’s the annoyance in your voice, the strictness swinging with it because finally, Jungkook does as you say and peels his stupid doe eyes open. Your gazes meet. He looks sheepish, embarrassed almost, and you click your tongue.

“Come on,” you say and grab his blanket. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“It’s fine,” Jungkook repeats, pulling back the blanket. “Seriously, the couch is comfortable-”

“Oh, shut up,” you groan and throw your head into your neck. “You’re not sleeping on the couch, okay? You’re almost falling off this thing! Look at yourself, curled up like a goddamn shrimp. How are you gonna sleep like that?”

Jungkook opens his mouth but falls short.

“See!” you laugh because this is so stupid, and he looks away, defeated.

You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing once you say this, you can’t take it back.

“Just come sleep in the goddamn bed with me.”

Before Jungkook can even begin to comprehend your words, you grab his blanket and walk over to the bed. You throw the blanket on it.

“Uh,” confusion and uncertainty swing with his voice, “both of us? In the same bed?”

You can feel heat crawl up your neck at his question. You blame him for it, for the way he words it. It’s weird, sounds wrong.

“Don’t make this weird. I’m just saying- there’s enough space, right?” You gesture at the bed. “And I-” You pause for a moment. “We’ll use your pillow as a barrier.”

Even though you try your hardest to sound confident and not let any of the embarrassment leak through, you can hear the quiver in your voice. You hope Jungkook doesn’t.

When you look at him again, he’s still staring at you, sitting up now though.

“I mean if you don’t wanna,” you’re starting to lose all of the courage you had before, “that’s fine too. I just thought that since, you know, the couch-”

“No, no, no,” he interrupts and grabs his pillow, standing up, “I’m just-”

Jungkook pauses. A smile finds his lips. You lock eyes.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I’m too.”

You don’t think you’ve seen Jungkook look at you like this before, quite frankly you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you like this. There’s so much sincerity and honesty in his eyes. You can’t handle it. You avert your eyes.

“Yeah, uh, I’m fine with it,” you cough, and wave him off. “Just, you know, a barrier.”

He places the pillow right in the middle. “Good?”

You nod before crawling under the covers. For some reason, breathing gets a bit harder as you do.

“Uh.” You snap your gaze to Jungkook at his interruption, eyes big when you look at him. “I think I’m gonna go wash up and change,” he tells you, gesturing at himself, still in his clothes from today.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you say. “Go do that.”

“Wouldn’t want my teeth to fall out, would I?” he smiles, and you roll your eyes at him. You don’t think he can see it in the darkness, but then you spot a grin on his lips.

“Just go.” You wave him off.

The fluorescent lights of the bathroom spill into the room through the crack under the door, and in the darkness, they seem especially bright and straining. You close your eyes.

“Ah, shit,” you hear Jungkook curse, followed by the faint sound of his toiletry bag dropping to the floor, and then, the calm sound of running water. Usually, you would slowly fall asleep, the sounds serving as white noise, but you can’t. Not when the realisation dawns on you Jungkook must have heard everything before.

You figured the door wasn’t soundproof, but you didn’t expect it to be this thin. Jungkook heard everything. You’re sure of it. Before you were embarrassed. Now, you’re mortified.

You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes and bite your lip, stopping yourself from groaning.

By the time Jungkook comes back, you’ve decided to go with his tactic of pretending to be asleep. Unlike him, you’re actually able to put on a pretty good act. Your acting abilities are confirmed when you hear him stop dead in the tracks.

“Oh.”

It’s quiet, barely audible, not louder than a slight puff of air, but you hear it loud and clear. Your senses are heightened and focused solely on every sound Jungkook makes. His steps are feather-light, making it difficult for you to follow where he is in the room, but when you feel the mattress dip, you know.

Jungkook moves slowly, not wanting to wake you. You almost smile at his carefulness. Sooyoung would never act like this. (In fact, she would probably bang on doors and turn on the lights just to wake you up and complain to you about how you fell asleep too quickly.)

Like it weighs a ton, Jungkook slowly lifts the blanket. You want to tell him to hurry and get into bed, but you bite your tongue, letting him do his thing. This must be a world record for the longest time to get into bed, you think.

When he’s finally lying next to you, Jungkook lets out a sigh. You can feel his presence beside you, his body pressing into the pillow. It’s hard not to notice.

Nothing happens for a few minutes, and you wonder if you could peel your eyes open and take a peek, see his back turned to you. Just as you’re about to though,

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And then, you feel Jungkook tug the blanket closer to your chin, covering you up even more. Heat crawls up your cheeks. You decide to keep your eyes closed.

Your mouth drops open when you see Jungkook’s plate, a marvellous stack of golden brown pancakes with the perfect slap of butter on top and a tiny bowl filled with brown sugary sweet maple syrup. Your bun with jam looks incredibly sad and plain in comparison, unappetising even. When you walked along the buffet, you didn’t see pancakes. How did you miss them?

“You wanna try?” Jungkook asks you, scooting closer with his chair and pointing at his pancakes. You tear your gaze to him.

“No, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

He levels you with a serious gaze, and you know he’s not just offering you out of politeness. “Yeah, just eat.”

You try not to look at Jungkook’s plate, eyes focusing on your cup of coffee, but you can’t help but take a peek when he pours the maple syrup on top. It’s illegal how good it looks. He catches you staring. Your eyes grow big before you bring yourself to look away, pretending like you’ve got a piece of lint stuck to your pants.

You bring your cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip. It’s in that moment when Jungkook transfers half of his stack of pancakes onto your plate. You start choking.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, causing other guests to look your way, but you can’t be bothered to give them an apologetic smile. “What are you doing?”

“Just eat,” he tells you and picks up his fork and knife, slicing into his remaining pancakes. You shake your head and quickly put down your cup to give him his food back, but,

“Y/N, don’t you dare. I gave it to you. It’s a gift. You can’t refuse a gift.”

You gawk at him.

“Jungkook,” you start, but he waves you off again, shoving the bite into his mouth. “It’s your food.”

“Not anymore,” he tells you, mouth still half full, and you think you would have cringed if he hadn’t just given you half of his stacks of pancakes. “It’s really good.” He points at his plate. “You should try.”

Admitting defeat, you heave out a sigh and tear your bun in half, placing it on his plate.

“Y/N-”

“It’s a gift,” you repeat. “You can’t refuse a gift.”

Jungkook stares at you then before smiling and shaking his head.

He’s inside, handling the checking out, when you realise you’re inherently weak. What other conclusion are you supposed to come to when you can't lift your suitcase into the trunk?

You groan as you try once more, propping up your leg to use as leverage, but it’s not enough. Your stance is weak, and you start toppling. Just before this can end badly, with your butt on the concrete and your suitcase on the floor, your knight in shining armour makes a second appearance.

Jungkook places one hand behind your back, steadying you, and takes your suitcase from you with the other. Like it weighs nothing, he puts it in the trunk. A part of you is offended by how easy he makes it look.

“You alright?” He turns to you, giving you a worried look. You wave him off, feeling vaguely out of breath. Whether it’s due to you straining to get your suitcase in, or the fact Jungkook still has his hand on your back, you don’t know and also don’t want to know.

“I’m fine,” you huff in the end, and his touch leaves you. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Honestly thought you were gonna watch me in the rearview mirror again,” you mumble, and his hands still around the hatchback, gaze finding yours. You crack a smile. “I’m joking. I know you’re not a douche.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but there’s a smile on his lips as he does. You fish the keys out of your pocket.

“Ready for another day of driving?”

You’ve been on the road for almost three hours when you decide to make a stop, Jungkook needing to use the restroom.

“I’ll be quick,” he says and is already halfway out of the car but stops when he sees you fumble with your seatbelt.

“I’m getting out too,” you tell him when you notice his look. “My legs are sore. But you can go first. I know you gotta pee.”

“Oh, no, I can wait.”

You don’t respond, far too busy with the seatbelt. Maybe you should not get out. Maybe that’s your sign that staying in the car would be better. But, like all of the times before, Jungkook’s here for your rescue.

“Can I-?”

This time you make sure to pull your hands away fast enough, but you still don’t dare to look as he works on the seatbelt, cheeks ablaze for some reason. Deep down, you know. It’s the proximity. It’s the fact that you can see every mole speckling his skin, the fact that you can cup his cheeks, lift his face to you and push your lips against his-

Oh, God.

It’s the lack of sleep. It’s definitely the lack of sleep.

You close your eyes and bite your tongue, focusing on thinking about anything but how close Jungkook is to you.

You only open your eyes when you hear the click of your seatbelt. Jungkook leans back, and you start to breathe again.

“What would you do without me?” he asks, grinning, and you don’t meet his gaze.

“Probably be stuck in the car forever,” you say, swallowing thickly, the words coming out breathlessly.

He grins, picking up on none of that. “Probably.”

The moment your feet hit the concrete, you sigh, in need of some movement. Your mother’s right. Driving so long really is not good for your health.

Jungkook trails behind you as you walk into the little convenience store, your steps much more hurried than his. He almost bumps into you when you stop dead in your tracks. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when he sees the other customers, all men, older men. It’s an intimidating sight. You swallow, reminded of yesterday.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks quietly, giving you a smile and stepping in front of you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you say and clear your throat. “I mean yeah, I’m alright. It’s just-”

“You want to hold my hand?”

The question catches you off guard. You look up to Jungkook. “W-what?”

“You know because-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and just looks behind him. You don’t follow his gaze because you know what he’s saying. You take this short moment to admire his face, the softness of it.

“I mean you also don’t gotta,” he clears his throat. “Just so we can prevent yesterday from happening-”

Jungkook stops when you take his hands into yours, fingers slotting with his. He looks down before meeting your gaze, a smile spreading on his lips.

“Thanks,” you whisper into his arm, and he squeezes your hand.

“Anytime.”

‘Everybody Talks’ by Neon Trees just finished playing when Jungkook turns his head to you, his phone in his hand.

“Joon texted they got back,” he tells you, and you hum. “Reminds me, you never told me why Joon and Soo were out of town.”

“Did I not say?” You pucker your forehead. “Well, you know how it’s Joon’s and Soo’s anniversary?” He nods. “Well, he decided to take out Soo for a romantic getaway.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Jungkook says, and you wrinkle your nose.

“You mean gross.”

“You think so?”

“You don’t?” you shoot back and look at him, raising a brow. You focus on the road again. “Also, look how their romantic getaway turned out. They ended up missing the roadtrip, and now we’re stuck here.”

Jungkook eyes you, words clearly sitting on his tongue, but he swallows them.

“I guess.”

So far you haven’t hit traffic yet. So when you do after hours of travelling, you can’t even be pissed. You are, however, bored.

Because there’s a sleeping Jungkook to your right, his arms crossed in front of his chest and his head stiffly pulled back.

You keep yourself entertained by playing the playlist he and you created through your earbuds, quietly jamming to it until you run out of songs and start adding to it.

You just added ‘warm’ by Junggigo and ‘Butterflies’ by Fiji Blue to the playlist when Jungkook shifts next to you. Your gaze lands on him, and you hold your breath as you watch him stir and stir until slowly, he peels his eyes open.

The first thing he does is groan.

“Ah, fuck.”

His voice is deeper than usual, thick with sleep, and his face contorts with pain. You know it’s his neck. Your assumption is confirmed when he holds it, rubbing it.

“Morning,” you greet him, quietly, earphones and phone landing in your lap. “You okay?”

Jungkook looks at you, putting on a smile.

“Hey, yeah, morning. I’m fine.” He’s definitely not. “I just slept weird.”

Jungkook rubs his eyes and stretches, groaning as he does. He blinks a couple of times, taking everything in.

“One and a half days, right?” he says, sighing. “I mean no traffic. That’s not too bad?”

You hum. “Yeah, guess we’re lucky we only hit traffic now.”

Jungkook exhales again, long and heavy, still somewhat drowsy, and looks out the window, taking in the beautiful blue sky.

“You wanna play a game?”

You turn to him at his sudden question. “A game?”

He smiles, wide awake now. “Yeah, to pass the time.”

You hum. “What game?”

“21 questions.”

“When you said play a game, you meant... ask me questions?” you say and smile when you see the look on his face.

“Well, it’s still a game-”

You give him a look, nose scrunching. “Sure,” you say. “Now hit me. What’s your question?”

“Okay, so,” a knit forms between Jungkook’s brows, “do you want to improve the world we live in?”

You still, and turn to Jungkook, your face twisting in confusion. “That’s your question? I thought 21 questions was meant to be casual, not deep.”

“Just answer the question, Y/N,” he says. “Or what? You’re too scared?”

You raise a brow. “Too scared? You think I’m too scared?” You laugh and shake your head.

“Fine, yes, I do,” you sigh. “I do wanna improve the world. I mean obviously, right? The world is shit, so of course I wanna change it.” You pause. “Do I think I will? No. But would I like to? Sure.”

Jungkook smiles. “See! I feel like I know you much better already. Okay, what would-”

“What are you doing? What game is this when I’m the only one answering questions? This isn’t an interview, right?”

He sighs. “Fine, my answer’s the same-”

“You’re not answering the same question. That’s boring,” you say and click your tongue. “No, you’re gonna tell me—” You pause to think, a knit forming between your brows. You light up when you come up with something. “—what your biggest weakness is.”

“I thought this was not meant to be an interview?”

“Just answer the question, Jungkook,” you parrot. “Or what? You’re too scared?”

And then he shakes his head before puckering his forehead in thought. “I suck at social interactions. Like, I’m awkward as shit.”

You click your tongue. “Doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean-”

“It means I already know that and these questions are supposed to get me to know you better. Think of another weakness.”

Jungkook grumbles but doesn’t protest it, pausing to think. “I can’t think of anything else right now-”

“Are you saying you’ve got no other weakness?” You drive up when the line moves. “Wow, that’s arrogant.”

“Fine, let me think.” He pauses, and you’re about to tell him it’s fine when he continues. “I guess I’m immature- well, immature isn’t the right word. I think I’m sometimes a bit... reckless.” He levels you with a look. “Good enough?”

You hum. “A great weakness. You’re hired.”

Jungkook grumbles. “Okay, now my turn. What would you change about yourself?”

“Change about myself?” you repeat under your breath, scrunching your nose as you think about it.

“I mean I think I’d like to be more disciplined. Have more self-control, you know?” You press your mouth into a line. “I’m not a very confrontational person either. If I can, I will avoid uncomfortable situations at all cost, even if that means it inconveniences me.” You shrug. “I feel like there’s always something to change though, right? We could always work on ourselves and be a better and kinder version of ourselves, don’t you think?”

“Wow, you must be great at interviews,” he says, and you grin. “Your turn.”

You hum as you try to think of a question. “Tell me your greatest strength.”

“You know you’re asking awfully lot of interview questions for the fact that you teased me-”

“Just answer the question, Jungkook,” you repeat. “Or what? You’re too-”

“My greatest strength,” he interrupts loudly, and you grin, “is probably… my patience. Also, I feel like I’m pretty nice once you get to know me and get past all of the, you know, awkwardness.”

You let out a high pitched sound. “Don’t know if I’d agree.”

He snaps his head to you, eyes blown out, and the way he’s looking at you now reminds you of the way he stared at you when you told him Sooyoung and Namjoon weren’t coming. Once again, you’re convinced if you slap him on the back of his head, his eyes would fall out.

“Y/N!”

“I’m joking!”

Jungkook stares at you, face hard and serious. You know you should take him seriously, but all you can do is laugh when you look at him.

“Stop teasing me!”

“It’s fun though,” you tell him, smiling. “Also you’re gullible. Another weakness.”

The groan that escapes him only makes your smile widen even more.

“Whatever,” he mumbles and crosses his arms in front of his chest. You want to poke him in the cheek and tease him for being such a moody teenager, but you think that will earn you a glare.

“You still wanna play your little game?”

“I thought it wasn’t a game-”

“So you don’t.”

Your words have Jungkook snapping his head to you, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. On one hand, he wants to tease you. On the other hand, he does want to continue playing. At this point, you’re beaming.

“Just ask,” you say as a sort of peace offering, a silent promise you’ll stop teasing him so much (for now at least). And he takes it, somewhat reluctantly but definitely gladly.

“What’s your biggest regret?”

You pause, and almost forget to drive up when the line moves. Unlike with the previous questions, you think a lot longer about this one, a sight that makes Jungkook smile.

“Good question, isn’t it? Got no answer, do you?”

“Well, you tell me your biggest regret then.”

He tsks you. “This is your question. You gotta answer it, not me.��

You purse your lips and think. “Probably when I decided cutting my hair with a pair of blunt kitchen scissors was a good idea. You’ll find no pictures of me during junior year.”

“That’s your only regret?” He arches a brow.

“I once touched the hot stovetop and burned myself pretty badly.”

“How old were you?”

“Six maybe?”

“That doesn’t count then,” he tells you, and as much as you want to protest, you know he’s right. Being a kid and doing stupid stuff is a given. It shouldn’t be a regret.

You sigh.

The only other thing you can come up with is the time you decided to hook up with Jungkook. It’s not the act in itself was something you regretted, but it just feels weird for you to share such a history with him. It’s unlike you. You know in a separate universe he and you hooking up probably lead to something more, a relationship maybe, one that you grew happy being in. But this isn’t the universe in which you get together with Jungkook. It’s the one in which you have to anxiously sit next to him as you hope he’ll never remember you.

“Well, I have had too much and done some stupid stuff,” you tentatively begin, trying to be as vague as possible, not wanting to possibly jumpstart Jungkook’s memories.

“Like?”

You look out your window and press your hands into your thighs. “Like think I can dance or sing all of a sudden, or that texting my ex is a brilliant idea.”

“Feel like we’ve all done that.”

His eyes are on you. You can feel it, and you know he’s not letting this go until you give him something.

“Well, once I…. went home with this guy.”

You instantly regret speaking. You don’t dare to look at Jungkook, far too scared that recognition might reflect in his eyes. You don’t know what you would do then.

“He was that bad, huh?” A laugh accompanies his question, and you try to mimic it, keeping the atmosphere light.

“I mean no, but it’s just… not like me at all, you know?” You gesture around yourself. “To hook up with people. Not something I’d do sober. It’s just… embarrassing. It has nothing to do with him, just- you know, me-”

Jungkook looks at you then, his mouth opening to say something, but you stop him, desperate to change the topic.

“Oh,” you pick up your phone, “right! I’ve, uh, added a couple of new songs to the playlist.”

He knows what you’re doing. Jungkook’s not stupid. But thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“Put them on.”

“I’m banning McDonald’s,” you say when you walk out of the third clown restaurant in less than two days. “I can’t do this again.”

Jungkook laughs next to you, still sipping on his coke. “Well, it does look like we’re gonna be at the hotel early. We can go look for a proper place to have dinner then.”

“Please,” you sigh and tuck a strand behind your ear when you feel a gust of wind. Your steps are exceptionally slow, stomach filled with a mediocre cheeseburger and greasy fries.

“Alright, we’ll do that then,” Jungkook hums. “Keys?”

You fish them out of your pocket and hand them to him. You’ve fallen into a routine. Around lunchtime, you switch.

You perk up when you see Jungkook rub his neck, face twisted in pain. You’ve already noticed him rubbing his neck earlier when you were eating.

“Hey,” he stops and looks at you, “I just remembered. I need something from the store.” You point at the little convenience store next to McDonald’s. “Go ahead. I’ll be right back.”

And before Jungkook can offer to go with you, you walk inside, hoping you’ll find what you’re looking for. They must have them here too, you think. It takes you a minute to find them, but when you do, you beam. But your smile is quickly replaced by a frown when you see the price. When you remember how he’s been rubbing and massaging his neck for the last hour, it disappears and you walk over to the checkout.

Jungkook replaced his coke for his phone when you come back, a frown etching into his face when he sees the plastic bag you’re holding.

“What did you-”

He stills when you pull it out. You hold it out to him.

“It’s for you.”

You shove it into his hands.

“Y/N,” he begins, voice soft and quiet, face softening. “Why?”

“Because obviously, your neck is hurting. Now, try it out.”

Jungkook gives you a look before sighing and putting the neck pillow around his neck, leaning into it.

“And? You feel supported?”

He smiles. “Very.”

You ball up the plastic bag and throw it into the back. “Great.”

“How much was it? It must have been so expensive,” Jungkook says, and you roll your eyes. “I’ll pay you-”

“No, you’re not,” you say.

“Just tell me how-”

“No.”

He removes the neck pillow and levels you with a look.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook,” you repeat, not nearly as serious though.

The corners of your lips quirk up when he heaves out a sigh. He closes his eyes. “You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

“Of course not,” you grin and put on your seatbelt. “Now drive. I wanna have a proper dinner.”

Even though you’ve never been to this city before, the park reminds you oddly enough of your local park. You think it’s the Magnolia trees.

Looking around, you’re glad Jungkook suggested you get takeout instead of sitting in the little dingy Chinese diner when your initial plans of going to the city’s best sushi place fell through. (They didn’t accept walk-ins.) As sad as it was (and it really was because Jungkook spent an hour comparing dozens of restaurants on Yelp and sacrificed a good chunk of his data), you’re happy you ended up in the park. Something about having dinner under the summer sky is just especially calming and beautiful, the warm sticky evening air blowing in your face.

“I like it here,” you tell Jungkook, and he hums, mouth stuffed with fried rice.

“It’s nice,” he agrees with you, and you pick up your chopsticks again, shovelling your noodles into your mouth. “But the food…”

He trails off, and you almost start laughing.

“Yeah, it’s not great,” you say and swallow. “The noodles are weirdly greasy.”

“Yeah, I can see.” Jungkook points at your oil-soaked paper container. “The rice is not good either. Too wet, and it has a weird aftertaste too.”

You hum. You did switch to noddles for a reason.

“But,” you look at him, pulling up a chopstick full of noodles, “still better than McDonald’s.”

“That’s for sure, and,” he picks up a spring roll from your shared box sitting between you on the bank, “the spring rolls are actually really fucking good.”

You grab one for yourself. “Yeah, they got those right.”

The sun isn’t setting just yet, but it is slowly losing its vibrancy, fading into the background. The light it does have left filters beautifully through the leaves and flowers of the Magnolia trees, creating soft and delicate shadows on the concrete that dance in rhythm with the wind. You sit right underneath a majestic Magnolia tree, and from your bench, you can see a small family of three having a nice little picnic on your left and a group of kids playing football on your right. You tuck your hair out of your face when a breeze blows past you. It’s not too hot or humid today.

It’s the perfect summer day.

And once again, you notice how fading and fleeting the warm months are, notice how it’s all slowly coming to a bittersweet ending, how this trip will be the thing defining your summer until next year. You smile at that thought. Oddly enough, you’re fine with that.

“It’s a really beautiful day though,” you mumble, and Jungkook looks over to you, mouth stuffed with fried rice. He pauses. “Makes up for the mediocre food.”

He sticks his chopsticks into the rice (something his mother would scold him for) and wipes his mouth. His eyes are on you, solely on you. You don’t notice. He smiles.

“Beautiful indeed.”

When you finish eating (and by finish you mean when neither of you can stomach any longer of the mediocre Chinese food without risking possibly getting food poisoning), the sun has slowly begun to set, golden hour coming to an end. The little family is long gone at this point, and the group of kids you watched a minute ago are nowhere to be seen either.

You’re gathering up your leftovers, packing them all up and making sure to leave nothing behind, when Jungkook suddenly straightens up. You’re far too busy to notice it, and by the time you do, he’s already up and walking away, leaving you without an explanation.

“Uh-”

The rest of your sentence gets lodged in your throat when he begins to run. You see it then. An ice cream truck. You hear it then too, the faint little tune coming from it. You spot the group of kids huddled around it, holding their wallets up in the air. That’s where they went, you think.

When Jungkook comes back, you’ve long finished packing everything up.

“Here,” he says, holding out a Spiderman shaped ice cream to you. “I mean unless you want Iron Man.”

You laugh and gladly accept Spiderman. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you gonna let me repay you?”

And when Jungkook just moves the plastic bags to the side and sits down next to you, you know the answer.

Is it a good idea to eat ice cream so shortly after all of that Chinese food? Definitely not. Do either of you care? Not at all.

“You think they’re on a date?” you ask when you spot two teenagers by the ice cream truck. Even from afar, you can see their fidgeting. You smile, remembering how you used to be like that too. Sometimes still are even.

“Look at him,” Jungkook laughs, gesturing towards the boy. “They’re definitely on a date. You can see he wants to hold her hand.”

You hum and go back to eating.

“You think people think we’re dating when they look at us?”

You stop. For a moment, you don’t react at all until it hits you and you snap your gaze to Jungkook, eyes wide.

“W-what?” you sputter and almost choke.

Jungkook instantly begins to laugh, a gigantic smile growing on his lips. “What? Is it so bad if people might think that?” he asks, taking a bite from his ice cream, and you would have cringed and told him not to do that if your brain wasn’t reeling from his question.

“I- what? I-I don’t-”

You stop when he laughs even more, and soon enough your face twists in annoyance, nose scrunching. A pout grows on your lips and you avert your gaze, cheeks ablaze.

“It’s not funny,” you inform him, but Jungkook doesn’t agree, grinning at you. “But no, I don’t think so.”

You still don’t look at him when you speak.

“Really?” There’s disbelief in his voice. “I mean I’m not trying to imply anything, but, you know, you and I are sitting on the bench together, eating ice cream and-”

“Sure, yeah, but this is also not a romcom in which we dance under the stars, go on coffee shop dates, and sneak out to meet in the middle of the night, Jungkook,” you interrupt, the words spilling from your lips quickly. “This is the 21st century. People no longer assume we’re dating because you’re a guy and I’m a girl and we’re having ice-”

“Didn’t you assume that they’re dating because they are a guy and girl getting ice cream?” Jungkook asks and points at the two teenagers. You still and press your mouth into a line.

His gaze lingers on you as he waits and waits for your defence. You can’t come up with anything though. So in a desperate attempt to save face, you get up and grab one of the plastic bags.

“I’m tired,” you announce, voice thin and weak.

You know Jungkook’s smirking. You expect a comment, but nothing follows. He just gets up, grabs the other bag and happily takes another bite from his Iron Man ice cream as he catches up with you.

This time you didn’t fuck up the reservations. This time there are two beds, so when you get back, there’s no discussion and fight about who takes the couch. This time you both just claim your beds.

Jungkook lets you have the bathroom first, and when you’re done, showered and washed up, you find him eating the rice from before.

“Thought it tasted off,” you say as you dry your hair with a towel, and he hums.

“It does,” he looks at you, “but it’s still food.”

You smile and sit down on the bed, pulling out your phone and checking your messages; assuring your mother you’re fine, making plans with Yeji and Sana to go shopping after the trip, and telling Sooyoung you’re back in the hotel.

“Gonna wash up,” Jungkook tells you, and you look up to find him no longer eating, everything packed up.

“Alright.”

The call comes right when you hear the shower turn on.

“Y/N!” Sooyoung greets you, the smile audible in her voice.

“Hey,” you mumble and lie down, rubbing your eyes and suppressing a yawn. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just wanted to check in with you.” You look over to the bathroom. The shower is still running. You have time. “How’s it with Kook?”

You press your lips together. “Fine.”

“See!” You have to hold your phone away from your ear, cringing at her volume. “I told you it wasn’t gonna be bad!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mumble and sigh, closing your eyes as you feel the exhaustion taking over you more and more.

“How did you solve the bed dilemma yesterday?”

“Soo,” you press through your teeth, hoping it’s enough for her to get the message.

“Oh, Y/N, just tell me! Did you guys sleep in one bed?”

You pinch your nose bridge and sigh. “Please, stop.”

“You gotta tell me! Don’t leave me hanging like that,” she tells you, and you want to groan, but refrain when you hear the shower stop.

“He took the couch, okay? Happy?” you hiss. It’s not a complete lie. Jungkook did take the couch, for around ten minutes.

“Oh, did he? How gentleman of Kook,” Sooyoung says, but you hear a smirk on her lips. You frown. “But,” your heart sinks in your chest, “Joon told me Kook told him you ended up sharing the bed.”

“I’m hanging up again,” you say and end the call early once more.

When Jungkook comes back, you’re already tucked in, phone charging on the nightstand and eyes squeezed shut. You hear him still at your sight before his footsteps resume again.

There’s silence.

Until there isn’t.

A thud.

You turn on the lamp, just to see Jungkook sitting on a sunken bed.

“Did you break-”

He presses his mouth into a thin line.

“Yup.”

Jungkook didn’t break the bed. The hotel staff informs you there’s a loose screw. It’s been fixed but needs fixing again. They apologise profusely.

You sigh when he finishes relaying all of the information. “So moving rooms, huh?”

“Yeah, uh, about that...”

Jungkook gives you a look you can’t place, but when he picks up the bedding and throws it all on the couch, it dawns on you.

“Don’t tell me…” You don’t finish your sentence. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Seems like a lot of people are going on roadtrips now.”

You bury your face in your hands. This feels like a fucking joke. Sooyoung’s right. What in the Wattpad fanfiction is this?

“Okay, but clearly I’m sleeping on the couch,” you say, and Jungkook’s quick to lie down before you can act.

“Look, Y/N, let’s not do this again. It’s my bed that broke, so I should sleep-”

“But your neck!”

“Goodnight.”

And with that, Jungkook pulls the cover over his body and turns his back to you, letting out the most obnoxiously loud and fake snore.

This time it’s not a full-size bed. This time it’s just a twin size bed. This time you still can’t let Jungkook sleep on that stupidly small couch, not with his neck pain for sure. (Why can’t hotels have decently sized couches?)

“You’re not gonna let me sleep on the couch, are you?”

You get a loud snore in response. You heave out a sigh.

“Can I trust you?”

There’s no snoring this time. You think he knows where you’re going with this. You fumble with the covers, heart thumping in your chest.

“We can’t… put a barrier this time.”

And like he’s been stung, Jungkook sits up, his eyes wide as he looks at you. You look away, and you hope the lamp is dim enough to hide the embarrassment etched into your face.

“Just-” Your voice is weak, cracking. You’re running out of air. “I can trust you, right?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s eyes soften. “Y/N, I’m really fine with sleeping on the-”

“Well—” You tuck a strand behind your ear, feeling hot all of a sudden. The AC is running though? “—I’m not. You’ve got the neck pain and the couch is also fucking tiny. Just, you know, don’t be…. weird.”

You’re certain. The AC must be broken. How else is it possible that your entire body is on fire, burning up as you speak? That must be it. The AC must have just broken.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, thinks about your proposal, and you can hear your heart grow louder in your chest, pounding harder against your rib cage.

“Are you sure?”

He asks this quietly and tentatively. It gives you the courage to look back at him. He levels you with the same look he gave you when you offered to sleep in the same bed before. You hold his gaze, somehow.

“Yeah.”

And then, Jungkook gets up, taking his bedding with him, but you stop him.

“I don’t think-”

He pauses and you gesture at the bed to finish your sentence. There’s no space. That’s what you want to say, but it never leaves your lips. He understands though, and leaves the bedding on the couch.

There’s an awkwardness hanging between you as Jungkook walks over. It’s comical really, especially when you think about the fact that he and you have done a lot more than sleep in a bed together. Sure, you had alcohol buzzing through your systems then, but still, it’s ridiculous how tense it is right now.

When he lifts the cover, you can instantly feel the tininess of the bed. He and you will be sleeping centimetres apart from each other.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologises when he bums your hand with his, clumsily slipping into bed. The apology is pointless though because his entire arm ends up being pressed against yours.

“I’m just gonna-”

You don’t finish speaking and just turn on your side, back facing towards him. He nods before doing the same. You turn off the lamp. Jungkook shifts, and when you peek over your shoulder, you see him lying on the edge of the mattress, on the brink of falling out of the bed.

You sigh. “Do you-”

He perks up when you speak, and you have to pause to gather your voice. It’s hoarse for some reason.

“Do you want to come closer?”

You whisper the question. It’s barely audible, but with Jungkookso close to you, he hears it, clearly, like you whispered it into his ear.

“I’m fine-”

“You’re falling off the bed,” you tell him, and close your eyes before forcing the words out, clearing your throat. “If you want to, you can, uh, put your arm around me.”

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t say anything. You think he’s going to decline, tell you it’s the last thing he would want-

“Are you, uh, sure?”

You want to throw the covers to the side. It’s too damn hot, your face on fire at this point.

“Yeah.”

Nothing happens and for a while, all you hear is his breathing before he starts to shift, his arm lifting underneath the cover and hesitantly sneaking around your middle.

“Is this, uh, okay?” he asks, careful to not put too much pressure on you, and you nod.

“Y-yeah.”

He clears his throat. “Alright.”

Jungkook is breathing into your neck. He must be close, you think, so close that if you turned, your lips would almost be touching. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought, glad you’re facing away from him.

“Goodnight.”

You can’t tell him the same, your voice long gone at this point.

“This is why you wanted to check out so early?” Jungkook thanks the waitress when she takes back the menu. “So we could have breakfast?”

Your face is scrunched up in a frown, confusion etched into your features. “Why couldn’t we just have breakfast at the hotel?”

Jungkook beams at you. “Hotel breakfast doesn’t compare to café breakfast, does it?”

“Yeah, but I could have slept another hour,” you say and run a hand through your hair, rubbing your eyes.

“Slept that badly, huh?”

You look at Jungkook. His face is twisted in something you can’t pinpoint.

“Stop,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’m just always tired.”

He doesn’t respond then, and just curls his fingers around the orange cup, sipping on his coffee.

You’re not lying. You actually didn’t sleep badly, and you think you should assure him of that, tell Jungkook that you’re naturally always tired because you’re a college student, that sharing a bed with him isn’t the reason for your exhaustion, but somehow, you can’t will yourself to form the words.

“It’s nice here,” you say, looking around the café, the scnet of buttery pastries and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, powdered sugar floating around, the quiet hissing of the coffee machine in the back accompanying the piano music playing through the speakers.

“Best café in the city,” Jungkook told you, and you raise a brow.

“Did you scour Yelp-”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Jungkook makes a face then, and you know longer than anyone else would, hours at least. You shake your head in disbelief and mutter under your breath, “You’ve got too much time on your hands.”

“Well, you like it here right? Totally worth it then,” he says, and as much as you don’t want to, heat crawls up your neck.

Your food arrives shortly after; a handful of golden brown waffles topped with powdered sugar, slices of strawberries and blueberries, and a steaming buttery croissant with jam on the side. The sight is Instagram worthy, your jaw dropping wide open.

“See, scouring Yelp for hours on end was worth it,” Jungkook grins, taking a picture of your food, and you frown.

“How much did you sleep?” you ask, reaching for your coffee and blowing across the surface, narrowing your eyes. There’s a click when you put it back on its saucer, a drop of coffee spilling on it. Brown clashing with washed-out purple.

“Enough,” he tells you, and you know he’s lying, the espresso shot he had added to his coffee selling him out. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s just eat.”

You comply, ripping your freshly baked croissant in half, steam wafting from it in hazy waves. You place one half onto Jungkook’s plate. He does the same, transferring half of his waffles to you.

“Is this what we do now?” he asks you when you pick up some of the jam with the tip of the butter knife.

“Seems like it.”

You smile at each other.

“Thank you,” you mumble when Jungkook helps you, once again, to click off the seatbelt. “One day I’ll be able to do it myself.”

He smiles and throws the door shut. You jump out too. “Sure, Y/N. One day.”

You give him a look, and he offers you a smile. Side by side, you walk across the mostly empty parking lot before entering the convenience store. They all look more or less the same, you realise. You see no difference between this one and the first one you walked into.

Jungkook takes your hand into his almost automatically, and you don’t even stop for a second to think about it, gripping it back.

“Is this what we do now?” you ask as you browse through the aisle, looking for something that’s not chips and nuts.

He smiles. “Seems like it.”

You give him a look before shaking your head and leading him towards the refrigerator aisle, eyes finding a prepackaged box of sushi.

“Hey, you in the mood for sushi?” You pick up a box, inspecting it carefully. It doesn’t look too bad actually.

“When am I not?” he shoots back, and it’s decided then. Rest stop sushi for lunch it is.

You pick up another box and hand it to Jungkook before walking over to the checkout, grabbing two water bottles on your way there. The clerk hasn’t even begun ringing you up when you pull out your wallet and place an obscene amount of bills on the counter.

“Y/N!” Jungkook protests, but you ignore him, shoving his wallet to the side.

“You should have let me pay,” he tells you when you walk out of the store, still holding hands for some reason, and you snort.

“Well, then you should let me pay for gas.”

“I have let you-”

“Once.”

“Twice!”

You click your tongue. “You should let me pay every time.”

Without looking, you know he’s rolling his eyes. You don’t care, a smile on your lips. Paying for lunch is a win in your books. You’re sure you’ll be paying for gas too by the end of the trip.

The sushi is mediocre at best, and worse than the Chinese takeout you had yesterday at worst, but for some reason, neither Jungkook nor you stop eating. The wasabi helps. It overpowers the refrigerator taste that’s stuck to the rice.

And as you eat, occasionally taking sips from your water, watching the cars speed past you on the highway with the AC blasting in your faces because it’s still summer and your roadtrip playlist playing in the background, you have to smile. You don’t know why, but a smile just finds your lips. And when you look over to Jungkook, it widens. Even more when he notices your gaze and gives you a smile too.

Once more, you realise how beautiful summer is, how everything feels possible and impossible at the same time, how every hour reminds you of a childhood you’ve never had, how the months are filled with either melancholy or exhilaration.

You spent too much time at the rest stop, you conclude, when you arrive at the hotel, much later than planned. Because after you both finished your sushi, you suggested walking off the food. So, you both jumped out again, and walked a couple of laps, talking about everything and nothing. And hitting traffic soon after certainly delayed things by quite a bit as well.

The problem with arriving later than planned at the hotel means responding to your mother later than planned, so when you finally do, you’re not surprised your phone lights up with a call from her a minute later.

You look over your shoulder. Jungkook just went into the bathroom, meaning you had around ten minutes to get this done if sharing a hotel room with him for the past three days taught you anything. That should be more than enough.

You’re met with the usual questions—are you alright? Did you eat? Are you enjoying yourself?—and you answer them all with relative ease, staying quiet when your mother scolds you for having chips as dinner. It’s a like any, until-

“Yes, I will-”

You’re cut off by the sound of Jungkook’s soothingly soft singing that’s very much deserving of praise and attention any other day but elicits panic in you now.

“Uh,” you start coughing and making extra noise, hoping to drown out Jungkook as you quickly walk out into the hallway, grabbing the key card before the door clicks shut.

“Are you sick, honey?” your mother asks.

“Oh, no, no, I just… choked on water,” you explain to her quickly. “I’m fine though.”

“Yeah? Be careful.”

You hum, glad she didn’t bring up the-

“Also, who was singing just now?”

You screw your eyes shut and curse.

“Singing?” You try your best to sound confused. “What singing?”

Your mother shifts on the other side, and you would have definitely caved under her gaze if she was in front of you now.

“Didn’t you hear? For a moment before you started choking, I heard a voice, singing. A boy, I think.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, uh, I don’t know-”

It’s the faint call of your name that halts you. You look at the door. It’s coming from there, you think. You pause to listen but nothing. You’re about to go back to dismissing your mother when the door opens, and a freshly showered Jungkook stands in front of you, hair dripping with water, droplets landing on his shirt, his eyes big.

“Y/N,” he says at your sight. “God, I already wondered where-”

“Mom, sorry, I gotta, uh, go-”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me, Y/N,” your mother interrupts you, and you freeze, feeling like a child. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, face contorted in horror. He presses his mouth shut, offering you an apologetic look.

“Who’s that?”

You close your eyes for a moment. “Jungkook.”

You don’t look at him when you speak his name.

There’s a long pause. “Can I talk to him?

And although she worded it like a question, you know it’s not. You hold your phone towards Jungkook, and his eyes grow gigantic. He shakes his head, backing away, but you shove it into his hands, mouthing to him just how sorry you were.

“Uh, h-hello?”

You push him back into the room, almost stumbling over his own feet as he does. You take your phone from him and put it on speaker.

“... to meet you.”

“Ah, yes, very, uh, nice to meet you too, Ms Y/L/N,” Jungkook coughs out and you sit down on the edge of Jungkook’s bed. (Yes, there are two beds, neither broken.”

“I just heard you singing,” your mother informs him, and you throw your hands into the air. How in the hell did she hear him?

“Oh.”

Jungkook looks terrified, and you grab onto his hand resting on the bed, awaiting your mother’s words with him, sharing nervous looks. He interlocks his fingers with yours, your thumb brushing over his tattooed knuckles.

“No need to be embarrassed,” she says with a smile. “You’ve got a good voice.”

“T-thank you very much.”

There’s a pause then, and you lock eyes with Jungkook once more. You think maybe you can take the phone from him, but right just as you’re about to, your mother begins again,

“In what kind of relationship are you with my daughter?”

You think it's the straightforwardness of the question, the bluntness and casualness she asks it with. It has your jaw dropping open and your eyes screwing shut in horror. Embarrassment flushes through you, and you want to say something, but the words are all muddled on your tongue.

“Are you her boyfriend?”

You can’t even bring yourself to look at Jungkook, too mortified to peek into his direction.

“Uh, I-” He’s stammering, struggling to find his voice, and you can’t blame him, words failing you and refusing to come out too. What you can’t understand though is when he decides to say this,

“Yes.”

You think you would have had a bigger reaction if you weren’t so tired. But you are, so all you do is stare ahead of you for a few seconds before crashing down on the bed, face burying into your hands.

“Oh,” your mother says, and you don’t know if she’s happy or not, if she’s going to ask Jungkook to give back your phone and scold you like she did sophomore year. “For how long now?”

“N-not long.”

“But you are serious, right?”

“Y-”

You shoot up and take your phone from Jungkook, putting an end to this before he can spew more bullshit.

“Mom, we gotta go,” you quickly say. “We’ll talk later. Bye.”

And before your mother can tell you not to hang up on her, you do and throw your phone to the side. Silence hits you, and you close your eyes again, not wanting to look at Jungkook. He shifts next to you and clears his throat. It takes you a while, but when you think you’re not going to end up strangling him, you peel your eyes open.

Your mouth parts to speak, but no words leave you. It takes you a few tries to find your voice. All you manage is a simple but desperate and confused, “Why?”

“I got nervous-”

“So you told my mom we are dating?” you exclaim, snapping back, and stare at Jungkook. He doesn’t meet your gaze, wringing out his hands.

“Well, I- you know how awkward I am!” he argues, but it does nothing to calm you, exasperation carved into your face. “When she asked if we were dating, I-I just panicked, okay? I didn’t know what to say and-”

He deflates, and you’re stuck between deciding to yell at him and silently passing away. In the end, you choose the latter, burying your face in your hands and leaning back. You can already feel the headache building up. Your mother won’t let this go. You’ll hear an earful. As much as you love her, it’s frustrating how she still sees you as a child in need of protection every step of the way.

“I’m tired,” you say after a while. You don’t know how much time has passed.

Neither of you have moved. There’s heaviness in the air. You get up without a word, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. You don’t hear the sigh Jungkook lets out.

And with that, you’re knocked right back to the starting point. All of the progress you’ve made in the last three days, the friendship you’ve built, crumbles right to the floor, lying there in shards.

You can’t sleep.

Again, it’s not unusual for you to struggle to fall asleep on your first night at a hotel. The mattress is either too comfortable or not comfortable enough. The cover is either too thick or not thick enough. The pillow either sinks in too much or- You get the point. But you know that’s not why you can’t sleep. It’s the heaviness that weighs down your chest, the tension that fills every corner and crack of the room, the rigidness you inhale with every breath.

You turn on your back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook on his back too. The two of you lying in your respective beds, and even though you’re only a handful of steps away from each other, it feels like a rift, a gaping hole, splitting you up, stranding both of you on your own lonely islands.

“Y/N?”

It’s quiet, tentatively.

“Yeah?”

Your voice sounds short and odd. You’re no longer mad- you don’t even think you were that to begin with. You were just… frustrated.

“I’m sorry.”

You turn your head to him and grip the covers. Words sit at the back of your throat, assurances that he doesn’t need to apologise, but before they can form on your tongue and spill out, he continues.

“I-I know that I put you in a weird spot, but I just-” There’s a pause, followed up with a sigh. “If you want, I’ll explain it to your mother- I just got flustered and nervous. And you’ve got every right to be mad at me, but just know I am sorry-”

He halts when you sit up and turn on the lamp. You both blink at the sudden brightness, but you move on quickly, needing to set the record straight.

“Jungkook, no,” you begin, shaking your head, eyes staring firmly into his, “don’t apologise. You don’t have to talk to my mother, I’ll figure it out myself. And actually, I wasn’t mad at you. I was just,” your gaze lowers, “frustrated because- my mother, she’s a bit protective of me, you know? She’s always been super critical of the guys I date, you know? And I’m just gonna get an earful-”

You pause and take a moment to breathe. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I should apologise. So I’m sorry, Jungkook. I put you in a weird spot. I’m truly sorry for that.”

He sits up too, crossing his legs. A soft smile finds his face. “Looks like we’re both sorry, huh?”

“I’m more though.”

His smile turns into a grin. “No, I am.”

You raise a brow. “Pretty sure I am.”

He tuts you. “I’m going to have to politely and respectfully disagree with you. I definitely feel more sorry.”

You hold his gaze. “This is gonna go on and on, isn’t it?” When he smiles, you sigh. “I’m going back to sleep. Goodnight.”

You turn off the lamp. He laughs.

And even though the issue is resolved, you don’t slip into sleep. It’s like the exhaustion that plagued you previously has dissipated, and for some reason, you’re cold. It keeps you up. You want to turn off the AC, but you don’t want to get up either and risk waking up Jungkook. So you do nothing.

An eternity passes, and you still find no sleep. Your eyes trace over to Jungkook’s side. He has his back turned to you. You press your lips into a line. In the dark, you can’t figure out if he’s sleeping or not.

“Jungkook?”

And like you yelled his name, he snaps his head around. “Yeah?”

He’s wide awake. Still, you keep your voice small when you continue, “Are you sleeping?”

“Yes, I’m sleeping right as we speak,” he tells you, and you send him a glare in the darkness. You think you can make out a smile on his face.

“I can’t sleep.”

You’re not sure why you tell Jungkook this, how he’s supposed to solve that problem for you, but the words are already out there and you can’t take them back. You expect a snarky comment, something annoying that will make you roll your eyes, but you’re met with the opposite.

“Do you want to watch something?”

You look at him with big eyes. “What would we be watching?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you, and even though you’re very much overwhelmed with the unlimited choice, you smile.

“Let’s.”

And just like that, the lights get turned on again, the night feeling foolishly young once more.

Jungkook digs out his laptop from his suitcase and you fish out the only bag of chips you have left from the first day.

“Where do we…”

You trail off, but Jungkook knows what you’re asking.

“My bed?”

You nod and grab your pillow while he sets everything up.

When you’re both finally in bed, covers thrown over you, hands taking turns to reach into the chips bag, he presents you with the hardest question anyone has ever asked you,

“What do you want to watch?”

You frown as you look at everything Netflix offers. You can’t choose, of course, so you choose to shoot back the question.

“What do you want to watch?”

Jungkook starts scrolling, mouth pressed in a line. “A film or-”

“Film.”

“Alright,” he clicks on the film section, “let’s see what- oh, how about Spirited Away?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “No, no, no, that’s too scary-”

“Scary?” Jungkook raises a brow.

You look away. “Look, I get scared easily, okay? No face is kinda scary, don’t you think? It’s also the middle of the night-”

“But I’d be watching with you.”

You scrunch your nose, shaking your head no again. “Let’s just watch Totoro.”

You feel bad for shooting down his suggestion.

“We can watch Spirited Away after.” You shove a handful of chips into your mouth, mumbling while chewing, “You can protect me then.”

Jungkook looks at you, his hand stilling in the chips bag. You don’t return his gaze.

“You know, since you’re my boyfriend or whatever,” you add quickly and clear your throat, hoping it’s obvious that it’s a joke as you search up Totoro. You don’t have to look to know there’s a smile on his lips.

“Gladly-”

You start the film, and Jungkook quiets down. You don’t feel cold anymore, not with him pressed to your side.

And as you lean back to watch, quietly munching on the chips, you know you were wrong. You weren’t knocked back to the starting point of your friendship. He and you have come a long way, figuratively and literally.

You’re first to wake up.

The first thing you notice is the weird taste in your mouth, and you curse your past self for thinking having chips after brushing your teeth was a good idea. The second thing you notice is the arm around your middle, an arm that unmistakably belongs to none other than Jungkook; the tattoos confirming your assumption. The third thing you notice is just how close he is to you; his breath in your neck, his chest against your back, warmth radiating off him.

Your heart beats heavy in your chest, heavier than usual. It should scare you, but for some reason, it doesn’t. For some reason, when it’s Jungkook, you feel at ease.

And even though waking up in the same bed as him prompted you to run out last time, you don’t even feel a smidge of that same panic. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. Actually, no, you do feel something. You feel like closing your eyes again, slipping back into slumber with him.

So you do.

Before you drift back though, you wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t run out two years ago.

When you finally wake up, it’s the middle of the day. A glance at the clock and you come to the mortifying realisation that you have exactly five minutes to check out. Clearly, not enough time.

You’re hurrying around the room, picking up everything that belongs to you and throwing it into your suitcase (because even though you didn’t unpack, you still have quite a bit lying around) when Jungkook suddenly stills, neck pillow in his hand.

“Do you want to stay another day?”

“What?”

“I mean, we’re not gonna check out in time anyway, right? And so far we haven’t had the time to explore any of the cities we’ve been in either, so how about we do it now then? Let’s stay another night.”

Your brows knit together. “But I mean…. don’t we have to, you know, drive-”

“It’s just another eight hours until we’re-” He cuts himself off, flicking his wrist. “You know what? Forget it. It’s a stupid idea.”

Jungkook dismisses his suggestion before you can even think about it, going back to packing up, hooking the neck pillow to his bag before grabbing the clothes he has lying around. You watch him for a few seconds before taking out the shirt he just folded and throwing it onto the bed.

“Let’s stay another day,” you smile, expecting a smile from him too, but Jungkook doesn’t, face twisting in something you can’t figure out. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I ironed the shirt before the trip. It wrinkles really easily,” he tells you quietly, a strange noise coming from the back of his throat. He’s in pain. “But it’s fine. I-I can iron it again. At home. Later. Actually, I didn’t want to wear it on the trip anyway.”

It doesn’t sound fine at all.

You cup your hands in front of your mouth. “I’m so sorry-”

Jungkook stops you from walking over to the bed and desperately try to smooth out the wrinkles, shaking his head.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he assures you again, and now it actually sounds fine. “Really, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him nevertheless and rub your hands together, eyes drifting to the side.

He gives you a smile. “Well, I’m gonna go down and talk to the reception about us staying another night.”

“Go do that.”

And when the door shuts, you smile.

Being alone for once, you take the chance to pull out your phone to text your mother a long-winded explanation of last night and how Jungkook and you are merely friends. You think that will do for now, assure her you didn’t keep another boyfriend secret from her. Still, you’re certain you’ll get an earful once you’re back.

“And now, if I may draw your attention to your right here—” You turn your head, a smile growing on your lips as you watch Jungkook struggle to find the rest of his sentence. “—you’ll see this… gorgeous little famous brick building.”

You raise your hand. He picks you. “What is it famous for?”

“Ah, yes, great question, young lady,” he coughs, and you can quite literally see the wheels turn in his head. “It’s famous… for its ghosts.”

And even though he doesn’t word it like a question, it very much sounds like one.

“Ghosts?” you repeat, raising a brow.

“Yes, ghosts,” Jungkook repeats, doubling down. “Happy ghosts though. Not spooky ghosts. I know how easily you scare.”

You roll your eyes, regretting revealing this information to him. “Please continue your tour.”

“Right, yes, follow me.”

Once your reservations were settled, you realised neither of you know what to do with all of that extra time. A city tour was thrown around, but it turns out booking a city tour on such notice is more than difficult. But Jungkook was quick to tell you anyone could give a city tour. Hell, he could do it!

So here you are, walking through the streets with Jungkook as he scrambles to make things up as you go, pointing at buildings you walk past and telling you about their supposed history.

“And this,” he stops and you look up, “is probably the most famous sight-”

“A McDonald’s?” you deadpan, scrunching your nose.

“A McDonald’s,” he says with a nod, and you raise your hand again. “Yes, please?”

“So where can I get my money back because clearly, this tour is a scam-”

“Y/N!”

“You’re telling me that McDonald's is the best thing this town has to offer? This is supposed to be the best city tour ever? A sham, I tell you!”

“I’m trying here.” A dramatic pout grows on Jungkook’s lips, and you can’t help but laugh. You pinch his cheek.

He scrunches his face and pushes your hand aside. “Y/N!”

“Well, if you’re gonna pout like a child, you’re gonna be treated like one,” you tell him, smiling.

“If you’re so dissatisfied with the tour, do it better-”

“I never proclaimed myself to be the best tour guide around though,” you shoot back, and he scrunches his nose.

“Being a tour guide is hard, alright-”

“You just suck.”

Jungkook presses his lips into a line and stares at you. You give him a smile, enjoying this far too much.

“You’re mean, Y/N, you know that?” he hisses, and you laugh. “I’m not doing the tour anymore.”

“Thank god,” you exhale, placing your hand on your chest, feigning relief. Jungkook gapes at you. You laugh again. “Come on, let’s just go.”

“Where to?” he asks you, and you hook your arm with his, smiling.

“Anywhere,” you say.

Jungkook blinks at you before finally, cracking a smile too.

“Anywhere it is.”

You walk side by side, exploring the streets and corners and shops this city has to offer, dipping in and out of cafés and bookstores on your way. And at some point, you’re holding his hand. You don’t notice it until you have to let go at some point and reach for Jungkook’s hand again. You can’t say whose hands wandered first, but you can say it feels oddly natural. It feels oddly right.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jungkook asks you with a smile when the credits start rolling, the outro music of Spirited Away filling the air around you. He turns his head to you.

“Shut up,” you mumble, downing the last bit of wine you have left in your paper cup (this hotel is the opposite of fancy). “But no, it wasn’t.”

He grins at you over his shoulder as he puts away his laptop. “See, I told you.”

“The film still traumatised my young self, alright? The ghost-”

“No Face,” he supplies.

“Right, yeah, anyway, that guy’s fucking scary when you first watch the film. The way he follows Chihiro and won’t leave her alone?” You shudder and shake your head.

Jungkook’s still grinning when he fills up his paper cup with wine, gesturing for you to hand him yours.

“Cheers.”

Jungkook clinks his paper cup with yours, and your shoulder shakes with laughter as you drink, eyes locked with his. You’re first to break, your hand quickly coming up to your mouth to stop any of the wine from spilling.

“You’re so stupid,” you tell him when you’ve managed not to make a mess of the sheets, coughing a bit. Jungkook laughs.

You place your half-empty paper cup on the nightstand and lie down, tired from the day and alcohol. You’re tipsy, for sure. Jungkook follows you, throwing the blanket over you. You’re quick to snuggle into it. Your faces are close, inches apart. One of you should back away, allow for more space, but neither of you even think of it. You just lie in the quiet together.

The warm yellow glow from the lamp on the nightstand spills beautifully down Jungkook’s face, softening his features to butter. It accentuates the gentle slope of his nose, contrasts the moles imprinted on his skin, and brings out his starry doe eyes, eyes filled with so much gentleness and goodness you think your heart is going to burst if you looked into them too long.

Gazing at him, you can’t help but smile at the thought that all of this wouldn’t have happened if Sooyoung hadn’t convinced you. You would have never gotten to know Jungkook the way you do now, seen all of his sides—the awkward and shy one, the brave and protective one, the caring and kind one—, and realised he’s one of the best people you’ve ever met.

You thank Sooyoung.

“Hey, Y/N?”

He speaks quietly, in a whisper. You match his volume.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook doesn’t avert his eyes when he speaks, “Are we friends?”

You blink a handful of times, taking a moment to think about his question. A smile curls on your lips when you come up with the answer, “Almost.”

He raises a brow. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost.”

Jungkook stares at you before chuckling, shaking his head. “I’ve never gone on a roadtrip with any of my friends, or even shared the same bed with them. Not even Joon, and he’s my best friend. And now you tell me we’re just almost friends?”

Your smile widens into a grin. His eyes are digging into your face. You don’t meet his gaze. “Looks like you’re not that close with your friends then.”

He lets your words settle into the air, only expressing his disapproval with a click of his tongue and a scrunch of his nose.

“But it’s weird, isn’t it?” you begin quietly, still not looking at Jungkook. “It’s weird to think about how quickly we’ve grown close. This trip almost didn’t happen, you know?”

He looks at you.

“When Soo suggested you’d come, I wasn’t… thrilled.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “But can you blame me for being hesitant to be stuck in a car with a stranger? I didn’t want it to be awkward.” You turn your head to the side, eyes finding his. “And I wasn’t wrong. Remember when-”

“Yes, I remember,” Jungkook quickly interrupts. “I remember how awkward it was-”

“You mean how awkward you were,” you correct and earn yourself an eye roll from him. “What? Are you denying it?”

“I’m not,” he mutters, scrunching his nose. “But it’s not like you tried to make it less awkward.”

“Well, sorry, I didn’t say anything when you put the snacks in the back, or when you silently watched-”

“I get it, Y/N,” Jungkook interjects, a dramatic pout forming on his lips. It takes you everything not to pinch his cheek.

“You know, I was so sure I was going to regret it, you know?”

“Agreeing to let me come?”

“Yeah, I mean you and I were strangers before this. Even with Soo and Joon around, I wasn’t sure it wasn’t gonna be… weird.”

“But you don’t regret it, do you?”

You think about the last couple of days, think about all of the experiences you’ve made, how you’ve won a new friend, and you can’t contain the smile that slips onto your lips, stretching from one cheek to the other. The answer is obvious.

“No, I don’t.”

And even though you aren’t looking at each other, gazes tracing the ceiling together, you know there is a smile on the other’s lips. Silence hits you, comfortable silence.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hum in response, growing too tired to speak, eyes starting to fall shut. You think Jungkook notices, think that’s why he’s pausing, to contemplate whether or not to continue. But you’re wrong. He doesn’t pause because he picked up on your exhaustion, his mind racing far too fast for him to. He pauses because he doesn’t know if he should bring it up in the first place, let the words slip that have been on his tongue forever now.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “But we aren’t strangers, are we?”

He speaks quietly, and you don’t think you would have heard him if you weren’t lying in bed together, side by side. You want to turn your head, but for some reason, your neck feels oddly stiff. Your brows knit together.

“What… do you mean?”

And then there’s another round of silence.

It allows your mind to ponder over his words, dissect them into their own pieces, pull them apart, syllable for syllable, figure out the meaning of them separately and then together, and before you can come to any kind of conclusion, Jungkook speaks again,

“Remember when you asked me about my biggest regret and I wouldn’t tell you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Do you still wanna know?”

You should probably ask him where this was going, tell him he’s jumping from one thing to another, but-

“Yeah.”

Jungkook shifts. There’s a feeling growing in your gut. It’s not bad, at least you don’t think. It’s just there, alerting you.

“There was this girl,” he starts, and you listen closely. “I met her during a party two summers ago. She bumped into me. Almost spilled her drink all over me. We talked the entire night, even played a round of beer pong even though neither of us like beer.”

Your heart begins thumping in your chest, heavy and hard. The realisation hits you so fast you can’t even look away. It whips you right across the cheek.

Jungkook remembers.

“Somehow, we ended up at my place, and,” something like a smile finds his lips, “well, one thing led to another. The next morning though,” you know what he’ll say, “I woke up alone.”

You close your eyes and swallow.

“So my biggest regret is probably never asking for her number,” he whispers, his words breathed into the air, floating around in the room, lifted by the warm light, presented right in front of your eyes. You don’t want to look at them, heat crawling up your neck at their sight. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, you tell yourself. It’s the exhaustion and alcohol. That must be it.

“Or you know, not telling her I’d love to get to know her more and she can stay for breakfast if she wants,” he says. “I would have loved it to wake up next to her.”

You are his biggest regret?

It makes no sense. It seems absurd to you. He must be joking, you tell yourself. There’s no way any of this is real, that he didn’t get upset at your disappearance but simply disappointed and sad, that the night you shared together left as much of an impression on him as it did on you.

“I can’t believe you remember,” you say, voice thin and weak.

“Of course, I did.”

He turns to you then, and instantly, your heart stops in your chest. You wait, count the seconds, anticipating his words. You don’t know what you’re expecting him to say, but it’s not this,

“I thought you were really cute.”

His confession knocks the air right out of your lungs, all of it escaping you in one go. If you had it in you, you’d turn to him and meet his eyes. But your gaze remains stuck on the ceiling.

He’s drunk, you repeat to yourself. The words are laced with alcohol, for sure. His mind is clouded with drunken foolishness. It must be.

“Jungkook-”

The rest of your sentence never leaves your lips, a terrible knot in your throat. Words are clumsy on your tongue, your mind jumbled with thoughts you can’t even begin to dissect. It’s terrible, the minute of silence feeling so full and empty at the same time. You learn just how loud being silent can be, how deafening, how heavy.

“I’m serious.”

But still, you can’t respond, your mouth opening and closing in a desperate manner to get something to spill out. Nothing comes out though. You can’t quite find the words, but you think he knows. You think he knows you want to apologise for leaving the morning so abruptly, think he knows you haven’t forgotten either, think he knows you would have stayed if he had just asked you to.

The click of the lamp snaps you out of your thoughts, suddenly plunged into darkness. Jungkook lies back down, pulling the covers over you. It marks the end of your conversation.

Your mouth presses into a line and your eyes flutter shut because you know very well you aren’t going to find your voice until tomorrow morning. You curse yourself and your inability to speak. It’s stupid. You know very well how much courage it must have taken him to tell you all of this, and here you are, lying in silence and-

Your train of thought is stopped when Jungkook grabs your hands underneath the covers and interlaces his fingers with yours. It’s then that you look at him, head twisting to the side, eyes meeting his. And you know, this isn’t the alcohol speaking. It’s him speaking, every word is his.

Jungkook glows, you discover, because, in the darkness, you can see him crystal clear, bright as the stars and the moon combined, outshining everything and anything.

“I still do.” His eyes stare into yours. “I still think you’re really cute.”

And when Jungkook carefully puts his arm around your waist, you know it’s fine you can’t respond right now. You inch closer to him, your bodies practically melting into one. His touch is warm and comforting. It feels right.

You fall asleep.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” you say, scrunching your nose and looking at the McDonalds bag in your lap. “Our last dinner on the roadtrip.”

“For now,” Jungkook adds, putting on your shared roadtrip playlist. He takes the brown bag from you and unpacks it. “Don’t forget, we still have to drive back in a week.”

You take the cheeseburger he hands you. “What happened to my McDonald’s ban?”

Jungkook unwraps his burger and bites into it. “Well, we’re in the middle of nowhere and unless you prefer stale chips, go ahead.”

You’re pouting as you unwrap your cheeseburger. “Whatever.”

He smiles.

You haven’t talked about last night. When you woke up, you thought you would, but you didn’t. You honestly can’t say how, but it’s not awkward. Still, there’s an elephant in the room, or, well, in the car, sitting in the back with you and patiently waiting for one of you to address it.

“Can’t believe we never thought of eating in the back,” Jungkook mumbles, dipping a fry into the sweet and sour sauce. You’ve arranged a spread on the middle seat, the bag serving as a plate.

“I know, right? It’s so crammed in the front.”

“Well, now we know better,” Jungkook says, and you hum, grabbing a chicken nugget and throwing it into your mouth, wiping your greasy fingers and mouth on the napkin you have in your lap.

“Can’t believe we’re almost there,” you mumble, taking a deep breath, the weight of the journey dawning on you. “We really drove for five days straight, huh?”

“Four,” he corrects. “But yeah, crazy to think about. Didn’t feel all that long though.”

“I thought it would be worse and more exhausting.”

Jungkook locks eyes with you, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, it was really fun.”

You smile too. “Yeah, really fun.”

And then you go back to eating, munching on your respective burgers, grabbing a fry or chicken nugget in between bites. By the end your bellies are so full, neither of you want to move, in need of a break. All you manage to do is gather your garbage in the McDonald’s bag before collapsing again.

“What was your favourite part about the trip so far?”

Jungkook turns to you at the question, eyes meeting yours. He frowns. “Probably when we had Chinese food in the park.”

You nod, approving of his choice. “Yeah, that was really great and fun.”

“What about you?”

A smile grows on your lips because you already know your answer. “Your shitty city tour.”

Jungkook levels you with a look, shaking his head. “It wasn’t that shitty.”

You laugh. “It was.”

“Y/N-!”

“Just accept it. It was really bad.” He pouts. You grin. “But it was really fun too.”

“You mean fun for you,” he hisses. “You laughed at me.”

And at his words, you have to laugh again. As much as he tries to act upset, Jungkook has to mirror you, the corners of his lips involuntarily pulling up.

“Sorry.”

“Please, you’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m not,” you admit and grin at him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and shakes his head. You look at him when he suddenly sits up.

“What?”

“Let’s take a picture!”

You blink at his enthusiasm. “What?”

“We never took any pictures.” He pulls out his phone. “Let’s take some now.”

He pats the seat next to him and you’re quick to move in, knees knocking against his. You adjust your hair to your liking, Jungkook patiently waiting for you to finish, his phone already up in the air and ready to go.

“Alright?”

You nod, giving a small smile and holding up a peace sign as Jungkook clicks on the shutter. He mimics you, his smile toothier than yours though.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say and he stops, turning his gaze to you. “The way we’re sitting-” You click to view the pictures. “Look, it’s kinda awkward.”

Jungkook hums, agreeing with you. “How about this?”

You stiffen when he puts an arm around you and pulls you even closer to him. But you relax soon after, a smile forming on your lips.

“This good?” he asks you, loosening his hold on you, clearly ready to back off again, but you’re quick to nod. In fact, you inch a bit closer to him, your face right next to his as you prepare for the new set of pictures.

Your faces quickly morph from toothy smiles to tongues sticking out and your features contorting in odd ways. The pictures go from casual to silly in a matter of seconds. In the last couple ones, you’re squishing each other’s cheeks, and by the end, you’re laughing.

“Oh, this one’s cute,” Jungkook says and shows you his phone. You lean over to look. It’s one of the first ones when you were still trying. You’re smiling into the camera, your hand thrown up in a peace sign. Jungkook has his arm around you, a smile on his own lips, but instead of staring into the camera like you, his eyes are on you.

You pause, the look on his face surprising you. It’s so soft and gentle. It’s like he’s looking at something very dear to him, something precious, something he loves. But he’s simply staring at you.

“Yeah… it’s cute,” you mumble, voice much quieter now. And when you lift your eyes and meet his gaze, your voice disappears into thin air. Because Jungkook’s right there, in front of you, his face inches away from yours.

This is it. You know. If you were in a romcom, you’d kiss. You’d share your epic first kiss, sitting in the back of your shared car after four days of driving across the country, four days of getting to know each other, four days of sharing the same bed. This is the moment. The moment that will define this summer, the moment in which you’ll tell Jungkook all of the things you wanted to say yesterday but didn’t have the courage to. The moment that will bring you and him together.

It’s there, right in front of you, dangling and waiting to be grasped and held tight, seized.

Your eyes darken as they lower to his lips, heart thumping loud and heavy in your ribcage, everything inside you screaming at you to do it, to finally find the bravery you couldn’t muster up yesterday and two years ago when you first ran from him. Your hand grips onto his knee for support, and Jungkook’s here to provide it, his hand gripping yours, encouraging you; the other one finding anchor around your waist, his phone somewhere on the floor, forgotten about.

You feel his breath on your lips. It’s about to happen. You’re mere split seconds away from it when the sound of your phone ringing cuts through the air.

It’s gone.

The moment dissipates into thin air right in front of your eyes, leaving behind a cloud of awkwardness.

You break apart, the distance between you feels endless. Your heart sinks in your chest, the feeling of Jungkook’s touch imprinted on your skin, still hot and burning, questions hanging in the air.

You’re scrambling to the front when you pick up the call, pressing your phone to your ear to the point your knuckles turn white. And even though there’s a part of you that’s glad that you were interrupted because you don’t know what would have happened after the kiss, there’s another part of you that’s cursing yourself for switching your phone from silent to loud.

“Yes, hi,” you sputter, clearing your throat and stumbling into the passenger seat.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sooyoung greets you, and you don’t look in Jungkook’s direction when he gets into the driver’s seat, his phone back in his pocket. He lowers the music. “Where are you guys?”

You frown. “Uh, we-we are having dinner.”

There’s a pause, and you hate the silence because it makes you so acutely aware of the silence between Jungkook and you.

“Are you alright? You sound weird.”

“Weird?” you say with an exaggerated chuckle. “What? No, of course, I’m alright.”

Sooyoung hums on the other side, sounding more than less convinced. “Well, if you say so.”

“I’m alright. It’s alright,” you repeat, and you don’t know if that’s for her, you, or Jungkook. “Anyway, why, uh, are you calling me?”

“Oh, right-” Sooyoung cuts herself short and you think you can hear someone talk to her. You frown, the voice sounding a lot like Taehyung, but just before you can ask, she returns. “Uh, can you tell me when you’ll be at the hotel?”

“Why do you wanna know when we’re at the hotel?” you ask, your frown deepening. You glance over to Jungkook. He has the same look on his face.

“Just because.”

Now it’s Sooyoung who sounds weird.

It takes you a moment to get it, your frown slowly disappearing at the realisation.

“Soo, are you at the hotel?”

Jungkook snaps his head to you, and you turn on speaker phone. There are hisses and curses from the other side until-

“Surprise!”

You wince, the onslaught of voices blowing out your speakers. Jungkook and you look at each other.

“Yeah, hi, we’re at the hotel,” Taehyung says, confirming your previous assumption. The smile’s evident on his lips. “So hurry the fuck up, you two lovebirds, and get your asses here.”

“Lovebirds?” Jungkook sputters, exasperated and embarrassed at the same time. “We are no- what are you talking about, Tae?”

You can practically see Taehyung roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, just-”

He’s cut off by Seokjin. “Hey guys, how are you?”

“Uh, good,” you answer for the two of you, confused and struggling to wrap your brain around this. You’re not catching up really. “H-how are you guys all at the hotel? How did you get there? And who’s at-”

“Everybody. Everyone’s here, grandmas. How are we at the hotel before you when you had like a two-day head start?”

The insults continue, your friends berating you for taking so long. Namjoon puts an end to it, taking the phone and telling you to just get here as fast as possible, promising to explain everything once you’re at the hotel.

When you hang up, you feel tired. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s.

“Ready?”

Somehow, there’s no awkwardness anymore. You’re not sure how that’s possible, if it’s the fact that your friends are all waiting for you at the hotel that distracts your minds enough, or the fact that it can’t ever be awkward between you anymore because there’s trust and comfort. Either way, you’re glad.

“Sure, yeah.”

You sound less than ready, and Jungkook smiles before slotting the keys into the ignition.

“We’ll be fine.”

You hope he’s right.

It turns out that once Sooyoung and Namjoon got back in town, Hoseok was quick to propose to drive after you guys. After all, he’s just finished all of his exams and is down for a little adventure. Jimin joined in next as the second driver. And with Jimin in on it, Sana and Yeji jumped on board too. Soon enough your gigantic friend group was packing up their things for a last-minute summer roadtrip, Nine people crammed in three cars. With so many people, the costs were down to nothing, hotels and food costing a penny, and the great number of drivers allowed them to go for hours on end without breaks.

And by the end, you feel dumb for not suspecting anything earlier. You should have because Sooyoung’s daily calls stopped all of a sudden. But you were too preoccupied to notice.

“I’m really so sorry,” Sooyoung tells you once you’re in your room, and you sit down on one of the two beds.

“It’s fine, Soo,” you say, patting her hand. “It was actually fun with Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” She’s studying your face for any hints of deception. “You’re not just saying that? You can be honest now. We’re not on the phone anymore.”

“Well,” you sigh, “as much as I hate to admit it, but you were right. He really is nice. So no, I’m not just saying that.”

And at that, Sooyoung lights up. “Told you so!”

You give her hand one more squeeze before lying down, sinking into the mattress. She follows you.

“Oh, did he recognise you, by the way? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

You keep your gaze trained on the ceiling as you contemplate what to tell her. You don’t think you want to get into it all, not now at least when so much is still not resolved, when you don’t know yourself what’s going on between Jungkook and you.

“No.”

“Oh.” Sooyoung sounds disappointed, you think. “Well, glad I was right again.”

You hum.

Your conversation quickly moves on to her romantic getaway with Namjoon because she hasn’t gotten much of a chance to tell you about it, the fact she was stuck in another town taking precedence.

“Anyway, I think I’m gonna wash up,” Sooyoung tells you and slaps your knee before getting up. It’s only then that you see her suitcase in the corner of the room. You straighten up.

“Wait, are we sharing a room?”

She looks at you from her crouched position, pyjamas in her hands. Her brows knit together. “Who else do you think you’d be sharing a room with?” Her lips quirk up into a smirk when you don’t respond. “Kook?”

You laugh, but it sounds off. “What? No! I-I thought you were sharing a room with Joon.”

She shakes her head and gets up, her toiletry bag and pyjamas in her hands. “No, you’re stuck with me, Y/N. Kook’s with Joon.”

You nod and barely register Sooyoung walking into the ensuite bathroom, one thought occupying your mind.

You won’t be alone with Jungkook anymore.

[jeon jungkook - 00:32] : hey are you still up?

[you - 00:32] : yeah whats up?

You watch as the three grey dots appear and disappear for a few seconds, and you’re about to ask him to spit it out when-

[jeon jungkook - 00:32] : you wanna meet up in the car?

You’ve typed out the answer and hit send faster than you can blink.

[you - 00:32] : be right there

You don’t even check if Sooyoung’s actually sleeping or not when you climb out of bed and leave, your phone and the keycard to the room are the only things with you. And even though it’s summer, it is a lot chillier at night. You shiver once you’re outside, but you push through, marching across the empty parking lot.

When you get in, Jungkook’s already sitting in the passenger seat.

“Nice pyjamas,” he tells you with a smile, and you roll your eyes. He’s still in his clothes from before.

“Thanks,” you say, shutting the door, shivering when the AC hits you.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jungkook asks you, disbelief on his face, and you grumble.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a wuss that gets scared by everything and is also cold sensitive.”

“You’re not cold-sensitive, Y/N. You’re slight temperature changes-”

“Is that why you texted me?” you interrupt.

Jungkook sits back and shakes his head. “Obviously not.”

He pauses and shuts off the AC before taking off the flannel he’s wearing. “Here.” He holds it out to you, and you can’t meet his eyes when you accept it. It’s a bit big on you. It brings instant warmth. You smell him on it.

“How is it with Soo?”

“Fine,” you say. “How’s it with-”

“Fine too.”

Neither of you say anything for a moment. “Is it just me-”

“-but it’s weird to share a room with other people, right?” you finish his sentence, and he’s quick to agree with you.

“Yeah, it does feel… weird.”

There’s another pause.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Alright, let’s do this.”

You frown. “Do what?”

But instead of elaborating, he just gets out, gesturing for you to follow him. Left with no other choice, you do, wrapping his flannel tighter around your body when a breeze hits you.

“What do you-”

You’re cut off by the sound of ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ by Stevie Wonder playing through Jungkook’s phone. He gives you a smile when you look at him, walking over to you and grabbing your phone and the keycard out of your hand to put it on the ground, next to his own phone.

“What are we-”

Once again, you don’t finish your question, Jungkook taking your hands into his.

“We’re dancing,” he tells you with a grin, and before you can even protest, he spins you around.

“Jungkook,” you say when you’re facing him again, cheeks ablaze. “I can’t dance.”

“Just go with it,” he says, but when he sees the knit between your brows, he adds, “Trust me.”

And with that, you can’t help but let him lead you, his hands guiding your every move as you dance in the empty parking lot, spinning like you’ve got a clue of what you’re doing.

“See, you can dance,” Jungkook whispers when you’re back in his arms. “You’re great at this.”

You shake your head at his compliment, disagreeing, but it’s a nice thing to hear.

And so you continue, clumsily and slowly dancing around, feet shaky and hesitant as you move. Stars are dotting the night sky, shining down on you, the moon high up there, smiling, the lonely street lamp you’re under illuminating you like a spotlight, the flannel billowing out around you with every spin you do. At this moment, as you hold Jungkook’s hands, you’re convinced it’s just you and him in this world.

And right at this moment, you can feel it—the summer magic in the air, the endlessness of tonight, the potential and possibilities all around you, the looming question of where is this going?. It’s all right here, surrounding you, and for some reason, it’s not scary.

It’s not scary when the air is warm and fuzzy and the moon and stars are above you, lighting up the sky, and summer is puncturing every minute that passes by. It’s not scary when you’re holding Jungkook’s hands and gazing into his eyes.

By the end of the song, you’re out of breath, panting. But you’re smiling too. And when it plays again, neither of you let go of one another. Instead, you start to sway. You rest your head on Jungkook’s chest, eyes closing as you listen, his heart beating under your ear. His arms sneak around your middle. He holds you close.

You never thought you could feel at peace and terrified at the same time, never thought you could feel like this when the realisation sinks in with you.

You’re falling- no, tripping for Jungkook, stumbling over your own two feet and plunging head first into darkness, the unknown.

The fall is inevitable, you realise. It’s been happening for the past two years; starting on the first night you spend together and continuing with every quick glance you caught of him when you walked across campus, fuelled by the stories Sooyoung would relay to you every week, the jokes she’d tell you he made that day, and now propelled faster by this trip, by the hours locked in the car together, the nights slept in the same bed, sharing the same blanket, hearts beating side by side, closer than ever.

There’s no stopping this, and you don’t know if you would want to even if you could.

You’re not sure what it is, if it’s the summer magic floating in the air, but falling in love, giving your heart to someone, pulling it out of your chest, loosening it from its roots in between your ribs, gift-wrapping it and tying a bow around it, to hand it over to Jungkook for safekeeping, for it to be his and his only, seems less daunting than ever. In fact, it seems right, the only possible thing you could be doing now, a natural progression.

And even though you haven’t landed yet, haven’t gotten to the end of your fall, you know it will be fine. You know it will be soft and gentle. You know there will be someone to catch you. Putting your heart into Jungkook’s hands, as terrifying as it is, is the natural thing to do. You shouldn’t be so willing to give a piece away from you, to hand it over so easily, should want to run away in panic, but for some reason, you’ve never wanted to do anything more.

“We’ve done it all,” Jungkook whispers into your ear during the harmonica solo, and you stop swaying.

“What do you mean?” you ask, and you can hear him smile.

“You said this isn’t a romcom in which we dance under the stars, go on coffee shop dates, and sneak out to meet up.” You peel your eyes open and look at him. He’s grinning at you. “We did it all.”

“Jungkook-”

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers and gazes deeply into your eyes, his features soft and glowing under the streetlight. He’s never been more beautiful. You can feel your heart in your ears, every beat. You think you know the secret.

You nod.

“I love you.”

And even though you already knew it, your lips pull up into the biggest grin, fireworks exploding in your stomach, heart swelling in your chest to the point of eruption.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him, voice shaky with excitement, and lean impossibly closer, hands gripping his shirt because you need something to hold onto.

“Please,” Jungkook practically pleads, and you don’t hesitate a second to say it, letting the three words escape you that have been sitting inside you for ages now.

“I love you too.”

And then, you press your lips to Jungkook’s, going up on your toes to reach him, eyes fluttering shut, finally doing what you should have done a long time ago. He holds your middle, his nose bumping yours as he kisses you back, firmly. Even though this isn’t your first kiss, it does feel like it—sparks ricocheting through your entire body, time freezing to a stop, nothing mattering more than him right now. Jungkook is every star and every moon in this world. He is the summer and the autumn and the winter and the spring. He is everything.

The kiss ends far too soon. You’re already yearning for his lips again, for him.

“You think your mother is gonna kill me if she finds out I kissed her daughter?”

You smack his shoulder, or, well, you try because you’re breathless and can’t muster up much. It’s a hit, and barely qualifies as that. It’s an attempt. It’s enough to make him smile though.

“Jungkook,” you say, “I swear to God, if you mention my mother again after kissing me, you’re never going to kiss me-”

He cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours one more time, cradling your cheeks. You allow it, leaning into it and kissing him back, grip tightening around his shirt. It feels too right to stop. You already know, you won’t ever get enough of the kisses, won’t ever stop kissing Jungkook, for even a second.

And when you part this time, you rest your forehead to his, needing the support, and there’s no doubt in your mind, Jungkook will always be there to provide it. He’ll always be there to be your rock, your person to lean onto, you can count on.

“Oh,” he says, digging through his pocket, and you watch as he pulls out a set of keys. They shine under the streetlamp, bright and dazzling. He takes your hand and wraps your fingers around them, the jagged edges lightly digging into your skin.

“You forgot these at my place.”

Your eyes grow big, mouth dropping wide open.

“Jungkook-” you begin but don’t finish, sputtering. You shake your head, a smile on your lips. “You know these would have been useful two years ago, right? I had to walk to Sooyoung to get the spare key from her.”

He grins at you and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Well, better late than never, right?”

You meet his gaze and smile. He doesn’t say it, but you know. “Right, better late than never.”

Jungkook and you are the last ones to arrive for breakfast, strolling up to the table together, enough space between you not to raise any suspicion, not wanting to reveal the news to your friends just yet. It’s best not to drop this first thing in the morning, you decided together. Luckily for you, there are exactly two empty seats next to each other.

You’ve just come back from the buffet (waffles for you and pancakes for Jungkook) when Sooyoung looks at you.

“Did you go out last night?”

You freeze. “What?”

“I think I heard you sneaking out in the middle of the night,” she says, taking a sip from her coffee.

“Oh.”

You don’t know what else to say. It’s all you can muster up.

“Well,” you refrain from looking at Jungkook, “no, I, uh, didn’t.”

“Huh.” She blinks. “I could swear I heard the door opening at night-”

“Wait, Yoongs, didn’t you say you saw Y/N and Kook last night in the parking lot?” Hoseok brings up, and you stiffen in your seat, fingers curling around the armrests. Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath, his knee jerking uncontrollably. Everyone around the table quiets and looks at you two. Probably not the best idea to sit next to each other.

“Y/N?” Sooyoung says, her eyes as big as saucers. Namjoon chokes on his drink next to her.

Sana gasps, clamming her hand in front of her mouth. “Shut up, are you guys-”

“No, what? Don’t be ridiculous!” Jimin denies, shaking his head. “There’s no way-” He pauses when he sees the look on Jungkook’s and your face. “Wait…”

“Did you really see-?” Taehyung turns to Yoongi, sitting on the edge of his seat, and the older takes a sip from his orange juice, keeping everyone waiting, the suspense rising with every moment of silence.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Oh my god,” Yeji mumbles under her breath before turning to Jungkook and you, her mouth slowly splitting into a gigantic grin. “Are you guys-?”

You share a look. “Uh, I, well-”

“Didn’t you kiss too?” Hoseok blurts out, speaking without thinking. “That’s what you said, right, Yoongs?”

“You kissed?” Taehyung sputters before beginning to slow clap, and Namjoon’s quick to tell him to stop it.

“Kissed and slow danced,” Yoongi confirms, clearly believing Jungkook and you have been a thing for a while now, failing to realise that he’s revealing your relationship to everyone on your very first day as a couple. “Or was that not you?”

Jungkook and you share another look. Even though this isn’t the way you imagined telling your friends, you don’t mind. Because what difference does it make?

“No, that was us,” you say.

“You didn’t see wrong,” Jungkook confirms with a nod.

And at your confession, your friends gasp before erupting into hollers and cheers. None of them care that guests are shooting them dirty looks. They’re far too happy for Jungkook and you to care. You love them so much, as embarrassing as this is. The support is heartwarming.

“Congrats to you guys!” Namjoon grins, Sooyoung next to him is far too shocked to say anything.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m so happy for you two!” Yeji coos.

“A toast from the newly wed couple please!” Seokjin gestures at you to stand up, but neither of you make a single move.

“We’re not married!” you say, and Jungkook thanks Sana when she slaps Seokjin’s shoulder.

And since the two of you aren’t really toast-making people, Jungkook saves you by lifting his glass of water into the air like it’s an expensive flute of champagne.

“Cheers!”

You’re first to raise your glass too, clinking it with his. Your friends are quick to follow suit.

Jungkook looks over to you.

To us.

You grin.

Sooyoung gives you a tight hug, whispering into your ear just how happy she is for you and that she’ll pack and switch rooms. You thank her; for everything, you say, truly everything. She shakes her head.

And when Jungkook and you look at each other again, you know you’ll always get half of his breakfast and he’ll always get half of your breakfast, and he’ll always hold your hand at every rest stop and gas station and every time you need it, and you’ll always buy him a neck pillow when his neck acts up again and hold a water bottle to his lips when he’s thirsty and driving. You know you’ll never have to fight over who sleeps on the couch anymore, but you’ll always have to fight over who gets to pay.

You smile, and it widens when Jungkook transfers half of his pancakes onto your plate. You do the same.

“Good morning,” Jungkook smiles when he sees you stir and peel your eyes open, putting his phone aside to lie back down with you, pulling the covers over the two of you. Your eyelids are still heavy with sleep. Keeping them open is hard.

“Morning.”

Your mood doesn’t drop until you think of today’s agenda and remember, you’re driving back. You groan.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, a pout growing on your lips, and Jungkook smiles, pulling you closer to him.

“Neither do I,” he tells you. “But we have to.”

You sigh. “I can’t believe it. How has it been a week?”

“Well, time flies when you’re having fun.”

You bury your face into his neck and pull the covers tighter around you, your body pressed up against his.

“And when it’s summer.”

Jungkook grins. “Yeah, and when it’s summer.”

“And when I’m with you,” you mumble and look at him with a smile. Jungkook cups your cheek and presses his lips to yours. And even though the kiss lasts mere seconds, you feel the same sparks ricochet through your body like when you first kissed him. He’s still every star and moon in this world, still summer, autumn, winter, and spring. He’s still everything. And you know, that will never change.

“And when I’m with you too.”

→ links don’t work, but i’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback! thanks for reading !!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #ficscafe #52hertz #linh.fic #(road)tripping for you

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matwith1t · 3 years

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A/N: Back with angst 👊 Fair warning, this fic is pure angst. All of it 🔪 It’s heavily inspired by Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, and it’s the fic where I project my fear of staying stagnant in life (oops). I have a somewhat working outline for a part 2, but I’d love to know your thoughts!! Also, this fic has a brief smut scene, so if you’re not 18+ hop on over to my masterlist for something else !

Summary: Your long-term relationship with Mat brought you more happiness than anything else in the world. But one day, something in your gut felt different, an emotion that you couldn’t quite place felt off. And maybe, that feeling was the catalyst for you wanting a change in life.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂 | Mat Barzal x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Smut, Swearing // WC: 11.2K // Angst

The sun felt warm against your face and the grass beneath you tickled your ankles. With the month of May nearing its end, the sweet smell of spring could still be detected in the air during the seasonal transition to summer. From a distance, the soft sounds of children laughing while running through the park tugged your lips upward into a small smile.

A sense of ease flooded your body as you laid directly on the grass with your arms tucked behind your head. The vital force that came with being outside in the springtime energized your body to the point where you felt your body produce more natural endorphins. You treasured the outdoors––it would always remain a sacred place for you––but as you laid upon the grass, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach clawed its way up at a deliberately slow, and unwarranted, pace.

It felt like a secret message your body was trying to communicate with you, but you didn’t have the tools on how to decode it.

The feeling came in and out, like ocean tides, but you did your best to push it aside when the uneasiness surfaced. So far, everything in your life had been smooth sailing––everything had been going according to plan––so you never paid that feeling any attention.

There wasn’t anything in your life that you wanted to change.

With a deep breath, you tried to inhale as much of the fresh spring air as possible.

“Hey, sleepy.”

With one eye squinted open, you brought a hand from behind your head to shield the sun rays from blinding your face. And when your vision adjusted to the sunlight, you saw your boyfriend at an upside down angle. In his arms he held a blanket as he waved down at you. A smile instantly graced your lips as you shut both of your eyes, before opening them slowly.

As Mat shook out the blanket before spreading it out on the grass, you sat up, and stuck your legs straight out, “You’re a bit late.”

Without looking at you, Mat rolled his eyes, “Practice ran late.”

When the blanket was laid out on the grass, Mat sat down and patted the spot next to him. With a smile, you made your way to sit next to him. Your smile widened when you saw he already had an arm raised for you to tuck yourself into his side.

“It was a morning practice,” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, “It’s nearly four in the afternoon.”

With adoration in his eyes shining just as bright as the spring sun, you felt yourself fall more in love with him. His hand dangled over your shoulder as he lazily traced circles on your upper arm, “Tito wanted ice-cream.”

A laugh of amusement, mixed with disbelief, escaped your lips as you placed both hands on his chest to push him away, “You liar.”

With your shove, Mat tightened his arm around your shoulder as the two of you fell backward on the blanket laughing. As you laid on your side, Mat readjusted his arm around you, with your head on his shoulder. His sweatshirt felt soft, and his chest continued to shake with laughter.

“Practice did run late,” Mat reiterated his first point, to which you only hummed in acknowledgement, “And then Tito said he wanted ice-cream, but he wanted to go to this specific shop.” Mat placed a kiss on your temple, “Would’ve told him to go alone if I knew how much time it’d take.”

Again, you hummed, as you rested a hand on his stomach, “Did you at least tell your boyfriend that your girlfriend said hi?”

Mat scoffed at your remark and poked your stomach in retaliation. You laughed at his childish behavior and moved a bit down the blanket so your head now rested just below his heart. He pulled you closer to him, and with your face nuzzled into his sweatshirt, you took a deep breath and savored how much his sweatshirt smelled like home to you.

He smelled almost as good as spring.

The hand that you had on his stomach rose up and down with his even breathing. And as you laid outside on the grass, surrounded by the spring air and the person you loved most in your life, you felt nothing but peace. Comfortable silence wasn’t uncommon in your relationship. While his voice soothed your most anxious thoughts… hearing the birds sing their melodies, listening in on the slight rustle of tree leaves whenever the wind blew, and the sound of steady breathing, paired with Mat’s slightly faster heartbeat, was more calming than anything.

“I can’t wait until that’s us.”

You peered up at Mat to see his vision locked in on something to his right. In order to see what he was referring to, you propped your chin up on his chest. It didn’t take you long to see that something was really a someone. And upon squinting to get a better look, that someone turned out to be a man, woman, and a child.

Your only response to him was a hum as you traced shapes on his stomach, hoping that your touch was strong enough to distract him from the conversation you knew he was about to bring up.

“I love you,” his words were strong, not faltering in the slightest, as he stared down at you with a promising look in his eyes. He picked up your hand––ultimately putting a stop to what you had hoped would distract him from this exact conversation––and pressed a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “So much.”

Mat gently placed your still connected hands on his stomach as you craned your neck up to press a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, too.”

He squeezed your hand twice, a look of amazement in his eyes as he stared up at the sky with a soft smile, “In a few months, It’ll be six years since we’ve been together.”

Your head softly fell back onto his chest as you nodded. Because while you’ll be celebrating six years of officially being in a relationship, the two of you had known each other much longer. He was the annoying kid at the end of the cul-de-sac who chased you around front yards and threatened to give you cooties. And you were the little girl who ran away from him, pretending to be disgusted whenever he got too close, but secretly loved his attention.

And that’s when your crush on him began.

From playing group games with other kids at neighborhood block parties, pairing up to sit next to each other on the bus in elementary school during field trips, to Mat asking you to the winter formal in eighth grade on a dare…Your infatuation towards him only grew.

By the time you were both eighteen, Mat realized his feelings, and asked you out on a date.

Playing games with other kids went to spending one-on-one time with Mat on dates. Sitting next to each other on the school bus as little kids went to Mat picking you up in his car as teenagers. And going to dances together was no longer the end product of a dare.

Even when Mat went to Seattle to play hockey, the two of you still kept the connection while you stayed in Canada. The four years of University were easier; with Mat playing for the New York Islanders, and your top choice for school was in New York City, it didn’t take more than a second thought to accept the offer.

As if Mat had the same memories playing on an endless loop in his head, he let out a relaxed breath, “I can’t wait until we buy a house, tell our kids how we met, and take them to this park.”

The uncomfortable familiar feeling you felt earlier in the afternoon creeped up your stomach, “You really have it all planned out.”

“I have our life,” he squeezed your hand as he made a point to emphasize a shared future between the two of you, “planned out.”

You were positive he could feel your heartbeat increase. And while the pounding of your heart could easily be mistaken for the heightened feelings you felt whenever you were near Mat, you knew something else was causing this distress. There was no one in the world you loved more than Mat. You loved your family because they were family, but you made a conscious decision to love him. And despite some hardships, he chose to love you as well.

But thinking about the future made you squirm.

A future with Mat was all you ever desired. You knew he was the one person in the universe made for you when you were halfway through university. And you were pretty sure Mat knew you were his person by the fourth date.

You still kept some of your notebooks that had doodles in the margin. The psychology notebook from junior year of high school had Mat Barzal, with hearts dotting around his name, in every blank space. And even in university, your senior year thesis notebook had script writing of your name paired with his last name, so you could practice a potential new signature for the future.

Since the seventh grade, this was everything you daydreamed about with Mat; a future together. Happiness always fogged up your mind whenever you thought about a lifetime together with him, you wanted this, but everything felt like it was approaching faster than anticipated. And the undisclosed feeling in the pit of your stomach wasn’t going away no matter how hard you tried to only think about a happy future with Mat.

Wanting to feel anything other than whatever made your stomach churn, you leaned up to press a lingering kiss to Mat’s jaw. Then you pressed another kiss to his neck, and another further down at the base of his throat. With each kiss you pressed to his skin, the feeling subsided more.

When you detached your lips from his skin and sat up, you heard him let out a discontent hum. With his eyes closed, he wasn’t aware of the adoration in your eyes as you looked down at him. You studied everything about his face; the slight pink coloring on his cheeks despite it almost being summertime, the downward curve on the bridge of his nose, and how he somehow still had a slight smile on his face when he wasn’t awake.

A satisfied silent sigh passed through your lips as your index finger trailed across his silver chain. The jewelry felt cold on your fingertips, but with the way Mat still had a hand holding onto yours, your whole body burned like a furnace. Unable to resist the pull you felt toward him any longer, you leaned down and pressed an innocent kiss to his lips. You lifted your head up, pulling your lips away from his, but Mat brought his free hand to gently lay on your cheek as he lifted his head up slightly to bring you back into a kiss.

It was soft, delicate, and reminded you of the first kiss you shared after your second date outside of his car when he dropped you off in front of your house.

With his thumb caressing your cheek, his fingers curled around your neck to bring your lips closer to his. And as you smiled into the kiss, he slowly lifted himself up until he was properly sitting. You pulled away from the kiss again, not wanting to get carried away while in public, but Mat followed your lips and kissed them one last time.

Your hand that was on his shoulder slowly inched toward the back of his neck where you played with the ends of his hair. He leaned his forehead against yours and whispered, “Wanna get pizza?”

You threw your head back in laughter and Mat dropped his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist for a hug. Leaning into the hug, you continued to thread your fingers through his hair, “Yeah, pizza sounds good.”

“Good,” Mat pressed a featherlight kiss under your jaw as he unwound his arms from around you to stand up. He reached a hand out for you, and with a smile, you placed your hand in his as he pulled you up.

Once on your feet, he tugged on your arm so that you were pressed flat against his chest, caught in another hug. Never one to deny any of his hugs, you wrapped your arms around his waist as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His arms were strong and his body felt warm. You melted into his touch like you had for the past five––almost six––years.

But then his stomach grumbled, and you leaned away from him with an amused smile on your face, “Pizza?”

Mat smiled back down at you and nodded, “Pizza,” he said matter of factly as he unwrapped his arms from you and began to fold up the blanket.

When he had the blanket draped over his arm, he reached his hand out again for you to take. Happily, you slid your hand into his, as the two of you began to walk through the park to a pizza place down the street.

The pace of your walk was slow. Normally you wouldn’t mind a slow pace, but it was making the unknown and unwelcome feeling creep back up in your stomach. The feeling seeped through every crevice of your body as Mat recounted a story of how he almost got hit in the face with a puck at practice. And the feeling wedged itself deeper and deeper into the middle of your chest until you arrived at the pizza place.

“Your eyes look pretty today,” Mat offhandedly said as the two of you slid into a table after ordering.

You tilted your head, shoulders instantly relaxing at the sound of his voice, as a soft smile slowly made its way onto your face that was brighter than the sun the two of you just sat under.

You propped your elbows up on the table, resting your chin on your hands, as you looked at the love of your life with nothing but fascination, “Your eyes always look pretty.”

Mat reciprocated your beaming smile.

And the unknown feeling vanished.

–––

The spring air dwindled away and the crisp air of autumn slowly began to replace the weather associated with new beginnings. Even though the seasons changed, the heaviness in your chest you felt in May was still present in September. No matter what you did, or who you spent time with, the feeling continued to grow until it latched onto your deepest insecurities. And it wasn’t until you had an honest conversation with your best friend that she told you the feeling was anxiety.

Anxiety.

What did you have to be anxious about? What was so terrible in your life that made you nauseous in the mornings, kept you up until the late hours of the night, and had you constantly bouncing your leg up and down while sitting? Your life had been going exactly according to plan––exactly how you thought you wanted it to go. All you wanted was for it to disappear, but you couldn’t pinpoint what made you anxious. Which made it hard to try and control the feeling.

But there was one thing you did that proved successful in making the anxiety subside.

With your bare chest pressed up against Mat’s, his fingertips slightly digging into the skin of your hips, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as you inhaled a sharp breath. You had just experienced a shuddering orgasm on his lap, but he wasn’t quite finished.

Mat wrapped an arm around your body and flipped you over. You opened your eyes briefly to see him crawling up your body, adjusting himself in this new position. With raised eyebrows, he offered you a soft smile. And after you gave him verbal confirmation you wanted him again, he nudged your legs apart and guided himself in. You hadn’t fully recovered from the previous act of shared intimacy, but that didn’t matter to you.

The only thing that mattered was getting rid of the tortuous feeling that consumed you.

But when your hips met, and you heard Mat inhale a sharp breath, the feeling lessened.

You always looked forward to that––Mat’s breathless smile when your pelvic bones first connected in a deep thrust. There were other things, too. You knew things about Mat that nobody else knew. Like how Mat always crinkled his nose when he first became aroused. How his biceps were especially ticklish if you dragged your fingertips across them. How it drove him crazy when you would wrap your legs around him, hooking him in to pull him closer. Or how Mat would press a lingering kiss to your cheek when he was perilously close to the edge.

And it was that last movement that brought you out of your head––Mat pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

With a ragged breath, you trailed a hand up his arm––skipping his biceps––and curled an arm around his neck. Your fingers delicately moved up his neck as you weaved your fingers through his hair, and then slowly let your hand drag to the side of his face; cupping his cheek. And with a series of quick, deep thrusts with Mat on top, was all it took for your walls to clench around him as you lost your breath momentarily.

As you rode out the high of your orgasm, Mat was close behind. With a few more thrusts, you knew he released when his movements slowed down with a few snaps of his hips. After he inhaled a deep breath and released it through his nose, Mat rested his forehead against yours and then opened his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered unintelligibly while trying to catch his breath.

You rubbed your thumb over his cheek, “I love you, too.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, nuzzling his head into the palm of your hand, before a shy smile broke through. With a gentle peck to your lips, Mat rolled off you and quickly disposed of the condom before rolling back into bed.

When Mat was back at your side, he propped himself up with his elbow and stared down at you. Shuffling a bit down the pillow, you pulled the sheets up to your neck and peered up at him. With his free hand, he took one of your hands and lazily played with your fingers. He went from slowly moving his fingers between yours, to his fingertips leisurely moving from the bottom of your palm to the tips of your fingers. And when he had done that for a few moments, he started tracing the lines on the inside of your palm.

The only sound in the room was the two of you silently breathing; basking in each other's presence after a few moments of shared intimacy. Even in the silence, all you heard was him whispering I love you on repeat in your mind.

Every time he said those words to you felt like the first time. And even hearing the echo of them from your memory caused a scintillating smile to unashamedly grow on your face. You diverted your gaze from him playing with your hand to look at him.

Mat’s eyes were already focused on you.

His eyes were the first thing you fell in love with. You didn’t know if you fell in love with him when you were twelve years old; when his wide, nervous eyes offered you a stick and asked if you’d to join his team for street hockey. Or when you were nineteen; when his earnest eyes were bloodshot as he confided in you that he was scared of losing the connection of your relationship when he went to Seattle. No matter what emotion he held in his eyes, you always loved them.

And even now, his eyes were soft. His eyes were so full of love, but there was another emotion swimming around in his eyes that you had only seen before he asked you out; longing.

You didn’t know what he was longing for as he stared at you. A creased formed in between his eyes as he scrunched his eyebrows together. Removing the arm you had under the pillow, you raised your hand and rubbed the crease until his eyebrows relaxed. He offered you a small smile, but this smile was more one of concern rather than happiness.

Like you did earlier when Mat was on top of you, you trailed your fingers down his cheek until you cupped the side of his face with your palm. Slowly, you caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“Are you alright?” Mat whispered.

It was your turn for your eyebrows to scrunch together and a crease to form between them. And while you momentarily retracted your hand from his face, you snapped out of your shock, and moved your hand up to brush a piece of loose hair out of his face. The piece of hair didn’t stay in its place, so you pushed it back once more, as you tried to distract yourself from the growing feeling of anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

The piece of hair continued to fall in front of his forehead, so you focused all of your concentration on making sure it stayed away, “Of course I am, why?”

Mat shrugged his shoulders. And he took your hand that pushed his hair back and intertwined your fingers together, “You seem a little…off.”

You snorted, “We just had sex twice,” your facial expression held a serious look, but your tone of voice was teasing, “Are you complaining?”

Mat let out a breathy laugh as he squeezed your hand, “That’s not––That was incredible––Really really good––definitely not complaining,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I feel like I can say I know you better than anyone else, and…I don’t know.” His eyes dropped to your intertwined hands, and he tried his hardest to force a smile before looking back at you, “It feels like something’s been up the past few days.”

Few months, you wanted to correct him.

You shook your head, trying to ease both of your nerves, “I uh––I’m thinking of looking at grad schools?” you let the little white lie easily slip, “But I’m not seriously looking, it was just a thought.”

Mat playfully rolled his eyes, “Knew something was up,” he brought your connected hands up to his lips to press a reassuring kiss to the top of your hand, “If you do seriously consider grad school, you’re probably the most well off person to apply.” At his confidence in you, you tucked your chin into your chest.

“It’s just…” you inhaled a shaky breath, wanting to come clean about your unknowing anxiety, but something held you back, “I don’t know.”

Mat dropped your hand and slowly stroked the side of your face with the back of his hand, “It’s a lot to think about. But there are plenty of great schools in New York,” when his lips turned upward in a smile, you felt your stomach drop, “Whatever you want, we’ll figure it out together.” Mat pressed a kiss to your cheek, “We have all the time in the world.”

His voice, full of optimism, matched the hopefulness behind his eyes, and his smile finally met his eyes. And the longer you stared into his eyes, you saw a glint of something you had never seen before; devotion.

You don’t know when it happened, but you accepted the fact that you would marry Mat––spend the rest of your life with him. There was no lengthy discussion, but there seemed to be mutual acceptance. Mat always spoke so passionately about starting a family with you when he saw a toddler run around the park. And whenever you drove past a house you liked, you always made a passing comment about how nice it would be to raise a family with him.

You wondered when you started to feel so uncomfortable with the feeling of security.

–––

The month of September was slightly better, but not by much. The anxiety was still present and you kept Mat in the dark about everything. But it was difficult to confide in him when you didn’t even know the root of the problem. You couldn’t pinpoint the cause of anxiety, and you thought the feeling would disappear in June.

But it was now October and your anxiety had escalated to suffocation.

Suffocation.

It felt like there was a bag of twenty-pound rocks tied to your ankles and you were drowning. When you didn’t feel like you were drowning, you felt as if someone was smothering you with a pillow. And when you finally felt free from the smothering, it felt as though someone had cut off your air supply. But there was one thing that temporarily relieved the feeling of suffocation.

And it came with an acceptance email from Georgetown University in Washington D.C.

When you applied to a handful of universities to continue your education, you thought your anxiety was based around a fear of not excelling to your full potential. So, with that in mind, you took the little white lie you told Mat a few months ago and applied exclusively applied to grad schools only in New York City. But a program at Georgetown caught your eye and it was the only school outside of New York you applied to. You hoped for the best, but deep down you had a gut feeling the prestigious school in D.C. would reject you.

But when you received a fairly large envelope in the post, one that was not the size of a rejection letter, you felt a brief moment of freedom.

It is with great pleasure that we offer you admission…

You had read the opening line of the letter ten times before skimming the rest of the offer letter. The amount of confidence and pride you felt swell up in your chest was short lived. Because your new friend, suffocation, quickly swallowed up those feelings.

You had never considered moving out of New York––never considered moving away from Mat––but here you were, internally debating with yourself on whether you should take this offer seriously.

There was too much going on in your head––too much going on in the city––as you walked down the sidewalk. Every step you took toward your home felt like walking on a tightrope.

You had a university acceptance offer…Step one…The university was nearly 300 miles away from Mat…Step two…You had other university acceptance offers for school’s in New York…Step three…But the anxiety only grew when you received acceptance letters from schools in New York…Step four…And all of the anxiety went away with the D.C. offer…Step five…Does Mat have something to do with your anxiety––

You didn’t let yourself finish the last thought.

Mat was your person. There was not a chance the universe would play such a cruel trick on you. Life wasn’t fair, but life wouldn’t rip you away from Mat.

Right before you entered your apartment building, you dug out your phone and called your best friend. Once she picked up, you begged to spend the night at her place, saying you needed to get out of the city. She agreed, but you heard the curiosity behind her voice.

Knowing that mat would be waiting in your apartment, you hurriedly hung up before entering the elevator. The ride up was daunting, and the lights that blinked whenever you rose to a new floor felt as if they taunted you. They were yellow and bright, something you had not felt in quite some time, but the lights didn’t care as they flashed in your face.

When the doors parted open to your floor, you scurried out and opened the door to your apartment. You breezed right in before you changed your and decided to drive straight to Newark.

As expected, Mat sat slumped against the couch cushions as he pointed the remote at the television. He couldn’t seem to pick a channel that held his interest. When he heard the door open, he turned his head and you offered him a small wave as you set your bag on the floor.

“Good day?”

You shrugged your shoulders and walked over to sit next to Mat on the couch, “Average,” you leaned your head on his shoulder, “How was your day?”

Mat mimicked your shrug, “Just practice. Uneventful.”

You let out a snort, “What thrilling lives we live.”

That earned a loud laugh from Mat, “Exhilarating,” he leaned over and kissed your forehead, “So, for dinner? We have stuff to cook, but there’s this new place a few blocks over I thought we could try––”

Lifting your head up from his shoulder, you moved away from him slightly as you brought your legs up to your chest, quickly cutting him off, “I’m actually––I’m going to Newark tonight.”

A few awkward beats of silence passed before Mat spoke with a cracked voice, “Oh?”

Nodding, you leaned your chin on your knees, “Haven’t seen Melanie in a while,” you mentioned your best friend, “Just need to get out of the city for the night.”

“Everything alright?”

Mat’s voice was laced with hesitance, as if he didn’t know if he wanted an answer to his question.

You gulped and hugged your legs closer to your chest, “Yeah I––It’s a girl’s night. We just need to clear our heads.”

Mat nodded in understanding. He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer finger, “Clear your head,” he repeated cautiously as if he sensed there was an ulterior motive. He closed his eyes, and after a few more beats of silence, he opened them. And you felt your heartstrings tug in your chest when you saw the amount of yearning behind his stare.

“That’s…” he cleared his throat, and nodded his head slowly, as he looked at the television, “good.”

He didn’t phrase his words as a question, but they weren’t a statement either. It was Mat convincing himself that you leaving the city was fine…That you were fine…That the relationship was fine.

To ease his doubts––because there was nothing in your life that you were more certain of than your love for him––you took his hand, “It’s just for one night.” Your voice didn’t waver, and you spoke with double the confidence, hoping to transfer some of it to the boy who sat across from you.

“No, yeah that’s fine,” Mat bit the inside of his cheek, “Time with your friends is good.”

Mat never verbally recognized the small rift forming between you two, but in this moment, you knew he could feel it more than ever. And when you felt him pull his hand away from yours, you panicked and squeezed his hand twice. It caught his attention, and you smiled at him, “We’ll try out the new place tomorrow night for dinner.”

There was a far off look in his eyes, but he nodded in agreement.

Mat only using the bare minimum to communicate with you drove you up a wall. You didn’t like how he avoided conversation, and you didn’t like the feeling in your stomach that came with it. He’s disappointed in you, a voice in your head spoke up, you’re leaving him alone when you know he doesn’t feel confident about your relationship––

In order to silence the voice in your head, you did the only thing that you knew would keep it quiet.

You leaned forward, gently placing both of your hands on Mat’s cheeks, and kissed him. At first when he didn’t kiss back, you feared that you wouldn’t be lucky this time around to quiet your insecurities. The toxic coping mechanism you fell into every time wasn’t working. Panic rose through your body fast, and just when you were about to give up hope, he kissed you back.

A sigh escaped your lips as Mat pressed a hand firmly to your lower back to pull you closer.

You needed to be closer.

His hands carefully held your waist as your hands traveled from the sides of his face to the nape of his neck.

You needed to feel closer.

He kissed you harder, hands creeping up your shirt as he was always one to crave skin-to-skin contact. You let your hands delicately move down his neck to his shoulders––lifting your touch on his skin to avoid his biceps––and let your hands fall onto his chest.

Closer.

You needed to physically feel as close as possible to Mat; because emotionally, you felt as far away from him as ever.

–––

The forty-five minute drive from Long Island to Newark was filled with songs from the shared Spotify playlist you had with Mat.

He created it when he first went off to play hockey in Seattle claiming it would be a fun way to stay updated with each other's lives. The playlist was full of songs that reminded either of you of each other, upbeat heavy rock songs that Mat listened to before a hockey game, or more mellow songs you heard in a coffee shop while studying.

Since Mat had started the tradition of creating a shared playlist each year, there was a new playlist for almost the entirety of your relationship. And on your lonesome drive to Newark, you pressed play on the playlist from 2015.

You left your apartment after a silent cuddle with Mat that lasted a few hours; legs tangled together, synchronized breathing, and featherlight touches. There was a moment where Mat removed his arms from your waist––he said he was cold––and asked if you had a sweatshirt he could borrow. Reluctantly, you got up and trudged to your room to look for a sweatshirt of his you once stole.

A black sweatshirt caught your eyes and you picked it up. The Seattle Thunderbirds logo printed on the front, you toyed with the hoodie strings, debating on if you wanted to give him his sweatshirt back. It was one of the first ones you sneakily stole from him in the beginning of your relationship. And as much as the sweatshirt was rightfully his, it had made a home in your drawer over the years.

Missing the way his arms felt wrapped around you, you walked back to the couch––Thunderbirds sweatshirt in hand––and offered it up to him. Mat quickly tugged it over his head, ruffling his hand through his already messed-up hair, and then pulled you down to lay next to him.

He left your apartment wearing the sweatshirt.

After replaying the memory of Mat walking out of your place with his sweatshirt, you found yourself at your best friend’s townhouse sooner than expected. She ushered you into her kitchen saying she was almost done boiling the kettle for tea.

The only words exchanged between the two of you so far was a greeting and barely there small talk. She didn’t push you as to why you frantically called her and begged for a night away from New York. But she anticipated that the conversation would come later in the night.

Once the teas were made to both of your likings, Melanie led you upstairs to her rooftop deck. A fond smile crossed your face as flashbacks from all the times the two of you had spent up here. The two of you had met in university, but she was a few years older than you, so she moved out of New York sooner than you.

Most of your deep conversations about Mat took place on this rooftop. From realizing you loved him on this rooftop to coming to terms that there was no one else you’d rather spend the rest of your life with… This rooftop held the realizations of multiple monumental moments of your relationship with Mat.

Next to the sectional couch the two of you sat on, Melanie lifted the lid of the wicker basket and plucked out two blankets. You quickly wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, bracing your body against the frigid air.

As Melanie adjusted the blanket over her shoulders, she spoke up, “Everything alright?”

You took a sip of tea, keeping your vision set straight ahead, “Yeah, I’m alright––it’s just…” you glanced over at her to see she had her eyes raised, silently telling you to rethink your answer, “I don’t know.”

Shoulders slumped over in defeat, you took another sip of tea.

“I think you’re far from fine,” Melanie chuckled, “Got a call from my best friend panicking about how she had to get away,” her voice waned off amusement and turned more serious, “You worried me.”

You nodded in understanding, “Sorry, I didn’t think––Sorry––It’s just everything…” you nervously itched your collarbone and let out a sigh, “Sorry.”

Melanie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Never apologize for what you’re feeling,” her eyes were soft, and full of concern, as she weakly smiled and headed carefully with her words, “Even if you don’t…know what you’re feeling.”

“I got accepted to Georgetown,” you blurted out as you kept your eyes trained on the ground.

Her eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across her face, “That’s––Shit, congratulations! That’s so exciting! D.C.…Wow.”

With a slow nod of your head, you took a sip of your tea, “D.C.”

A brief silence in conversation revealed everything Melanie needed to know about why you suddenly had to escape from the city.

“Mat doesn’t know?”

You repeated her question as a statement, “Mat doesn’t know,” breaking eye contact with her again, you swallowed down your insecurities, “While like––I don’t know––That’s not why I’m…upset.” Melanie nodded and waited for you to continue your explanation, “Things have been…off.”

“Off? As in recently?” Melanie questioned as you stayed silent. With a deep sigh, she whispered, “How long have things felt off?”

You gulped, “May.”

Melanie’s eyes widened again, but not in the joyous sense like they had when you told her about your graduate school acceptance. Her eyebrows were raised high and her mouth slightly dropped open, “Shit, Y/N, it’s November.’

Again, you nodded and took another sip of tea, “It is November.”

“You’re going to have to do more talking than repeat the last words of every sentence I say.”

The words weren’t meant to be harsh, but her tone of voice still caused you to flinch. Her sentence was the truth, and you didn’t come here to be coddled. You needed someone to be brutally honest with you to help bring you to a conclusion. And you knew you had to offer up more information, or else your little one-night escape away from the city would be pointless.

“I feel stuck,” you breathed out, the last word barely a whisper, as you felt your throat close up, “I feel stuck and I’ve felt this way since May. I don’t know why I feel like this and I really don’t know what to fucking do, Mel. I––I’m so scared.”

Melanie scooted closer to you, “Stressed about potentially going back to school?”

You shook your head immediately. The thought of going back to school was the only thing keeping you sane at the moment. You couldn’t wait to expand upon another area of study that interested you. And you had been feeling this way long before you entertained the idea of going back to school.

“Everything is going so so well with Mat and…I don’t know…I’m happy with how things are now, but––“

“You’re obviously not happy if you can’t talk to him about this,” Melanie cut you off sharply before she inhaled a deep breath, “Maybe you need some change.”

You quirked an eyebrow up and tilted your head, “Change?”

She nodded and offered you a regretful smile; one that people had tucked away for when they had to break not so pleasant news to people they cared about, “Change from…how your life has been going.”

You continued to blankly stare at her as the dots didn’t connect in your mind. Melanie took your silence as a way to continue on with her explanation.

“Maybe D.C. is a great opportunity to start over.”

Suddenly, the crickets that chirped on her rooftop blared like alarms, the blanket you had on felt itchy, and the bitter autumn air smelt stale.

“Start…Over?” You shook your head no as Melanie nodded her head yes, “I have a life built around Mat and a––I have a future with him––That’s not––I can’t––“

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Melanie,” you pleaded with your best friend as the scratchiness behind your throat became uncomfortable, “I can’t do that to him––“

She held up a hand for you to stop talking, “You’ve been with mat since you were like twenty––“

“Eighteen,” you corrected her.

She shot you a glare and pretended like she wasn’t interrupted, “You were children when your relationship started,” she waved her free hand in the air, “There’s no denying that you’ve had a great relationship with him. The two of you have grown so much together, but sometimes things get stuck in a routine and people need a change.” You felt a lone tear trickle down your cheek, “Maybe you need a change.”

You carefully set your tea down on the glass patio table as all of the negative thoughts and feelings ventured out of their hiding places. One by one, they creeped out of every corner––no crevice too small––of your mind, as your subconscious tortured you with the lethal words they created.

With the heel of your palm, you wiped away more silent tears that couldn’t stop falling from your eyes.

Change was something you didn’t handle well. Change was something you’ve never liked. Your heart was saying that this kind of change––a change from Mat was bad––but your heart was screaming. Your heart was screaming about how exhausted it always felt suffocated. Your heart was telling you that there was another way. That you didn’t have to feel like this all the time––how you shouldn’t feel like this all the time.

You wanted to ignore how your heart felt and listen to your head. You wanted to ignore the heartbreaking gaze Melanie sent your way. And most of all, you wanted to ignore how your best friend had a very valid opinion.

You craved Mat’s presence now more than ever.

–––

November ended painfully slow and December came without a care for your feelings.

In the midst of juggling your job, figuring out technicalities that potentially came with continuing your education down in D.C., and keeping up with Mat’s hockey schedule…You were also trying to stabilize a relationship that you desperately clung on to.

Ever since your roof top conversation with Melanie, you felt the relationship crumbling on your end. And only a couple weeks later, Mat seemed hesitant around you. Every touch he gave you held doubt. Every night you went to bed, he shifted further to the other side. And every I love you was said with caution.

He was there physically, but emotionally, he was pulling away right before your eyes.

You loathed the situation that you had created for yourself and Mat. You absolutely hated how you no longer synced up. You wanted to go back to the way things were before the summer hit. You craved the smell of the spring air that was synonymous to the safety you felt in Mat’s presence.

Although, you don’t know how possible that was now.

Change.

Melanie nonchalantly brought up the topic of change whenever you called or saw her in person. She reassured you that she would support your decision––whenever you came to one––but she still favored the decision of change for you. She had your best interest at heart, and while you appreciated that, your best interest was entangled with Mat.

And you knew that the decision she wanted you to make was not in his best interest.

But there was one day in the past seven months that felt normal.

At work, you were offered a promotion. And that same night, the Islanders had their seventh straight win, with Mat scoring a hat trick. You walked out of your director’s office with a smile on your face, and you snuck down to the lobby to call Mat with the good news. He sounded ecstatic for you over the phone, and he asked if you wanted to go to the game tonight so he could see you right after.

Eagerly, you accepted his offer, and you felt butterflies churn in your stomach as if it was the first time he asked you to attend one of his games.

You rushed to get all of your work done as fast as possible, and a few minutes before the clock struck five, you dashed out of the office and made your way to the arena. The game felt electric, Mat played with a sense of newfound desire, and you were ecstatic for him to be playing so well. And when the game was over, and Mat walked out in his game day suit––jacket folded over his arm and tie loosely done––you barreled into him.

Mat hugged you back just as tight, if not tighter, and his reassuring touch reestablished a sense of purpose in your life.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mat whispered in your ear, congratulating you on your promotion, “I’ll love you forever.”

That day filled you with hope.

That day made you smile wider than you had in the last few months. It was a light finally shining through the dreary storm clouds. And that day helped you gain clarity as to what sort of change you needed in your life.

You decided that change was needed if you wanted to keep sane. And you had come to the compromise that you could have a change and still keep Mat. All you needed was a change of scenery. You didn’t know why you thought you needed an ultimatum between the two, and it eased your troubles a little bit, but not nearly as much as you thought it would.

The day after your promotion and Mat’s hat trick, you woke up with your legs tangled with Mat’s, his arm thrown over your waist, and his face facing yours for the first time in months. It was so domestic, something you took for granted early on in your relationship, but once you had it back in your grasp, you never wanted to let go.

But the moment you woke up, his arm around your waist felt like an anchor aiding in your drowning. While it felt as if you were drowning, you also felt safe in Mat’s arms, as if he lent you a hand for rescue. Mat always made you feel safe.

Unfortunately, that was a week ago. And you hadn’t woken up in his arms since then.

Ironically, even though both of you knew something was wrong, Mat had been spending more time at your apartment than his. But the dynamic between you two had shifted: Mat no longer came up to hug you from behind when you cooked at the stove. You no longer pinched Mat’s hips as he walked past you. And the two of you blushed profusely and looked the other way whenever you saw the other in a towel after a shower.

Things had been off emotionally for quite some time. But now physical aspects of your relationship were changing, and a piece fo your heart broke off every time you noticed it.

You wanted change, but not like this.

You were at the small table in your kitchen, waiting for Mat to come back to you. He mumbled about heading to the gym with Tito when the two of you were sitting next to each other on the couch. He tied his laces up, and it looked like he was about to walk toward the door before he turned back around and stood in front of you.

Like every time you stared up at Mat, you fell in love with him all over again.

He offered you the smallest of smiles before bending down to your height. Carefully, he cupped your face with his hand, and you immediately leaned into his touch. A peaceful sigh escaped your lips and your eyes closed.

What caught you off guard the most was when Mat leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. And just when your eyes opened, he broke away from the kiss. When his eyes finally opened, they were pleading with you. His eyes begged for an answer you could not give him. His eyes urgently wanted for you to tell him what had flipped your entire world upside down.

But his eyes were also full of love and hope; unconditional love for his high school sweetheart and hope that the two of you could make it over this bump.

“I love you,” he whispered just as soft as the first time he said those words to you, “I won’t be long.”

Desperate for more physical contact from him, you weaved your fingers through his brown hair. You knew how much he loved when you massaged his scalp and ran your fingers through his hair. Instantaneously, his eyes closed, and he leaned forward to brush his nose against yours.

You didn’t want him to go to the gym with Tito.

And like the first day you repeated those important three words back to him, your voice was filled with the same enchantment for the man in front of you, “I love you, too.”

With a sigh, Mat opened his eyes. With the way his eyebrows pinched together, you could tell he was intently debating something in his mind. But before you could pry, he seemed to go against his better judgement and pressed another kiss to your lips. While the kiss wasn’t anything special, he lingered longer than his first kiss.

“I’ll be back soon,” he breathed out softly.

He left before you could open your eyes.

Part of you didn’t want to open your eyes because the last thing you saw––that would be ingrained in your brain forever––was the person you appreciated and cared for most in the world, telling you he loved you. There was no better high in the world than that, especially when you had felt deprived from his love for so long.

But that was six hours ago.

You hoped he would only be gone for two or three hours, but your hope dwindled away with every hour that passed.

You were messing around with your laptop when you heard a key in the door handle. And when you heard the creak of your door open, you held your breath. You felt the inside of your stomach fall and the anxiety crawl up.

Once you looked up from your keyboard, you saw Mat already staring at you.

His cheeks were rosy, lips parted ever so slightly as he heavily breathed, and his forehead glistened with sweat. He held the water bottle in his hands as he stared through you. The way he looked at you was unnerving, and you wish you were able to read his mind.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice held conviction as he refocused his gaze to look at you instead of through you.

Slowly, you closed your laptop as Mat walked toward you. He placed the water bottle on the table and looked down at your doe eyed, questioning gaze, “I love you, but I need to know what’s wrong.”

“What––“

“I know you feel it too,” the determination and confidence behind his voice fell, “It’s been a few months and I can’t––we can’t––this?” his voice cracked, “We need to figure it out.”

You sniffled and started to nervously pick at a loose piece of skin by your thumb. Your eyes fell to your lap, not wanting to see the utter heartbreak in his eyes, “Let’s––Yeah. Let’s talk, okay.”

Mat crouched down in front of you, and took one of your fidgety hands in his, “Hey,” he used his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him, “It’s just me…The guy who accidentally shattered your car window junior year when shooting a puck because I wanted to impress you,” he let out a sad chuckle, “Just…Me.”

You sucked in a deep breath, vigorously nodding your head, in hopes to delay your tears, “I know––And I––That’s what makes this so…” You let out a hiccup and squeezed your eyes shut just as hard as Mat squeezed your hand in reassurance, “Hard.”

Before a sob wracked through your chest, Mat was fast to stand up and pull you up with him, wrapping his arms around you. You fell into his chest and he held you close, running a soothing hand up and down your spine. He whispered that everything would be alright, but your arms only tightened around his neck as your sobs increased with his careful words.

After a few moments when your cries slowly started to calm down, Mat slightly leaned back, but made sure to keep his arms securely wrapped around you. He lazily traced patterns with his thumb on your lower back, which caused you to look up at him.

With all your heart, you wished you didn’t look into his eyes. Because seeing his red eyes and heart-rending smile caused you more pain than the last seven months.

He brought a hand up to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes with his thumb, “There’s my pretty girl,” he sniffled and failed at forcing a smile, “So pretty.”

You felt your bottom lip tremble, another wave of fresh tears waiting to be seen. And when Mat loosened his grasp around your waist, you looked up at him in panic. You didn’t want to be separated from him, but he shushed you, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to keep you close as he guided you over to the couch.

Much like earlier in the day, the two of you sat on the couch together. But instead of laying together on the couch, he sat next to you.

With your thighs touching, Mat grasped your hand in his, “Talk to me,” his grip was so tight, it felt like he was afraid you would slip away right in front of him, “Please.”

You nodded your head again, but no words came out.

How were you supposed to start off this kind of conversation?

Mat squeezed your hand in reassurance, and before you began to overthink about the best way to phrase your feelings, you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I feel anxious,” you let out a shaky breath.

Mat slowly nodded, squeezing your hand again as a silent way to encourage you to continue.

And with a deep breath, you shut your eyes tight, “I feel anxious and stuck––Almost like––I feel like I have no control over anything and it––I think––I need, uh, a change.”

Your words strung together in one rushed out sentence. And as your rambling continued on, your words grew softer and softer until your voice barely carried above a whisper. But the last word––change––echoed loudly in the room. The word was deafeningly loud, and Mat didn’t miss a beat.

“Change…”

The one syllable word sounded foreign coming from his lips. He repeated the word for a second time to make sure he heard you right.

Change.

In a sense, change was ever present in your relationship. There was change when you and Mat first grew out of being friends to more…Change when Mat left for Seattle to play hockey…and change again when Mat got drafted by the Islanders.

Change was almost a constant in your relationship; but the change was always prompted from Mat’s end. There had never been any expressed desire for change on your side.

“What do you want a change from?” Mat’s tone was daring, almost as if he wanted you to make his worst nightmare a reality.

“I––There’s this whole––“

“What,” he didn’t mask the viciousness in his voice, “do you want a change from.”

His voice was demanding, and not at all like the sweet sound that comforted you moments ago. You knew him well enough to know he was growing irritated at you, and you knew it would only get worse.

“I got into a masters program––in D.C.,” you rushed out, and in hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best response to reassure his insecurities, but you needed to get that information out there, “And it’s––it sounds so great, Mat. Like really great, and––“

He removed his hand from yours in a swift motion, as if he touched fire, “You’re leaving?”

“That’s not–––“

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” His eyes shined with hurt and disappointment, but most of all, you could hear the distrust behind his voice, “D.C.?”

You sighed, “I never seriously considered it until last month.”

Mat closed his eyes, no doubt in frustration that you didn’t confide your feelings in him earlier, “You’ve been feeling like you need a change for the past month?” Your silence caused him to flare his nostrils, and edged him on to ask another question, “Since when––Why––How long have you felt this way?”

You gulped, averting your eyes to look at his knees, “I don’t want anything between us to change, Mat,” you spoke carefully, “I was thinking––“

“How long?”

“May.”

You screwed your eyes tight to the point where you felt a stunning sensation in your forehead. You couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, that no doubt would be filled to the brim with pain. And you avoided his stare that bored you for as long as you could.

But when you felt the couch cushion next to you feel lighter, you snapped your eyes open and up to look at Mat.

Mat backed away from the couch, and there was nothing you could have done to prepare yourself for the look of betrayal in his eyes, “May?” Gnawing at your bottom lip, you nodded. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head in disbelief, “How could you not tell me––Christ, seven months?” Y/N…” his voice cracked as he said your name.

It killed you to see his jaw clenched and eyes rimmed with redness; and seeing his eyes overflow with heartbreak caused you to shoot up from your seat to comfort him. But what killed you even more was how he flinched away from your touch. Nothing in the world could prepare you for that sting.

All you wanted was to comfort him.

“Mat––“

He inhaled a deep breath and sniffled, “Please, don’t…” he brought both hands up to face, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, “You want to leave?”

He couldn’t even look at you.

Unfair to you, his question held two sides. He was asking for clarification about wanting to leave New York, but also asking if you wanted to leave him. To Mat, leaving New York meant leaving him.

Your arms hung limp at your sides, mouth wide open in shock. You understood his confusion about wanting to leave New York because you had never mentioned it before. But your despair quickly turned into irritation as he verbalized his doubt of your love for him.

“You know I’d never leave you,” you said with a deep breath, trying your best to keep your anger at bay.

He ripped his hands away from his face, “Do I?” He sent you a glare that had you stumbling back, “Because we had this whole plan for us. And now you don't want that with me.”

“I still want that with you!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “Grad school goes faster than undergrad. We’ve done long distance before, and my job said they could transfer me––“

“You already have a job here!” Mat raised his voice, “There are places to go to grad school here! You have a place here! You have friends here––“

You raised your voice over his, “That’s not the point, please just––“

“You have me here!” His voice cracked, “We had a plan––“

“Plans change!”

Mat had his mouth open, ready to shout over you more, but once your ambiguous statement traveled from the confines of your thoughts and slipped out of your lips, he had no response. You could feel the anger radiating off him as the ringing in your ears grew louder…and louder…and louder…

“Plans don’t just change like that,” he venomously spat out. His words hit you like icicles, cold and sharp before his tone momentarily softened, “I had my life built around you…We––I wanted to marry you. Start a family with you.”

He spoke as if all of those desires he had with you were now a far off fantasy.

You pinched the bridge of your nose to stop a new wave of tears from falling. But these tears weren’t of fear for his reaction to your thoughts about change, he made those feelings loud and clear.

These were tears of mourning.

“Mat,” you spoke his name with a strained voice, “Let’s talk about this rationally––“

He ran a hand through his and narrowed his eyes at you, “Don’t…” he raised his forearm to wipe more tears away from his face, “I can’t believe––I really thought we had it all from the beginning. But who would have actually thought two teenagers would make it this far?”

He let out a soft, maniacal chuckle that made you more nauseous than any amount of anxiety.

“We were just children back then,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “What did we know about life.”

His anger morphed into a cynical tone that sent shivers down your spine. It frightened you when he let out that small laugh, one that was usually saved for comical moments between the two of you.

“But here we are now,” he let out another self-deprecating laugh, “Time’s a funny thing…It seemed like nothing back then––It felt as if we had the rest of our lives together.”

As much as you didn’t want to hear Mat break down everything about your relationship, you knew he was spiraling, and you wanted to help him. Because despite what he may think, you still loved him.

Carefully, you tiptoed forward as Mat continued on with his rambling about how idiotic he was as a kid to think that this would last forever. With each step forward, your heart shattered into the tiniest of shards as Mat portrayed your relationship as childish with no chance of reconciliation.

“You just took my love,” his voice decreased in volume and cynicism, and was replaced with a tone that ripped your heart out of your chest. He pointed an accusatory finger at you that made you stop in your tracks, “You took my love––you took it and have no remorse whatsoever––“

You shook your head and picked up the pace of your walking to reach him, “I still love you, Mat. That will never change.”

He stared down at you, and for a moment, you saw the Mat you fell in love with. You saw the bright-eyed eighteen-year-old boy who took his time in teaching you how to shoot a perfect slapshot in his driveway. He looked like he was on the verge of forgiveness, but once you slightly ghosted your fingers against his hand, he snapped out of whatever trance he fell under.

“I don’t know how to love anyone else,” his shoulders slumped forward as he bit his bottom lip.

Without caring that he pulled his hand away from yours seconds ago, you swiftly took his hand in his and gripped it as if you were hanging off a cliff and he was your only lifeline. You didn’t know if it was a moment of bravery, or a moment of desperation. Because there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind that screamed about how this could be the last time you touched him.

“You don’t have to love anyone else,” you pleaded with him, your voice catching in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes, “I don’t want you to love anyone else.”

“Time’s a funny thing,” Mat let out a humorous chuckle, not believing that the two of you found yourself desperately clinging onto the past.

When he finally made eye contact with you, he slightly tilted his head as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Even when he was crying, his dark eyes still captivated you like no one else had. And the longer you stared into his longing eyes, they were filled with one emotion you weren’t familiar with; regret.

“Mat,” you whispered his name cautiously, petrified of what his next move was, “We can work through this…”

He slowly shook his head, causing your heart to plummet, “May…From what I’ve gathered, you hadn’t applied to grad schools then––Didn’t have an excuse for change,” he stalled back more of his tears, “But you wanted a change. You still want that change.”

“I want a change of scenery,” you tried your hardest to make him understand your feelings, “Not a change from you.”

“The only thing back then you could’ve wanted a change from was me,” it was the first time his voice didn’t falter. He was confident in his theory that you didn’t want him anymore.

You squeezed his hand, “Are you even listening to yourself––“

“You’re the love of my life,” his voice was full of pain, and when he softly smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. With one hand still clutching onto yours, he brought his other hand up––a trembling hand––and tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear, “I just wish I was yours.”

With a shakey inhale, and one last strong sniffle to conceal his sobs, Mat pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. And when released your hand one last time, he escaped out the door.

You had felt many sensations throughout the past seven months: drowning, feeling weighed down, and suffocation. But what you felt right now, the devastation that encased your whole body, was far worse than any of those emotions.

Because now, it felt as if you were falling.

Mat, your only lifeline, let go of your hand.

He knew he held the power to pull you up and save you, but he decided to let you go. When he released your grip, it felt as if he was releasing it finger by finger, desperately wanting to hold onto what you both had; wanting to hold onto the life both of you had created around one another. But in the end, it didn’t survive.

And as he released your hand, you fell.

You fell over the edge, stomach performing backflips as the sensation became worse with each passing second. The sensation of falling was never ending, as if you were falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland; terrified of what waited for you at the bottom.

The December air felt frigid. The December air made one seek comfort in hot chocolate, or another menial item, because winter wasn’t strong enough to provide comfort. The December air felt nothing like the spring air that offered you solace without asking for anything in return.

Oh, how you wished to smell that spring air once more.

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bvidzsoo · 3 years

Text

Late night Drifts

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: physical abuse (nothing descriptive); swearing

Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x female reader

Word count: 18, 157

Summary: Being top of your class was everything your parents have ever wanted. You were the perfect daughter, however, it was only them who were happy. Your life was stressful and filled with sleepless nights studying, just to please your parents. Until one day you discovered racing, and realized, it was the only way you could unwind all the accumulated stress. And it just so happened that one day you overheard your classmate, Vernon, talking about an illegal race taking place that night. You knew it was your cue, so with rolled up cash left on his desk, you made it clear you were challenging him. He wins = he gets a date / You win = he teaches you how to drift.

A/N: Hello, hello lovelies! And off we go with the first part of this series! I tried out something different this time, I hope it’s not weird and it’s still good, I’m a little nervous about it tbh. All the sentences in italic are the reader’s direct thoughts! I’ve never written in second person before so uhm...I hope it’s still fine. I hope you’ll like it and please let me know your thoughts. If there are people interested, I could even start a Taglist, I guess! Enjoy now!

Series M.List ~ Next Part

When younger, you’d quietly complain to yourself about having to wake up early in the morning, around 6 am, just to have breakfast with your parents; but as the years passed it just became a routine. You weren’t bothered by it anymore, sometimes, you’d even wake up earlier than you were supposed to. Like today, at 5:30 am, your eyes were wide open as you stared up at the platinum white ceiling of your huge bedroom. You knew it was the anxiety making you feel like this, the fear of having to face your father and mother today seemed to be more intense than usually, after all, you were getting your grading sheet at school. You hated days like today, you hated getting your grades. It was horror to sit through school, anxious, only to return home to get yelled at by your father, because once again, you failed to score higher at English than Vernon. Vernon Hansol Chwe. He was your nightmare at school. It wasn’t what he did directly to you, because there were almost little to no incidents, it’s what he indirectly made you go through. You hated him, but didn’t at the same time. It wasn’t his fault, and you were aware of that, but you couldn’t help the glare or sudden anger that engulfed you whenever you looked at him. If he only wasn’t as good at English as he was, all the torment from your parents would’ve been non-existent.

You were the perfect daughter, the one every parent wished to have and every parent praised whenever they met up with your parents and you. You were perfect, in their eyes, yes. You always listened to what your parents said, you didn’t talk back or disobeyed them, and most importantly, you always pleased them and got high grades. It would’ve been a shame if you didn’t, your father was a scientist and your mother a doctor. They wanted you to become either this or that, but you, you didn’t know. You had no idea what you actually liked doing, you never really had hobbies or free time to try out different things like any other normal kid did while growing up. That is, until, you stumbled upon some abandoned race tracks and saw a woman in her car going at a high speed, drifting around the curbs, and sporting the happiest and most careless expression you’ve ever seen on someone’s face. It struck you, you never felt like that before. You wanted to feel like that so badly. You just ran away from home, with the excuse that you joined a new study group to help you out with Chemistry, but the truth was that you just needed air and time away from your overwhelming parents. You weren’t even supposed to be in this part of the city, people could smell from miles away that you were rich and just by stealing your purse, they’d make millions. But you didn’t care, because in this part of the city, it seemed like people only stared at your for what you looked like, without too judgmental looks on their faces. It was weird, but refreshing. After the woman stopped, got out of the car and ruffled her long hair, you gathered all your courage and walked up to her, and asked her to take you on a round with herself. She was reluctant, but once she saw the desperate look in your eyes, she obliged and you were inside her car, screaming your lungs out at all the sharp and harsh turns she took. It was scary, but freaking awesome. You felt high on adrenaline and when she stopped the car, her name being Lexa, you begged her to teach to drive like that. Your driving instructor never taught you about speed, but this woman seemed to know it all. Lexa was reluctant, but she complied once again, when she saw the desperate look in your eyes. And that is how you became obsessed with racing, cars, and chasing that adrenaline that made you feel free and careless. It was the only hobby you had, the only thing your parents couldn’t control in your life, simply, because they didn’t know about it. And you preferred to keep it that way, knowing well the repercussions if they ever found out. But for you to be able to attend the events and races, you needed a good car. So, when you finished last year as first in your whole high school, your father granted your wish and bought you a Vaydor G37. The car was expensive, but freaking awesome. You knew you’d be better than half of the amateur racers, even though, you were one too. But for now, that didn’t matter, as you played with your fingers in your lap, waiting for the maid to place your breakfast in front of you. You could feel your father’s sharp gaze on you, but you ignored it as you glared at the table. Your mother hadn’t joined the table yet, that’s why you weren’t eating yet.

“John told me he had to change the tires to the Vaydor,” You looked up to meet your father’s gaze, knowing he hated it when you didn’t, “It’s the third time this month. Explain.”

You gulped, but kept your expression neutral, he can’t find out, “I didn’t pay attention when I got them changed and instead of the summer tires, they put on the winter ones. That was the first time. Second time, I got a puncture while I rode back home from school, a screw was left on the road from the new construction site and I didn’t know. And uhm…I’m not sure what was wrong the third time, but the vibrations coming from the tires felt wrong, I thought…it would be best to get them changed.” But the truth was that you raced too hard and burned out your tires, all adherence gone, which made it impossible for you to ride around the streets with them.

Your father didn’t say anything as he looked at you with a hard expression, tying to decipher if you were lying or saying the truth, “Safety comes first, Y/N, don’t forget that.”

“Yes, father.” You muttered and looked up at your mother as she walked in with a wide smile. Your father looked at her and his eyes instantly turned soft and he waited until she sat next to him, to press a kiss to her cheek. He was only ever like that to her, kind and lovely, never to you. You honestly thought your father hated you because you weren’t born to be a boy, like he so desperately wanted. Yet, he never tried to have another child with your mother, you figured he had enough of you and just didn’t want to bother with raising another kid. Your mother looked at you just as the maids finally walked in with your breakfast, placing the plates in front of you. Your stomach rumbled quietly and it made your mom chuckle as your father took the first bite, and then you both followed suit. It was the same old breakfast: toast with boiled eggs, a few slices of tomato and butter. Sometimes you’d get hot cocoa, if your father was in a good mood, but most of the time you were served with orange or apple juice. Today, water with lemon was served and as much as you were craving the taste of oranges, a little switch from your usually boring routine was nice, even if so small and almost insignificant.

“When will you know your grades?” Your father asked again, voice hard and you bit your lower lip as you lowered your knife and fork.

“Today, actually.” You answered, trying to hide the tremor in your voice, but it was pretty obvious.

“Great, I will make sure to come home early then.” He said and the grip on your knife tightened as you tried to hide the anger and fear mixing together in your stomach, hating the words your father said. But it made your mother squeal as she smiled at him brightly.

“That’s amazing news, honey! Let’s go have dinner, shall we?” She was the only excited one, your father actually started glaring at you, and you realized it was because you were glaring at him. Sometimes, your control over your body slipped and you did things subconsciously.

“Yes,” Your father spoke, turning his head away from you to look at his wife, “Let’s go have dinner, Y/N should—”

“I have a study group at 18:00 today, I won’t be able to join you, I’m sorry.” You interrupted your father, not caring right now that he hated being interrupted by you, as you let your parents know in a hurry that you weren’t available today. And actually, you weren’t even lying. You really did have to study for English, you hated to say it, but you were feeling uneasy after your last exam and thought you could work on it. A new guy from America showed up two weeks ago, DK, and when you heard he offered to help out those in need, you knew you needed to sign up. Vernon was from America too, that’s why you never could beat him, he was better as he was fluent. Your mother was American too, but she never bothered to teach you much English, either too busy with work or with your father. She wasn’t a bad mom, just neglectful sometimes.

“You study so hard, my dear.” Your mother’s arm extended over the mahogany table and you extended your own arm, letting her grip it, “How about this…if you get a good grade for your English exam, we go on a small vacation this weekend?”

That actually sounded wonderful, you couldn’t help but smile, warmness filling your insides. You missed spending time with your mom, but of course, your father had to ruin it all.

“We shouldn’t…I can’t this weekend.” Of course, he couldn’t. The only important things for him were work, antagonizing you, and taking your mother on expensive dates.

“Honey,” Your mother let go of your arm to cup her husband’s cheek, “It’s not a crime if the two of us spend a little time together, it’s been long since we had a mother-daughter get-away, right, Y/N?”

You quietly nodded your head, hopeful that your father would let it slide this time, but of course, he wouldn’t, “If Y/N scores a 10/10, you can go.”

You gulped, hating how trusting your mother’s gaze was, how happy she looked, “Of course, honey, she’ll definitely get the highest score. She’s our daughter after all…”

Yes, unfortunately, I’m your daughter.

After breakfast you quickly got dressed for school, your uniform still warm from getting ironed a few minutes before you had to put it on. You hated wearing skirts to school, but you had no other choice as it was in the dress code. You fixed your hair and painted your lips a soft pink, smiling to yourself in the mirror. Not because you were happy, but because you didn’t want everyone to see how miserable you were. You didn’t have any friends; besides Yoona, you didn’t want any more rumors than the ones already circulating around you. They said all kinds of things about you, but neither was true. They weren’t necessarily bad, besides the one calling you a freak and saying you broke someone’s hand in your freshman year; you didn’t. But people weren’t very fond of you nonetheless and you didn’t want to add onto the list of why you should be more disliked than you already were. You knew the smile looked far from genuine, but it was better than nothing, it lessened the harsh expression of your face. It probably got like that due to your father’s constant pressure hanging over your shoulders.

The car ride was silent, John stirring up casual conversation with your father from time to time, as he drove you to school before driving your father to work. Your car was still in the car-service, actually, Jihoon got a new engine that you were more than happy to test out for him. He was the one who approached you, surprisingly, after your first won race. He said he liked your car and could smell the money from miles away; he offered to help out with your car if you raced on his behalf from time to time. You seriously didn’t need the money, but it sounded like fun and it was weird how impressed everyone was by Jihoon talking to you, so you accepted out of curiosity. It took you a month to realize he was part of the Lee family, being the eldest son actually, and that they owned the streets at night when racing. He truly was the best, both at racing and fixing cars. Sometimes you’d even drop off cash anonymously at his house, when you wouldn’t need it anymore, and you had a feeling he knew but stayed silent about it. Both of you knew that he needed the extra cash from time to time.

Your attention was brought to John when he stopped the car, unlocking the doors. You were parked at the front gates of your high school, you sighed as you grabbed the doorhandle of the car. Partially you were happy to be here just because you would be away from your father and mother.

“Y/N,” Your heart jumped to your stomach when your father called out your name, deep voice booming in the car, “If you don’t score 10/10, I will have to believe you are incompetent and unable to perform well in a private high school. If you don’t raise your score by the end of the semester, your name will be cut from the family tree and I will throw you out without a second thought.”

A cynical smirk appeared on your lips as you opened the door and turned to look at your father, “You can’t throw out a minor, father, unless you want me to go to the police and press magazines. I’m sure they are buzzing to know more about the mysteriously wealthy and handsome Mr. Seo, don’t you think?”

His jaw clenched and John gulped loudly, shaking his head as subtly as he could at you, as you hurriedly got out of the car. You never talked back to your father, you had no idea what came over you, but you felt so fed up with his threats. If only he knew cutting ties with him sounded like heaven to you. You didn’t care if you ended up on the streets as long as it was away from him, you were never hungry for money or greedy for it. You didn’t care about it, you just wanted love from the two figures who were supposed to raise you. Instead, one hated you and the other one was barely ever home.

“Have a good day at work, both of you.” You bowed deeply before closing the door of the vehicle, staring at the tinted window of the backseat. You waited until John drove away and you couldn’t see the car anymore. A strong gush of cold wind suddenly blew through the area and it made you realize that you were glaring at nothing, once again. You hated how little consideration he took of your feelings and how little he made you feel. Your father truly was the devil.

Yoona’s schedule was rather packed on Monday’s and Wednesday’s, so you couldn’t meet up with her during classes. Which maybe was a good idea, poor girl, you hoped she didn’t think you only used her to have someone to complain to, but you seriously had no one else to talk to. You loved Yoona and how open she was and ignorant to the rumors about you, she was always quick to shut others up. She was only a year older, yet she felt like a mother to you sometimes.

The day passed by incredulously fast and you made sure to take notes in each class, until it was homeroom class time. Your legs were bouncing up and down nervously and loudly as you tried not to bite your nails, a bad habit you were trying to get rid of. Usually, you weren’t this nervous, but your father reminding you of his threat this morning and your reckless answer made you realize if you indeed didn’t score 10/10 at English, you were truly fucked, and you hated the sudden ache of your stomach. It seemed like you were the only one so stressed out as your classmates kept shouting around you, joking and chatting, making your ears ring. All you could do was stare at the door anxiously, waiting for your homeroom teacher to enter this damned classroom already. But the bell didn’t even ring yet, it’s still break time, you sighed and bit your lower lip, trying to calm your nerves. You didn’t mean to, but your eyes fell on a boy and your eyebrows instantly furrowed. His right arm was resting on his desk, his right cheek on it as he slept. He looked so peaceful and carefree that it angered you more. How could he just sit there, sleep there, when you were about to get your grades? You knew he didn’t give a shit about his grades, yet he was always top of your class, breathing down your neck all the time. When you started high school, you never thought you’d meet someone almost as smart as you, and that you’ll be challenged. But Vernon…he just wrecked your life and made it a bigger hell than it already was, and tears almost came to your eyes as you couldn’t look away from his peaceful form. You were jealous and angry, wishing that could be you right now. As your eyes lingered on him, you realized, his cheekbones were high and sharp, almost hollow looking like. You hardly ever paid attention to guys, you didn’t have the time nor energy to put into them, but sometimes you caught yourself dozing off and staring at the back of Vernon’s head. He wasn’t special, far from it, he looked quite normal yet his beauty felt a little foreign, compelling. That was another reason to hate him for, and you never thought more of it, content with the current thoughts of him. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t deny that he was somewhat attractive either. Yet, your heart still started thumping quickly when Vernon’s eyes opened abruptly and made eye contact with you almost instantly, as if he knew you were staring. You averted your eyes and straightened your stance, refusing to look back at the boy, even if he continued staring at you. You never really spoke to him, you didn’t have a reason to, only greeted him in the mornings if you arrived after him…but you did greet everyone, after all. Your legs started bouncing again as Vernon wouldn’t look away and it made the hairs on your arms raise, your anxiety doubling. Why is he staring now? Does he think I like him or something? Maybe he knows I don’t like him? But your attention was brought back to the door as it opened just as the bell rang, and your homeroom teacher in walked. The voices in the classroom started dying down and even Vernon looked away from you, siting up straight in his chair. You were glad, you didn’t think you’d be able to ignore him for longer if your teacher wouldn’t have walked in. You donned out every voice that was still speaking, you even ignored your teacher’s usual speech about how grades weren’t important and that they didn’t actually reflect your knowledge about life…if only he knew what he was speaking. So, you just sat there silently, anxiously waiting for your sheet.

Which turned out to be more and more difficult as you were amongst one of the last ones, for once, making you hate the fact that your family name was ‘Seo’. You have successfully eaten three nails by the time your teacher called out your name and you raised from your chair, legs feeling a bit like jelly, as you rigidly walked up to his desk to take the sheet from him. Your hands shook and you hoped no one noticed, but when you turned to walk back to your seat, you were surprised to see Vernon squinting his eyes at you as he was watching you, once again. Did I draw too much attention onto myself by looking at him? This wasn’t the first time though, why is he suddenly so attentive of me? You ignored his burning gaze as you finally started walking back to your seat, gripping the sheet tightly in your hands. You were curios but also afraid to look. Vernon got his sheet a while ago and you tried to read his expression, but he only shrugged and placed the sheet between his notebooks, seemingly unimpressed. You were hopeful it was because he scored lower this time, but you couldn’t be very sure, he reacted the same way each time.

Finally sitting in your own chair, you took in a deep breath and opened the sheet, staring at the names of the subjects and then the grade next to it.

“Don’t forget kids, I tell you this each time, but I feel like saying this again. Grades don’t define us and you can be whoever you want to be in life, or do whatever you want to do, despite the grades on that paper—”

Your whole body ran cold as your hands started shaking hard, chest constricting as if your lungs stopped getting enough air to be able to function. Your eyes ran over and over again the same row, your brain refusing to acknowledge the information. English: 9,55. You hated what you were seeing, you hated what your teacher was saying, you hated how carefree and light everyone around you seemed to be, you hated Vernon’s gaze burning into the side of your head. You suddenly couldn’t bear sitting in that classroom anymore, it seemed rowdy and hot, your head started pounding painfully as you jumped up from your chair, knocking two notebooks and your sheet off the table. All the eyes on you made your chest tighten further and your eyes snapped towards your teacher when you heard him calling out to you.

“Miss Seo, is everything alright?” You really wanted to answer him, but when you opened your mouth to say something, nothing came out. Embarrassed and unable to take the looks you were getting by your classmates, Vernon’s confused gaze, you stepped around your chair and took off, uncaring of the repercussions. Your teacher called out your name once again, sounding more worried this time, and you glared at Vernon when he still didn’t look away, knocking onto his table on purpose, which made his pencil case and notebook fall to the floor. And with that, you were out of the classroom and running towards the girls restroom, hearing footsteps following you hurriedly. You knew your teacher sent someone after you to make sure that you wouldn’t do anything reckless, and it made you want to cry that your own teacher was more worried about your wellbeing than your own parents. You hoped the person realized you ran out because you wanted to be alone, and that they wouldn’t follow you inside the restroom, and when they actually didn’t, you broke down crying in front of the mirror, turning on the faucet to silence your sobs a little bit. I don’t want to go home.

You hated the looks your classmates were giving you after your breakdown, but some were nice enough to check up on you. You didn’t like the attention and the fact that you had to lie to them, but it warmed your heart a bit that not everyone was heartless and mean to you. You were surprised to see your things neatly placed in your bag after you returned from the restroom with a girl, Hanna, who your homeroom teacher sent after you to keep you company until you felt better. You wanted to ask who did that, because you wanted to thank them, but decided to stay quiet and just lay low for the rest of the day as rumors of you already spread through school like wildfire. You hated it, but you tried to ignore them…and Vernon too. He shot you a questioning gaze after you got back to class, but you acted like he wasn’t even there. Your gut was telling you that it was him who gathered your stuff from the floor and placed it back into your bag, but why would he do that? You were never very nice to him, and you even knocked his stuff off on purpose when you ran out. Fed up with your constant thoughts of Vernon and what others would say now about you, you blocked everything out and hurriedly gathered your things once the final bell rang, signaling that school was over for the day. You were glad that you could finally leave this place, but your stomach ached when you remembered you had to return home, to meet your father. Running away right now sounded like the smartest thing to do, but once you left your high school, you stopped and looked up towards the sky. The sun was high up and shinning down, creating a warm atmosphere and you looked around to observe that everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Kids were laughing and hanging onto their friends as they groaned about how hard school could get, others kids were excitedly talking about what homecooked meal their mothers made, and some were just hurriedly leaving through the gates. You smiled, but it was a sad smile, because you never experienced any of those feelings. You wished your mother would be at home, waiting for you with a homecooked meal, and that your father would arrive earlier from work and praise you for your grades, deciding to take the three of you out to the arcades. But those were dreams you’d never experience, and rather than continuing to hurt yourself with such fantasies, you took off with a sigh. You followed the path that lead to the iron gates of the high school and bowed your head a little to greet the gatekeeper, who was happy to see you. Not many kids were respectful toward the old man, but you didn’t think lower of him just because of his job, sometimes you’d sneak cookies from home and share them with him. As the weather was a lot warmer than in the morning, you took your scarf off and gasped when something hit your shoulder. You were expecting someone to be picking on you, but when you turned your head and looked at the girl leaning against the stone wall, you let a chuckle fall from your lips.

“I told you to throw your garbage in the trash cans, Yoona.” You scolded the older girl, picking up her cigarette butt to throw it into the nearest trash can later.

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoona rolled her eyes, lighting another cigarette, “What the hell happened today? Your crazy classmates wouldn’t stop talking about how you stormed out after you got your grades.”

You grimaced as you leaned against the stone wall next to your friend, “I didn’t get a 10/10.”

Your answer was direct and Yoona sighed, glancing at you as she puffed out the smoke of her cigar. She knew about your parents, but not the whole truth. She only knew about them being obsessed with your grades and that they were very controlling and harsh to you. You didn’t dare tell her the other things, afraid she’d do something about it, getting you in more trouble.

“Oh, Y/N…” Yoona’s expression was sad and you melted into her hug as she put her arms around you, on the verge of crying, “If it feels too much later on, call me…or come to the races with me, you don’t have to compete or anything. Just be there.”

You hummed and circled your arms around your friend, feeling a bit better as Yoona’s familiar perfume entered your nostrils, “It’s a Wednesday, you know I can’t go out…and I have an English tutor now, we are meeting later for our first session.”

“Oh, really?” Yoona’s interest peaked as she finally pulled herself away from you, patting your cheek, “Do I know him?”

“Maybe, it’s this new guy from America…calls himself DK.” You muttered, puckering your lips at the hilarious name he went by. Yoona’s expression hardened and she scoffed as she finished her cigar, not looking very pleased.

“You know him?” You asked curiously, Yoona not being one to dislike someone.

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes and pushed off the stone wall, dragging her leather jacket tightly around her body, “He’s in my class. He’s very annoying, tries hard to befriend everyone and won’t shut up. He’s not even smart, most of the time only says stupid things—”

“Okay,” You raised up one hand to stop Yoona from rambling, throwing her an amused smile, “What did he do to you that you don’t like him?”

Yoona just rolled her eyes, displeased by how much you knew her already, “He’s all up in my business, won’t leave me alone after he heard me talking to my friend from the U.S. Fucking idiot…”

You started giggling loudly, making Yoona glare at you, but your laughter was contagious and she ended up giggling too, “You’ll figure it out, Yoona.”

“Yeah…hopefully before Johnny decides to smash in his nose.” Her tone turned sour and you gave her a pitiful look, knowing her relationship with Johnny hadn’t been the best lately. Yoona just sighed and you patted her side, reassuring her that you were there for her if she needed someone to complain to. The sudden sound of engine roaring caught your attentions and Yoona turned stiff, looking to the road, where a black car pulled up. The window rolled down and Johnny’s face came in view.

“Speaking of the devil…” You muttered quietly, making Yoona smirk at you.

“Hello, ladies.” Johnny greeted the two of you with a charming smile and Yoona looked at him before back at you.

“Want us to give you a ride home?” You appreciated her offer, but you didn’t know if your dad was already at home. He didn’t mind Yoona very much, he knew her parents, but he hated Johnny and actually forbid you from meeting up with him or with them when they were together. You didn’t want to test the waters furthermore today; you had already done enough in the morning and now with your grade too.

“No, no,” You shook your head quickly, declining her offer nicely, “You can go. I have to pick up some books either way, you don’t have to bother with me…”

Yoona nodded and took off towards her boyfriend’s car, but when she opened the door, she turned back to look at you and mouthed, “Liar.”

You chuckled and waved at them as Johnny gave you a nod before pressing a strong kiss against your best friend’s lips, leaving her with a sour expression as he rolled the window up and took off, the engine of the car creating disturbance to the pedestrians. You looked down at the other cigarette butt Yoona dropped and picked it up with a sigh, dropping it into your pocket, where the other one was. She never listened to you when you told her to throw them away into a trash can, so it became by now a routine to pick them up and throw them away yourself. You took off once again, headed home for real this time, your stomach churned nervously as you played with the cigarette butts in your pocket. Your parents knew you didn’t smoke, they stopped checking up on that since you turned sixteen, so you weren’t afraid of smelling like it. Besides, they knew most kids your age smoked and that it could just easily get into your clothes and hair when you walked by. You sighed at the thought of your parents and tried to enjoy the sun on your skin, welcomed after the cold winter you had. It was hard to walk home, because you were anxious, but the pleasant weather made you slow your usual long strides as you passed the corner of the high school and turned onto the next street. You took the two cigarette butts between your fingers and threw them into the trash can on the side walk as you walked by it, your scalp feeling itchy. Sometimes you made your ponytail too tight and it left your scalp sore, so you quickly undid the tight hold, releasing your long black hair. You thought of cutting it, it was slowly nearing the middle of your back, but your mother said a feminine woman needs her long hair, that it’s precious, and you should never wear it too short. That’s why your hair always reached your scapulas or even longer. I always wondered how I’d look with short hair…it can’t be that bad, right? Your thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly became aware that someone was walking right next to you. You became stiff and ready to speed up, uncomfortable, but when you stole a glance at the person walking next to you, your feet came to an abrupt stop. So did the person, who was scratching his nape awkwardly, looking at your guiltily.

“Uh, sorry.” Vernon’s voice was loud here, the cars and people walking by you were being loud, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.” You answered him too quickly, body stiff as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, still…” He cleared his throat and you became curious, he never really spoke to you directly, unless you were paired up for a group project during class, “I just wanted to ask you…”

You raised your eyebrows, curiously looking at Vernon, a little annoyed that he was stalling, “What?”

“Are you alright?” Your eyebrows furrowed at his question and you glanced around, feeling uneasy. Why is he suddenly so curious about how I feel? It’s really not his business.

“I’m fine, why?” You snapped, crossing your arms in front of your chest in a way to show him you weren’t too fond of this conversation.

“Just wanted to check up on you.” Vernon muttered as he kept looking at you, the sunlight lighting his features. His skin had a warm glow and he was squinting as he was standing facing the sun, his brown eyes were lighter than you had anticipated them to be.

“Well…” You cleared you throat, feeling a bit flustered, “You didn’t have to.”

Vernon hummed and nodded his head a little, biting his lower lip, an action which caught your attention, “I know…you ran out of class and you didn’t look too good. Just wanted to make sure you’re better now—”

Your inhale was sharp and it alerted Vernon as your eyes snapped back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart was beating like crazy and you knew your face turned hard as Vernon gulped; you took a step to lessen the distance between the two of you, “Stay out of my business, Vernon, you already make my days a nightmare as they are.”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, clearly taken aback by your threatening tone and sentence, not having expected such hostility coming from you. After all, he never did anything wrong to you…directly. He looked lost for a second, you felt bad for being so mean to him, but before he could form a sentence, you turned and rushed away, willing yourself to catch the green cross light, which would turn red by the time Vernon realized you were running away and would stop him from following you. Your heart was beating fast as you turned to look back, to see him standing at the cross dumbfounded, his eyebrows furrowed as he raised one hand as if to ask you to wait for him. You were pretty good at reading people; you had anticipated his moves. You shook your head at him and took off, Vernon losing sight of you in the mass of people walking on the sidewalk.

You were studying in your room when you heard the front door open and slam closed. Your hands suddenly started shaking as your mother’s laughter carried through the big apartment you lived in, your father’s voice next as he answered her question. You dreaded this moment, you knew it was coming, but you were hoping it would come later. You knew your father was expecting you in his study, so, you rose from your desk and pulled your hair in a low ponytail. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and hated your expression; anyone would be able to see how scared you looked. You started glaring at yourself, trying to stop this horrible feeling brewing inside you, as you pointed a finger at yourself in the mirror.

“Stop it!” You snapped at yourself quietly, “Whatever happens, happens. Walk out there with your head up and don’t say anything unnecessary!”

When you heard your mother’s heels clicking getting closer and closer, you quickly grabbed the sheet and hurried to your door, opening it just as your mother raised her knuckle to knock.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed with a wide smile and placed her palm on your cheek, “Looking pretty today, how do you feel?”

You remained expressionless as you looked at your mother, jealous of her good mood, “Fine, I’ll go see father now.”

“Oh, right!” She exclaimed again and stepped out of your way, shooing you away, “We are supposed to leave in thirteen minutes for our date, don’t keep him up! Also, we should look for some vacation cabins in the mountains for our get-away—”

“We are not going anywhere!” You snapped and turned your head to look at your mother, jaw clenched. How could she not pick up on my mental state? How could she not read my expression when I’ve been hers for seventeen years? When she was my mother?

“Oh…” She cleared her throat, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “Why…”

“I didn’t get the grade.” You muttered and sighed, taking off towards your father’s office. It was on the other end of the apartment and you had time to even out your expression and calm your erratic heartbeat for at least a while. When you stopped in front of the big, black, door you took a deep breath and ignored your mother, who was headed to their shared bedroom, and knocked on your father’s office door. There was a grunt coming from inside and you knew it was your cue to walk in, so, you opened the door with more force than needed and walked in, leaving the door open. He hated it, but you felt like you’d need to escape tonight, it made you feel safer. Your father glanced at his door and then at you before leaning back in his chair with a sigh. You didn’t sit as you came to a stop in front of his desk, just reached your hand out for him to take the sheet. He nodded once and took it, eyes running over the paper. Your heart started beating quickly once again and you clasped your hands behind your back to stop yourself from biting your other nails you didn’t get to in school. Involuntarily, your left foot started tapping against the floorboards of the office and you gulped as you looked straight ahead when your father’s eyes fell on you.

“What did I say?” His voice was hard, sheet crumbled up in his hands. Don’t answer him, let him scream at you, “I thought I was clear.”

When he fell silent you didn’t know what to do or say, so you just let your head hang low, avoiding eye contact with your father, “You are telling me that you’re unable to get a 10/10 at English? When your mother is American?! Is your brain perhaps too little for you to comprehend what you have to learn?! Are you dumb, Y/N?!”

That felt like the last straw. I’m not dumb, I’m more competent than you once were! Your eyes snapped up to meet your father’s, your glare melting into his, “How am I dumb? I got a 9,55, father! And I got a 10/10 at everything else! I’m top of my class and high school! What more do you want?!”

Your voice broke at the end of the sentence, and your body shook, you have never raised your voice at your father. He looked shocked for a second, but in a second also, he was up and storming around his desk to reach you.

“You ungrateful scum!” He shouted loudly, his deep voice made you jump, “I feed you! I give you money! I buy you clothes! I put a roof over your head! And this is how you pay me back? By talking back and thinking you are better than me?!”

“When did I ever say that—” The words died in your throat as the back of your father’s palm slammed into your cheek harshly. Your eyes widened as your head snapped to the other side, tears instantly sprung to your eyes. You remained like that, unmoving and quiet, fighting with your tears. I’d rather die than cry right now. Your father scoffed and you felt the sheet hit your head as he threw that at you as well, as he turned away from you.

“You have three months to fix your mistakes, Y/N. After that, I will not see you anymore in this house.” You gulped at his words, straightening once he walked away and you knew he wouldn’t hit you again. You remained in front of his desk as he walked towards his door, about to get changed for his date with your mother. A broken chuckle left your lips as you looked up at the ceiling, one single tear rolling down your cheek. Better make his life hell in those three months!

“I can’t wait to leave this fucking hell!” You hissed, unaware that your father didn’t leave the room yet. He hesitated taking his next step as he looked back at you with furrowed eyebrows, taken aback by your words.

“I wish I was never born into this fucking family.” At this point, you didn’t even care if he was still standing in the doorway or not, it just felt good to speak your mind aloud. You wanted to shout at the top of your lungs for your parents to hear what you had to say. You wanted everyone to know. I hate them. Your father gulped as he took one final look at you, his jaw clenched, before he shook his head and walked away with a scoff. All he could think of was that you were a spoiled, ungrateful brat. Meanwhile, all you could think of was the day you’d finally be able to run away. In three months, you’d turn eighteen, school would finally end, and you’d leave this shithole you hated with your whole heart. Screw them both, who gives a fuck about them anyways?

That night you went to bed crying, which resulted in having a puffy face once you woke up. Your study session with DK wasn’t very successful and once he realized you just weren’t in the right state of mind to study, he dismissed you and set another appointment for next week, saying your English was almost better than his and that you didn’t even need tutoring. You knew that, but you were hopeful that if DK helps you out, on your next exam you’ll get a 10/10 just to spite your father before you move out. While crying, you have decided, that no matter what, in three months you were out of that place. You didn’t want to stay there anymore, you’d rent out a small apartment downtown, find a job and finish your last year of high school. You knew your mother would secretly support you and give you enough money to survive for months, but you didn’t want anything that was theirs anymore…especially their money. When you looked in the mirror to get ready for a new day, all you could do was sigh. Your eyes were big and red and you knew you’d have to spend half an hour just pouring cold water on them to make the swell go away. But when you pulled your hair in a bun, you knew the greenish-bluish bruise on your right cheekbone wouldn’t go away with cold water, you had to put on makeup. This is why you didn’t tell Yoona exactly everything about your family, especially your father, she would’ve reported it without a second thought. You disliked your parents, yes, but they were still your parents. Right now, they were everything you’ve got and you could make them suffer in different, much more effective ways. You decided to let your hair rest freely today, knowing it would offer more cover for your cheek, even if the expensive foundation and color corrector did their jobs fairly well. At breakfast you didn’t speak at all to your parents and you refused to ride with John and your father to school, taking the bus instead as you were running late a bit to be walking. You were in a bad mood all day and everyone could see it, even Yoona, who was a lot more cheerful than yesterday. She promised to hang out with you at lunch break and you were thankful, you felt like you needed to be in her presence today. Vernon was becoming plain annoying with his constant staring and his attempt to talk to you in one of the short breaks you had between classes, which alerted everyone from your class. You threw him a harsh glare and he understood that you wanted nothing to do with him, so he went back to his desk and left you alone for the rest of the day.

You were fixing your makeup before the lunch break arrived, your geography teacher let you off early today, as you stared into your small pocket mirror. You pulled your hair behind your ear as you took out the little cushion and started tapping it lightly against your cheekbone, not much of the foundation had come off, but you wanted to be sure. Especially since you were having lunch with Yoona. As you stared at yourself, your eyes looking lifeless, your ears picked up a loud voice greeting someone from your classroom. You looked up, curious, and your eyes fell on Vernon’s table. A darker blonde-haired boy, quite scrawny looking with dirty clothes, was leaning against Vernon’s desk. He looked younger than the two of you, maybe he was your age, but his complex gave him a boyish look. Vernon looked panicked as he stared at the boy, pinching his ear and making the boy cry out. A few of your classmates glanced at them, but no one seemed as invested and curious as you were. Vernon looked like he got caught doing something illegal, it definitely picked your interest. In your mind, Vernon was this perfect boy, perfect student, whom never did anything bad. Seeing that look on his face, you placed your mirror down on your desk and sneakily continued to watch them.

“Hyung, I’m just here to tell you something important!” The young boy exclaimed annoyed, earning a few more confused looks as he wasn’t wearing your high school’s uniform…or any for that matter. Is he not in school? He seems very young however…maybe he just skipped classes today? Vernon’s eyes widened and accidentally connected with yours and you quickly looked down, absentmindedly flipping through your long-forgotten fashion magazine. You felt his gaze remain on you for a few more seconds before it was gone; you peaked up at them to see the younger boy hunched over Vernon’s desk as he was articulately whispering something. Now, that made you even more curious about what they were speaking, and you looked back down at your magazine. A model you didn’t like had their picture on the page, so, you gripped it and tore the page out, crumbling the paper up. There, this should do for a good excuse to pass by them. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were about to commit a felony, and checked if anyone was watching you, but no one was. You hummed to yourself and looked around, trying to look innocent as you started slowly walking towards Vernon’s desk. Your heart started beating faster as your grip tightened on the paper and you slowed down even more once you could hear the boy’s high-pitched voice.

“Hyung, I’m not kidding! They said they’ll pay really well!” Pay well for what? Your eyebrows furrowed as you became intrigued, eager to find out more.

“I’m not racing against Jun anymore, why can’t you understand that?!” Vernon snapped quietly; his eyebrows were furrowed as he was glaring at his desk. The young boy sighed loudly and you actually stopped walking, standing just two feet away from them. Jun? Vernon is racing? Is this what I think it is?

“Come on, hyung!” The young boy whined and you jumped when something crashed in the back, the paper falling from your grip, “It’s tomorrow night, on a Friday, your mom won’t be pissed if we go racing—”

“Shut up!” Vernon’s voice was hard as you made eye contact. Your face must have said it all because Vernon didn’t look pleased, you heard something you weren’t supposed to. You cleared your throat and walked to the trash bin, feeling the little smirk creep onto your lips. Vernon races? How come I’ve never seen him before? Your thoughts became a whirlwind as you turned to walk back to your desk, eyes falling onto Vernon. He was glaring at you and suddenly you felt powerful, like you were in control of this situation. Vernon was racing Jun? Last month I beat Jun…that means…I can finally beat Vernon at something. You were suddenly pleased and even your mood got better, something you weren’t expecting to happen anytime soon. You didn’t have to think twice as the bell rang signaling it was time for lunch break. The young boy hadn’t left yet and it looked like Vernon was scolding him as you reached inside your backpack and felt around it. You gripped your sandwich first and then the cold rolled up material. You took both items out and your lips widened into a big smirk as your eyes fell on Vernon, who was busy talking to the boy. This is it. I can finally show him he isn’t better at everything. He’s not rich, I have a Veyron, it doesn’t matter what car he has, I will beat him without a doubt. You took off, gripping your things tightly as you were headed straight towards Vernon’s table. Him and the boy stopped whispering when they felt your presence behind them and they turned both to look at you. You slammed the big roll of cash on Vernon’s table, making their jaws drop as the young boy looked back at you as if you grew two heads out. You felt powerful and proud, so, with a wink directed at the young boy you brushed past him to find Yoona and enjoy your lunch with her. You knew Vernon understood your message.

Classes passed by quickly and you were buzzing to get out of school, for once not even having thought of your parents since the incident with Vernon. You wanted to talk to him, but not at school, you didn’t want your classmates to start more unwanted rumors about you or Vernon. You might dislike him, but you didn’t want to drag him into unnecessary drama. So, you told Yoona that tomorrow you were going to the races and she was excited, telling you she’d be there too with Johnny and his crew, and that she’d cheer for you. She was proud of you and amused at the same time, she knew you disliked Vernon, so she understood how much this meant to you. It was childish, but Yoona didn’t judge you for it, even cheered you on, she could see something was wrong today. So, when you left the school gates, you walked down the street after you promised Yoona that she could drive you home tomorrow, and you turned the corner. You knew Vernon walked this way to get home, so you leaned against the stone wall of the school fence and took a deep breath in, suddenly confused why your heart was beating so fast. Am I nervous because I’m about to see Vernon? No, that’s stupid, I don’t have a reason to feel this way around him. You stood up straight when Vernon rounded the corner and his eyes fell on you, narrowing dangerously as he approached you. When he stopped in front of you, he remained silent and you rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to speak.

“I’m sure you know what I meant by that…” You trailed off and Vernon nodded wordlessly, “I’m challenging you to race.”

“I know.” Vernon nodded again, his voice seemed to be a lot deeper right now, and you didn’t even realize it when you blushed.

“I heard some rumors…” You started, trying to remain confident under his sudden intimidating gaze, “About a guy called Vernon who drifts better than Lee Seungkwan, is that you?”

A smirk appeared on Vernon’s lips and your eyebrows furrowed when your heartbeat picked up again, suddenly you felt hot standing under the sun, “It is me.”

You didn’t like the look on Vernon’s face, you felt like he knew he was making you flustered, so you took a step to be closer, “Well then, here’s my proposal…I win, you teach me how to drift. You win, I’ll go on a date with you.”

I can’t believe this is the proposal I’m making, I sound stupid. How do I know he wants to go on a date with me? Now I’m just blindly assuming and insinuating that he might like me, oh no…Your cheeks warmed up again and you hated the way Vernon started laughing, his mouth opening and showing his teeth.

“How do you know if I want to go on a date with you?” Vernon raised one eyebrow and you rolled your eyes, trying to mask your initial panic.

“Call it a hunch,” You answered back with a smirk, trying to fake your confidence that suddenly decided to disappear, “are you in or not?”

Vernon remained silent for a few seconds as his eyes ran over your face, his features softening. You bit your lower lip, feeling nervous all of a sudden as no boy looked at you like that before.

“I’m in.” He extended his hand for you to shake and you looked down at it, hesitantly shaking his hand. His grip was strong and warm, his palm surprisingly soft as it caressed yours, it was so much bigger. Your cheeks burned again and your eyebrows furrowed as you became angry at yourself and pulled your hand away, throwing Vernon a small glare. He seemed amused as you turned and stormed off, completely missing the smitten look Vernon was giving you.

You woke up feeling excited, which was a foreign feeling, as you usually dreaded having breakfast with your parents. Last night you tried to nurse the bruise on your cheek with ice and ointment, but the colors were still there and you had to cover it with foundation once again. You let your hair hang freely once again and once you were dressed; you went out to have breakfast. Your parents weren’t in the dining room, so you headed to the kitchen, surprising the maids, and asked them to let you have breakfast there. They were hesitant but didn’t try to argue with you when they saw the genuine smile on your face; they could see how your mood was strangely good today and decided not to ruin it. After that, you skillfully creeped around the apartment, making sure to avoid your parents as you headed for school, your long strides taking you to school quickly. Yoona and you got there at the same time so you asked her to take you to Jihoon’s car-service after school, she said she’d drive you home today after all, as your Veyron was ready to be picked up for tonight’s race. Vernon seemed to be smug as he offered you a few smirks here and there throughout the day, and when you returned from the restroom, you found a protein bar on your desk. Confused, you looked around and watched your classmates, who weren’t paying much attention to you. Vernon wasn’t in the classroom and you sighed, about to sit, when Hanna waved her hand at you. You raised your eyebrows at her in question and she just pointed at Vernon’s table before at the protein bar. You understood what she tried saying and with red cheeks you slumped into your chair, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Your gaze fell on the protein bar and just as you poked it annoyed, Vernon walked in with two of his friends and his eyes fell on you. You threw him a glare and hid behind your long hair, refusing to let him see the blush on your cheeks, I blushed enough yesterday. His ego didn’t need to be further fed. You found it amusing how sure he looked of himself, you knew he was convinced that he’d win tonight, but you also knew he’d be a sore loser. You haven’t seen many people with expensive cars at the races, even if the engine is the one that counts, your Veyron just naturally was faster and better than most cars they owned. It was why you were able to win so many races until now and why Jihoon approached you in the first place. He was excited to see the new engine he installed in action tonight, he would sell it for big money if you win.

Your parents were still out on their date when you left the apartment, you didn’t have to worry about them seeing you dressed ‘like a hooker’, as they called this style. It wasn’t even anything bad, just leather pants and a strapless crop top and your leather jacket. You wore your thick, plain, platformed boots so that you’ll seem taller but be able to drive at the same time. Once you got to the garage you smiled pridefully at your car as you unlocked it. You really loved the car; it was your most prized possession as it brought you many victories so far. Once you turned the car on, goosebumps appeared on your arms at the roar of the engine. It was humming loudly and it shook your car in the best way possible as you carefully drove out of the garage. You turned on the radio and chuckled when Yoona’s favorite song came on, rolling down the windows to let the chilly air of the night fill your car. You pulled your hair in a low ponytail so that it wouldn’t accidentally get in your face and disturb you, you were aware of what you did was dangerous. You were careful as you drove down the illuminated streets of Seoul, making sure you wouldn’t exceed the speed limit. Wouldn’t want to make your father hate you more and take your car away. You’d get there at least fifteen minutes earlier, and you’d lie if you said your stomach wasn’t whirling around due to nervousness. You gripped the wheel tightly as you shook your head, passing by a green light, trying to clear your mind. This really isn’t the time to be nervous about something that I will most definitely win. The engine change wasn’t very obvious, your car was actually a bit slower, but it still flew down the streets if you pressed the gas pedal. Jihoon assured you you’d definitely win, even with the slight change, and you promised to give half of the profit to him. Tonight, he was making good money, people would flock to him to buy this new engine which to them seemed like it was as fast as an original Veyron engine, people were easy to fool. You drove through downtown and past some warehouses, music getting carried to where you were currently, even though the meeting point was one block away. You slowed as you turned the next corner and shut the lights of the car off as the street was illuminated well enough by the lampposts but the reflectors brought by the people here too. The street you were on was a very long streets, on both sides were abandoned buildings, and cars were parked close to those building to leave space for the circulating cars, and people, to pass by. You honked softly and the mass of people in front of you started fleeing out of your way, creating a straight path for you to the start line. You slowly rolled by them, the loud music coming from different car speakers could be felt even in your car, you picked up on the slight vibrations. People who knew you greeted you with grins and tapped your turquoise car, becoming excited when they saw you weren’t about to park anywhere. They knew you were racing tonight and as you arrived to the start line, people started cheering your name. You started laughing as you turned the engine off and got out of your car, grinning at the people surrounding you.

“There you are!” Yoona exclaimed as she leaned against the front of your car, arms crossed in front of her. You chuckled and approached her, draping an arm around her shoulders.

“Did you think I’d miss tonight?”

“Nothing’s ever sure with you…” She was right and you rolled your eyes, having missed races not once because of your parents being home. They didn’t know what you did in your free time, but sometimes they’d forbid you from spending your Fridays out, even though you always said you were sleeping over at Yoona’s.

“Did you see Vernon?” You asked as you looked around, unable to see anyone familiar in the huge crowd around you. Butterflies in your stomach made you rub your tummy as you pouted and Yoona started laughing loudly.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” Her eyebrows raised and you decided not to look at her, “And no, I don’t even know if he’s here. Maybe he chickened out—”

A loud roar of an engine made Yoona’s words unable to be heard and you whipped your head around, eyes falling on a red Honda Civic Type R. The windows were tinted and you couldn’t see inside, but you knew it was Vernon, no one else was racing beside the two of you for the next twenty minutes. Yoona’s eyes widened just a bit as you both watched Vernon get out of the car and you were confused when two blondes ran up to him squealing.

“Oppa!” They chorused and your face distorted into disgust as Yoona burst out laughing, leaning back as her head was thrown back. You looked at her, expression still the same, and it made her laugh louder and harder. Your eyes fell on Johnny, who was smirking, as he started approaching you, his eyes falling on Vernon.

“Brought along your Barbie dolls, eh?” He tapped Yoona’s thigh as he walked past, headed for Vernon. The two blondes clung onto Vernon’s arms and you finally looked at him, taking in his attire. He wore ripped jeans and a form fitting navy green blouse, a leather jacket keeping him warm from the chilly air. A few chains hung around his neck and his dark hair was pushed back. You were surprised to see Vernon dressed like this; you didn’t think his style would be like that. You’ve only ever seen him in his uniform and some loose gym clothes. You gulped and Yoona nudged you, eyes squinted.

“Stop staring at him, you’re making it very obvious.” She muttered as she leaned down as if she was about to whisper something to you.

“What?” You asked confused as you turned your head, Vernon just shook hands with Johnny, and you then looked back at Yoona.

“That you like him.” Yoona’s words hit you like a truck and you couldn’t help the very loud scoff that left your lips. Is she crazy? I like Vernon? Where did she get that from?!

“Did you take something before you—”

Yoona threw you a warning glare and you didn’t finish your sentence as you knew better, but your attention was back on Johnny and Vernon, it looked like they’ve known each other for quite a while as they talked casually.

“Taking her out for a tour?” Johnny asked with a grin as he placed his hand on Vernon’s Honda. Vernon nodded and untangled himself from the two blondes, a smirk appearing on his lips. Your stomach did a somersault and you gasped quietly, confused as to what that feeling meant and why you only ever felt so flustered around Vernon. Yoona can’t be right…

“Nah, I’m here to claim my prize.” Vernon’s eyes fell on you and your back straightened as you quickly smoothed your expression into a neutral one. You knew your cheeks were still burning, but it was so chilly outside, one could blame it on that. You chuckled as Johnny looked at you too, seemingly having realized Vernon was racing you tonight.

“I don’t know man,” He said with an amused smirk, patting Vernon’s back forcefully, “I’ve never seen Y/N lose before in that car.”

You couldn’t help but notice the slight envy that slipped into Johnny’s tone and it made you smirk; you always knew he wanted your car. He was pretty pissed when you refused to let him drive it, you weren’t about to let a lunatic wreck your precious car. If something happened to it and you’d had to tell your parents it was Johnny’s fault, you were sure you’d never get to see the daylight ever again.

“You’re still in, right, Chwe?” You raised your eyebrows mockingly and Vernon scoffed, opening his door.

“Why don’t you sit inside your car so that we get over with this?” You chuckled and pushed off your car, Yoona following suit as Johnny walked up to the two of you, grabbing Yoona’s nape. You watched as he stared her in the eyes, eyes narrowing the slightest at her, and Yoona’s jaw clenched as she waited patiently for Johnny to stop. You hated when he did that, tried dominating Yoona or got possessive to the point of hurting her, so you ripped your car door open and pressed down on the honk harshly. Both of them jumped and Johnny looked at you with a glare.

“Move along, dickhead, I haven’t got all night.” You snapped at him and he chuckled, releasing Yoona, who looked thankful as she pushed Johnny slightly back and walked away while shooting you a finger heart.

“Don’t crash.” You rolled your eyes at Johnny’s words and got in as he walked to the side where Yoona stood, circling his arms around your best friend’s waist. Out of nowhere, Jun showed up, holding a checkered flag. You closed your door shut and put on your seatbelt, melting into your seat. Vernon’s engine roared to life and you were quick to do the same, Jun having come to a stop between the two cars.

“You know the drill,” Jun shouted over everyone’s voice, “You’ve got 400 meters, whichever finishes first wins and gets the money.”

Vernon reeled his engine and you just smirked; eyes fixed on the checkered flag as Jun raised it. You always concentrated, how you start, is the most important thing. You can’t lose seconds and you have to be faster than the other one, it gives you already a very small but significant advantage. You gripped the gearstick and the wheel with your other hand, ready to shift it into drive. You hated how your eyes had to take a glance at Vernon and it annoyed you even more when you realized his eyes were on you. What if Yoona is right and I do like him? I do feel flustered around him. Isn’t it just because he makes me angry? A few days ago, I was convinced I hated him with all my heart. What is it that I truly feel for him then? Jun’s hand with the flag dropped and you shifted the gearstick just in a second, your foot pressing down the gas pedal. You didn’t look anywhere else as your car came to an abrupt start, the safety belt cutting into the exposed skin of your collarbones and your eyebrows furrowed as your car picked up speed in just seconds. Everything became a blur around you, all you saw was the finish line that was still far away, but you were getting closer and closer. You didn’t know where Vernon was, but having not seen him pass you, you believed he was still behind somewhere. Your stiff body almost felt relaxed, despite the contraction of your muscles to keep the car going in a straight line at such high speed, and your mind was silent. You didn’t hear anything, the radio was always off when you raced because you wanted to hear the engine, and your labored breathing felt almost relaxing. You felt in control and free, a small smile slipped onto your lips when you noticed Seungkwan standing on the side with a big checkered flag, flapping it around above him. You were close, just a few more meters. Your engine cried loudly as you pushed the gas pedal for another boost of energy, your car crossing the finish line before Vernon’s could. You let go of the gas pedal and hit the brakes, your car coming to a stop slowly but surely. People flooded around your car and your head rested on the head rest as you closed your eyes, surprised by how fast your heart was beating. Adrenaline always flooded your veins, but never this much. You opened one eye and glanced to your left, but Vernon’s car was nowhere. It confused you as you turned the engine off, undoing your seatbelt. People were cheering for you, your name leaving their lips as they tapped your car in congratulations, and you gripped the door handle to open it. Just as you pushed it open, it was pushed back closed and your eyebrows furrowed, until Vernon’s face popped up. He motioned with his finger to roll down your window and you did, still looking at him confused.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice loud, as Vernon threw the cash back at you, making it land in your lap.

“I lost,” His tone was hard and he looked displeased, “but you knew I would, so take your money back.”

You rolled your eyes and gripped the cash, raising it up between your faces, “I gave it to you regardless of the outcome, our deal was about something else—”

“I’m not your charity case!” Vernon’s voice turned harsh and you raised your eyebrows at him, finding it weird how pissed he suddenly was, “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon at the abandoned sandy tracks half an hour from here. Don’t come with the Veyron, it’s not a car for beginners.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him that you weren’t a beginner, but Vernon turned around and stormed away, pushing people out of his way. You turned your head to see where he was headed, and you found his car just a few meters away from the finish line, 100 meter between yours and his car. What a dick.

The revving of the engine was a sign that you were doing something wrong and out of anger, you hit the brakes harshly, sending yourself and the person sitting in the passenger seat forward. Your heart was beating fast as you gripped the steering wheel with both hands, your skin melting into the material of the wheel. The seatbelt was cutting into your skin too and your jaw clenched when a chuckle came from your right. You knew Vernon was smirking in amusement, very pleased to see you fail once again. You thought you’d learn how to drift quickly and easily, but here you were, almost two hours later, barely being able to make one right turn. You didn’t know what it was that made it so hard, it couldn’t have been Vernon’s Honda, you’ve driven cars like his before thanks to Jihoon; you really didn’t understand what was the matter. I can’t believe I’ve been embarrassing myself for the past two hours. A sigh left your mouth and you glanced at Vernon, who’s right arm was perched on the windowsill and he had his smirk still on.

“You suck at teaching,” You had to say something to save yourself from further embarrassment, “That’s why I still can’t do it.”

It was so amusing to Vernon that he started laughing, his mouth widening and his teeth showed. Your heart only seemed to pick up its rhythm and your eyebrows furrowed as you harshly shifted the gear to start doing another round.

“Hey, hey—” Vernon was quick to notice your change of demeanor and your fingers tightened around the shift stick when he gripped your hand, “I think we had enough for today, Y/N…especially my car. I can’t have you burning down my brakes, sorry.”

“If you’d let me come with my Veyron you wouldn’t be here complaining—”

“And risk wrecking that car?” Vernon’s eyebrows shoot up and you looked at him, his hand was still on top of yours as if he forgot it there, “Hell, I bet your parents don’t even know you race…I for sure would bite my kid’s head off if I found out they raced with a car like yours—”

“Yeah,” You snapped, eyes blazing as you glared at Vernon, what does he know about me, “That’s why they don’t know. Let go of my hand now and tell me where to drive.”

Vernon gulped and if you weren’t so angry, you probably would have blushed at his reaction. He looked down at your hands as if he realized due to your words it was still on top of yours and he quickly placed it in his lap, clearing his throat as you looked away, “I’m quite hungry, let’s have lunch.”

“Just tell me where you live and I’ll call John to pick me up—”

“No!” Vernon’s voice rose a bit and you looked at him surprised as you were driving away from the abandoned race tracks, “I mean…come have lunch with us. My mom knows where we are and she’d be really pissed if I didn’t invite you for lunch…”

Your heart started beating fast again and you bit your lower lip, trying to ignore his words and the temptation to say yes, “I can’t stay.”

“Please—”

“No.” Vernon knew it was final and that he couldn’t try convincing you anymore, but he really wanted you to stay. He was amazed by you, truth be told. He didn’t know what was so attractive about you, because you might have been beautiful, but he never really cared much about looks. Something about the way you would always look at him, he felt some hidden feelings that you desperately tried to hide from him and yourself as well. He knew you had something with him personally, he didn’t understand why, but he hoped one day you’d have enough courage to tell him. It was the only reason why he never tried getting close to you, he was afraid honestly, that you’d reject him in a very unpleasant way and he wanted to save himself from the heartbreak. He didn’t even know you raced, he never heard of your name being gossiped at the races, however, he did hear something from Chan, who worked for Lee Jihoon. But you weren’t the only girl who’s name was Y/N, he couldn’t just assume so boldly. As you focused on the road, on driving back towards the main roads, you failed to notice Vernon’s intense gaze analyzing your every movement, expression. Your bruise had faded nicely, after icing it non-stop when you were home, but you could still faintly see it. So faintly, that one would have to be really close next to you to see it, or so you thought. Vernon clearly saw it and just as he opened his mouth to question what it was, you sighed.

“Yesterday…” You started quietly, your muscles having eased now that you were just driving around casually and Vernon wasn’t touching you, “I feel like I insulted you…”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, pointing towards a street, to which you turned, “Insulted me?”

“With the money…I didn’t want to make it seem like I was—”

But Vernon didn’t want to hear it, because quite frankly, he wasn’t insulted at all last night. He was pissed, because you won. And that was only because he really wanted to go on that date with you. However, now that you’ve been alone in his car for almost two hours, he didn’t seem to mind it that much, “I wasn’t insulted, Y/N. I know you are rich and that I have less than you, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and once again followed Vernon’s instructions, which lead to a quiet side of the city, “Why were you so angry then?”

“I was frustrated, not necessarily angry.” Your lips pulled up into a smile and you glanced at Vernon.

“I probably should have warned you I drive a Veyron—”

“I heard Jihoon sold your engine.”

“It wasn’t mine. He bought it and wanted me to show it off so that he could sell it for more.”

“Smart.”

“I know.” You found yourself glancing at Vernon with a smile, which he returned, as he pointed towards a house at the end of the street. It was a dead end, and theirs was the last house. It looked normal size, white, and had a nice front lawn. You didn’t think Vernon was poor, but the quality of the house surprised you. It had a refreshing look and definitely looked cozy just from the outside. You parked the car in the driveway, like Vernon instructed, and turned the engine off. You both undid your seatbelts and got out of the car; your eyes glanced towards the house. The window on the second floor was opened and loud music was blasting through it. A smile had pulled onto your lips without realizing and Vernon cleared his throat to get your attention.

“That’s my sister…she’s a bit loud sometimes.” You nodded as your eyes fell on Vernon, who’s hands were in the pockets of his baggy jeans, it weirdly looked good on him. Vernon’s style surprised you. It looked really cool and was actually very fitting for him, now you realized. It would be weird seeing him now in his uniform, knowing his preference in clothes.

“I’ll call John—" But just as you grabbed your phone from your jacket, the front door opened and a middle-aged lady walked out, hands on her waist.

“Look at you two!” She exclaimed in English and your lips instantly pulled into a smile, her accent sounding an awful lot like Vernon’s, “I thought you’d never come home. Come on!”

Vernon grinned at his mother and took off, but you remained put, “Uh, ma’am I’ll be calling my father’s driver to pick me up.”

“Non-sense!” Vernon’s mother’s eyebrows furrowed as she stepped down a few steps, “Hurry up inside, I just finished the soup.”

“Ma’am, I really can’t stay for lunch—”

“Vernon, go get her!” And before you could disagree more, his mother walked inside, leaving the door open for you. Your eyes fell on Vernon and you shook your head, about to dial John’s number. I really don’t want to be here right now. My father is already pissed enough at me, I shouldn’t miss lunch today…especially since we are meeting with his business partners.

“If you don’t have lunch with us, mom won’t let me help you tomorrow or next week.” Your eyebrows furrowed at Vernon’s words and you looked down at your cellphone, hesitant to put it away. Would it really be so bad if I stayed? It’s just one lunch. Besides, I most definitely don’t want to meet Mr. Kim’s son, he’s too rude for my liking. You rolled your eyes and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, putting it back inside your jacket’s pocket as you followed Vernon inside the house.

The house on the inside was exactly how you imagined it to be. Walls white with big windows to let the natural light inside and everywhere you looked, you saw family pictures. It seemed like Vernon’s mother really liked flowers too as you could find them in every corner of the house. There was a scent of homecooked meal and it smelled so much better than the one coming from your maids at home. It was a lot warmer inside than outside, so you decided to get rid of your jacket too after you left your shoes in the doorway. You’d usually wear flip flops at home, but when Vernon gave you none and instructed to just go straight ahead while he went upstairs, you didn’t say anything about it. You watched Vernon hurry up the stairs as you walked down the hallway, humming coming from where Vernon instructed you to head towards.

“Oh, good!” It was his mom, once you stepped inside the kitchen, the scent of homecooked food was stronger. The kitchen wasn’t very big, just enough for a few people to be inside, but when you looked to your left you noticed there was a dining room, the young boy from school was there actually. He was sitting on a chair, one foot up on the chair next to him as he watched something on his phone, picking his nose in the process. It was a sight you weren’t expecting, such a normal sight you never got to see at home, that it made you laugh. You actually started laughing so hard it alerted the young boy, who’s cheeks became pink and he shoot you a glare.

“Chan,” Vernon’s mom sighed as she glanced back to see what was so funny, “He was picking his nose again, wasn’t he?”

You only nodded as you tried to stop laughing, the boy actually got up and walked towards you with a small glare. You weren’t aware that Vernon had a brother, besides, this Chan boy looked nothing like Vernon or his mother.

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N by the way,” You spoke up as Chan stopped beside you, squaring you up with his eyes, as you watched Vernon’s mother.

“Yes, Vernon told me who he was going with. Wasn’t expecting a girl to want to learn how to drift.” Chan scoffed next to you as he offered you his hand once he was done taking your form in.

“Lee Chan.” You shook his hand and narrowed your eyes at him, “And Mrs. Chwe, I told you women like to race. Sometimes there’s more of them at the race tracks than men.”

“He’s not wrong.” You approved of his words, looking back at him, “You’re not related to the Lee family, right?”

“Do I look like I am?” Chan had a sharp tongue and you scoffed, watching him brush past you, “Let me put the plates, Mrs. Chwe.”

“You should be studying, Chan, dear.” Chan just rolled his eyes as he opened a drawer and pointed at the cutlery and motioned for you to take them. You grimaced at him but proceeded to help him out, it was better than standing awkwardly in the kitchen and doing nothing.

“Studying is a luxury that I can’t benefit of.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked alongside Chan to the dining room, setting the plates and cutlery on the long table.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, noticing one plate missing.

“I don’t have enough money to go to school, Y/N.” Chan answered with an impassive voice, but you couldn’t help and notice the yearning behind his words.

“How old are you?” You found yourself asking again, something tugging at your heartstrings. Am I feeling bad for him? He deserves to have part of education like everyone else. He seems like a quick-witted boy.

“Sixteen.” Chan muttered and brushed past you as he headed for the door of the kitchen. You looked at Mrs. Chwe as she brought the pot of soup to the table, still steaming as it had been recently finished. She had a sad expression as she heard your little exchange with Chan and it suddenly all made sense. He’s here because they are taking care of him. I don’t know his home situation, but if Mrs. Chwe took him in, it must mean that he wasn’t living well before at all.

“Vernon! Sofia!” You jumped at Chan’s shrill voice and Mrs. Chwe chuckled, taking a seat at the head of the table.

“Sit wherever you want,” She offered you a smile and you chose to sit on her left, the cushion was soft underneath your bum, “Can’t believe my son just left you to yourself, where are his manners.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Chwe.” You reassured her, sitting patiently as Chan chose to sit across from you. You internally cursed and hoped that Sofia would take the seat next to you, but you didn’t have that much luck. As the girl came into view, she raced Vernon and jumped into the seat next to Chan, leaving Vernon with a glare directed at her. You looked at Vernon and tried to keep a neutral expression, knowing all eyes were basically on the two of you. His black hair was dripping still and he had changed from the clothes he was wearing earlier today. He wore black sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt, which made your heart beat faster. You never noticed that Vernon had muscles before and you were praying to all Gods that you wouldn’t blush upon seeing the way his t-shirt sat tightly against his chest.

“Finally,” His mother said with a sour expression and Vernon chuckled awkwardly, taking his seat next to you. You tensed up when Vernon’s knee knocked into yours underneath the table and Chan just randomly chuckled, making everyone look at him.

“Nothing, sorry!” He quickly dismissed it and greedily grabbed for the ladle to pour soup into his bowl. Vernon kept his eyes on Chan and the younger boy tried to mask his chuckle with a scoff. It was weird but you said nothing as this seemed to be normal for the other people sitting at the table.

“I’m Sofia!” Your eyes fell on the girl sitting next to Chan and you offered her a genuine smile.

“I’m Y/N.” She grinned back at you and stole the ladle from Chan, elbowing him when he filled his bowl to the brim.

“I love this soup, stop it!” He exclaimed loudly and scooted his chair away from the girl, throwing daggers at her.

“You won’t leave anything for us!” Sofia fired back and you sat quietly, your body once again relaxed. Vernon’s hands on the table kept clenching and unclenching and you stole a glance at him, he was watching his sister and friend’s banter with a glare.

“Stop it, kids,” Mrs. Chwe intervened and took the ladle from Sofia once she was done, “You always serve the guest first.”

“It’s alright, don’t worry!” You quickly dismissed her words, offering her your bowl when she raised her hand, “You don’t have to change your habits just because I’m here.”

Vernon’s mother smiled as she handed you back the bowl, “You seem to be the most well behaved here, my dear.”

Your cheeks became hot and before you could dismiss her words, Chan erupted into giggles, “Of course, Mrs. Chwe! Can’t you smell the richness? I could, even from miles away—” Before Chan could finish his sentence, he cried out and jumped a bit, glaring at Vernon, who was glaring at him back. You looked at Vernon and saw how his jaw was clenched and his mother sighed, taking her son’s bowl to pour some soup for him too.

“Rich or poor, Chan, in this house it doesn’t matter, yes?” Her voice was scolding and Chan grew smaller in his seat, as if he realized he wasn’t at his real home here and apologized quietly. Once you started eating your soup, you remained quiet and listened to the casual conversations from around. It wasn’t because you had nothing to say, it’s just that habits are hard to change, and at your house no one spoke while you ate…well, sometimes your mother would, until your father would reprimand her for it. You smiled softly when Sofia talked about her recent trip with her friends to a resort not far from the city and felt a bit bad when Chan confessed that he wouldn’t be going home this month either. You didn’t know his story, but it was obvious how much it bothered him that he couldn’t be there. Vernon answered his mom when he was asked something, but otherwise remained silent like you, stealing glances that you obviously noticed but ignored in order to stop yourself from blushing.

“Did Vernon manage to teach you something today, Y/N?” Mrs. Chwe asked you just as you finished eating and your eyebrows furrowed.

“He tried to…” You muttered and subconsciously threw a glare at Vernon, “But I didn’t do much.”

“You aren’t bad though.” You scoffed and whipped your head towards Vernon, for a second forgetting that it wasn’t just the two of you there.

“Saying that now to seem nice, huh? Who are you trying to impress?” Everyone remained silent at your snappy tone and you grew embarrassed, realizing you were acting out again. It was just getting to you. The atmosphere at the table, how nice everyone was to everyone, how Mrs. Chwe seemed to know her kids and didn’t even have to ask them because she already knew what bothered them. Even Chan was treated well and Mrs. Chwe was babying him, offering him more soup once he was done even though he probably couldn’t eat more. It was obvious that everyone was cared of and loved. Hearing Mrs. Chwe calling you ‘my dear’ wasn’t helping with the void you felt in your chest. It was making your stomach ache when you thought of going home after this, after the picture of a loving family was now forever imprinted into your mind. How were you not supposed to hate Vernon now? He isn’t just perfect at school; his whole life seems to be perfect. Everyone loves him and Chan even looks up at him, Sofia seems to love to tease him and no one seems to be always pressuring him. How am I supposed to look at him without envy?

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” You apologized quickly, realizing you’ve stayed quiet for too long.

“Don’t worry, my son isn’t perfect.” Mrs. Chwe’s words were so contradicting towards your thoughts about him, “Whatever misunderstanding you have going on, I understand. Just solve it quickly so that you don’t stay with a grudge.”

“A misunderstanding even I don’t understand.” Vernon mumbled underneath his breath and you looked at him, eyes widening just a little bit. Now you felt worse and you sighed, pushing your hair behind your back.

“Oh, dear!” Everyone looked at Mrs. Chwe surprised, she was looking at you with her eyebrows furrowed, “What happened to your face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you touched your face with both hands, looking at Vernon out of reflex since you knew him best from the table, to see if he could see something wrong. His eyes looked into yours for a second before they fell on your cheek. Your heart seemed to come to a stop before it sped up dangerously and you just cleared your throat.

“I’m clumsy sometimes,” It was a script you memorized a long time ago, “I have a cabinet in my bathroom that’s around my height and sometimes when I wake up, I’m dizzy and happen to run into it. That’s what happened.”

Everyone but Vernon seemed to buy it, Sofia even laughed, “You should be more carefully, why did you even put the cabinet there?”

“I wasn’t the designer of the apartment.” You joked with her, throwing Vernon a confused glance as his right leg was moving up and down fast, like when you were anxious. Chan and Sofia giggled as Mrs. Chwe stood to gather the bowls.

“Put some ice on it, it’ll go away.” Her voice was soothing and you felt like her, too, knew your story was a lie; but you decided to ignore it and thank her for lunch once again.

“When is Mr. Chwe coming home?” Chan asked as he stood to help Mrs. Chwe take the bowls to the sink. He saved your curiosity and you were happy that he asked before you could.

“I don’t know,” Vernon answered with a shrug, leaning back in his chair, “He took some extra shifts.”

“Yes, because you just had to buy that expensive car to race with.” Mrs. Chwe snapped from the kitchen and you looked at Vernon.

“I’ve been earning more money ever since, mom. You can’t say I’m not trying to help you.” Vernon got defensive, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Your eyes fell on the contracting muscles and you gulped, reaching for your glass to drink some water. Sofia smirked but looked at her phone when she saw you throwing her a questioning glance.

“As if we weren’t in debt before.” The woman sighed to herself, but everyone heard it, and the cash that Vernon threw back at you yesterday felt heavy in your back-pocket. He wasn’t a charity case, he said it himself, but why not give it to him when you seriously didn’t need it? You looked at Vernon and his eyebrows were furrowed as he sighed quietly.

“Thank you for having me for lunch, but I really have to go home now.” You spoke up and stood up, Vernon following your actions. Sofia shot you a pout but she waved as you walked to the kitchen, Vernon behind you.

“You should come more often.” Mrs. Chwe gave you a pat on the head and you bowed your head, waving at Chan, but as you went to step outside of the kitchen, you stopped. Vernon walked into you and your skin tingled as he grabbed onto your arms, steadying himself. You wanted to curse but focused on what you were about to say as you glanced back, having to look over Vernon’s shoulder. He was taller than you.

“Chan, ask Vernon to give you my phone number and whenever you have free time, call me if you feel like studying a little.” Chan’s mouth fell open and you winked at him, taking off again.

“For free?” Chan shouted after you and you chuckled, weirdly not bothered that Vernon was still holding onto you.

“For free!” You called back and Chan started loudly cheering, making Vernon sigh, “You should do the same, Vernon, the poor kid makes it obvious that he’d like to study.”

“You think I didn’t try doing that?” Vernon scoffed and finally released you as you went to pull on your shoes, “He’s stubborn and refuses to listen to me.”

“I guess my beauty is enough to give him motivation then.” You said cutely and Vernon could have sworn his heart stopped beating. You didn’t notice his sudden freeze up as you grabbed your jacket and phone from your pocket.

“Your beauty…” He muttered to himself as you sent a message to John to pick you up, his answer was immediate.

“So…” You looked back at Vernon, sneakily taking the roll of cash from your back-pocket, “We are meeting tomorrow too?”

“That’s the plan, right?” He asked, his voice sounding a bit chocked up and you ignored it as you nodded. Your eyes fell on the table behind him and your heart picked up when you realized what you’d have to do. You wouldn’t have done it, not in a million years, if it wasn’t your only chance to leave the money at him. Your heart started beating fast and Vernon frowned when he saw you closing the gap between you two. You grimaced to yourself as you let your left arm circle his torso, hugging him briefly. Your right arm extended and just as you managed to drop the cash onto the table, Vernon pulled you into himself. You gasped quietly and noticed how refreshing his scent was and the back of his t-shirt was still wet from his dripping hair that seemed only damp now. The hug didn’t last for long but when you pulled back, both of your cheeks were warm and you couldn’t look at Vernon.

“Uhm, see you tomorrow!” Not wanting to hear his voice and feel more flustered, you quickly opened the door and ran down his driveway, refusing to turn back around to watch him close the door. You could still feel his arms around you and how soft his clothes were despite his body being so firm. I think Yoona is right, I might like Vernon.

You couldn’t help the satisfied cry that left your lips as you took your forth successful turn, drifting just like Vernon taught you. You still couldn’t do it each time you tried, but this was the best you’ve done since you’ve been here so far. Vernon was proud as he gripped onto the board of the car, lips in a wide grin. He wasn’t bothered by how sharp your turns were, throwing him around in his seat even though he was buckled up, he was happy that you were happy. He’s never seen you with such wide smile before, and he was mesmerized. He never thought you could become more beautiful than you already were. Your heart was beating fast again as you decided this was satisfying enough to take a break, Vernon’s been complaining for half an hour now. You slowed the car down and stopped the engine when it finally came to a stop. You let out a breath and relaxed in the driver’s seat, feeling accomplished. You could finally do it; you were sure you needed more practice but you actually did it this time.

“That was pretty cool, Y/N.” You forgot you were with Vernon in the car and you became embarrassed as you looked at him, “Am I still a bad teacher?”

“It took me five hours in total to catch the hang of it, I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re very bright at teaching.” It made Vernon chuckle and you realized what he acted like in school was his real personality, he wasn’t faking anything like some people were. It felt nice to be around someone authentic and you found yourself staring at him. His black hair seemed to have wax on as it was twirled in locks and paired with the red sunglasses he wore it made him look very attractive. He had on some black ripped jeans and underneath his neon green oversized jumper he wore a white t-shirt, you could see the collar of it. When Vernon locked eyes with you, you quickly looked away and picked at the ends of your turtleneck; your knee-length skirt had ridden up a bit and was around your thighs, you’d have to pull it lower soon.

“I gave Chan your phone number,” You looked back at Vernon surprised, you didn’t expect Chan to actually accept your offer, “He said he’ll give you a call next week.”

“That’s fine,” You hummed and brushed your long hair behind your back, “The less time I spend at home, the better.”

You wished you didn’t say that, because it seemed like Vernon just remembered something and his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes searched your face. You did not forget to put on foundation today, so he couldn’t see anything wrong with your skin, but suddenly the area felt on fire. You hoped Vernon wouldn’t bring it up now that he couldn’t see it, but you were wrong.

“Why hide the bruise if I have already seen it?”

“I thought it wasn’t visible anymore, good you told me.”

“Wouldn’t want more people getting suspicious?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Vernon rolled his eyes, looking a little irritated.

“What happened?” You shrugged and sighed, trying to remain neutral.

“I told you yesterday, Vernon—”

“But it’s not the truth.” You rolled your eyes but Vernon’s burning gaze made you want to tell him everything. You didn’t know anymore which feeling was stronger: hatred or liking. But you wanted to tell someone and Vernon was willing to listen, maybe you felt like this because you knew Vernon wouldn’t directly go to the police like Yoona would.

“Everyone at school is jealous of me for being rich, for having everything I want and need. But I don’t have everything, Vernon. My parents don’t love, at least my father doesn’t, my mother barely spends time with me nowadays and the bruise—" You hated thinking of how you got certain bruises, your chest ached. You blocked the memories away and you didn’t think it would be this hard to say it. You were scared of how Vernon would react and what he’d think, would he see you differently? Vernon grabbed your hand and you became stiff, wanting to pull your hand away but keep it there at the same time. It was oddly offering you comfort.

“The truth is that—my father—he—hits me.” You muttered quietly and looked down at your hands, unable to look at Vernon. You didn’t want him to see the tears in your eyes, you hated being vulnerable in front of others. And now you were confused about what you actually felt for Vernon, it wasn’t helping. Vernon’s silence was making you uncomfortable and you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched. He seemed fine, but his jaw gave him away. You knew he was angry and you sighed, pulling your hand away from his.

“Go to the police, tell on him.”

“No, I can’t do that. He’s still my father.”

“Do you even hear yourself?!” Vernon’s sudden raise of voice made you jump as you looked back at him surprised, “This isn’t a little disciplinary spank a parent does from time to time, Y/N. He’s abusing you!”

You didn’t need someone to tell you, you were well aware of that. You threw Vernon a glare and crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Thanks for stating the obvious—”

“No, don’t do that!” He snapped, undoing his seatbelt in his anger, to be able to turn towards you better, “This isn’t something that can be treated lightly, Y/N! You need to tell someone; he has to stop. He has no rights laying his hands on you, do you understand me?”

“Do you understand that I know but I won’t do anything?” You raised your voice as well, your glare becoming harsh, “If I want my life to be ruined forever, sure, I’ll go tell the authorities.”

“He can’t ruin your life for something he did knowingly that it’s wrong—” His words became white noise as you closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself. Vernon was the last person you needed lecturing from, especially since you were getting this treatment because he was better than you at one fucking subject. Your anger went through the roof and you snaped, unable to take his words.

“Shut up, it’s all because of you!” Vernon’s eyes went wide and he looked so confused, you felt bad for telling him that, “You’re better at English than I am, my father can’t stand that. I have to be best at everything. It’s why I could never stand you, unknowingly you made me hurt. And it’s a shit reason, I know, but it’s true…”

Vernon looked speechless until he started looking regretful and he grabbed your hand again, despite your glare, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” You scoffed, throwing him a look, “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry, I only have to put up with his shit for three more months. I’ll be moving out.”

“Does he know?” Vernon’s eyebrows rose and you scoffed again.

“Of course not. Why would I tell him? He keeps threatening me so I don’t see why I shouldn’t make his threats reality before he gets to proceed with them.” Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought and you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Come move in with us.” You weren’t expecting that at all and your eyes grew wide as you stared at Vernon. Move in with him and his family? That sounded weird, you could manage on your own too. It wasn’t that hard, right?

“I can’t, that house is already packed with you four and Chan spending his time there too.”

“Sofia would love to have another girl around the house, please?”

“Vernon, this isn’t something you get to decide. That house is your parents’ and I can’t show up unannounced, okay?” Your eyebrows rose at him and he sighed, knowing what you were saying was right.

“Fine, but think about it…” You nodded once and he took his hand off from yours, you uncrossed your arms, “Do you really hate me?”

You thought for a second as you watched him, not knowing how to answer him, because you didn’t know how you felt for him. You didn’t actually hate him, but you did envy him.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you…” You muttered and Vernon sighed, leaning back in the seat, “But I don’t think I hate you. I thought you sucked, but maybe you aren’t that bad.”

It made Vernon chuckle and when he looked over at you, your heart started beating quickly again and you blushed. If you constantly kept reacting like that it meant that you actually felt something more for him, right? Yoona must have been right, she never joked around with things like this one, and you bit your lower lip as the two of you watched each other quietly. You were always bold with others and merciless, not really caring if they got hurt by your words or not. You felt like you gave Vernon the wrong idea and now he might have been convinced that you hated him, which wasn’t true at all. You thought maybe you should be bold for once with your actions too and you cleared your throat, which made Vernon glance at you. He wasn’t making it easier but maybe if he saw you leaning in, he wouldn’t pull away in surprise. So, you leaned over the middle console and with your eyes on his lips, you tried closing the gap but Vernon was too far away. It would have been embarrassing if Vernon had not leaned in as well, pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t as bad as you thought your first kiss would be, his lips were soft and you found that cute. It didn’t last for long either because Vernon seemed to be flustered as he stiffly pulled his head back, looking into your eyes.

“You might not be my favorite person in the world, but I think I like you.” You found yourself saying and Vernon chuckled, scratching the back of his nape as his ears and neck were red.

“Go on a date with me? Even if I lost the bet….” Vernon asked with a cheeky grin, looking just as flustered as moments ago and it made you chuckle.

“I made that bet because I knew you would lose, but sure.” It was time things took a better turn in your life and maybe Vernon was the starting point.

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futurewriter2000 · 3 years

Text

Little Secrets - pt. 3

A/N: I had been writing this for days but I really love the idea of where this is going. Lol. Also, I would like to thank @barkermarkersharker for the lovely idea that I just had to use. Also, this will be more than a three part I guess.

Your father has been dragging James on all sorts of social gatherings all week. He has been excited but also exhausted. He had come home only to eat and sleep, except on Wednesday. That day he went hiking with Sirius before collapsing into his bed.

A rough week for James Potter but it was Saturday and he will soon be home. Sirius and you had been getting along well. You haven't been holding any sort of grudge towards James but you had your moments where you mentioned some sort of remark of the whole keeping you a secret thing.

Now that he is free this week, he can finally help you and Sirius bond.

He came home with a smile on his face, excited that his week of torture was over. He dropped his bag on the hall and ran up stairs. He barged into his room to find Sirius but he was nowhere in sight. He than ran into your room and you weren't there either.

His brows furrowed, his lips turned down and he ran back to the kitchen. "Hey mum." he said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and grabbed a fry from the bowl. "Where are Sirius and (y/n)?" he asked, sitting down on the chair and looking at the porch, thinking he will maybe see them there.

"Well, they're at the beach, honey." his mum said, furrowing an eyebrow at him. "I thought they told you?"

"No." he replied, a bit disappointed at the answer.

"Well, it was all last minute. (Y/n) woke up earlier than usual and at breakfast both with Sirius decided to go to the beach with some of her friends." she smiled, thinking to that morning. "You and your father were already gone but you two should have seen them together. We were all laughing so hard this morning. They even invited me to come but I said no because what would me be doing there at the beach with all them youngsters." she continued to smile brightly. "They were both so persistent that I really thought they wanted me to come- do you think there could actually happen something between them?" she asked out of curiosity, looking at James.

James however, choked on his fry and started to cough. "What?"

"Sirius and (Y/N). They seem to get along so great. Like they're meant for each other and I wouldn't mind Sirius becoming my son in law. And imagine what gorgeous babies would they have together."

"Oh! Mom!"James stood up, laughing but feeling horrible inside. "Please, stop. (Y/n) is not a wizard and Sirius is. Even if they do get along, they are both meant to live in two completely different world." he started to get a bit agitated, pouring himself a glass of lemonade.

"We all live in two different world, James. If it wasn't for (y/n), your father and I and you wouldn't know about certain, amazing things about Muggles."

"Yeah but!" he turned around, raising his tone and opening his arms to explain something he couldn't even explain to himself yet. "No. No... they're not..."

"I think there is something between them." your mother smiled, meanwhile James only glared at her. "You don't get along with a person that well and think of it as just friendship."

But you liked girls! - James wanted to scream but knew he couldn't have outed you to his parents. You've always preferred girls over guys, anyway. He only remembers one guy from your whole life that you had had an interest in. All the others were girls.

You can't with Sirius. He's... and you are just not right for each other. Just not!

Your mother could see the injustice James felt in his bones right now. He was frustrated with the idea of you and Sirius together. She tried soothe the tension in the air, turning to James and telling him. "Why don't you go to the beach as well? Meet (y/n)'s friends."

"I already know them mum." he pouted.

"You know of them, James. There's a difference. There's nothing wrong with having Muggle friends."

"I know it's just... what am I supposed to tell them if I can't mention magic at all? Like what do Muggles even talk about?"

"There is more to life than just magic, James." was all what your mother said back.

---

James didn't dress much to the beach, since it was quite windy, as per usual. He wore his usual white jeans with a brown belt, white T-shirt and a jean T-shirt blouse with rolled sleeves. He was walking through the beach to find you and Sirius but the two of you were running around like two wild beasts, laughing so loud he could spot you from a mile away.

You were piggy back riding Sirius and he was running from towards a small group of friends. There were another couple, racing the two of you.

The two of you obviously ran. If Sirius was anything athletic, he was fast. That boy ran from every single Prefect, Head Boy, Head Girl, Professor, wolf-Remus, odd forest monsters and Filch in that school. Of course, the two of you won.

He threw himself, and you, on the blanket, both rolling and laughing as well as cheering.

"HELL YEAH!" you raised your palms in the air as Sirius high-fived them both.

"Why are you panting? I was the one carrying you and running."

"Hey, this was a two people effort. I was your moral support up there." you smiled and all of you laughed before Sirius eyes darted to the approaching figure and his smile suddenly fell, then rised up again.

You turned to look and saw your brother approaching the whole lot of you with a faint smile.

"BROTHER!" you jumped to your feet and ran towards him.

"Don't hug me! Don't hug me!" he started to avoid you by running backwards and putting his hand up. "Stay away from this fit."

"Really?" you glowered at him, then kicked sand at him.

"You rat!" he shouted and started to chase you, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you up.

"PUT ME DOWN! NO! NOOOO!!!" you screamed and laughed at the same time because you knew what he was about to do. "You'll wet your shoes!"

"Not if I throw you." he laughed.

"You don't have the strength."

"But I have magic." he grinned and you gasped.

"You prat! You wouldn't."

"Ready?"

"Please don't. DON'T! JAMES!!" he was getting closer to the water, laughing.

"You'll get to clean the dishes for the whole month and the bathroom when it's my turn."

"A WHOLE MONTH?!" you exclaimed. "Hell no! Throw me into the sea. I don't care." you stopped resisting and he let out a laugh, taking a few steps forward and just dropping you into shallow water.

---

You had returned back, completely wet and cold. You grabbed the extra blanket from the ground and plopped yourself down, glaring at him.

"I will murder you when we come home and I will bury you next to Minki."

"Then you'll really have to clean the dishes and bathroom every month."

"I don't care." you turned your head dramatically, before laughing with him.

"Here." said James and gave you his red sweater.

"Thanks." you said ,grabbing it, taking your wet shirt off and putting it back on, later taking off your soaked bra under it. "Thank God, it's summer." you praised under your breath, leaning back on your arm and looking around, seeing both of your friends making googly eyes at your brother.

"So how was the meeting Jamie?"

"Dull." James mimicked your position. "Sooner than later, you realise that all the gatherings and the meetings and the parties have the same system. Talk about old friends and family first, turn to business and end with something like; we'll keep in touch."

"You had your fun then." Sirius smiled but looked at you when he did.

"Any lassies you caught your eye on?" you asked, looking at your friends from the corner of your eye.

"If you didn't come with dad on these gatherings, what makes you think other lassies did?"

"A question, brother. No need to get fussy about it." you said as you wanted to change the subject but Sirius caught you to it.

"OH MERLIN! A PIG!" he shouted and got on his feet. "It's a pig!" he started to jump excitedly.

"Sirius don't you even think about it..." you said but he was already running towards it, scooping the baby pig into his arms and starting to pet it. An old man approached him and the next thing you knew, Sirius was giving the man money, over-excited for the little pink being in his arms.

He ran back to the group and lifted the animal in his arms. "I got a pig!" he said like a little boy who had got himself his first toy.

"Oh my, God."

---

"I like the name Arnold." you said as you continued to pet the little pig next to Sirius, cooing at him.

"For the thousandth time. HER name is Treasure."

"I'll call you Arnold." you said at the pig as it smiled at you and bumped her nose at your fingers.

"Treasure!" he pulled the pig closer and kissed her forehead. "Don't you listen to her, Treasure. She wasn't the one who took you in, she doesn't get to name you." he glowered at you and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Meanwhile James was walking behind the two of you this whole time. Your mother was right. The two of you did get along great, even better than usual and he felt excluded from his two best friends.

And the worst part was that the two of you didn't even notice it. The two of you didn't notice how miserable he was- that was such a selfish thought. He should be happy that the two of you were getting along.

He was arguing with his mind.

"So, Jamie!" you ran back to him and wrapped your arm around his. "You are the tie-breaker. Arnold or Treasure?"

James let out a laugh. "How about Mum-will-kill-you-two?"

"Don't be buzz kill, Prongs. It's Treasure because I had found her and she is the biggest treasure in my life."

"He's turning into mum." James whispered to you but loud enough for Sirius to hear him and narrow his eyes at the two of you.

"Oh, darn. Dad's got two of them now." you started to joke.

"Hope Euphemia won't get jealous." James continued as the two of you snickered.

"Dad's gonna go bankrupt. Has to buy another ring. Should we call you mother now, Sirius?" you raised an eyebrow at him.

He put the pig down and pointed at the you and James. "Treasure. Attack!"

But Treasure just sat on her bum and gave Sirius googly eyes.

"Awww!" he scooped her back up and waddled her. "We should go shopping tomorrow." he smiled at the two of you. "I want Treasure to keep up with fashion."

"Buying her a leather jacket and a curly, black hair wig?"

"Don't you listen to her. You've got pretty pink hair." he kissed her forehead and went into the house.

"You have some weird friends, Jamie." you shook your head.

"They're not weird. It's just him... that's a bit extra..."

"I can still hear the two of you! I am NOT extra!"

---

James has become more fond od Treasure through the evening. He was sitting on his bay window, looking through at the distance where the field stretched into the distance. Treasure was lightly snoring in his lap as his hand was caressing her tiny head into sweeter dreams.

Treasure started to breathe a bit harder during her sleep, so James lightly opened the window and let the summer breeze wash over her. It was almost as that little pig's mouth curved into a thankful smile. Despite the fact how much everybody disagreed on the pig becoming part of the family, James was really thankful for this lovely little being in his lap. He always had a feeling about animals. Even Minki, his mother's old cat, seemed to crawl onto his chest when he was laying and purr over his heart. Mother said it was a miracle because Minki never liked anybody, not even your father or you but through the years, she got a bit softer for everybody.

"Tell me what's on your mind and I'll tell you what's on mine?" James heard Sirius say from the outside.

His attention wavered from the pig to the voices bellow him. He completely forgot his room is right above the porch but he didn't intend to listen.

He heard you laugh and then stop to pause. He knew that pause. "You know today was the first day I saw James jealous of me." you let out a laugh and James furrowed his eyebrows at your statement.

"I wasn't jealous." he whispered to himself. "Was I jealous?" he asked the sleeping pig on his lap, than thought back to today and concluded. "I was maybe a wee jealous."

"How do you know he was jealous?" Sirius asked and you smiled with a roll of your eyes.

"It doesn't take a mind reader to see this." you snorted, than pulled yourself on the fence as you usually did. "Plus whenever he's having angry thoughts the space between his eyebrows furrow and he looks extremely tense. I keep telling him that that is his tell but he never listens."

You were right. You do always tell him about his little tells but he just does them subconsciously.

"I remember before I turned eleven, James would constantly make me jealous by telling me about magic. How he started showing his magic abilities when he was seven and I was ten but didn't even show a tad of it." you started and your voice started to quiver a bit. It was when you started to show your rawest side. You didn't much open up to anybody but when you did, you really went into the most deepest parts of yourself. "When we found out I was a Squib, James stopped with the whole teasing but it was too late, you know? He had already told me about Hogwarts and given me such expectations to be sorted into the same house as him or a Hufflepuff. He loved Hufflepuffs... and I remember crying when Dumbledore told me and my parents that I can attend Hogwarts for magical knowledge but will never be able to preform it. I can never forget the disappointment in my father's eyes. He was so shocked that I was a Squib, it was his reaction that made me cry so hard that day." you continued, speaking in a calm, controlled voice. "I didn't want to stand out in Hogwarts so I said I don't want to. James told me I could still go to Muggle schools and become more magical and successful even if I'm not a wizard and that gave me hope." you smiled and James mathed your smiled from another room, still listening. "Though it always bugged me- the whole Squib thing. We came from such a powerful wizarding family and I was the one who got born without it."

"It happens even to the best of families, (y/n)." Sirius tried to reason but you only smiled. "It happened to my family as well... but... she married a Muggle so... it sort of made sense..."

"Exactly. Both of my parents come from powerful families, that's why it didn't make sense to me and I couldn't understand why nobody did any more research. They all just accepted it."

"But you didn't?"

"No. I didn't." you replied determined. "It didn't make sense to me. It was like a whole family line with black eyes and black hair and black skin existed and all of a sudden a ginger with blue eyes and fair light skin was born to that family. And I know it happens in family but not in this family, you know?" you tried to explain. "And I know James and I are different from each other, thank God. It makes sense because my father's side of the family are all alike, which is from whom James takes it from but my mother's side is diverse, that's why our physical features are so different. Genes. Those genes make sense but magical genes? Wizards marrying wizards in my family and it just didn't make sense to me. I couldn't let it go."

"The stubborn gene." Sirius tried to joke and James snorted at his comment.

"I was always jealous of James. I just never showed it but then I was in London with my friends- it was a school trip- and there was this psychic."

"Oh no."

"I know what you're thinking but let me explain!"

"Muggle Psychics are such a skam."

"Let me explain you broom flying shit."

"Alright. No need to get mean." Sirius backed off, meanwhile James was holding his laughter in the other room.

"Psychics feed off an energy and vibrations. Yes, some are skammers but there was something different with this woman. When we locked eyes through the window, I got this odd shiver down my spine and something about her eyes... it felt so real...

'++ You were standing in front of store and it felt like it was only you and the store in this world. Your friends were nowhere by but that was the last thing on your mind. You had been there and the store and the mere nothingness of the world.

You opened the door, they jingled and spread an odd athmosphere on your body. You didn't know whether you felt anxious or free. Perhaps the feeling of freedom gave you a bit of anxiety as well.

"Come in, child." you heard a voice from another room and before you even took a step, she was already in sight.

She was leaning on the wall, dipping her tea bag into the boiling water. She wasn't like those psychics the television represents. She wore a long dress that was tight around her waist. She was in a nice form and you couldn't figure out whether she was 30 or 40.

"I'm 52." she answered your question before giving you a pleasant smile with beautiful teeth and making her way into another room. "I know, I don't look like it much but that's the power of magic." she continued to say, poking her head out of the room and grinning. "But you would know everything about that, wouldn't you?"

You felt something swallow you but you gathered your thoughts quickly. "Unicorns, fairies... all of them live in my backyard, yes." you said as you also made your way to the room, letting your hand brush the colourful crystals hanging on a silver chains.

"They're all around you, you know?" she smiled and you furrowed your eyebrow at you. "Fairies I mean but they only appear if they want to, that's why you've never seen them. They don't want to appear."

"Alright?" you sounded doubtful.

"Come on, sit."

And you sat.

She sat across from you and opened her hands on the table. "Go on. Give me your hands. You didn't walk in here just to stare at me."

And as soon as you gave her your hands, you felt this magnetic pull towards this woman. It was something you gave her and it was something she gave you back.

Her eyes were closed but the way her lips pursed together and eyebrows furrowed, you knew she was a bit confused. "Oh dear..." she mumbled under her breath but regained her posture and mind. "What we're doing right now are exchanging energies darling. The Universe is responding to it, giving me a download. Whether you believe in the Universe, the energies, vibrations or the Law of Attraction, it does exist. You cannot fight it. It simply exists." she continued to explain and you listened. "Your inner child is in need of healing- I see you still haven't moved on from something that had caused a massive change in your childhood..." she opened her eyes a bit. "Magic?"

"I... I don't have magic."

"Oh, honey. You don't need to move a feather to have magic." she gave you a loving, caring smile. "We all hold magic inside of us. You just have to believe in it."

And it was in the way she spoke that she gave you a large amount of hope. All the anxiety was gone- as if it never existed. You just wanted to stay in there forever.

"I also see you've been troubling yourself with a question for a long time and I'm here to give you an answer..." ++'

"What did she say?!" Sirius exclaimed in anticipation. He was really invested in this whole story, meanwhile you had to take a moment to breathe.

"Well... in the beginning when she said "Oh, dear..." she was referring to the black magic I carried inside all these years." you tried to smile but it squeezed your heart. "I don't have it anymore. I washed it off a year ago but what really made me upset was that if I washed it before I turned eleven, I could be a witch myself." you looked up, trying to show him that you weren't affected by talking about this, though clearly you were.

"What do you mean?"

"When my nana was alive, on my mother's side, she always forbid people to come when mother was pregnant with James and when James was just a baby. When they did come, she would sage the house and search it from head to toe because people could have left omens or something that would do something to a child. Despite the fact that she was a wizard, she was extremely superstitious. At least, that's what mum told me. It annoyed her a bit." you paused. "She died not long after James was born and before I was conceived and Nora, the psychic told me that nana has been protecting both of us from the other world but she couldn't protect me in this world like she had done with James."

"Meaning what? Somebody did black magic on you?" Sirius furrowed his eyebrows meanwhile James was listening up there, just as confused.

"Nora talks to the spirits, and she talked to nana. Nana said that my father's auntie was the one, attempting to put black magic on James but was unsuccessful. Then tried again with me... bringing a whole tea set as a present and Nora said that teas have an enormous power, whether we know it or not. It can heal you but it can also sicken you- herbs an all."

"Yeah, I know. I've been taking Herbology with agony but still listened to it."

"The tea set was cursed and whenever my mother drank from it I would consume the black magic that came with it. It created a blockage for my magic and when I turned eleven, it finally did its job by never letting me use magic at all." you smiled but a tear rolled down your face. "She told me I could still have magic, you know? If I removed the black magic, I'd remove the blockage but there was a catch."

"What?"

"I'd become an Obscurial." you looked at him and his eyes dawned with a loss of hope. "I know, I was disappointed as well. I didn't want ot be an Obscurial and I had already created the Muggle life, accepted it and loved it- so I gave up on magic. I didn't want that kind of magic. I wasn't desperate like I was when I was a kid but still it hurt.- She told me how to get rid of the black magic completely and I had followed every step. I felt lighter afterwards, like something has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't know I was carrying something so heavy all my life but I felt fantastic after it."

"Did you tell your parents or James?"

"No." you shook your head. "I didn't want to burden them with this knowledge and they already accepted the whole Squib part of me and I got closure as well... knowing that I wasn't picked out of the family. I was just a wee unfortunate." you smiled, looking up at the stars. "Nana said through Nora that she'll always protect us- all of us and she told me that I should try to find my own magic in the world, how special I was and all of those things. Some days, I really do feel like she's with me. Sometimes when we eat together or the days I sit here and look up at the stars." you laughed. "It sounds a bit crazy but-"

"No...it doesn't." Sirius said as he took your hand in his, smiling at this magnificent woman in front of you.

James already closed the window. He couldn't believe what he just heard. He knew your father's auntie was a bit odd but to do black magic on her own family is just fucked up.

He needed to know something. He needed to go to the attic.

Meanwhile you and Sirius were still on the porch. Still so wonderfully living among the stars. You jumped down from the fence and leaned back. Whenever he would touch you, you felt a rush of emotions go through you- those anxious butterflies banding together in your stomach and trying to burst free. Your cheeks would heat up... and whenever Sirius was close, this close, you would even get afraid of what he might do next.

Flirting was one thing for you; fun and easy but when it came to real feelings, that was when you were a complete mess.

Sirius was standing close to you but he didn't touch you. "All that talk about energies..." he started, breathing a bit heavily as he was getting closer to you. "Does that mean we exchange it too?"

"Yeah." you replied with shallow breathing.

"And when I touch you like this..." he said, taking a hold of your hand and lifting it up a bit, interlocking his fingers with you, then looking deep into your eyes. "Do you feel it?"

"I feel it..." you replied, staring into his lips, marvelling at their beauty as your whole body would pulse.

"And now?" he asked, placing his other hand on your hip and pushing you gently on the wooden pillar.

"Uh..." you swallowed thickly as your heart rate started to beat abnormally. "I feel you..."

He pressed his forehead onto yours and started to close the gap between your lips. "Good..." he growled a little and pressed his lips onto yours. His body, hot, pushing you against the pillar, meanwhile his hand on your hip squeezed you tightly, releasing a pleased whimper from your lips. His strong arms would wrap themselves under your thighs and lift you up until they were wrapped around his waist. His kisses deep and passionate caused your head to swirl. Your fingers dug into his curls and tugged on a little, causing a satisfied smile to appear on his lips.

He would pull away for a moment, gaze into your eyes than to your every feature. He would start to remove your hair from your cheek, just to take a closer look at you. You were amazed by his strength. He was holding your whole body weight with one hand that it only made you feel more attracted to the man.

Than before you knew it, something fell on the floor in the living room, making the both of you jump and look who had just caught you.

"Oh, bloody hell!!" Sirius gasped. "Treasure, what the hell?" he looked at the pig as the pig happily jumped towards him.

"I think she's a bit jealous." you giggled, meanwhile Sirius scooped the little being into his arms.

"Does this look jealous to you?" he turned her towards you and the pig was simply enjoying the little belly rub, smiling at you as well and trying to sniff you.

"I still can't believe my parents didn't allow me to have a fish but allowed you to bring a whole pig home."

"I think you're the one jealous." he raised an eyebrow meanwhile you rolled your eyes.

"I could never be... especially of this gorgeous little piggy." you rubbed her belly as well as she let a few pleased squeeks.

"I thought Prongs was babysitting you?" he tol her. "We shall find him, shan't we?"

---

However, James was sitting in the dark attic, surfing through old boxes of his grandparents things. Especially his nana's, which he regretted a bit when he pulled out old lingerie.

"Oh, ew..." he quickly threw it away. "I did not need to know that." he surfed through the old box, finally finding what he has been looking for...

#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders imagines #remus lupin #remus lupin imagines

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astromaki · 3 years

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engagement party ! — suna x cheater!reader x atsumu (994 words)

tw ; angst, cheating, suggestive content, blackmailing

you always knew it was wrong and bad. but he was like a drug on you, and you couldn't stop yourself from wanting more.

your eyes fell on your boyfriend atsumu who was running the barbecue area of the party. a sparkling smile lit up his face when he finally met your eyes.

his joie de vivre was frighteningly contagious. you felt nauseous, the air suddenly heavier. you didn't even feel the tear roll down your cheek.

"tell him, or else i'll be happy to tell everyone about the slut you are when we are alone."

suna had only given you an hour. an hour to tell your boyfriend that you had been cheating on him for months. and that he was the only one in your relationship who was an ideal and perfect partner.

one hour since you had ended the affair you had been having with him for a few months.

earlier.

"suna, need to stop. he's- astumu is your best friend and you said he wants to propose to me. this is- what we're doing is bad."

a mirthless chuckle echoed in the small bathroom.

"that didn't stop you from proposing that i fuck you last night."

an unpleasant heat came over your cheeks.

you couldn't tell if it was shame or excitement. in any case, it was caused by suna. that vicious and charming young man. you thought you were different from the other girls when he chose you out of everyone to accompany him upstairs to that party.

it was so easy for him to lure you into his bed every night, week after week, when atsumu was away. he was like a snake. and you were enchanted. his lips were so addictive, and the way his fingers tortured your clitoris to give you orgasm after orgasm and draw out your best moans. you knew you felt nothing for him it was just sex between you, nothing emotional.

it was not like between you and atsumu.

his lips stretched into a pretty smirk. he was petty and ruthless, and knowing that the two of you were going to crash only entertained him.

"i give you one hour no more. or else i'll be the one to tell atsumu what colors your panties are. " he said in a low voice.

his lips brushed yours as he leaned in to open the door behind you. he couldn't impose this on you? he- he couldn't destroy your 4 year old relationship with a dilemma? suna had no right to spoil the marriage proposal that atsumu had been planning to make for weeks.

but it was you who cheated on your partner for more than 4 months, y/n.

you were now sitting with a drink in your hand, in the garden. surrounded by all your high school friends, and your work colleagues. it was atsumu who had organized the party, "to enjoy the summer" he had pretended. he was always bad at lies, and surprises.

but that's okay, you liked to see him happy when he talked about his plans. he had this habit of always going up in pitch when he ran out of air from talking.

"y/n? come and join us in the garden, we all have a surprise for you. "he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you all alone. "you don't look happy, it's the steak, it's too fried? I knew I should have bought another brand of coal. I knew I should have bought another brand of charcoal" sighed atsumu dramatically.

you said nothing, waiting for him to finish his monologue. enjoying the last few minutes of happiness on his face before breaking it. admiring his eyes full of stars when he told you a banal anecdote of his day.

"you haven't made any sarcastic remarks to me since this morning, and while i don't mind it, it worries me a little. tell me what's wrong babe." he says in a more serious tone.

his large hands, muscled by the sport he has practiced since he was a child, took yours. his intimidating gaze managed to meet yours. his warmth quickly chased away the coolness of suna that was still weighing on you. you felt at home, you felt at home.

when you think, you're going to lose all this.

"i slept with your best friend. "

the euphoria that atsumu constantly felt disappeared immediately. replaced by... nothing? you couldn't even read sadness, or anger. his eyes were still fixed on yours, but now it was okay, what you could read was disappointment.

&tsumu couldn't understand what was wrong with him that you would cheat on him with his best friend, suna.

"how long has it been? "

his hands came away from yours and went into his pants pockets.

"four months, listen i- i don't love him, i don't even know why i did this."

he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying in front of you. was he too talkative or boring on a daily basis ? what did suna have that he didn't ? were you happier with suna than with him ?

finally, a smile lit up his face.

"woah. hum- well, i just wanted to tell you that osamu made the candy apples, you can have one." his voice was low. too low for a ray of sunshine like atsumu.

you felt your heart clench. you wanted so much for him to react, to cry, to get angry with you, or even to call you names, but for him to react. for him to stop being a good guy, and to shout his feelings to the point of losing his voice. you could hear from here, although you were far away from everyone, the petty and satisfied laughter of suna.

but no, atsumu only wanted your happiness. , and if you found it in suna's arms. then so be it.

too bad for the ring in his pocket, it will go to someone else.

#haikyuu x reader #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna angst #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro scenarios #suna scenarios #suna rintaro imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you

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ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime · 3 years

Text

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 2

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 2: Suzu

"Buhaa!"

I got up from a thin futon and took a big breath.

That made me almost hit my head against the low ceiling. This is a shabby attic in the countryside, with rafters supporting the roof approaching just above the bed. "Ah, ah .... ah ..."

It's morning. The sunlight is dazzling. The feeling of the glittering world up to that point remains. I close my eyelids because I want to reach for the residue. Certainly I was standing at the tip of the whale's nose and singing. Wearing gorgeous costumes, singing freely. When I open my eyelids, in front of me is a smartphone on the sheets with the display turned off. On the dark surface, you can see yourself illuminated by the sun. The faded pajamas I've been wearing since I was in junior high school. Messy hair from sleeping. Half-open eyes.

And the freckles scattered on my cheeks. It makes me very depressed. I sigh. Then, I heard my father's voice from the first floor, "Suzu? What's wrong?" I feel impatient. Of course, this isn't a soundproof room, it's just a miserable 7-year-old girl's room. The only way to prevent the sound from leaking out is to wrap it in a futon. Was my voice louder than usual? If so ... The cold sweat of regret floats on my back. "No, it’s nothing ...!"

I hurriedly reply that while crawling on all fours off the bed. What if he’s suspicious and comes upstairs? No, I don't think he’ll come. I changed into my uniform and went downstairs. I didn't see my father. He may be preparing to go to work. He opened the porch and left the window down to let in the cool morning air. He lightly cleaned the living room and dining room and cleaned up the magazines left on the table. While boiling the water, I put the flowers in the garden in a vase and placed it next to the photo frame in the kitchen. He puts a tea bag in a mug and pours hot water. Steam with the scent of black tea boils. My mother is still smiling in the picture frame today.

I'm eating rice. I was sitting on the porch, drinking tea. Dad, who wore a dark blue T-shirt on his tanned skin, came out to the garage with a backpack containing work tools on his shoulders. "Suzu, I’m leaving." I replied, keeping my mouth on the mug. "... Okay" "What about dinner?" "... I’m fine."

"... I see. Then, I'll go." Dad must have been in trouble. I could understand without looking. The engine of a four-wheel drive vehicle starts. After backing up, it turns back and goes down the slope. The sound of the tires travelling across the pebbles slowly drifts away.

I wonder how long I will not make eye contact with him. How long has it been since I stopped talking properly? I wonder how much time has passed since we stopped eating together. There was a notification sound. A balloon pops up on the screen of the smartphone. "Belle is the best beauty created by the virtual world "U." Languages around the world are translated instantly.

"Very unique and rare song" "Belle's song is full of self-confidence" "The most notable presence in 3 billion accounts"

The text balloons went up one after another, competing for the lead, and in a blink of an eye filled the area around the bell icon. But I have no joy, no sense of accomplishment, no sense of exhilaration. No matter how much attention Belle gets, it doesn't matter. With my mouth in my rimmed mug, I shut myself in my shell. The balloon with one comment swells up significantly. It is one of the functions of balloons to enlarge and display the comments that attract the most attention.

Of the tremendous number of comments, the one that attracted the most attention was "Who is she?" I don't think most people in the world know about it, but Shikoku and Kochi are proud of their rich climate, where the steep mountains that cover them, and of the beautiful blue shining clear streams that flow through the valleys. More than 150 years ago, we produced a number of people who dramatically reformed the long-standing feudal society of Japan, which is also one of our prides. The daylight hours are top class in Japan. Alcohol consumption is also top class. Perhaps because of that, my city’s personality is clear, and is said to be friendly and cheerful. But even in such a situation, some people are dark and are always looking down. One of them is me. My house is in the corner of a village with about 30 houses on the slope of a mountain.

A river called the Niyodo River runs ahead of me, and is connected to the opposite bank by a subsidence bridge. A subsidence bridge is a bridge without balustrades, and is designed so that it will not be washed away even if the river rises and the bridge sinks. I cross it every day unless this bridge sinks. The flow of the Niyodo River is still quiet and blue today. Occasionally tourists come by rental car and take a number of pictures on the subsidence bridge, saying that it's beautiful. It's a nice village, isn't it? They do not know the truth of the area. With the school bag on my side, I go down the stone steps and walk on a steep slope. A neighbor's grandmother who was sweeping and cleaning used to call out to me, "Oh, Suzu-chan, good morning," and so on. But not now. The shutters of many homes are tightly closed.

The number of people who live here gradually decreased as they died or moved to the city. There are many such settlements in the Niyodo River basin. It is said that it is near here that a sociologist coined the term "marginal village" long ago. I've been told many times since I was little that adults say that the number of people has decreased surprisingly compared to the village’s peak population. It is at the forefront of a declining population, declining birthrate and aging society, faster than anywhere else in Japan. That is an unmistakable fact. There is a stop at the end of the national highway after going up the slope. The rusty timetable at the bus stop only shows times in the morning and evening.

It's not yet time. After a while, the bus came. I sit in the usual seat at the back of the bus. No one else is in the bus. Passing through the stops one after another. No one is on board. While the bus is shaking, I dimly look at the bulletin board near the driver's seat.

"This bus route will be discontinued at the end of September.”

I live in a place where no one wants to live. It stands right next to a steep cliff approaching the rough sea. I reach the end of the bus route and transfer on to a train.

High school and junior high school students in uniforms from other schools come in little by little at each station. The closer you get to the center of the city, the less visible the floor is, and the two-car train fills up with customers. An announcement in the car tells me the name of the station I should get off at. I see many students of the same uniforms on the way to school. Together we climb a gentle slope. I am one of them. That gives me a lot of peace of mind, maybe.

The summer sunshine is dazzling. Last fall, the brass band was playing in front of the symbol tree in the courtyard. Many students surround it and listen to it. The announcement of the brass band is always popular. It's not just about playing. All players take steps as they perform. It's a lively and fun dance. All the instruments have the steps perfectly matched, yet the performance does not get twisted or shaken. I and Hiro-chan (short for Hiroka) also listened to it from the veranda on the 2nd floor of the gymnasium. When the first song ended and the second song started, a slender tall, beautiful girl was holding the alto saxophone in front of her. She came out. She shook her long, loosely waved hair and played her solo without any disturbance, taking attractive steps from side to side.

"……Cute."

I instinctively say it aloud. Luca-chan - her full name is Ruka Watanabe – I am sighingly fascinated by the lively beauty of her. I can hear the voices of other girls watching on the same balcony.

"Luka-chan is the princess of our school, isn't she?"

"She’s slim and has long legs.”

"Even if she wears a uniform, she look like a model."

They nodded together, saying, "Right~?”

Hiro-chan has a voice that only I can hear next to me, "The jealousy of kids who are neither thin nor slender...,” turning the pages of her book. The girls' voices can be heard continuously.

"Luka-chan naturally acts as a coordinator for everyone."

"I'm sure everyone will come together like Ohisama," Hiro-chan frowned at the back of her silver-rimmed glasses. "They’re annoying. In that respect, Suzu is like the opposite of Luka, so it's easy for no one to come near us."

"Hi- Hiro-chan…"

"Hmm?"

"You have a poisonous tongue, I wonder if you can be a little kinder....."

"A poisonous tongue? Who?" At that time, a loud voice that interrupted the performance echoed in the courtyard. "Why don't you join the canoe club?" Everyone looks back. "It's Kamishin!" "Kamishin has arrived!"

Kamishin – full name Shinjiro Senzu - has a canoe paddle in his hand and a banner with "CANOE" written on his back, and appears randomly.

"Oh, senpai. What about the canoe club?"

"Wow! Stop, Kamishin!"

"Don't enter, that's it." He chased the boys, and then laughed and ran away. Then, he turned around and headed for the group of girls.

"Hey, why don't you do canoeing?"

"Kya ~~~!" The girls scream seriously and run away.

"Oh, hey, let's do some canoeing!"

"Dangerous, run away~"

He is serious, but the reaction around him makes the Kamishin look like a weirdo. He’s like a beast that jumps into beautiful women and rampages.

"Hey, canoe ..."

Watching the girls run away, I feel like defending the hard work of Kamishin.

"It's amazing to start a canoe club by yourself, isn't it?"

"But he's the only one in it."

"I wonder why.”

"I wonder~”

Hiro turned her eyes to Luka, who seemed to be anxious about the hustle and bustle while playing. Luka stiffened and turned her back to Kamishin as if she didn't want to see him. Hiro-chan does not overlook the gesture. She closed her book and turned her stern eyes to Luka. “You’re being looked down on.”

We left the gymnasium and wandered around the school. Chorus club, biology club, light music club, dance club. Various club activities. The activity was appealing to each. As I crossed the glass-walled corridor, I heard the cheers and applause of the girls from somewhere.

10N1 was held at the one-on-one outdoor basketball court. It is a solicitation performance of the men's basketball club. A ball is thrown into the court for the next game. You can see a boy in a hoodie who catches it with a lean hand.

"Ah ..." The game starts. Shinobu-kun, full name Shinobu Kutake, slowly dribbles and watches the situation. The opponent's senpai is raising his right hand as a checker, being wary of the jump shot. Shinobu lowers his hips. Shinobu tries to pull out with a low dribble, but the opponent's guard is tight and he withdraws. When he thinks he has stopped Shibobu, he suddenly shoots a jump shot from a short motion.

He’s fast. The senior hurriedly reached out with his fingers spread out, but he couldn't reach Shinobu. The previous move was a feint. The ball drew a beautiful arc and passed through the goal net. The girls lined up in the corridor on the 3rd floor gave an enthusiastic applause. But Shinobu doesn't even smile. His coolness is attracting attention from girls in school. Before the applause stopped, the court had already moved on to the next game. Shinobu-kun, while measuring the timing, dribbles low to push the defense away. As if to say that you can't win even with power. If you forcibly cut in and pull out the senior in a blink of an eye, you will definitely go to the layup. There is a pleasant sound of the ball slipping through the goal net. Again, the girls' applause echoed on the walls of the school building. I told Hiro-chan,

"........ Shinobu-kun, I didn't think he would be that tall."

He’s my childhood friend.

"He was your childhood friend?"

"Ohon. Actually, I've been proposed to by Shinobu-kun."

"Seriously? What?"

"[Suzu, I'll protect you], he said.”

"When was that?"

"When we were 6 years old."

"....... Even if such an ancient story is spoken…"

Astonished, Hiro sighed. Another goal was scored. In the applause, Shinobu-kun, who finished the game, went out of the court alongside his senior without even smiling. Shinobu-kun, my childhood friend. He’s no longer within my reach.

I came back from school and crossed the subsidence bridge. I was with Shinobu from kindergarten through the lower grades of elementary school. After that, Shinobu moved to the city and we were separated. He was in my high school and we became classmates again. But it isn’t like it used to be. At that time, I didn't expect to become a child who is always looking down like I am now. There is a reason why this happened. I saw the quiet stream of the Niyodo River. Yes. That is an ancient story. A white bird passed low on the surface of the water.

-------------------

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

#belle #ryuu to sobakasu no hime #ryu to sobakasu no hime #ryuu #ryu #sobakasu #hime #studio chizu #mamoru hosoda #belle movie #竜とそばかすの姫 #belle 2021

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teenage-mutant-ninja-freak · 4 years

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Show me yours and I’ll show you mine

Mob! Leo x fem reader

Summery: You’re a sex worker working at the infamous Red Room (R&R) brothel in New York city when you run into Leo who’s there not on business. He, somehow, takes a liking to you and your adventure ensues.

Warnings: NSFW, sex work mentions, fist fight/violence, alcohol mentions, violence mentions.

((A/N: This doesn’t have much of a plot, just a fun idea I had and I haven’t written a mob fic in so long so here ya’ go!!))

It wasn’t a slow day at Red Room, Clients had been in and out all day and it was nearing 7pm. The smell of perfume and cologne hung heavy in the air and the place was starting to get messy. During the day the brothel is mainly used for men to drink and be kept company but when the night hits, it comes alive.

Women roaming around in lingerie of every kind, singers and dancers to entertain those who are just here to escape their wives or boys trying to become men chasing down pretty women who only show interest after they flash their cash. Security is pretty tight, too. Can’t have minors getting in, as much as they try, or anyone throwing off the atmosphere with drunken brawling.

It’s a beautiful September night, the air is still warm the remnants of summer and sun beans are streaming in through the ornate glass windows. Classic, beautiful furniture covers the main room where men get to know their chosen girl before she takes them back to her room and the bar is crowded with the usuals who are just here to watch and have a good time.

You walk through the vast room, smiling and making chit chat with as many of the men as you can before picking up your drink and retiring to one of the chairs. For a busy day it was still slow for you. You adjust your thigh highs as you sit and take off your heels. A small rest wouldn’t kill you. There were all sorts in tonight including, or so you’d heard, one of the mob boys. You hadn’t laid eyes on him yet but there was a certain tension surrounding the place that only the turtle boys could create so even if you hadn’t seen him, you could feel him. They weren’t strangers to R&R, sometimes they’d bring business associates here to butter them up, buy them a girl for the night and talk business where she kissed their neck or they’d come for their own pleasure.

You take another look around the room, most of the men were focused on Starla who was singing a blues version of “how to be a heart breaker”, her voice slightly deeper than usual and full of sensual promise and her bright red, lacy bra and panties are particularly stunning. Praying that no one will approach you for at least another 10 minutes you take a sip of your whiskey and sit back to enjoy the show- when you hear it.

From a more distant corner of the room there are raised voices and harsh words being thrown about, something that is not accepted in the Red Room. Putting down your drink, you pick up your heels in your other hand and go over to see what all the fuss is about.

“I want what I fucking paid for!” comes a voice from a heavily intoxicated man who is standing on the last step to the stairs. Cherry stand in front of him, clearly distressed and looking slightly dishevelled. You can only assume that something went wrong in the bedroom and she had to run. Bastard you thought to yourself.

“Not if you won’t wear a condom! There are fucking rules!” she bites back. She was right, R&R had very strict guidelines to keep their girls and patrons safe and condoms must be worn for any and all sexual activity as well as regular STD checks.

That’s when he finally loses his cool completely, grabbing Cherry by the hair and trying to pull her back up the stairs. You don’t know exactly what came over you but before you know what you’re doing you drop your heels and rush over, prising his hand from her hair and socking him in the jaw. His head flies back from the impact and hits the wall, ricocheting off it before he falls down cold on the stairs which is met by a round of applause from the crowd that has gathered around you both. You turn to a now crying Cherry.

“you ok? What did he do? You alright?” you ask in quick succession.

“I-I’m-” she sobs and holds on to you, you wrap your arms around her bare waist and move her slightly to the side as the ever late security deals with the unconscious guy. You decide it’s better to get her away and instead take her outside where some of the other girls have crowded round and offer her drinks and cigarettes as well as their sympathies. They stroke her hair and comfort her so you venture back inside, leaving her in their very capable hands.

Once back in the main room, the madame for the night walks briskly over to you with a hard expression on her face.

“And just what was that?” She half whispers

“I know right, that jerk was trying to make her go bare back even though we’re super specific that we don’t do that here” you reply

“Not that!” She snaps “That little brawl you had with him. What do you think you were doing?”

“...Defending my colleague?” you’re confused, this isn’t the first time one of the girls here has had to step up for another, it probably won’t be the last either.

“We have to crack down on you- you girls getting into fights! It’s dangerous and irresponsible and I think you should go home for the rest of-”

You both stop when you sense a presence to your right. Looking over you come face to face with a towering figure: Leonardo.

The madame clears her throat and smiles

“Ah, Mr Leonardo! How- how may we help you?” she beams at him. You’re not sure if it’s out of respect or fear, probably a mixture of both.

“How much for this one?” He says point blank.

“Excuse me?” The madame’s jaw almost hits the floor

“How much for this one for a few hours?”

You smile and give him big doe eyes as he talks price with her and she still attempts to send you home. Eventually it’s settled and allows you to take him back to your room.

He’s silent on the walk up there even as you chat idly about how handsome he is as you usually do with clients and making sure to sway your hips extra heavily to give him a good view as you walk up ahead of him.

Once tucked inside your room, you kneel on the bed and face him.

“So, how do you want me, big guy?” you say in a low, seductive voice.

He sits in a chair by the door in the corner and lights up a cigarette which isn’t technically allowed but acceptations are always made to accommodate the mob boys so you let it slide.

“You can cut that shit out now” he says bluntly.

“what shit?” you’re confused again

“The ‘big guy’ and ‘you’re so handsome’ practically drooling over me shit. It’s overdone and, honestly, you’re not very convincing.”

“I’ll have you know that my acting skills are top notch but if you want realness lets go. How do you wanna fuck me and how long do I have to put up with you for?”

He smiles at that

“Atta’ girl”

You both sit in silence for a few minutes as he looks over you, drinking in your form. His eyes always linger on your hips and the garter belt around your waist so you can safely assume these are your best features in his opinion.

“What possessed you to take on that drunk guy?” he breaks the silence

“My friend was in trouble, besides, I’ve got a solid right hook and wanted an excuse to use it” you reply. He smiles again. Not to be cocky, but I think I’m winning him over you think to yourself.

He’s rented out your room for two hours and all he seems to want to do is talk. He doesn’t even get up from his chair apart from once and only then it was to look out the window as he asked you about how you ended up here. You assumed it was some kind of saviour complex, the whole “how did a nice girl like you end up in a dump like this” routine but the truth is you like the Red Room. You love the attention and praise it gets you, your family knows what you do for a living and are proud of you and you’ve made some good friends here.

“...Besides” you continue “it’s the only place around here where it’s not impossible to make 5 grand in a night if you try hard enough. Most other places can’t say the same.”

He was decent conversation although he was reluctant to tell you anything about himself, but he listened and appeared genuinely interested in what you had to say. You even made him laugh a few times. You didn’t know the turtle boys even had a sense of humour.

Your 2 hours with him were coming to an end and, after pouring him a final drink, you said your goodbyes, It wasn’t completely unusual for a client to simply want to talk for their time with you, but from what you’d heard the turtle boys have an insatiable appetite for women so it doesn’t quite sit right with you that he didn’t want your body. Oh well.

_________________

The next morning was your day off. You woke up before your alarm and took a few minutes to hug your pillow closer to you and breathe in the fresh morning air from the window by your head. Your apartment was modest but not dingy in the slightest, the Red Room paid well and your home reflected that to some extent although you never wanted to be flashy about it. Last night was still on your mind, the way Leo (as he had asked you to call him) looked at you was still burned into your memory. His scent and the way he raised each drink to his lips. Everything he did commanded authority and was done with such grace and composure. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted by your alarm, only, it wasn’t your alarm.

Confused, you look at your phone and see the madame is calling. What does this old bitch want? you think before answering the call.

“Hello?” you talk into the phone, trying to hide your distaste at being bothered on one of your precious days off.

“Hi, y/n, I really hate to do this but I need to get straight to the point. You have an outcall today.” the voice replies

“Oh, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken, This is my day off and I don’t do outcalls anymore. That’s been cleared with you guys for months.” the annoyance was beginning to shine through your voice.

“Yes, I’m aware, but special allowances have to be made when certain clientele....Desire your company...”

“Who the fuck do you think is special enough to get me out of bed right now?” you hiss into the phone

“Leonardo...”

You didn’t hear the rest of her sentence as you take a second to let that sink in. Half of you was pissed as hell that these rich boys get whatever they want and whoever they want just because they practically run the town through fear, but another small part of you was...Flattered.

“What time and where?” you ask

The madame gives you all the information and you hurry out of bed to get showered and ready. You only had an hour and a half to make yourself look presentable and actually get half way across town to his mansion.

Five minutes before you need to be out of the door, you take a second to admire yourself in the mirror. You had done a good job with your cat eye makeup and you were pretty sure your have him eating out of your hand with the little baby pink slip dress you were wearing. Underneath was another garter belt, thigh highs and a small heel. You could have gone bigger considering you were only average height and Leo must have been about 6′7 at least but you decided a small heel worked better with the aesthetic you were cultivating.

____________________

The uber pulled up the the enormous house that towered in front of you, driving carefully between the ornate and ancient statues that seemed the guard the entrance to the driveway. Opening the door and stepping out, the almost overwhelming aroma of roses filled your nose from the thickets by the front door. Everything was beautiful and clearly meticulously designed and placed. You felt your heart drop. What the fuck do I have to offer this guy who has everything? You swallow the lump in your throat and go to ring the door bell.

A small, round man dressed in a white shirt and black waistcoat answers the door and smiles at you as if you ask why you’re here. Running a hand through your hair in an attempt to compose yourself (you’re a professional after all) you use your most confident voice to say:

“I’m y/n, and I’m here for Leonardo. He should be expecting me”

Realisation washes over the man’s face as he asks you to “please come in” and you take a seat in the foyer. You take a second to look around. The entrance hall is magnificent, a huge chandelier hangs above you with crystals or even diamonds (you weren’t sure but they were rich enough to afford such luxuries) casting glorious rainbows around the room as the light from the windows shines through it. The furniture had to be custom made, you’d never seen anything like it before and in the centre of the foyer is a round table with the most beautiful vase you’d ever seen and a carefully constructed bouquet of flowers sitting in it. You’d started to realise that maybe you were in too deep, but there was no getting out now.

It’s not long before you here footsteps coming down the stairs behind you. Leo and his older, and somehow taller, brother were walking down and seemed to be deep in conversation. They were still a little too far away to hear and they spoke in hushed voices but you could make out the purple suited one say

“She’s not talking” in a feverish voice to which Leo replied

“That’s not my problem right now, deal with her before I deal with you!”

it sounded serious.

Once at the bottom of the staircase and spotting you, he posture relaxes a little and he puts on that charming smile which reminds you that you need to do the same. That’s what he’s paying for, but he has such beautiful deep blue eyes that it;s difficult to not get distracted by them. He wore a black suit with very thing white lines going down it and a baby blue handkerchief in the breast pocket, his signature colour. He looked to die for.

He approaches and greets you with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek while telling you how beautiful you look. What a silver tongue he has.

He takes you on a tour of the house and garden, it’s clear that he’s only doing this as a formality, to get you comfortable around him and it isn’t to brag. He almost seems indifferent about his extreme wealth. There were a few rooms with heavy locks on the doors and he didn’t show you into those or one entire wing of the house; telling you that was under construction. You saw Donatello go through to that area, though but, you didn’t want to rock the boat by asking questions.

Eventually he took you out to the patio, it was stunning. More roses and other potted flower stood all around and the table was set with silver cutlery and beautiful wine glasses. He pulled a chair out for you to sit, like a true gentleman.

As waiters came and went, bringing you both lavish meals and more wine, you talked for hours. Well...You talked. He mainly listened and asked questions. You couldn’t help but feel entirely comfortable around him, something about his presence was so non-judgemental and sincere that you felt you could answer everything honestly and not put up a front like you usually would on other “dates”. The only trouble around when you spoke next.

“So I’m been rattling on for ages. Tell me about you. What do you like to do in your spare time? Do you like living with your brothers? Where did you grow up?”

That last question seemed to hit a nerve as he looked as if he winced slightly at it. He didn’t answer.

You put your hand on his

“Did you hear me?”

He pulled his hand away and looked you in the eyes

“I didn’t pay you to interrogate me. You’re here to sit and look pretty, not open your fucking mouth”

You were stunned. This sudden turn seemed to come from nowhere and that’s when you felt the anger rise up in you. You’d never been one to hold your tongue and you weren’t going to start now- consequences be damned.

“Well excuse the fuck me!” you began “Why is it that every guy feels so entitled to my life but so unwilling to tell me anything about their own? Oh yeah! Maybe it’s because they’re so boring an insignificant in this world that they have to pay a woman to come talk to their sorry ass because no one would do it for free. I thought you were different but it’s all for show, isn’t it? The house, the cars, the money... Nothing behind that, just another pitiful, sad little man who has to pay for a quick fuck. I’m outta here”

You throw your napkin down on the plate and walk away. You almost make it to the front door when a hand grips your wrist, turning you to face them.

Leo looks sorry for himself. It’s clear he knows the magnitude to which he’s messed up but he doesn’t say anything right away.

“Well?” you say impatiently? “Look, you wanted me here. I just go where the money takes me but for a second I thought there might actually be some kind of connection. You want a real date, then you have to tell me about yourself at least a little. That’s what real people do. But if you’re just going to be a giant douche with no respect, I’m leaving.”

“It’s not a happy story” he finally says through gritted teeth, hand still firmly around your wrist. “But if you want to hear about it, follow me”

He takes you upstairs a through a few more hallways until you reach what must be his room. It’s just as beautifully designed as the rest of the house but with a few more personal touches. As opposed to the slightly Italian looking architecture and design of the rest of the house, his room has katanas hung up on the wall and a small nook in the corner of the room where a tea maker sits. It’s more homely than the rest of the place. More his own.

He sits you down on the bed and slowly begins to explain.

He doesn’t go into too much detail, you imagine that would be too painful for him.He tells you how he was found in a sewer with his brothers and then made to wear chains and perform for sick crowds of smiling a grimacing humans and how he hated them. He mentioned the beatings and the torture, the hunger he felt everyday. He spoke on the anger his father harboured and how they would dream of a revenge so bloody and raw that he hoped god would look away while they did it. He told you about their escape and how it was the first time he’d know the touch of a human that hadn’t left a scar. It was all horrific and you couldn’t believe he survived that.

“...We still don’t know what Mikey saw that night but whatever it was, he didn’t talk for three weeks and now he’s...Well, now he’s the new Mikey. I don’t talk about it because who would want to know? And I don’t want pity, I don’t want your sympathy just because ‘boo hoo, he had a tough childhood’ ”

You place your hand on his cheek and turn his face towards you, he didn’t look at you the entire time he spoke.

“I don’t pity you” You began “I admire you. Going through all that and still being a functional person? That takes a strength I couldn’t muster”

You lean in to kiss him on the cheek, he turns his head and kisses you on the lips slowly, as if to savour every second of it. You hands go to his face and he lightly grips the back of your neck as the kiss intensifies. You lie back and he takes his place on top of you, between your legs and he trails one hand up your thigh to your hip, going just underneath your now bunched up dress.

He begins to kiss down your jaw line and towards your neck and your breath hitches in your throat at the pressure of his lips on your skin. His attention turns to your cleavage, he looks up at you as if you ask for permission and you nod before his head delves between your breasts, kissing and lapping at your tender flesh. You roll your head back and begin to pant slightly. The way he’s so attentive and gentle yet composed and in control is a nice contrast that few men can do successfully.

Cupping one of your breasts as he kisses it, you put your hand under his chin to return his mouth to yours and your tongues swirl together in ecstasy as you moan into his mouth.You can feel him hardening through his tailored trousers. Pulling back, you begin to unbutton his shirt as he takes off his blazer before reaching down between the two of you and cupping his bulge through his clothes. He almost growls at that and takes the top of your dress in his hands, ripping it down the middle. You look up at him wide eyed and he simply smiles and whispers

“I’ll buy you ten new ones”

You can’t see too well in the room as the sun is beginning to set but you can still make out how toned and muscular his chest is even in the half light. You run your fingers over his abs as he pushes up your dress and pulls down your underwear. Leo begins to kiss down your inner thighs, nipping gently as he gets closer to your sex

“No” you say suddenly. He stops immediately and looks at you “I want you. I just wanna feel you”

Pushing himself up onto his knees, still between your open legs, he undoes his belt, unzips him pants and pulls them down. His hard, thick cock bouncing free from its previous restraints. He takes a quick second to reach into his bedside draw and pull out a condom that he puts on with ease. He leans down and puts one hand firmly on the bed next to your head and with the other lines himself up at your already soaked entrance. You ready yourself for whats about to come, he’s bigger than your usual clients. He slowly pushes himself inside you and you gasp at the pleasurable agony of how torturous it is. Eventually he bottoms out and kisses you on the lips before looking into your eyes.

“are you ready?” He asks, you nod in return

His hips start at a slow but hard pace, obviously warming you up for whats to come. He nibbles at your ear and his hand becomes entangled in your hair, pulling it lightly as if to test the waters of how you feel about that. The more you moan the faster and harder he goes while whispering how much of a good girl you are in your ear and telling you how you take him so well.

All you can do is breathlessly moan and beg him not to stop, he looks into your eyes with a devilish mischief and says

“Stop? We’re only just starting”

He pulls out and flips you onto your front, pulling your hips up to meet his and enters you again from behind. He grabs one of your arms and pulls it behind your back, gripping it there to stay and place and with the other he gathers up the lengths of your hair and pulls so that you’re facing forwards. His pace is punishing and your eyes begin to tear up from just how mind blowing he is. Occasionally he would let go of your arm to give you a quick, sharp slap on the ass or to caress your hips a little but eventually he would always grip your wrist again, keeping it in place.

His pace begins to slow and he looks down at himself sliding in and out of you.

“Baby, you’re being so good. Look how well you’re taking me. Such an angel” he coos

“I- I can’t take much more” you whisper but he hears and chuckles to himself. Letting go of your arm his hand slides between your thighs and begins to play with your clit, each circle he rubs is in time with his thrusts and it’s driving you crazy.

“Leo, Leo! I-” you can’t take anymore as a full body orgasm rolls through you and you almost collapse if it weren’t for his arms holding you up. One more smack on your ass and a few more thrusts and you can tell he’s almost at his own release.

“Fuck baby” He purrs and he explodes inside of you before leaning down the kiss the centre of your back. He gentle places you down on the bed so that you don’t just falls that way and quickly goes to dispose of the condom.

You get under the sheets of the bed, still panting slightly and a thin mist of sweat is lining your forehead. Leo gets into bed beside you in the now dark room and you push yourself closer to him as he wraps an arm around you. You lean in and close your eyes against his chest. Sex always made you sleepy, well, good sex did. He looks down at you, kisses your hair and whispers

“You’re gonna need that sleep. I just know I’ll need to have you again in the morning”

You smile against his skin as he rubs small circles on your back as you drift off. The last thing you remember is him whispering, and you’re not sure if it was to you or himself

“It felt good to finally tell someone all that shit. I’m glad you’re here”

Feeling appreciated and satisfied you let sleep take you, only left to dream about what pleasures the morning had waiting for you.

The end

#show me yours and I'll show you mine #my fic #mob! au #mob au #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2014

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miracleonice87 · 4 years

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juliaswinterwriting challenge, pt. 2

1. “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” with Mathew Barzal

a/n: finally! my second of two submissions for @wondershawns winter writing challenge. 6.6K. also features Mat’s boyfriend Beau lol.

summary: Mat has been falling for Beau’s cousin Genevieve since the day he met her. the main thing standing in his way? her.

warnings: swearing. alcohol. a smattering of angst. mentions of sex (not explicit). a healthy dose of fluff.

_____

Mat couldn’t have heard his best friend correctly. Convinced of that, he shook his head and tried to snap himself out of his stupor.

“Wait, Beau… what?”

“Yeah, Genevieve’s moving in with me,” Beau repeated casually, slapping a puck into the back of the net. “Finally convinced her. She just broke up with that idiot and she’s gonna go to NYU.”

The guys were on the ice at the practice facility for the first time since arriving back in New York after a long summer. They were conducting an informal skate to get their feet under them again, but most of the time had been spent simply catching up with one another — shooting pucks, yes, but also shooting the breeze. Mat had enjoyed the laidback nature of the on-ice session thus far, but he felt an undeniable jolt of electricity in his every nerve when Beau said that name — the one that elicited a thousand different feelings all at once.

Genevieve.

The girl who shared her cousin Beau’s big blue eyes and endless charm, but had a sassy wit and tender heart all of her own. The girl who was more like his teammate’s sister than a more distant relative. The girl who Mat had fallen for the very first day he met her, when Beau invited him to his family home in Quebec for a visit, now three summers ago. The girl who he’d been hopelessly, helplessly entranced by ever since.

Suddenly, a rubber disc was flying at Mat’s feet, the product of Marty dishing him a pass from the opposite side of the zone, expecting Mat to tap it into the goal as they’d already done a dozen times that afternoon. Instead, Mat let it whiz past him, only giving the puck so much as a glance when it bounced off the half-wall.

“Barzy!” Marty yelled from the far boards with a surprised chuckle, smacking his blade on the ice repeatedly. “Fuckin’ pay attention, kid!”

“You hockey much?” Beau teased, furrowing his brows at his teammate’s blank expression. Beau thought to himself that it looked as though Mat had just seen a ghost. “What’s’a matter with you?”

Mat turned to see Marty, Beau, Ebs, and Anders all looking at him as if he were a creature from a different planet. He cleared his throat and hunched once more overtop his skates, gliding in a tight circle before he faced them again.

“Nothin’,” he said nonchalantly, with a sniff. He put his stick to the ice and readied himself, trying to push Beau’s revelation to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. “Let’s go again.”

“Wait,” Marty said, putting a gloved hand up to halt the skating men around him. “I forgot. Isn’t Barzy, like, in love with that girl?”

Beau slowly turned his head toward Mat, who swallowed hard, trying to will his cheeks not to redden. Anders and Ebs chuckled, hands resting atop the knobs of their sticks.

“Shut up, Marty,” Mat nearly pleaded, anxiously tapping his stick on the ice. “Just... let’s go again. Come on.”

_____

In the three years since they’d first met, the math broke down pretty simply: Genevieve had had a boyfriend for all of those three years, until a month ago; Mat had kissed her exactly once on the forehead after putting her drunk ass to bed during a weekend visit to Beau’s; and they had made exactly zero progress toward becoming what Mat had always wanted them to be. Together.

One more number was soon added to the equation, not long after she moved to the city — the number one. Sponsored by the number of times they’d now had sex.

Genevieve’s twenty-first birthday fell right after she started at NYU as a junior transfer, when the Isles boys had just started camp. After a night at the club celebrating her, in a vodka-induced haze, with Tito’s attention wrapped up in a pretty blonde, Mat and Genevieve snuck away from the group, into an Uber, and off to his apartment in Brooklyn.

Mat realized immediately that he’d never felt a high like the one he did when she was kissing him, and he chased it all night long. He lost himself in her in every way as they melded together between his sheets.

He truly thought that her birthday was going to be the start of something between them. Something real. More than just a childish crush, stolen glances, and timid, blushing stares.

Which is why his heart broke when he awoke the next morning, after their passionate night gave way to dawn and the effects of the alcohol had faded, to hear Genevieve speaking quietly on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I went home with someone... No, you don’t know him. Just a guy from class.”

Mat felt a tightness in his throat and tried to swallow it.

“Shut up, Anth,” Genevieve said with a lighthearted groan.

Shit. Of course it was Beau.

“Brunch? Uh... yeah. Yeah, I can do brunch. I just have to come back to your place and change first... No, no, I’ll just grab an Uber. Yes, I’m sure.”

She was leaving. She was trying to sneak out of his place, while he was presumably still asleep. Despite that, pathetic as he felt for it, he didn’t want her to go. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Okay, see you then. Bye.” Genevieve ran a hand through her dark locks and blew out a long breath.

“Who was that?” Mat muttered in a sleepy voice, making Genevieve jump. Despite trying to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice the way she pulled his sheets tighter around her naked body at the realization that he was, indeed, awake. His chest clenched at the sight. Genevieve cleared her throat, stalling, before answering.

“That was Anth,” she said, tossing her phone on the bed in front of her. Mat watched the way her bare spine hunched as she sighed and then looked at him over her freckled shoulder. It took everything in Mat not to lean over and pepper her soft skin with warm kisses.

“He wants to go to brunch. The three of us. He’s gonna text you and invite you. He doesn’t know I’m here...” she spoke, wringing her fingers.

“Okay,” Mat said quietly, sitting up on an elbow. “Well, I’ll drive you back to his place—“

“No, no. I’m just gonna order an Uber,” she said hastily, followed by another long sigh. He wrinkled his brow, confused.

“We can’t tell him, Mat,” Genevieve said sadly, tossing him a forlorn glance, her fingers pressing into her temple. “We just... I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart broke a bit right then. In his mind, they would admit the truth about last night to Beau this morning, he would chirp them about it endlessly but be happy that they were happy, and they would all live happily ever after.

Evidently, Genevieve had different plans.

“So I’m gonna go, and then you can meet us at the cafe. Okay?” she asked, turning to face him straight on, seemingly so that he saw as little of her nude form as possible, despite having seen all of it last night.

Mat nodded, swallowing again. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the Uber. He was referencing something much more consequential than her ride home.

Genevieve pressed her lips together, looking down at her lap before meeting his eyes again. She nodded slowly.

“I just... I don’t think this is a good idea, Maty. I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t know how Anth would feel about...” She gestured between the two of them. Mat tried not to flinch, though he nearly did just that.

He nodded. Genevieve noted the pain in his eyes and averted her own to avoid being crushed by the knowledge that she had singlehandedly inflicted it upon him. Eventually, he found his voice again.

“Okay. Fine. I understand, I guess. I think you know how I feel about you, especially now, but it’s... it’s whatever you wanna do, G,” Mat said.

Genevieve blinked at him a few times, and for a fleeting moment as she opened her mouth, he thought she might change her mind.

His hopes crashed down in front of him as she shifted uncomfortably under the covers and requested, “Can you maybe just... look away while I get dressed?”

That time, Mat flinched.

_____

Mat couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw who was calling as he made his way home from the rink after practice on a snowy Monday nearly three months later, in early December. He pressed the green button on his dash display, said hello, and her fluttering voice filled his car.

“Mat… hi! Are you busy?”

Even if he were, Mat would’ve lied.

“No, no, not at all. What’s going on, G? How are you?” he asked as he switched lanes, fingers suddenly drumming on the steering wheel as nervous energy coursed through him.

Since the morning after they’d hooked up, the most they had communicated directly was texting half a dozen or so times, with Genevieve congratulating Mat on a good game or Mat asking if she knew where Beau was. Occasionally they’d bump into each other after a game, the ones she could actually make it to given her insane class schedule, or at the bar, and they’d both hug awkwardly and inevitably blush like schoolchildren. Mat missed her like hell, and he gently reminded her of that each time they touched base, but he respected her decision, even if he wasn’t fully convinced it was the right one.

Little did he know, Genevieve wasn’t fully convinced, either, but she willed herself to stand her ground, despite the sway he still held over her, without him even realizing it.

“I’m good. I’m good. Listen, um, I know this probably seems out of the blue, but… would you wanna meet up for coffee?” he heard her ask.

Mat’s brows shot up at her inquiry. He had long ago written off any chance at spending alone time with her and was caught off guard by her invitation.

“Sure,” Mat answered, though somewhat hesitantly. “I’d love to, you know that.”

She must have heard the surprise in his voice because she followed up with, “It’s just, I really miss you… and besides, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Mat couldn’t keep the smug expression from his face. “Oh yeah? Other than just how much you miss me?” he asked arrogantly. He could practically hear Genevieve roll her eyes as she huffed into the phone.

“Just shut up and come here, you egomaniac,” she giggled. “I’m at my usual spot.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. See you then. And, G?”

“Uh huh?”

A smile twitched at Mat’s lips as he replied.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words.

He heard the smile in her voice when she remarked, “I’m glad you answered. See you soon.”

_____

When Mat walked into the coffee shop minutes later, Genevieve was holed up at a corner table, notebooks and loose papers alike strung before her in a mass of organized chaos. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip and squinted at her laptop screen through her thick, tortoise-shell framed glasses.

Mat had never seen her wearing glasses before. Though he didn’t even think such a feat was possible, he fell a little more in love with her and became a little more tortured by her right then and there.

He approached her slowly so as not to startle her. As he came nearer, she didn’t even look up, deep in concentration as she typed. When she finally glanced away from her screen and toward a notebook across the table from her, Mat playfully crouched into her line of vision, tilting his chin upward as he waited for her to spot him.

Eventually, her eyes met his and immediately glimmered. She flushed slightly, putting her hand to her forehead with a groan.

“Oh, god, Maty, how long have you been standing there?” Genevieve asked, an apology in her tone.

Mat smiled and tried not to dwell on the way his pulse quickened when his nickname fell from her lips. “Long enough to observe that you might need your glasses prescription changed. You’re not supposed to squint at your screen like that, G,” he warned, approaching her and scanning the multitude of documents before her. “What is all this?” he asked, letting his gaze drift back to hers.

“It’s for my event this weekend. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Genevieve responded tentatively. “But first, coffee,” she said, reaching for her wallet tucked inside her bookbag.

Mat reached for her hand, pushing it away and shaking his head.

“No, c’mon,” he insisted. “Let me. What can I get you?”

Genevieve looked at their touching fingers as he slowly pulled his away, then she gave him that killer half-grin of hers and breathed a sigh, giving into him since she knew trying to protest was useless.

“How ‘bout a peppermint tea? I think I’m overcaffeinated at this point anyway so I should probably take it easy on the coffee,” she admitted with a chuckle as she tucked some hair behind her ear. Mat nodded.

“Smart girl. Tea coming right up,” he promised with a squeeze of her shoulder. Genevieve thanked him and watched as he sauntered to the counter to stand in line.

His hair was longer, and she thought it made him look even more handsome, if that was even imaginable. He caught her ogling at him as he turned the corner to wait for his order, and she simply pursed her lips into a tight smirk and tried to refocus on her notes. He tried to refocus on anything but her. They both were clumsy in their attempts.

When he returned, he placed a large paper cup before her and she wrapped her hands around it with an appreciative hum.

“You’re the best,” Genevieve praised. He waved her off as he took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So why have I been summoned here, G?” Mat then asked, teasing in his question.

Genevieve bit at her full bottom lip and Mat tried to force his eyes not to linger there as she snapped her notebook shut and readjusted herself in her chair, clearing her throat.

“Okay, so you know I’m taking this event planning class this semester? It’s part of my major. And our final project is to plan a large-scale event,” she began, and he nodded as he sipped at his coffee, amused by her bubbly mannerisms as she spoke. “Well, so… a friend of mine in class kind of accidentally let slip that I’m Anthony’s cousin, and it turns out that the prof is friends with some Isles execs. She suggested that I plan a gala to benefit the team children’s foundation, and obviously since the professor fed me that idea, I couldn’t really say no. Especially since it’s 50 percent of my final grade, and obviously because it’s for such a great cause.” Mat nodded again, already seeing where this was going, but not exactly minding it.

“So since you guys don’t play this Saturday night, Anth had originally told me that he would go and kinda be the face of the team for me, but he backed out this morning,” Genevieve said, playing absentmindedly with her fingers in her lap. Mat was getting ready to take another swig when she added that last little tidbit, and he narrowed his eyes at her as he lowered his cup.

“What do you mean he backed out? What the hell else does he have to do?” Mat didn’t try to hide his annoyance — Beau had practically begged this poor girl to come and live with him and go to school in New York, and now he was jeopardizing her academic future?

“I don’t know,” Genevieve shrugged. “He said some girl he’s been talking to bought him tickets to the Nets game on Saturday night and he—“

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me...” Mat spat, then noticed the disappointment in her features, and immediately softened. “So, what can I do to help?” he asked, deciding that he would deal with the Beau issue later.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and drew a deep breath as she summoned the courage to make her request.

“I was wondering if... if you’d go with me?” she eventually mumbled.

Mat was certain he had misheard, just like that day months ago on the ice. He licked his bottom lip quickly and sat back in his chair.

“Say again?” he deadpanned.

“I was wondering if you’d come with me,” Genevieve spoke, clearer and faster this time. “I know I don’t even deserve to ask you a favor like that, and you probably already have plans anyway, and I—“

“G, stop,” Mat interrupted dryly.

“It’s not like you’re my second choice or anything,” Genevieve continued, talking with her hands just like Beau did when he got flustered. “I wanted to ask you — really, I did. Trust me. It’s just… I was afraid Anth would be weird so—“

“G, stop,” Mat laughed, his voice firmer this time as his hand moved to rest on her knee. “I don’t need an explanation. Of course I’ll come with you. I’d be honored.”

Genevieve finally exhaled, throwing her hands over her face in sheer excitement and shaking her head back and forth.

“Ugh, Mathew Barzal, I could kiss you right now!” she exclaimed before she could pay a second thought to her words. She covered her mouth then, eyes bugging behind her glasses. Mat couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he quipped softly as he raised his coffee to his lips once more, smirking pompously at Genevieve as she breathed a laugh.

As she launched into the details of the event — what he should wear, what she would need from him, when he could pick her up — he found himself spacing. No detail she shared much mattered to him — not really. It didn’t affect his decision. No matter what this would cost him, literally or figuratively, he was all in.

All in on the gala, all in on Genevieve. All in.

She was letting him in, however little, and he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Mat insisted on giving Genevieve a ride to Beau’s apartment after they’d finished their drinks, convincing her that she needed to take a break from working and get a change of scenery. Surprisingly, she complied. He realized as she sat in his passenger seat just how much he had missed the way he felt in her presence. The world seemed to be in full color only when Genevieve was by his side.

Sadly, the drive was a short one, and soon Genevieve was hurriedly pulling her bookbag into her lap as Mat pulled over to the curb near the building’s entrance. Preparing for her to jump out of the car without giving him a second look, Mat was surprised when he felt her fingertips grasp his jaw. She placed a lingering kiss to his cheek, closer to his mouth than could be called chaste, and smoothed her thumb across the stubble on his chin.

“I really have to go, even though I don’t want to, but thanks a million, Maty,” Genevieve said, beaming at him as she pulled the straps of her bag onto her shoulders. “I can’t wait for this weekend. Bye.”

With that, she was scampering off, throwing him one last smile before disappearing through the doorway.

With a pursed exhale, Mat rested his forehead against the steering wheel and tried to talk himself down from the clusterfuck his brain had just launched into at her actions.

_____

The week dragged on for Mat. When Saturday finally arrived, he took far longer than usual to get ready, even FaceTiming his sister for her recommendations on the best tie and shoe combination to match his navy suit.

When Liana furrowed her eyebrows, curious why he cared so much about what he wore to what seemed to her to be a fairly routine team event, Mat knew what was coming and braced for it as she opened her mouth.

“Is this like a date or something—“

“Goodbye, Liana. Thank you,” Mat said curtly, cutting her off and quickly ending the call. Of course, it rang again immediately, but Mat chose to ignore it and tucked the device in his pocket as he gave himself one last glance in the mirror.

When the phone rang yet again, he huffed, prepared to answer and then immediately hang up on his dear, annoying baby sister, when he noticed it wasn’t Liana this time.

Stepping into his closet to choose an overcoat, he smiled and tapped the green button.

“Don’t tell me you’re cancelling on me now, G,” Mat said, half in jest, half in masked terror. “I just got dressed.”

To his dismay, Genevieve sounded panicked on the other end of the line.

“Uh, no, quite the opposite, actually,” she said nervously. “I’m kind of — okay, well, completely — freaking out over here, and I was wondering if you could maybe come over early and convince me not to call my professor and tell her I’m sick so I don’t have to see what a complete disaster this night turns out to be?”

Mat had pulled on a coat and flicked off the lights in his closet while she was talking, and he shifted the phone to his other ear to respond once she stopped rambling.

“Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving now. Sit tight. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Mat heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Maty,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His smile widened — he was always happy to play the role of knight in shining armor, but it meant more to him to be able to play it for Genevieve. His chest puffed with each word of her gratitude.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said before he realized the pet name that fell from his lips. But he couldn’t regret it, refused to even try, so he bid her goodbye for now and headed for the parking garage to ride away on his white stallion — er, Cadillac.

Ten minutes later — after navigating a route that should have taken at least fifteen — he was on her doorstep, the dozen red roses he had bought that morning in hand. Mat tried to act as though he wasn’t surprised to find her still in a set of Beau’s Isles sweats, donning her glasses, with her makeup half-finished and her hair not yet fixed. He glanced at the clock above her head that indicated only about forty minutes until they needed to leave the apartment, but decided to ignore that minor detail.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mat said charmingly, extending the flowers to her. “These are for you. For good luck.”

Genevieve’s lips turned up momentarily into a grin, then folded into a frown, and she looked as though she may burst into tears at any moment. Forcing his way in the door, Mat set the bouquet on the entry table and gathered her into his chest, resting a hand on the back of her head and rubbing small circles on her back with the other.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “What’s goin’ on, G? Talk to me, baby.” Oh, shit. Another pet name. He really had to stop doing that.

Genevieve seemed unaffected by the term, though, and drew a shaking breath before squeezing his waist tightly and stepping away.

“Everything! This event is gonna crash and burn and it’s all my fault,” she cried, flinging her hands skyward for dramatic effect.

“What do you mean?” Mat inquired. “And while we talk, why don’t we go to your room so you can keep getting ready?” he added, placing a gentle hand to her hip. Thankfully, she nodded, despite heaving a sigh. As he turned them down the hall, she let her swirling thoughts erupt.

“The caterer called an hour ago and said they didn’t put in an order big enough for tonight so they’re gonna have to supplement the food with basically whatever they can find,” Genevieve began as they entered her room, motioning for Mat to take a seat on her meticulously made bed, which felt far more intimate than he was prepared for, not that he was complaining. She sat on the vanity bench nearby and hurriedly applied eyeshadow to her lids, prattling all the while. As she spoke, Mat glanced down at the dress laid out on the foot of the bed on a hanger, and he swore he forgot his own name for a moment as he gaped at it blankly.

“And I specifically ordered peonies, not poppies. Like how the fuck does a florist mess that up! I just—“

“Wait, sorry to interrupt, but this is what you’re wearing?” Mat choked out, sliding the shiny fabric between his first two fingers and thumb. Genevieve nodded, hurriedly fastening on a pearl cluster earring smack dab in the midst of her blush and bronzer routine.

“Yeah, Anthony insisted on taking me shopping and made me buy the most expensive goddamn dress in the store for some reason,” she grumbled. Mat made a mental note to thank Beau profusely. “I told him I couldn’t accept it but — wait, why? You hate it, don’t you?”

Mat’s eyes bugged at her question before he swallowed hard, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, it’s just... you’re gonna look so unfair,” he chuckled. Genevieve gave him a disbelieving look.

“Hardly,” she disagreed, apparently not noticing how gone he was at the moment. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter what I wear because it’s going to be an absolute shit show.”

She threw a fluffy brush into her makeup caddy with a clatter, and Mat approached where she sat fussing over herself anxiously in the mirror. She couldn’t help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat when his long fingers came to rest on her shoulders, stretching to her collarbone as he gazed at her intensely in their reflection. She felt herself relax under his touch.

“I know you’ve convinced yourself of that,” Mat began, his voice low, slow, sincere. “And that probably nothing I say will change your mind. But even if the food is wrong and the flowers are wrong and it doesn’t look exactly how you pictured it, it’s still gonna be a success. Because you made it happen. And you’re the most organized, most dedicated, hardest-working person I know,” he said as she finished applying her lipstick and sat up straight with a long, calming breath.

“And you’re the sweetest person I know,” she admitted airily. Mat beamed, squeezing her trap muscles. “Thank you,” she added, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips, their eyes never straying from one another’s in the mirror until she stood up to face him.

He threw her hair over her shoulders and gawked at the perfect placement of her makeup, however much she had rushed its application.

“Makeup,” Mat spoke, drawing a pretend v-shape in thin air. “Check. One thing at a time.”

She snickered a bit, her hands ghosting across his suit coat for a moment, enchanted, before she snapped back to the task at hand.

“Okay, I have to go curl my hair, and then get dressed. And then, I’m ready,” she promised as Mat nodded and slowly returned to his seat on her bed. As she pulled a pair of strappy heels from underneath the bedskirt, he smiled down at her so fondly, and she realized she wouldn’t mind having him sitting right here more often.

Certainly wouldn’t mind.

She tossed Mat a wink as she picked up the dress, too, and hustled into the bathroom, suddenly feeling much more confident than she had without his presence — his reassurance.

Fifteen minutes later, after chattering with Mat through the door while taming her hair, she pulled on the dress and smoothed her hands over the skirt of it, tugged on her heels, and pulled open the door.

Mat stopped abruptly in the middle of a story about razzing her cousin at practice and stood to his feet, neither moving an inch.

Finally, Genevieve sighed and motioned toward her attire.

“So?” she spoke simply. “Acceptable?”

Mat scoffed, literally scoffed, and repeated, “Acceptable?” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and couldn’t help the boyish giggle he let out. “More than acceptable, G. You look... wow. Incredible. So incredible.”

Genevieve could admit to herself that she was pleased with his reaction — in fact, she couldn’t quite seem to detach her eyes from his face as his stare roamed her figure. She leaned against the doorpost and smirked.

“Remember what I said earlier this week? About how I could just kiss you right now?” she asked mischievously. He nodded slowly, eyes still studying the way her dress pulled tight in exactly the right places, then finding their way back to hers. “Kinda feeling that way again right now,” she added.

He exhaled sharply, standing up straighter, as she took a couple of paces toward him.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Mat hummed in anticipation as she came ever closer. “You sure about that?” he asked firmly, extending his arms with his palms out toward her, trying his damnedest to keep her at a distance.

She only nodded again, a gleam in her eye, and paused just a couple of feet from him, waiting for his approval.

“Take another step looking like that and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Mat warned, giving her one final out.

A small laugh passed through Genevieve’s nose, and she looked down at their feet as she daringly moved forward.

“I’m okay with that,” she whispered as she looked back to his face. Mat only quirked his brow in response.

“I think it’s time I focus less on pushing you away, and more on just…” Genevieve tenderly wrapped her arms around Mat’s neck. “Just finally letting things happen the way they’re supposed to,” she spoke.

Mat froze for a moment, then broke into an enormous grin. “Yeah?” he asked in awe.

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded, driving him insane. He pressed her lower back into his body as she assured, “Yeah. This is what I want.”

Mat barely let her speak that last word before capturing her lips in a searing kiss — all the nerves and anxiety about avoiding this melting away in a heartbeat as she moaned softly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from him against her skin.

“You’re beautiful, G,” Mat whispered when he finally came up for air. “You know that?” Genevieve blushed and tried to hide her face in Mat’s chest, but with a roll of his eyes, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and angled her face toward his own.

“No, none of that,” he said. “I’ve waited this long to be with you, G. Just let me look at you and tell you how gorgeous you are.”

Mat felt the warmth of her cheeks as he caressed them with the backs of his hands, losing himself in her criminally blue eyes.

“You are something else, Maty,” she said, letting her hands rest on his taut stomach as she leaned into him. “Now we really have to go, or we’re gonna be late.” With one last kiss pressed against his lips, Genevieve spun away from him, grabbed the pearl clutch from her bed, and tossed him a particularly wicked glance over her shoulder, laughing at his dumbfounded expression as she drifted out of the room.

And as he watched her walk away from him, hips swaying beneath the satin of her dress...

Mat knew he had no choice but to follow wherever she led.

_____

Whether she was aware of it or not, the girl knew how to command a room.

As Mat watched Genevieve engage the many high-profile sponsors and potential donors in the ballroom, he found himself thinking that he really didn’t even need to be here. She had this in the bag, and he was just arm candy for the night. And he realized he didn’t mind a bit.

Even so, he couldn’t help but swell with pride when she regularly turned away from conversations throughout the evening, searching the many faces in the crowd until she found his, her shoulders relaxing and her eyes flashing with affection when she finally did.

Finally, Mat sensed that the peace he had long ago found in her, she now felt in him. Nothing could ever make him happier than that.

Despite having different food and flowers than what Genevieve had planned, the event was a smashing success. She learned from her professor near the end of the gala that they had raised a quarter of a million dollars for the Islanders Children’s Foundation in this single night — a figure which made her nearly choke on her champagne and subsequently back Mat into a coat closet to reveal privately. Only he was more excited about the triumph than she, clutching excitedly at her sides as he pulled her to himself for a fiery kiss and gleefully congratulated her, both of them trying to stay as quiet as possible to remain undetected. When they regained their composure, they walked regally arm in arm back into the ballroom to say their thank you’s and goodbyes.

As they waited outside for the valet, Mat held Genevieve from behind, his arms encircling her waist under the grand stone archways of the old building. In her ear, he whispered her praises, pressing a kiss to her temple or jaw between each adjective as they awaited their ride.

“Smart. Beautiful. Capable. Stunning. Perfect. Worthy. Mine.”

That last one prompted her to spin in his arms, unashamed of who might see, and grasp his face for a firm kiss.

“Yours,” she whispered back dreamily.

_____

Soon they were back at her apartment building, rushing down the hall hand in hand, fully prepared to take advantage of Beau’s night on the town. Mat was mouthing hungrily at the back of Genevieve’s neck, from one side to the other, as she squealed and clumsily unlocked the door — a feat which took approximately five times as long as it normally did, considering the distraction hanging off of her, snaking its long arms around her torso as she finally tumbled through the doorway. Mat held onto her hips with a laugh to prevent her from falling on her face onto the tile beneath them, pulling her upward to resume their makeout until…

“Don’t you two look cute.”

Beau’s voice rang from the couch, startling both Mat and Genevieve as she pushed him away to create some distance between them. Mat cleared his throat as he unceremoniously gathered his footing beneath him. They both stood motionless in the entryway for several moments before Genevieve blinked at the basketball game playing on the television.

“Wait. What the hell, Anth… you’re watching the Nets game on TV? What happened to your date?” Genevieve asked as she took a few steps into the living room, tossing her clutch onto the couch so that she could put both hands on her hips and aim as much attitude as possible at her cousin.

“Yeah, I lied about that. The Nets are in Boston tonight, you geniuses,” Anthony informed them casually, taking the last swig from his beer bottle and placing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward.

“What do you mean, you lied? What the fuck, man?” Mat asked, incredulous.

“I did it on purpose!” Anthony bellowed, before the two gaped at him. “You two goons haven’t figured it out on your own by now, so I figured if I ditched, forced you into some alone time, bought G a pretty dress, maybe you’d see yourselves for what you really are. Hopelessly, disgustingly in love with each other. And apparently, it worked.”

Mat ran a hand slowly through his hair, tugging on his locks with a quiet laugh. Genevieve stood still, a hand suspended in mid-air, and whispered, “You planned this?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course I planned this,” he confirmed. “You really think I would just bail on you at the last minute for some girl? No! I knew you’d ask Mat, and I knew he would come to your rescue, and I knew you guys would have a great night together. Win, win, win.” Anthony rested his back against the couch once more, propping his feet up on the coffee table and folding his hands behind his head as he waggled his eyebrows. “I’m good, huh?” he remarked.

Mat took four quick strides toward his best friend and made a show of grabbing Anthony’s face and pressing a lip-smacking kiss to his forehead, which Anthony giggled over and wiped away, shaking his head.

“You’re my hero, man,” Mat spoke as he returned to Genevieve’s side and tucked her beneath his arm. Timidly, Genevieve asked Anthony, “You mean you’re not mad?”

Anthony’s big eyes grew even wider. “Mad?! My best friend and practically my sister are finally making each other happy. I’d be crazy to be mad! Or I’d be the Grinch. And I’m not the Grinch!” he assured as he pointed towards them.

Genevieve beamed, walking his way and placing a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his arm.

“Merci beaucoup,” she whispered when she pulled back from his face, only to see that he was smiling from ear to ear. He gave her a solemn nod.

Genevieve extended a hand toward Mat which he accepted gladly, then she turned back to her cousin.

“Well, on that note, since your plan was such a success, and so was my event, Mat and I are gonna go celebrate,” she informed him with a grin. Anthony chuckled and lifted his beer bottle in their direction.

“Cheers to that,” he said. “I’ll just turn up the volume.”

Mat and Genevieve laughed and said goodnight before making their way down the hall. Mat couldn’t close the door fast enough before spinning her and pinning her against it as she smirked, her form melting into his as he kissed her fiercely. For several minutes they stayed there as one, with their parting lips and their breathing the only sounds in the room. Soon, Mat pulled back, both his hands holding Genevieve’s face as he searched her eyes.

“Promise me this is really what you want, G. Promise me you won’t push me away again,” he implored, his voice sounding needier than it ever had. Genevieve felt the stab at her gut upon remembering once more that she’d really almost fucked this up.

She sifted her fingers through his long, coal black hair of his and looked into his green-flecked eyes, which begged her for reassurance. Mat swallowed thickly as she cupped his strong jaw.

“I promise I won’t, Mathew,” she whispered. “I won’t. I can’t. I need you.”

With that, she squeezed his cheeks between her fingers and smothered his lips with her own. Mat tasted the sweet champagne on her skin and moaned.

“Mine,” he said again, gruffly this time, into her ear as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw.

“Yours,” she repeated breathlessly.

#juliaswinterwriting #my writing #mathew barzal #mat barzal #barzal #nhl #hockey #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal fanfic #mathew barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfic #mat barzal fanfiction #mathew barzal writing #mat barzal writing #hockey writing #nhl writing #anthony beauvillier

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binniesthighs · 4 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH.4

WARNING OF DEPICTION OF A PANIC ATTACK and mentions of drugging.

////////

The rest of the day went by pretty uneventfully. That is after Nate lectured you about stranger danger and how you couldn't just walk forty miles in two hours. You really have no clue how you messed up the math that bad or how calling Nate for a ride never crossed your mind. Nate made you promise not to get into another stranger's car, especially without knowing their fucking names.

“I mean seriously YN, you just hopped in their car because they had a dog?! That's literally the first thing they tell you not to do when you learn about stranger danger!” he said munching on a boston cream donut. It was a good thing you'd brought donuts because you caused this man to stress eat...or was that a bad thing?

After you agreed to having better stranger danger instincts, Nate told you things would be run a little differently around the shop. Apparently the camera out back had died on Sunday, which although weird could be explained away as a camera that hasn't been updated or switched out since the shop was opened, maybe even before then too. So unfortunately Big Jo and Nate still didn't know who broke into your car or if they had been looking for anything. But Big Jo still wants to take precautions like the two of you leaving together and in the morning one of you waiting in their car with the doors locked for the other to come and then entering the building together.

Nate also mentioned a few other things, shipping and inventory related, that wouldn't really pertain to you or change any of your current tasks. It's really just to limit the amount of people coming through the back room. The back room was the emptiest you've ever seen when you went to check on your deer skull. You wonder if you hadn't been hired who would've gotten this position and how long they'd be able to keep their mouth shut about the obviously illegal activity going on. But you remember the person who had this position before you had been Bambi, a sweet if not oblivious girl. So, had you not come along the Cowells would have probably found someone else who didn't have an ounce of perception for their surroundings.

The week goes by slowly and with no further incidents. The deer skull has been completed and you plan on taking it to Maddie's Workshop next week to get a mount for it. In the time that you were bleaching and polishing the bones Nate took it upon himself to clean around the shop. Even though he's made it clear you just have to do your task list here, which takes about an hour maybe two depending on the tasks, he's always working on something.

Nate's the type of guy who's never content to just chill he needs to keep moving always chasing that high you get from accomplishing a goal, whatever he's made his that day. He's probably just substituting whatever he did daily with these new deep cleans of his.

Even with the lack of incidents following your car's break in the two of you have kept to the new precautions. Nate even going so far as to remind you tonight that on Monday if you arrive before him you'll need to stay in the car. At this point you think it's less about safety and more about the security of the store's extra curricular activities. Either way you don't really mind.

Things seemed to return to normal, you were back to driving yesterday and after you rearranged furniture in your house you felt a little less on edge. And every night this week you'd been able to get a good night's sleep, which although not too strange did stand out to you. Maybe another thing that had kept you on edge this week, because it meant when you saw a shadow pass by you during the day you couldn't write it off as quickly as you normally would.

But tonight it seemed your luck had run out. You sat on your bed with your sketch book in hand just doodling strange squiggles till your eyes were so tired they couldn't focus. Putting the book down to rest your eyes and crack your wrist, you sigh not feeling tired at all. The thought of a hike isn't really appealing right now, plus if you made a run into the mini mart you'd probably see either Ronnie or even Tim working behind the counter, that thought set your ears a flame. While the night life in Kepler was decent especially for a Friday night in summer, you just felt the need to be alone.

A drive was the best answer you had. You'd just choose a random lane on the interstate and take a random exit till you found a diner or something, order a tea and a slice of pie. Like you were a background character in someone else's story longingly staring out the window as your dreams slowly slipped through your fingers in this cold cruel world. Ok, you'd been joking about that because you saw a TikTok saying that, but your melodramatic ass actually thinks that sounds fun.

Throwing on some jeans and a flannel over you muscle tee, you were out the door. When you were checking the lock you'd heard rustling coming from around the house where your bins were. Worse case it's a stalker, best case just some raccoons. Either way you decided to calmly but briskly walk to your car, locking the doors immediately. Once in you drove around the side of your house, luckily, you assume, you spot the chonkiest raccoon you've ever seen digging through the bins. His tiny little person hands drawing an awww from you even though his demonic gleaming eyes should send a chill down your spine.

Hissing at the car Chonk returns to dig through your garbage. Weird how he only comes on your pizza weeks. Probably has a thing for Leo's homemade pizzas. You sure as hell do, as much as you love it you do save a slice for this little guy. You haven't put it out yet though, eh you'll do it tomorrow.

Having solved that mystery you sit in your car and link up your phone so you can have your driving playlist. It's mainly Folk Punk and Sea Shanties and while most might say it's a weird combination you say it's the same genre just different fonts. You could drive hundreds of miles into the middle of no where listening to this playlist and you'd be just fine...maybe have an emotional break down or two but expressing your emotions is suppose to be good for you. Mouthing along to Jim Bogart as it comes through the stereo you set off on your little excursion.

Just like when you have the urge to hike at night the urge to drive is nearly one in the same. Momentum taking you forward and not looking back as you do, needing to just go forward with no real destination in mind. Tonight however would be a little different you'd stop at the first diner you see that's out of Kepler bounds. Or turn right back around at one in case you hadn't found anything. There've been times that you kept driving straight through morning and didn't know where the hell you ended up. Not to mention you rarely remember the ways to get back after going for so long, and gps can only get you so far in some of the towns that also border the Monongahela Forest. You'd just have to rely on dumb luck tonight.

Unlike hiking, which gives you a burst of adrenaline as you push your body to its limits to move as far as you can and as much as you can. Driving gives a much more relaxed feeling, it's a feeling a weightlessness that gets lighter and lighter the further you get from home. Some may describe that feeling as a wanderlust or nomadic calling, but you've never cared for either of those things. You've only ever wanted to stay in one place for as long as you could remember. Moving around so much in your youth really messed you up, and you promised yourself this would be the last time you uprooted your life. And you've really come to love Kepler in these past few months. You can't imagine how you'll feel next year after getting to know the community more, but so far it's been really compassionate and understanding, a few rocky spots here and there but nothing like your hometown.

Without realizing it you've picked up your speed, you're doing 75 in a 55 zone. Even with no other vehicles around you slow down to just above the speed limit. While there might not be any cops around looking for easy tickets you don't want to risk dissociating at 75MPH or more. That could only end horribly. Though dissociating behind the wheel at all would be horrible. In the middle of shaking yourself from these thoughts you catch sight of an exit sign, which holds the logo for Denny's on it, and the exit is coming up in five miles. Switching lanes you cross over and get ready to hop off on the next exit.

You're pretty sure the only pie Denny's has is the dry apple with a scoop of ice cream. That isn't very appetizing to you, but then again you aren't really a fan of pie, a fact you seemed to gloss over when you made the decision to drive out here this late at night. Not too bothered by the fact, you remember Denny's has a salted caramel and banana pancake which should work in place of pie.

Pulling into the parking lot there are only three other cars, peering into the diner you don't really see anyone so the cars must belong to the skeleton night crew. Entering the Denny's you see there actually is one other patron, you only see the back of his head as he makes no move to look at the new arrival.

“Hun, seat yourself, I'll be out in a bit.” is the motherly voice that rings out from the kitchen, truly something you've only experienced in the south. Walking into a diner in the dead of night and being treated like a daytime regular.

Seating yourself near the TV mounted to the wall you let the sounds of the soap opera playing drown out any buzzing you feel in your head. The waitress is out within minutes and though she startles at your masked face she regains her composure very quickly.

“I'd like the salted caramel pancakes if it's alright.” you say declining the offered menu.

“Just the pancakes?”

“Ah, yes please. And water's fine too.” it really pays to know the menu prior to coming in. Gives you ample time to run scripts over in your head.

Viv, the name on her name tag, nods and gives you a smile as she spins right round to the kitchen. Probably happy she won't have to run out so many times for just one order or maybe to spend time with the cooks in the back. You remember working food service sucked but the line cooks made it so much better at the end of the day. Even if they said you were too quiet and called you 'mouse'.

It might not have been exactly what you set out to do but this little midnight self date was really nice, you should do this more often.

Pancakes finished and mask back on you waited for Viv to bring out your check, then you notice the other patron also making his moves to leave. You're sat facing the door so when he turns and comes closer dread fills your veins like burning cold dry ice. It's David, a local from Kepler you briefly met when you first moved. He gave you really bad vibes and over all was just a very skeevy dude.

What made you feel worse about him was when he left town to “help his sister” right after Bambi disappeared. Those in your circle told you she always talked about leaving Kepler one day but you trusted your gut in saying she didn't leave by her own choice. It got made for her, and David leaving just furthered your theory. You look away hoping he hadn't noticed you but unfortunately you could hear his footsteps falter and then pick back up by passing the door completely.

“Hey...YN, right?” fuck he remembers you, alarm bells are ringing at this fact. Why would he remember someone he briefly met months ago?

“It really is you, still as quiet as I remember.” what did he mean the two of you only met a handful of times and that had been because of your mutual friendship with Bambi.

Where is Viv with the check? You'd really like if she saved you from this painful situation right now. But you aren't sure what's worse having to sit here and listen to David tell you everything he's been up to these past few months, like you even care. Or the thought of leaving with David having him follow you and maybe doing whatever he did to Bambi to you.

“Yea so my sister's better now, I should be seeing you around soon. We should catch up maybe do Saturday Night Dead. Does the Crypt still do that?” great a fucking rhetorical question, he knows the Cryptonomica still does it's weekly movie nights, it's only been two months he's been gone. Not to mention it's a big hit and a huge source of revenue for the shop.

You haven't said anything this whole time, fuck being polite to a potential killer, and fuck being polite to this creep. He's just been talking nearly nonstop for the last few minutes. He must really love the sound of his own voice or thinks he's the most charming person to ever grace the Earth with his presence. Since he's not really caring that you aren't proving to be a stimulating partner in this conversation. He really does love hearing himself talk. By the time he's said his own goodbyes Viv finally makes it out from the back.

She apologizes for the wait, had to go on her break sometime you supposed. You take your time finding your wallet, it's in your back pocket but you wanted to stall for time since you could still see David's car out there, you were also keeping an eye on your own car. Only relaxing when you saw him pull off from the corner of your eye. Oh look you've “found” your wallet, handing Viv your credit card you just want to get out of here quickly now.

You pay and leave a nice tip for Viv, while she didn't save you from that creep it's not like she could've known. You sit in your car for a moment or two just breathing in and out in the glow of the diner lights. Almost meditating before you begin your long drive back to Kepler with all these thoughts of David, Bambi's disappearance, and how it can't be coincidence that David is coming back at the same time that you have a break in. Could you be his next target? Were you just over thinking things? Just blaming this poor guy because you didn't like him? But you've always been intuitive and bad vibes aren't something to ignore. David appearing now meant something.

Just that thought alone put you on edge as your skin begins to crawl. With a few calming breaths you go to start the car and sync your radio when you notice the glow of the lights changed from the slight yellow to a sterile blueish white. Looking up where the diner should be you see the mini mart back at Kepler...how on earth did you get here? You didn't drive! You couldn't have dissociated while driving, you never even turned the car on and you can barely take a hike dissociating let alone do something as complex as drive a car.

It happens before you can register it, on shaky legs that move on their own you are passing the threshold of the convenience store and catching the tail end of a conversation.

“ppened to not feeding into delus...” the voice cuts off as the door shuts behind you. You know that voice why is it so hard to focus?

Something warm brushes your hand and you see someone in front of you. Who is that? You can't see their face, they've got a mask covering their face. Like you but that person is not you. You might know them...Tobais?

“Yea? You good there?” confusion, you blink hard and see you are standing in the mini mart now, Connor standing under your hand, Toby hovering close by and both Brian and Tim watch with unease over by the register.

“...I don't know how I...how I got here.” you register movement in the background but not consciously.

It's the shifting of Brian's head as he looks out the front windows and spots your Kia.

“You drove.” shaking your head, “Maybe...I don't...I dissociated?” in your confusion you can register Toby stiffen in front of you.

Fear, fear, uneasy, breath....are you breathing? Your head's so jumbled right now.

You scan the shop trying to look for answers that may help you but you find none. The more confused you get the more worked up you get, chest rising and falling rapidly. You take a step back or try to and end up falling on your butt. It's starting to get hard to breathe with your throat constricting, you bring a hand up to your larynx.

“..re.....have..attack......”

“could be o...me..”

“.....pressure...”

Is all you can make out with your fuzzy consciousness before a heavy pressure is piling on your chest and knocking you fully on your back. The pressure is actually pretty lifting as contradictory as it may seem. Instead of restricting your breathing more it seems to be kick starting your lungs to exhale and inhale. With oxygen coming back into your body you can feel your toes and the tingle behind them. You can feel your fingers and the fur under them. Fur?

Taking in a big breath you move your head and come face to muzzle with Connor. You give a nod of recognition to the dog before lying flat again and staring up at the ceiling. After about ten minutes you're thinking more clearly than before, which isn't saying much.

“Thanks.” you aren't sure who it's directed at but you still mean it.

It's silent until Toby breaks it, “I'm taking you home.”

“Car.” it's all you can manage to say but the message though distorted got through.

“I'll drive it, Brian follow behind.” there is no room for arguing, driving under any influence must be a touchy subject for Toby. Or maybe you're really fucked up right now and just can't comprehend how bad.

You use Connor to get up, he seems ready and no one else makes a move to you. Toby pushes past and holds the door open as Connor guides you, still holding onto his vest with one hand, and Brian murmurs something to Tim before following you three.

Outside Toby already has your keys in his hand, when did he get those? Did you give them to him? Your hand is risen, you must of...how on earth did you even drive like this. Had you really driven? There's a lump in your throat again and you're breathing's gone shaky, god you hope you didn't hurt anyone. You must have been zoning out for too long, not only is Connor pushing your legs but Toby has a grasp on your forearm coaxing you forward.

His grip isn't suffocating, honestly even seeing it there you still don't feel it. Maybe it's because you're so numb, or maybe it's because he's genuinely helping you but you can't feel the pain that usually comes with being touched. The sharp jab that feels like you've been struck with a fire poker where ever someone laid their hands on you. After he's pushed you into the backseat, more like nudged you, even making sure you didn't bump your head, he buckles you in then snaps and Connor jumps into the car and lays across your lap.

You're shaking, actually trembling as you look at Toby. What's going on? Why can't you figure out what's happening? The brunette doesn't say a thing as he gets into the driver's seat and buckles in to drive you home. That's strange you think, how does he know where to go? You told him right, just follow the road...or maybe he guessed from the other day. What happened to you? Why the mini mart? You were at Denny's.

“This town doesn't have a Denny's.” did you say that out loud?

“I...I went for a drive, a town over...up...no.. north I think...” you start blinking barely able to keep your eyes open before your eyes lock shut. It's sending you over the edge even more in your confusion.

“Hey, hey just focus on the Denny's. What'd you do once you got there?” is he trying to distract you? Calm you down? Or is he trying to piece together what happened like you are? You can remember Denny's just fine, the dull yellow glow of the inside the skeleton crew murmuring in the back, the pancakes you had, and the “conversation” with David. Did David do this, had he put something in your water glass? Did you even touch your water glass after he left? Breathe. You need to breathe. Toby's waiting.

“Pancakes...I had pancakes. Then that creep came over...and he started talking. Didn't like. We aren't friends, I don't know him. I don't understand why he'd talk to me. Didn't like. Didn't like.” finger back to pressing down on your larynx and the weight of Connor preventing your legs from striking out at the seat in front of you.

“Wait, were you drugged?” Eyes flash to the rear view to lock with your own teary stare.

“No, maybe...I don't think so.” you barely feel the pain in your throat right now, this is all so overwhelming. “He left, I...I watched him drive off before getting in my car... I had an episode while the car was off then..” then you were at the mini mart. You never touched the ignition.

“I didn't drive, I never started the car. Didn't, didn't, didn't” Your attack is probably stressing even Connor out now, but this is all so confusing.

You're so focused on the fuzzy events you don't notice Toby bristle. Or how he grips the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles grow white despite his already translucent skin. He might not be able to feel or see it in the mirror through his mask but he's probably gnawing off more of his face. He'd deal with it after he dealt with you.

You've made it to your house and he's waiting for the headlights from Brian. When he sees them in the rear view he gets out but not before telling you, or maybe Connor, to stay put.

It's a few long moments before he comes back. But in the silence and darkness of your car, growing colder by the moment, you start to ground yourself. You aren't calm by any means and you're still very unfocused. But you aren't crying as the numbness overtakes you, you don't even jump when the door beside you opens. With a snap Connor is out of the car and soon you're being pulled from the car, that same weightless touch gripping your forearm. Toby guides you into your own home, and walks towards the hallway looking into the bathroom, the only other door, before finding your room.

Seemingly understanding your catatonic state he sits you on the bed and gives some order to Connor before he leaves the room. And you just sit on the bed staring into dead air as a silent guard sits in wait. You aren't sure what he's waiting for or why he's still there but the numbness has taken over too much and you can't find it in you to give a single fuck.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #reader insert #readerinsert #creepypasta fanfic #masky #masky x hoodie #masky x reader #hoodie #hoodie x reader #timothy wright #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #A cure for insomnia

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punkassrichie · 3 years

Text

Just Tonight pt 1

A/N: i’ve only written like,, one fic on this blog lol but i really love It so i decided to start up again. also just wanted to say i’m aware that beverie isnt an ideal ship, but i just love it sm 😪😪 it’s got all the angst i need and want >.< but anyway feel free to send me requests? i will do any and every ship bc that’s just how much i love everyone and everything. feedback would be much appreciated! <3 also this is a college au but i wanted the first part to be kind of like a back story, like what went on during their high school years. this fic was inspired by the song Just Tonight by The Pretty Reckless. feel free to give it a listen as well to get a feel of the theme for the fic lol

Warnings: angst, mentions of underage drinking and substance abuse, mentions of underage sex, mentions of SA and abuse, abusive and toxic relationships, cheating, mentions of suicide me projecting just a lil and Bev x Richie. college au. if i missed any lmk. oh aaaaand all of the character are bi LMAO k byeeee

Summary: Beverly and Richie were the cliche best friends. Going to the same high school, joining the same clubs, hanging out at the Aladdin and arcades, applying to the same colleges, telling each other their deepest darkest secrets. Being each other’s firsts. Falling in love. And neither of them knowing about it.

It was the last day of summer, barely going into high school the first time it happened. They were getting drunk and high together, just the two of them. At the time, Bev was with Bill, and Richie was pining after Eddie. Both of them sad because Bev loved Bill with all of her being, but she never felt right with him and Richie loved Eddie, who never made it clear whether he loved him back or not. Eddie was messing with his head a little bit. Not intentionally, he just didn’t have the confidence Richie did. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

Richie understood. He wasn’t going to force Eddie to do anything he didn’t wanna do. And if that included Eddie not wanting to be with him then so be it.

But man, did it fucking hurt.

So they both drank themselves sick, neither of them understanding why they were the way they were. They’d talked all hours of the night, drunk laughing and crying, and making dumb jokes until they started talking about things they’d never really touched on before. He’d ask her about her abusive father and she’d ask about his neglectful parents, both of them answering any questions they had.

They started talking about how Richie was still a virgin, and how he really wanted to have sex but not with just anyone. He drunkenly confessed to saving himself for Eddie, but knowing that wouldn’t happen because he knew Eddie wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship with him. It’s like Eddie wanted nothing to do with him.

Bev saw a tear stream down his eye, and she shouldn’t have, she knew she shouldn’t have but she leaned in to kiss him, she told herself it was just to comfort him but one thing led to another and before they knew it, their clothes were off and Richie was tossing her on his bed. With Richie, it felt so wrong but more right than Bill. In Bev’s head, it made sense.

The morning after, Bev had woke up crying. She wasn’t weeping.. it was more like soft sobs. Richie woke up and asked her what was wrong. She didn’t know.

“Is it because of Bill?” Richie asked, his face full of concern.

“No, and that’s the worst part.” She managed to squeak out between sobs. Richie just held her.

Bill was the last thing on her mind, and while she felt bad, she didn’t linger on the thought too much. She knew they wouldn’t last.

No, she just felt wrong. She always felt wrong. She liked it so much that she wanted to do it again and again and it filled her with shame. Guilt. She told herself she’d never be into it, not after her father ruined it for her. But still, she was. And she was disgusted with herself.

She finally told Richie after she couldn’t take her thoughts anymore. Richie assured her that she wasn’t wrong for feeling the way she did. That it was okay, and he had a great time. He was glad she did too.

She looked up at him, not understanding why he was so sweet to her. She didn’t deserve it, she thought.

This time it was Richie that leaned in to kiss her. She was shocked because he wasn’t drunk, and neither was she. She almost forgot that people don’t need to be drunk to have sex. She also forgot that it’s not really recommended. Eventually she melted into it. He was getting handsy and pulled back to let Bev know she can say stop at any moment and he would.

But she didn’t.

And that morning, Richie had went down on someone for the first time in his teen years, and Bev had her first real orgasm.

That’s when she became addicted to it.

Few years into high school, and Bev and Richie were still the best of friends. Not making things weird or “official.” Just two best friends that kiss sometimes (and sometimes that do more than kiss) and then act like it didn’t happen the next day. Almost all the time.

Before school started, Bev broke up with Bill. She knew what she wanted now and she wasn’t going to use Bill to get it. She always knew he was a sweetheart, and that he deserved better. She didn’t tell him what happened with Richie, and she made Richie promise he wouldn’t say anything either. Of course he did, but only if she did the same. She also didn’t tell Bill that she was gonna go around, chasing the high that she’d get from Richie, but with other people. He was heartbroken enough, she wanted to spare him at least some of the heartache.

Most of the time she’d just sleep with Richie. At first it was just convenient, and she trusted him, and him only. But then she realized it was because she didn’t feel comfortable with anyone else. She hadn’t realized it but she was falling for the boy. The thought would creep up in her head but she’d make it go away as fast as it appeared.

But all of that changed when Richie and Eddie started officially dating.

She wasn’t jealous, she couldn’t be. She loved him so much and was happy when he finally got to have the boy he pinned over all throughout his childhood. She knew he’d be happy.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little lonely though, seeing as Eddie would take up all of Richies time. Of course she had the other losers, but it wasn’t the same. They didn’t understand her like he did.

And of course she lied, she was a little jealous that someone took her best friend away. But she had to suppress it because she knew her and Richie would never work.

Richie loved Bev too, but not like he loved Eddie. She knew that. She understood. She also knew she was incapable of loving someone. Or having anyone love her for that matter. She knew he loved Eddie and Eddie only.

She only started to question it when she started to sneak into his house through his bedroom window, sophomore year of course, after yet another rough night with her father. He knew. He understood. He was there. In more ways than one. Some nights he’d just hold her. When she was shaking, when she couldn’t stop crying, and especially when she couldn’t muster the words to tell him what had happened. Other nights she would be beneath him, asking begging him to make her forget. And he would. Because he loved her and wanted to show her. But the thought of love was questionable now because if he could do that to Eddie, what would he do to her? He and Eddie had only been together a few months then.

Eventually she realized what he would do to her.

One night she had biked over to his house, covered in bruises and blood. That night it had been really bad. She went over and climbed up his window, knowing the path up the tree all too well. His window was unlocked, his bed was made and the light was on. Except Richie wasn’t there. She looked over to the bed where there were fresh, clean clothes and a towel underneath them. She knew what it meant.

It was a silent “I can’t do this anymore, but i’m still here for you.” She knew that’s what it meant because for them, words never had to be exchanged. They could speak through gestures and they would just know.

She ended up leaving and finding a quick fuck on tinder. He ended up bruising her up even more. At least he got her a room and stayed with her until they both had to go their separate ways.

Sophomore year had ended and summer began. Bev and Richie were more distant than ever. She knew it was bound to happen but she never prepared herself for it. But that didn’t mean she was going to steal him away from the person he loved most.

So she took matters into her own hands. Once she realized she could be in control of her body, she started to get a little out of hand. She started talking to more people at school, trying to figure out if they were into her or not. She debated going on tinder again but there were so many missing person flyers all over town and she didn’t wanna end up on one of them. Not like that anyway.

She felt more comfortable with people she kinda knew. That was until she got involved with one too many football players. When school started up again, they began their “locker room talk” and once a lot of the boys figured out they had sex with the same girl, they’d tell everyone and label her a slut. Bev ended up being one of those girls. It got around school and even back to the cheerleaders which some of them had experimented with Bev that same summer too. Of course, they’d never say anything about it, mostly because they weren’t sure about their sexualities, but that didn’t stop them from bullying her either. Including Greta.

Greta Keene was the main one that ended up torturing Bev. Which was sad really, considering all the nights they had together. It was almost like Bev had found her replacement. She just forgot how cruel people can be.

She was forgetting a lot of things. Once the rumors were spread, some true, most of them not true- she forgot that she had friends she could trust and talk to and tell them what had happened. But she was scared mostly. She knew the losers didn’t believe the rumors anyway but she also knew that a part of them wondered.

So she distanced herself. First time with Richie, second time with the whole club. It wasn’t intentional, but she knew that if she kept up her actions, they’d be concerned. Or they would leave. And you can’t be left unless you leave first, right?

Bev felt like her life was in the gutter. That nothing mattered and nothing was real. She didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about anything. Not about the rumors at school, not about the people taunting her and calling her a slut every 5 minutes, and not Richie. Definitely not Richie.

She still did what she thought was best for her, and if that meant drugs too, then drugs it was.

She wasn’t into anything hardcore, but she loved downers. She loved the fact that she could take a pill and it would make her numb and forget the events of that day, or the one before, or even after.

She changed. And everyone noticed.

The losers grew concerned. They’d see her walking down the halls, hair looking shaggy with baggy clothes (because anything she wore that was her size would get her called a ‘slut’ much more than it does when she wears clothes that isn’t), big shoes and sometimes when she would things her size, they could see the bruises on her arms, the cuts and scrapes on her knees and elbows, the hand shaped marks on her throat. She’d stretch and while her shirt rode up a little on her waist, you could marks on her hips too.

They were scared for her, and they knew something was up. They loved and care for Beverly so they weren’t going to let her go that easy.

One day, Bev skips out on school and all the losers noticed. It was weird, no matter how much she got bullied or beat (by Greta and her bitch clique and sometimes the Bowers gang), she’d never miss a day.

That’s when they all decided at lunch to skip their last three periods to spend it looking for her. They checked her house first, her dad telling them to fuck off and leave her alone, and if she went out and got herself killed then that was her own damn business. It made their blood boil, it made Richie wanna sock him right there and then. But Bill being Bill, just said thank you and walked off. Made Richie wanna sock him too.

They went to the barrens, quarry, clubhouse, everywhere and she was nowhere to be found. They headed back to school, heads hanging low in defeat, worried about her. They didn’t know what else to do but wait until her dad decided to file a missing person report.

The last bell rang and they all headed home, Bill told the rest of the losers that he would try to come up a plan to see what more they could do to try and find her. He didn’t wanna give up, although the rest of the losers already had.

Richie was walking Eddie home when he cried to him and told him that he shouldn’t have pushed her away the way he did, and that it was all his fault. Eddie just held him, not understanding the relationship the two had. He told him that everything would be okay anyway and that they would find her. Richie just nodded and continued to walk him home.

Eddie offered him to spend the night with him, like he had been doing all year but this time Richie politely declined. He doesn’t know why but something was telling him to go home. Go home and check.

He doesn’t tell Eddie, just tells him he might be coming down with something and that’s enough to make the hypochondriac stay away. For that night at least.

Richie kisses him goodbye and heads on home. And sure enough, there she was. Sitting in his steps, fumbling with something in her hands and mumbling to herself.

He throws his bike to the side and rushes over to her, asking her if she was okay or hurt. She just laughed.

She reeked of alcohol and had a small brown pill bottle in her hands. It was empty.

He kept asking her questions and grew more concerned when he see that her eye had been swollen shut. She was crying, but laughing at any question Richie had.

She was fucked up, it wasn’t hard to tell. Richie didn’t ask anymore questions and just helped her up. She refused but he still managed to get her up. While he helped her up the stairs and into his room, he asked her what she was on. She didn’t respond. He was growing frustrated but settled for asking her when she was sober. He helped her get cleaned up, and saw to her eye when she got out of the shower. He didn’t know much about first aid, but he knew what Eddie taught him.

She stopped crying and she was just silent, her eyes fluttering like she couldn’t keep them open anymore. When he was done, Richie set her down on his bed and held her while she slept. “Love you, Richie.” was the last thing she murmured before falling into a deep sleep.

Of course it hurt him, and of course he blamed himself. She needed him and he dropped her like she meant nothing to him. But it wasn’t like that. Now he wishes they could’ve just talked. If he hasn’t been so caught up with Eddie, maybe they could have.

It was 7pm the next day when she woke up. She seemed very confused, and was surprised when Richie was beside her, talking to Eddie on the phone. He wrapped up the call once he saw that she was awake, he had questions and he was going to get them. He was determined. He hung up and just sighed when he saw the state she was in.

“Bev, you’ve gotta tell me what’s been going on with you.” He says with a soft tone as he sits on his bed, facing her. She can barely look at him, feeling anxious and embarrassed. But she knows she can trust him.

“I-I havent been doing very well lately.” Is all she can manage to say. Then she starts to cry again. And just like he would before, he held her. He calmed her down and waited until she was ready to talk.

And when she was, she confided in him. She told him everything, how she’s been sleeping around to get by, how she found a specific drug that helped her sleep through the nights her dad wouldn’t let her, how some of the rumors at school were true, and how much she missed him and the rest of the losers. She told him that she didn’t wanna leave them the way she did, but she didn’t want them to leave first when they found out about her.

When she was done pouring her heart out, he just looked at her and hugged her. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. She was still for a second, but then wrapped her own arms around him.

And they remained in their position for a while. They didn’t talk about their little ‘situation’ they had gotten themselves into, nor did they want to. They hardly ever did. They just sat in silence for comfort.

After that months flew by once again, and things felt normal again. Bev got used to the bullying and harassment from her classmates but she didn’t have to deal with it alone anymore. The losers club made them back off actually, defending Bev until it got them suspended.

They didn’t care though, they wanted to show Bev they actually care about her and that she’s not alone. She learned to appreciate them more than she already did.

They started having more sleepovers than usual so that Bev wouldn’t have to stay at her dad’s so much, and they started calling her and checking up on her.

Richie was always making sure she was okay and telling her to text him whenever she got home or if she was going anywhere and back. Just to keep tabs, making sure she’s alright.

They didn’t sleep together anymore, and neither of them minded. At least that’s what they told themselves. Bev had a few fuck buddies since Richie, one of them being Greta.

“Why the fuck would you still be fucking her?” Richie exclaimed after Bev confessed that she was still fooling around with her despite being harassed by her and her clique.

She just shrugged. She couldn’t tell him it was because she couldn’t fuck him anymore, she didn’t want to pin anything on him. And she couldn’t tell him that she kind of liked the abuse.

Bev had all sorts of kinks that she wasn’t ready to talk about with just anyone, and she knows she could trust Richie, but she still feels a bit embarrassed and ashamed.

Before they knew it was summer again, and that was the first time they were all together again in a long time. Her friends changed and she didn’t even realize it. But so did she. She found comfort in knowing that they would accept her no matter what. And that she would too.

Senior year was the best year for the losers, but as well as the worst. They called it their Slack Off year. They had done so much work the years before just to be able to call it that. They’d have 3 classes the whole day and the rest were free periods. Their work really paid off. And it was so much better knowing they were all going to be at the same college. It would be an understatement to say they were excited for next fall. It was until someone new had come into the picture and changed everything.

Her name was Criss. She was new to Derry High. To the town in general.

Beverly swore she loved her. And she swore Criss loved her back. And how they came to be were the losers’ guess but they were happy for her nonetheless. Things with them were great at first. Bev finally seemed happy to have someone by her side at all times, happy to be lovey dovey with, and just happy in general. Beverly was in love to say the least.

The rest of the losers were obviously happy for her, but if anyone had asked Richie what he thought about Criss, he wouldn’t say what he was really thinking. He avoided the question if he could.

But then they started to notice the red flags in Criss, and they weren’t so sure about her. They’d notice when she’d lie about little things, the way she’d grip Bev’s arm when she was mad, the insults she’d scream at Bev whenever they were in a fight, the scenes she’d make when things just wouldn’t go her way. One time Bev showed up at the quarry with a freshly split lip, and they knew it wasn’t her father because she wouldn’t stay at her house anymore. They hated it, and they knew Bev hated it too.

Except Bev didn’t hate it- that much, because Criss wasn’t that bad. She’d ignore the losers when they expressed their concerns for her because she knew who she was deep down. Most importantly she was loved. That feeling alone was enough to make her fly high into the sky. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She only hated the fact that she fell for a person who ended up not being what they said they were. But she convinced herself it was okay, and that she would be able to handle her. She loved her, and if that meant putting up with mild bruises and screaming matches, then so be it. She was just happy that someone loved her.

It wasn’t until Beverly caught her with Greta in her bed, that she knew it was too good to be true. That was the first time she felt her heart shatter. She didn’t go to the losers when she first saw them together, she went on a walk all by herself and not because she felt stupid, (oh but she definitely did) but because if she didn’t, she was convinced she might’ve offed herself. Sometimes she wishes she did. And all the shame, guilt, and embarrassment had returned. She didn’t believe in anything at all anymore.

dont be a stranger and lmk what u think <333 part two will be out soon!

#it 2017 #it 2021 #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #beverly marsh fanfic #beverly marsh angst #beverie #reddie #angsty reddie #stanley uris #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #bowers gang #bi bev #everyone’s bisexual LOL

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

The Balcony - Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: Of playing games with each other and meeting in your favorite spot in the castle at midnight. 18+

A/N: So tumblr decided to delete my story the last time I posted this -.- So here I go again. Also, fyi, this is my first time writing smut :D Enjoy <3

Words: 3481 Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader Warnings: smut smut smut. Princess!Reader (again, lol).

You see him first.

He is standing on the balcony, looking out into the night. His arms are propped up on the balustrade, a glass of wine resting next to him. His composure is relaxed and he seems to feel at ease. An unusual sight.

You know who he is. Everyone does. The Witcher, people had whispered in the corridors, the Witcher is coming. To you, he was nothing more than a myth up until three days ago. Childhood stories, the handmaiden told you, to keep you from running into the woods alone. When you grew to be a woman, you forgot about them, thinking they were a mixture of exaggeration and fear. However, when he walked into the great hall with long strides and planted a kiss on your hand, your impression changed. He is everything they say.

You observe him, wondering what brings him out here this summer night. The chamber is far away from the guest wing and hasn’t been used in years. You are the only one who still comes up occasionally to sit on the balcony, listening to the howling of the wind and the rustling of leaves from the nearby forest. It comforts you in a strange way, makes you forget your life at court with all its intrigues, politics and bloodshed.

A soft breeze wafts through the room, moving the old heavy curtains ever so slightly. You shiver as your nipple harden against the soft fabric of your nightgown. It is the only thing you wearing. After all, you didn’t expect others to see you.

In this moment, the bell from the high tower sounds. Midnight. It takes you off guard and causes you to breath in sharply. He hears you and tilts his head almost inconceivably. Almost.

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. The well-behaved royal daughter inside you tells you to leave. Turn around and go back to your room. Fall asleep and wonder if this encounter has only been a dream. The other daughter, the one who sneaks around the castle at midnight, wonders what will happen if you approach him. You decide to listen to her.

It takes you another three seconds to muster up the courage before you start walking towards the balcony, your bare feet making no sound on the cold stone. Outside the wind blows softly and goosebumps appear on your arms – a cloak would have been a good idea. You stand next to him, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of your gown. “Witcher.”

He does not acknowledge your presence, keeping his eyes fixated on the woods. You ask yourself if he sees something out there that stays hidden from you. After a moment, he grabs his wine and takes a sip and carefully places it back on the balustrade. “Princess Y/N.”

You nearly shudder by the way your name rolls of his tongue.

“How did you find this chamber?”

Again, he takes his time to answer. “Couldn’t sleep,” he finally says.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” you respond.

“Hmm.” The Witcher takes another sip of the dark wine.

Disappointment and confusion dwells up inside of you. He irritates you, as you are not used to people talking to you like in that manner. Or not talking, in his case. Almost pouting you try a third time: “Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies, closer to your chambers.”

For the first time since you stepped outside, he looks at you. He’s beautiful. It is impossible to read his expression as he is eyeing you up, his gaze lingering just a moment too long on your chest. Suddenly, you become aware of the transparency of your nightgown and your cheeks flush. You clear your throat nervously and cross your arms.

The corners of his lips move upwards a little and he meets your eyes again. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you reply a little louder than necessary to chase away the nervousness. “More than that, I’m the princess of this kingdom so I can order you to answer me if you choose to stay silent.” In your head, this sentence had sounded strong and confident. In reality however, it has more resemblance with a spoiled, overreacting, defiant child.

The Witcher seemingly has the same impression and raises his eyebrows.

You keep staring at him. It is too late to take the statement back so you might as well go with it.

“Do it then.”

“What?” A little bewildered you uncrossed your arms.

“Order me,” Geralt demands.

“You want me to order you?”

“That is what I said, yes,” he shrugs.

He’s playing with me, the thought shoots through your mind. “Alright then,” you straighten your composure and he mimics it. Now, Geralt of Rivia towers over you. You have to look up to him and the same feeling of irritation that you felt just moments before resurfaces. “I demand to know how you found this place and why you’re here.”

His lips twitch again and you realize, he’s suppressing another smile. “I’m here because I had a hard time falling asleep. In moments like this, I enjoy taking a walk. Instead of going outside, I decided to come here.”

You ponder shortly about the reason for his restlessness. Is it the full moon, shining too brightly, or simply nightmares? Does the Witcher, the Butcher of Blaviken, even experience such a mundane thing as nightmares? Do the monsters and people he kills on his way through the continent haunt him sometimes?

He continues to talk and pulls you out of your thoughts. “As to why I’m here, it’s a more … delicate story,” for a reason unknown, his voice becomes even lower.

You are intrigued. “Try me.”

“I saw this balcony while walking through the forest two nights ago.” A smirk appears on his face.

It clicks right away with you. Oh. Your cheeks flush, embarrassment taking over. You know what he is hinting at and close your eyes to gather your thoughts. Oh no. When you open them again, the smirk was still plastered on his face.

“You don’t know what you saw, Witcher.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I think I do, Y/N.”

There it is again – the shiver running down your spine as he pronounces your name with his sharp rivian accent. Absent-minded, you lick over your lips.

“How dare you watch –“

“I didn’t. Not for long anyways.”

You are doubtful whether to believe him. “You can hang for this.” Factually true. What he did was worthy of the death sentence.

“Princess,” Geralt takes a step towards you. Firewood and leather, you smell and it makes you feel dizzy. He lowers his head, mere inches separating you. “If you want to see me hang, you have to give reason to the king.” Factually true as well. “Please allow me to witness that particular conversation.”

“Fucking jerk,” you blurt out. How does he do it? How does he make you feel like a sixteen-year-old girl who has never talked to a boy before? You are a princess, damn beautiful and even more powerful. No man has the right to take your control away like this and leave you breathless, desperately looking for words. Especially not a Witcher.

He smiles and lowers his head a little further. “I know.”

His lips are now so close to yours they would probably touch when you said another word. You can sense the warmth radiating from his body and his eyes watching you intensly, observing every movement of your face. You are blissfully aware of what he wants in this moment, what he craves. Quickly you become aware that there might be certain things he still has in common with other men and now you are the one with the smirk on your lips. The Witcher notices it, yet reads your reaction wrong and faintly brushes his fingers against the side of your body. It’s all your body needs. A tingling sensation and your breath hitches. He takes it as a another sign and parts his lips and …

… you take a step backwards. As if someone woke him up from a daydream, he regains his composure, a hint of bewilderment running over his face.

“Careful, Witcher,” you reprimand him. “Don’t forget who’s standing in front of you.”

Having the control of the situation was what you wanted – now you have it. Not without shooting him a last mocking smile, you turn around and walk away with your head held high. Left on the balcony in a chilly summer night is a dumbfounded Witcher, watching you exit the room and disappear into the dark corridor.

***

Over the next day, Geralt of Rivia leaves the castle with his bard. He is looking for the reason he traveled to the kingdom in the first time – a beast that already slaughtered half a dozen villagers.

He leaves early in the morning and as you pass him in the hall, you do not look at him. The back of your hand brushes against his, quickly, teasingly, as if you accidentally walked by too close. You feel his eyes on you and smile when he is out of sight.

When he returns in the evening, he announces his success. The monster is dead and the king and queen want to celebrate, so they order the staff to cook the finest dishes and bring out the best wine. He declines but four hours pass and the festivities start. People are dancing, drinking, and his companion sings of the Witchers latest victory.

At one point, Geralt is leaning against a pillar, drink in hand. He watches the crowd, seemingly bored, when his eyes trail in your direction and meet yours. This time, you don’t look away. The music and chatter around you start to blur as the two of you keep watching each other. Your fingers play with the heavy necklace resting against your bosom and he follows them as though he is captivated by the sight.

A glass falling, shattering and spilling its content all over the ground ultimately brings you back to reality. You break the eye contact and abruptly stand up.

“I’m tired, please excuse me,” you mumble, unsure if someone hears you.

***

One hour later, you are standing on the balcony again.

When you had left the party you were honest in wanting to go to sleep. So back in your chambers, you changed out of your dress into your nightgown, undid your hair and laid down. However, something keeps you awake and it is not possible to fall asleep. You toss and turn and for whatever reason finally decide to come back up here.

It is not as quiet tonight as you are used to. People from the party keep coming out for a breath of fresh air and guards are patrolling the gardens. You watch them silently.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

You don’t flinch or wince at the low voice sounding from the dark room behind you, having expected him to come here.

The door falls shut and a sense of excitement flows through you. His steps come closer until you feel him standing directly behind you. His hot breath touches the skin of your neck and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Why did you choose to come up here? There are other balconies closer to your chamber,” Geralts voice is nothing more than a whisper.

You smile softly. “Couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, repeating his words from last night.

“Hmm…”

His hand is resting on your hip now, only the thin fabric of your gown separating him from your skin. The touch makes your heart pound faster and the same tingling sensation, you had felt before, appears.

“Y/N,” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me, I’m not reading this wrong …”

“This?”

With a swift movement he spins you around and presses you up against the balustrade. You draw a sharp breath of air in surprise and are not sure if it’s the cold metal from his belt that causes your nipples to get hard or the way his hands hug your hips.

“This,” he repeated himself, his voice hoarse and his eyes as dark as the night sky.

Maybe it was the way your lips parted or that you tilted your head or how you moved your hips forward slightly – either way, Geralt realizes that he is not reading anything wrong at all and kisses you.

Finally.

The kiss is rough and demanding and you feel the need to grab him by his jacket to hold on to him. One of his hands cups your face and his tongue slips in your mouth. He is possessive and you feel as if he tries to claim you, tries to make him his. Suddenly Geralt lifts you up onto the balustrade and you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer. The ground is thirty feet beneath you and you do not care for dying this way.

“I got you,” he whispers and groans when you grind your hips against his. “I won’t let you fall.”

He begins kissing down your neck, sucking on the soft skin. It will leave marks, you are sure of it, yet it doesn’t matter. One of his hand reaches your breasts, his thumb flicking over your hard nipples, and you sigh heavily as he plays with them.

“This gown,” he is out of breath when he speaks, “… it drives me crazy.”

You chuckle. “I know…”

A gasp leaves your lips when you hear the loud sound of fabric tearing and feel the wind on your bare skin. He kisses your collarbone and travels down further, his tongue reaching the delicate skin of your breasts, caressing your nipple playfully before closing his mouth around it.

You moan and your head falls back, eyes closed, and then you start pushing his jacket from his shoulders. You want to feel his skin too, touch it, kiss it. When it falls to the ground, you tug at his shirt, your hands sliding underneath it. It’s not enough, you think or maybe you say it out lout because you feel Geralt smiling against your skin.

You grab his belt, opening it, breathing heavily and letting out soft whimpers as he bites and sucks on your skin. When the pants finally spring open, they free his impressive length and the sight of him, hard and dripping for you, makes you shudder. You reach for it, enclosing it, slowly moving your hand up and down. Geralt groans deeply and pulls away to meet your lips. He holds you tightly as the kiss hastens together with the movements of your hands. Your insides twirl at the sounds he makes.

“I need you…” The expression on his face is pure bliss. Eyes closed, mouth opened slightly.

He is a sight for the gods.

“Then take me, Witcher.”

He doesn’t ask a second time and positions himself in front of your wet and throbbing cunt. His hot shaft against your skin, he curses when he feels how wet you are, and every fiber of your body wants him – wants him deep inside of you, filling you completely, fucking you until you forget your own name.

When he finally does, he is not gentle. He enters you with one hard trust and a loud moan escapes your lips. He stretches you far, so far, it almost pains you – and yet it is the most delicious pain you ever felt. You pull him in for another kiss, swallowing another curse from his lips. The moment he starts moving, pleasure overcomes you like a wave and you bite down on his lips so hard you are scared it draws blood. Geralt slides in and out of you, pressing your leg, forcing it to spread open even wider. You gasp at the new angle and your muscle clench around him. The two of you are panting heavily, groaning and curses fill the silence of the night.

It doesn’t take long and you feel a familiar heat start arousing in your body. Spots appear in front of your eyes and you scratch his back in an attempt to feel him closer to you.

“Oh, fuck – you fill me so good!” You are so close, so damn close –

The Witcher stops moving abruptly and you whimper, demanding to know what he think he’s doing. He doesn’t give you an answer and instead places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he murmurs into your ear between heavy breathing. “There are people outside.”

Only now you hear them talking, merely a few feet beneath. Guests from the festivities, you figure. Frustrated, you try to bite his calloused fingers covering your lips.

“Ah, Princess,” his hoarse voice in your ear makes you twitch and as you roll your hips against him, his breath hitches. “You don’t want them to see you like this, do you? Hot, sweaty, filled by my thick cock –“

You moan against his fingers.

He looks at you in surprise, a teasing smile on his lips. “Or maybe you do?” Slowly, he begins to move again. The pace is pure torture and your hips rock up, begging him to take you. He moans in your ear. “Does it turn you on, Princess? Letting me fuck you like this, making you beg and quiver underneath me and for the whole world to see?” Every other word is punctuated by hard thrusts and your whimpers.

“Is this why I saw you touching yourself three nights ago?” Geralt fucks you harder and faster, the sound of naked bodies smacking against each other filling the air. You don’t think it’s possible but his words make you even wetter, your slick juices running down your leg.

“Who was the man you thought about when I saw you, Y/N?” Now it’s not a simple question anymore, it’s a demand. “Who made you cum like that?” He is ordering you to answer him and it turns you on beyond imagination.

He removes his hand to steady himself on the balustrade and you moan so loudly that if anyone is still standing underneath the balcony, they definitely heard you now. However, your mind isn’t occupied with that particular concern.

“You,” you admit breathlessly. “I thought about you … touching me … taking me …” It’s the truth. It was the day you met him for the first time and the handsome Witcher wouldn’t leave your mind. So you came up here, unaware someone was watching you. When you touched yourself that night, you thought about what he would do to you. How he would take you, where he would kiss you. Yet, your imagination did not even come close to the way he feels inside you right now.

“Gods,” he groans, losing all control, fucking you violently, taking you as he pleases. You repeat his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, to never ever stop. Then your legs start shaking and you hear him calling out your name before you come all over his cock, muscles clenching around him. A wave of heat and pleasure hits you, taking over your body and mind and you cling onto him desperately, his name still on your lips. He follows shortly after, cursing and releasing himself inside of you.

Your breath trembles as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm and he keeps holding you close and safe in his arms.

After a few seconds or minutes, you truly are not sure, you plant a soft kiss on his shoulder. Geralt looks up, his breathing slowing down, and he pushes a strand of hair out of your face. A smile appears on his face. “I must say, I’ve come to understand what you like about this balcony.”

You snort. “It’s still my balcony,” you claim cheekily.

“Maybe the princess is kind enough to let me visit some times.”

“Maybe,” you lean in for a last kiss. It is sweet this time. Sweet and – in a way – loving. “If you behave yourself.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises. Then he carefully pulls out of you and you sigh softly before you slide down the balustrade.

Geralt dresses himself, picking his jacket up from the ground, but when you attempt to do the same you see what is left of your dress. It isn’t much. “How am I supposed to get to my chambers now? Naked?”, you propose sarcastically.

His eyes travel up and down your bare skin at the question as he buttons up his pants and he licks his lips. “Maybe not at all,” he suggests seductively, a teasing smirk on his lips and you both laugh when he lifts you up and carries you inside the chamber.

Nearby, the old bell in the high tower sounds. Midnight.

***

For the sake of the story, imagine the balustrade of the balcony to be rather wide :D

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 taehyung x reader ft yoongi || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 8.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 riddled with insomnia, you’d just about do anything to get a good night’s rest. enter sandman.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 masturbation (m), voyeurism, exhibitionism, public sex, mile high club, oral (m receiving), choking, deepthroating, cockwarming but in her throat, throat bulge, way more male oral than i’ve ever written oop, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, riding, tentacles, yes you did read that correctly user honeymoonjin is expanding her wares, buckets of cum, like really a ridiculous amount of it, is it somnophilia if they’re fucking in her dreams?, cum eating, rough nipple play, hair pulling, belly bulge, creampie

many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner, she really outsold xx many thanks as well to @honey-boyyoongi for beta reading and helping a lot on plot. i wouldn’t have finished this fic without her xx this fic is a part of the monster smash project at ksmutclub : )

It’s a shit fair.

You make sure to tell Yoongi this several times throughout the afternoon, more emphatically as the hours drag on, but he’s too focussed on giving heart-eyes to the young man tending the water pistol stall. The man, who has held an unbelievably cheery grin all night, at some point got caught in the stream of a kid with poor aim, and though it’s warm his shirt still hasn’t dried, leaving a rather promiscuous set of dark spots on his chest behind the translucent cotton. You think Yoongi might be drooling.

You’ve just about given up wandering around aimlessly waiting for your friend to get the courage to actually approach the guy, when a stall catches your attention. Unsurprising, considering how gaudy and kitschy it is. Heavy embroidered tapestries form a makeshift curtain across the entrance to the booth, and above rests a sign with neon striplighting that reads Enter Sandman. You bite your lip, ignoring Yoongi’s impatient tug on your arm. You don’t remember seeing it on any of your other turns around the small fairground, though you can’t imagine how you could’ve possibly missed it.

Without breaking your gaze, you address Yoongi. “I’m gonna check out some stalls.”

“Come on, you’re gonna ditch me in my time of need?” Yoongi’s voice is playfully lilting, the kind that lets you know it’s okay to leave while simultaneously promising that he’ll complain about your abandoning him later, probably at four in the morning when neither of you can get to sleep.

“Yup,” you mumble blankly, and shake off his grip, making your way across the slightly uneven dirt and trampled grass to reach the stall. You feel drawn, strangely, to the narrow dark triangle of shadow between the folds of the curtain. It’s only once you get nearer that you make out the patterns of the delicate stitching: swirls of gold thread weave around figures, horizontal or curled up, all in dull shades of brown and beige. Entranced, you reach out your fingers to follow the swirls of gold. The tapestry, instead of ending in edges over the entrance, is folded so that the pictures trail around the edge. Without thinking to politely announce your presence, you simply slip inside, feeling the late summer humidity lead to a shady coolness.

It’s dark inside, and silent. Nothing illuminates the small room except for a single candle on a table, a black tall taper, drops of wax running cleanly down the sides to stain the golden tablecloth. It’s luckily enough to just make out the reflective glint of the gold thread, and you follow the tapestry slowly as it runs all the way along the walls inside. Part of you feels this is futile, and you shouldn’t be poking around in an empty stall when the owner was out, but still you walk deeper into the booth, the texture of embroidery teasing the tips of your fingers.

At one point, closer to the back of the room, your shadow begins to block the candlelight, and you squint, barely making out the trail of golden swirls. An odd protrusion in the wall causes you to step back, losing the trail for a moment but picking it up, a bright gold patch, perfectly circular and shining like-

“What are you doing in my tent?”

You gasp and jump back, bumping your lower back on a wooden chair tucked into the table. A hand shoots out, latches tightly onto your wrist. You freeze, following the arm up a sleeve, and to a chest, black silk with a pendant dangling just below his collarbones, a single gold coin. Your eyes jump up, apology on your tongue, but you can’t force your mouth to move when you’re greeted with two gleaming eyes, trained solely on you.

No, not gleaming. Glowing.

You swallow hard as he blinks slowly, eyebrows narrowed and partially blocking what looks like swirling irises of molten gold, a depth that draws you in. “I- sorry,” you croak finally, feeling his grip around your wrist loosen, the delicate bones aching. “It did say ‘enter’.”

You can’t be sure in the dim lighting, but a slight flash of white makes you think he’s smirking at you. “My sign says ‘Enter Sandman’. Are you a sandman?”

You blink slowly. “No.”

“Hm, I didn’t think so. I am the sandman. And you are the trespasser.”

Your mind feels hazy, two beats too slow. “Do you want me to… leave, then?”

His hand lets go of yours completely. It leaves you feeling oddly unmoored. “You could leave,” he offers lightly, “but then you’d never get my help.”

You want to turn around, some illogical urge to make sure the exit is still free, that the fair is still in full swing outside. It feels so quiet in here. But you don’t want to turn your back on him. The hairs on the back of your neck are at full attention and your instincts are going haywire like a faulty compass, unsure what to feel. You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Your help?”

The gilded glow of his eyes - some modern fashion contacts, no doubt - gently illuminate the dark eyelashes that frame them. They narrow at the corners, like he’s grinning at you. “My help,” he echoes. “You look tired, little girl. Can’t get to sleep?”

The blood in your veins runs cold. In the cool shade of the tent, goosebumps break out along your arms. “How did you know that? Are you meant to be a psychic or something?”

His tongue clicks in irritation. “I’m a sandman. I believe I told you that. I can promise you restful sleep every night. For a price.”

You scoff, the reality of the situation dawning on you. Cool shtick, you allow. The dude certainly had a good way of setting up atmosphere. “Let me guess, $29.99 plus tax? Or buy a whole week for a hundred? Thanks, but no thanks.”

You turn before he manages to reply. In fact, he remains still in the time it takes you to stumble around the table in the dark, making your way to the bright sliver of light streaming in through the folds of the tapestry. Your hand is on the rough fabric before you hear his honeyed voice again.

“My price isn’t currency,” he states simply.

Your hand remains frozen in the air. Damn you and your constant curiosity. “What is it, then?” you ask, twisting around. Now that your silhouette isn’t blocking the candlelight, you can make out a vague outline. He’s tall, but you already knew that from the height of his eyes. “Your price, I mean.”

He steps forward, just one foot dusting the exposed ground, but it’s enough to bring him closer to the light, enough for the dancing flame to shine upon his face.

With the lighting from below, heavy shadows are cast below his brows and his hairline, but you can see the warm bronze tone to his skin, and the fine bone structure below it. He’s still smirking, just the slightest quirk to his lips, and his chin is jutted forward smugly. He’s gorgeous.

You can’t help but swallow again as his piercing eyes stay fixed upon you, the slight pink of his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as his grin widens. “Dream of me.”

You feel like you’re floating. You’re in a bathroom, looking in on a shower. Although the glass should be fully fogged up, with the rest of the room humid with steam, you can see through perfectly, to the naked form inside.

In real life, you would leave immediately, at the very least turn away, but in the hazy logic of your dream, you simply observe.

His head is against the wall, forehead pressed to the tile as water pelts down his tanned back. One hand props him up; the other is between his legs, fisting at an angry red erection. It drips precum with every jerk of his wrist, disappearing amongst the slightly soapy water that circles the drain. You can’t see his face with how the sodden bronzed locks of his hair cling to it.

Although the showerhead seems to be spraying full power, his pleasure-filled groans are what fill your ears. The way they trail off shakily every time he twists his wrist just below the tip, the gruff curses under his breath. You listen and watch as he falls apart from his own ministrations, the muscles in his buttocks clenching as he begins to thrust into his hand, panting slightly.

Like hearing from underwater, you slowly becoming aware of a murmur that the man chants, louder and faster each time, as his hand speeds up. Your mind runs slower than treacle, but you do your best to focus.

“Y/n! Y/n, fuck, yes! God, right there, I’m not gonna last, fuck!”

You mentally recoil, though your body simply continues to watch, honed in on the way his whole body undulates, chasing the pleasure with every fibre of his being. He moans your name, panting onto the slippery tile. He’s close; you can tell by the way his hips shudder.

With a shout, he spills himself onto the floor of the shower, spurts of it catching and running down the wall, pooling at the bottom before washing away. He jerks himself languidly until the last drop runs down over his knuckles, and then lets out a satisfied exhale, using his toes to wipe away the last of it, before straightening up again, rinsing his face in the stream.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he says one last time with a relieved sigh, “mm, thank you.”

Finally, he stretches out an arm blindly to reach for the metal nozzle, cutting the flow of water short. He tips his head back, pressing at his scalp to wring out some of the water, and you catch your first real glimpse of his face. A face you recognise very well. As you stare at the man you had met in the tent, the details of the bathroom blur away, fading into wisps of steam. His eyes, glowing gold, are the last two pinpricks of detail before the dream dissolves into nothingness.

You wake up with a jolt, the sheets underneath you sticky with sweat. It was real. You dismiss the thought with a shake of your head the moment it occurs to you. If anything, it was probably just your mind playing on what had happened as a way of processing it. But then again, you had slept the night through for the first time in almost a year. Speaking of...

Sitting up and stretching languidly, you curse upon viewing your alarm clock. You’d slept through your first class. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” you mutter in resignation, frowning when you become aware of a prickling sensation in your eye.

You rub at it, only to hiss when a sharp stinging sensation attacks the sensitive nerves. Blinking away the tears that spring up, you kick off your blankets, jogging barefoot to the bathroom to inspect it in the mirror.

Leaning in close enough that your breath creates little foggy patches on the glass, you make out some substance clogging up the inner corner of your right eye. There’s some on the left too, though not as much, and you use a wet wipe to carefully brush it out.

In confusion, you pull away the wipe and inspect the grit that’s come away. Like something you might find at a luxurious beach (though you haven’t been to one since you were a kid) a clump of golden sand sits on the moistened fabric, finer and more delicate than caster sugar. The colour reminds you of the hair of the man in your dream, of the man you met the day before. What the fuck? With a deep breath, you force yourself to clear out the rest of the sand from your eyes and clear the worry from your head.

“What sand tent?”

You stare at Yoongi in something mildly related to disgust as he shovels an ungodly amount of beef wrapped in a lettuce leaf into his mouth, dark dipping sauce gathering at the corners of his mouth. “A sandman tent. You know, the big neon sign? It was right beside the little homemade fudge stall.”

He chews noisily, brows furrowed in thought. “The one old Jeanie set up? That was right at the end of the row, Y/n, there wasn’t anything past that.” You go to protest, but Yoongi makes a sound of disagreement. “Seriously, Y/n, there wasn’t. I remember because she was complaining to me about the organisers trying to hide her stall since she’s taking all their business. I went there for some of her earl grey fudge but that certainly wasn’t the tea I ended up getting.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, but your heart isn’t in it. “I went in the tent, though. There was a dude there and everything. He said he’d give me a good night’s sleep if I dreamed of him, and I said sure, and for the first time in fucking ages I actually managed to sleep properly.”

Yoongi’s chopsticks hover over the beef sizzling on the barbecue. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Dream of him,” Yoongi clarifies.

You think back to the sight of him in the shower, streams of clear water washing away the cream he spilled on the floor, of the way his eyes pierced into you right as you woke up. Your cheeks heat at the lewd imagery. Normally your memory of dreams faded over the day - at least, when you were a kid they did. But every detail seems branded in your mind in full definition. Ducking your head, you reach out for a strip of cooked meat and avoid your friend’s gaze.

“Oh my god, you did! Was he hot?”

“Yoongi!”

“What? If he was, I wanna go track him down and get a dream. Why does all the cool shit happen to you?”

You sigh, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. You can never stay mad at him and he knows it. “Shut up and eat your damn lettuce wraps,” you mutter petulantly.

Over the lunch spent with Yoongi, you find the thought of the mysterious man slip from your mind, instead feeling reenergised from your good rest and cheered up from the good food and company.

You dream of him again the next night. Not a bathroom this time; an airplane. At the start, it feels like reality, only slightly more...fluid. The strange quality of a dream where everything is simultaneously crystal clear and blurred.

He’s beside you, the middle seat as you take the window. Outside, clouds melt into blue sky and in the cabin there are faceless individuals filling the seats.

“You dirty girl,” the sandman whispers, a hand on the inside of your knee. “You’re soaked for me.”

You widen your eyes and look down. The moment you see the dark patch forming in the crotch of your pants, a wave of arousal hits you as if it’s on a delay. “Yeah,” you breathe in awe. “Want you.”

His eyes sparkle behind thick lashes. “Oh, do you really?”

You bite your lip. “Please.” For a moment he looks remarkably casual, commonplace. He tilts his head at you and leans back, drawing your attention to his dress shirt and tie, and perfectly ironed pants, but when you drop his gaze to look over them, you gasp.

His shirt is unbuttoned all the way, gaping open to reveal his unclothed chest. The tie dangles down his bare skin, guiding your eyes to his crotch, where his pants are lewdly spread open, zipper parted to reveal the waistband of his underwear. A delicate trail of golden hairs dip from below his belly button to underneath the fabric, and without thinking, your hand stretches out towards it, fingering the edge of the waistband.

Rather than speak, you give him a questioning glance, but what greets you makes you suck in a breath. Just like the first time you met, he’s radiant; godlike. His hair is a silken warm blonde, gentle waves that frame his delicately arched brows. And his eyes. When you meet his gaze, his irises glint and shift, a brilliant gold that swirls around dilated pupils. This is the first time you’ve seen him properly in the light.

He narrows them slightly in amusement, drinking in your reaction. With a barely-there background of the airplane cabin, general shapes and blurs, the man sitting beside you is in startling clarity. Everything seems to revolve around him, a fixation you can’t shake. “Please,” you mumble again unconsciously, hand slipping below the elastic of his underwear.

He’s hard as a rock, though his face shows no desperation, only mild amusement with the way you lick your lips. As you massage him indulgently, you can’t help but recall the sight of him in the shower. Would his cock be the same in this dream?

“Watch out,” he warns, before breaking your gaze to face the aisle. Belatedly, you hear a squeaky wheel, a trundle cart being pushed down towards you. As the figure of an air hostess slips into view, you attempt to quickly retract your hand, though it seems your brain and body aren’t on the same track anymore. Even as you mentally strain with the want to take your hand out of his pants, it refuses to cooperate, wrapping your fingers fully around his length, running your thumb over his head.

He chuckles lowly, head tipped back luxuriously on the head rest, devoid of any shame. The air hostess is talking to the two of you, but your cheeks burn and you can’t bear to look at her. The sandman calmly orders a hot tea, only pausing to groan in relief when your rogue hand slips him out of his pants and into the cool air of the cabin. He’s making conversation with her, discussing landing times and stopovers, and your eyes fill with embarrassed tears as you feel yourself bending down, dipping your head to take him in your mouth.

Unlike any men you’d been with before, he tastes slightly sweet, a flavour that satisfies your tastebuds. The moment your tongue dips out to swipe up the bead of precum that’s gathered, it’s like your humiliation melts away, and even though you feel yourself regaining control of your hand, you continue to pump the base of his cock, lapping up as much of the moreish taste of him as you can.

“Now that’s a good girl,” his honeyed voice soothes, a reassuring palm brushing your hair out of your face gently, “just give in to me.”

You moan around the head of his cock and suck him down deeper. As you lower your head more, it seems your perverted dream-logic has taken away your gag reflex, and soon you’re removing your hand, nose pressing against his hip bone. He lets out a low, purring groan, and you grip the flesh of his thigh through his pants in response. You can feel him in your throat as you begin to bob your head, but instead of feeling like you’re being suffocated, you just feel deliciously full. A wave of wet heat rushes between your legs as you picture how it would feel to be that full somewhere else.

“Yes,” he sighs, “god, it’s been so fucking long, don’t you dare stop.” You pull off him with a pop quickly to look up, expecting the air hostess to have moved on by now, your dream sequence having gone down a different path, but she stands there, perfectly put-together and professional as she stares down at you. Behind her, you notice with a jolt that everyone in their seats have turned to look at you; countless generic faces that blend into nothing the moment you look away.

“They’re all watching,” you comment with a raw throat, though arousal at the thought of it slides through you like a hot knife, feeling your pants cling to you, impossibly soaked.

His smile is radiant and the gold in his eyes darkens to burnished bronze. With a hand on the back of your neck, he guides you back down. “Then give them a show.” He moans low in his throat when you take him in your mouth again, tongueing at the veins that run along the underside. His fingers slip around the other side of your neck, pushing down on your voicebox. You can feel the way his constriction traps his cock in your throat. You can’t breathe, but it is no longer necessary, your heart thrumming gently in your chest even without oxygen to pump it.

He presses down more firmly, an iron grip around your throat that closes your throat around his length. “I wonder…” he muses. With a dark laugh that sounds almost inhuman, the man pulls slowly, lifting you off him until only the tip sits on the back of your palate, barely inside your throat. Though you don’t understand what’s going on, or how your mind has gotten so depraved to picture this, your clit throbs in your panties and you remain obediently in his grasp, waiting for his next move. “Mm, so you are going to be a good girl for me.” You feel pressure around your throat again, though this time he’s pushing you back down. With your throat cinched inside his grip, his cock pushes at the cartilage, completely blocking your airway. Your eyes water, but somehow you remain still, the only part of you moving being your head as he uses your throat as a cocksleeve, pushing you down until your lips touch the skin around the base of his cock.

He isn’t overly vocal, but his indulgent grunts and moans seem amplified in your ears. He moves faster once you continue to take it, fucking up into you every time he plunges you down. He reaches his end quickly this way, and when he flattens his other palm over your scalp and holds you there, a warm release sliding down your throat, sweet like condensed milk, so much that it bubbles up and pools in your cheeks, spilling down your chin.

When he finally releases you, you come up, sucking in a shuddering breath. The spectators are still there, though it looks like the scene around you is melting, falling in on itself. The lines between things become blurred, colours on their faces merging into dull greens and browns, like mixed paint. With a horrified gaze, you watch the morphing shapes begin to clap slowly, applauding your performance.

“I guess they liked it,” he plainly remarks. You turn to face him again, but his forehead is creased, eyes clenched shut in focus. “Fuck, that was so… I can’t hold it, shit-!”

The moment he swears, all detail begins to fall away faster than before, the vibrant gold of his hair and tanned skin blending away into a black nothingness with the rest of the plane, and you gasp, cracking your eyes open with the sound of applause still ringing in your ears, slowly sounding out into the buzzing phone on your bedside table. You fling your arm out from the warm covers, batting it around until you can turn off the alarm, and let out a groan.

Your eyes feel dry and crusty, like you’ve been sleeping for days, and when you rub at them the same gritty sensation from the night before stings the inner corners. You pull your fingers away and squint at what’s resting on the pads of your fingertips, unsurprised when you’re greeted with those fine grains of perfectly golden sand. Tearing up at the irritation, you gingerly remove as much as you can, swallowing the dryness in your throat. A small price to pay for decent rest, you promise yourself, though a slight curl of doubt rests stubbornly in the back of your mind.

That night, as you drift off blissfully early in the evening, you’re ready. Upon admitting to Yoongi that they were sex dreams - your friend was beyond jealous - he had managed to convince you that you were cursed by the mysterious stranger, that he was a witch or an incubus. His plan, which you are determined to execute tonight, involves confronting the man himself - “Don’t forget to ask him if he’ll give sex dreams upon request!” - and demanding that he releases you from the curse.

Though you were still a little sceptical that it was anything more than an overactive subconscious, you feel assured going to sleep that at least you know what to do should he return.

And return he does.

Not a bathroom this time, nor a plane. In fact, it’s an environment completely foreign to you, all the more hinting at the fact that this maybe isn’t just your mind conjuring strange scenarios. Like the other two times, you feel hazy and sluggish, and it takes you a while to distinguish the scene around you.

You become slowly aware of lush carpet fibres beneath your feet, the gentle hum of an air conditioning unit, almost totally drowned out by unintelligible murmuring, a television left on.

He is in the room with you, on a couch. Head tilted to the side, locks of thick gold rumpled and messy. Bare feet up on the coffee table and black sweatpants riding low, exposing a narrow strip of tanned flesh below his t-shirt, he looks unbelievably… domestic.

You swallow hard, steeling your nerve. “Hey.”

He remains unresponsive, eyes locked on the television. No, not completely unresponsive; the corner of his lip quirks just slightly. You tamp down a rising streak of irritation.

“Hey,” you repeat emphatically.

With a sigh, the young man reaches out for the remote that rests on the arm of the couch, muting the television. He flattens you with an unimpressed look. “Yes?”

“What are you doing in my dreams?” The question seems unbelievably childish once you say it, so you cross your arms petulantly. This does not help.

He quirks an eyebrow, grin widening to reveal his teeth. “Enjoying myself,” he answers simply.

You huff. “Your stupid tent thing at the fair, was it even real?”

“Did it feel real to you? Did I feel real?” When you simply press your lips closer together in annoyance, he drops the cockiness, leveling an impatient stare at you. “You gave me permission to be here, I hope you remember. Words have power, Y/n.”

You frown at him, unsettled. “I never told you my name.”

He barks out a condescending laugh. “And I never told you mine, but you know it, don’t you?”

You run your tongue over the edges of your teeth as you ponder this. His name comes to you like a fact once-forgotten. The moment you think it, you know wholeheartedly it’s right. “Taehyung. But- How do I know that?”

His eyebrow twitches down, like he’s tiring of your lack of understanding. “Because I’m in here, Y/n,” he hisses, pointing a finger to his temple. “I’m deep inside you, inside your subconscious. I can access every thought in that pretty little head of yours and you can’t do a single thing about it because you were the one that let me in.”

You balk at the fiery steel that has entered his expression, the molten gold in his iris darkening as a sneer stretches across his face. You swallow away your nerves, though your chest continues to flutter uncertainly. As if Taehyung is the focal point of this plane, which you suppose he is, colours and textures shift around him, blurring into shapeless swirls at the edges of your vision. Even as he sits in front of you in startling clarity, just as malevolent in sweatpants and a tee as he was standing over you in the dark of the tent, you find your eyes unable to move off of him. You clear your throat, tears pricking. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you defend weakly.

He laughs, one short bark that contains no real humor. “Yes, you did. I said ‘dream of me’ and you agreed. You just thought I was some fake scam artist, didn’t you?” With one swift movement, he stands up, and you falter back when you realise just how tall he is. He steps forward once, twice, three steps and his chest almost touches yours. While the swirling sands in his eyes normally jumped and flickered teasingly, now they churn in tight circles, belying his intent. You’re reminded of a shark circling in bloody water. “Well, Y/n,” Taehyung taunts, “do you believe me now?”

Though you tremble, you force yourself to push your chest forward and your chin up. “I believe you,” you allow, voice wavering only a little bit. “So, what are you?”

His lips tighten, eyes lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. You jump when you feel his hand brush your elbow, clasping your upper arm loosely. “Y/n, little Y/n,” he chastises, “stop asking questions that you already know the answer too. How terribly boring.”

You want to shake your arm out of his grip, but his touch is hot, like the heavy warmth of a fire, and you can’t help but want more of it. Judging by the way his fingertips tease at the sensitive skin of your shoulder, he knows it too. “Fine, you’re a sandman. What the fuck does that even mean?”

He sighs shortly, head tipping back down to catch your gaze. His arm drops, and you tremble at the cold air, feeling oddly put-out. “Sit down,” he commands simply. Without waiting for a response, he turns his back to you and flops his body onto the couch, kicking his feet back up onto the coffee table, eyes lazily following the characters on the muted television.

You bite your tongue, doing as he says. It’s strange; you’re barely aware of your own body in the dream, can barely feel the texture of the couch underneath you, yet every nerve in your body is hyper-fixated on the tingling remaining warmth from his hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself wanting to lean in to him in the hopes that he’ll put his hands on you again. You can’t help but wonder if it feels that electric if he touched you somewhere else.

Fuck. Snap out of it. “I’ve sat down now. Can you actually be serious and answer my questions?”

Like a switch is flipped, his grin drops and his eyebrows flatten. “Fine,” he allows in a chastising tone, “let’s be serious.” You watch in amazement as the scenery around you drops away. Like melting wax, the television, walls, coffee table, everything but the couch the two of you are on morph and fade away. “This is my terrain now,” he states calmly, “I choose what you see, what you experience, what you feel. So if I were you I wouldn’t be so rude to me.”

Your jaw moves for a few moments before you can voice anything. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes flicker, though the mischievous glint is gone. “I’m a sandman,” he explains simply. “I only exist in this dream realm. I can only interact with things in the dream realm. Out there, in your world, I have no sensation, no feeling. But if I can get a naive little human like you to give me access into your mind, then your dreams are my playground. And I fully intend to play.”

With a dry mouth, you clear your throat. “Fine,” you say, “you can do whatever the fuck you want in my dreams but leave me out of it.”

The smirk returns to his face, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. He runs his tongue over them as he sits forward, placing a hand on your knee, fingers wrapping around. You try not to jerk at the sudden touch, the burst of heat. “No can do, sweet thing. You see, if I did something without you around it wouldn’t exactly be your dream, would it? And besides,” he breaks off, grip tightening around your leg as he leans in to press his cheek against yours, teasingly nipping at the skin of your earlobe before he murmurs, “where’s the fun in that?”

Your bed mocks you. This morning, wanting a clean slate, you had washed all the sheets and now it lies before you perfectly neat and pristine, just begging for you to hop in.

But you refuse. You won’t be falling asleep tonight. If Taehyung thinks he’s in control during your dreams, then fine. You just won’t dream.

“I thought you’d be making the most of your newfound ability to sleep,” Yoongi comments curiously, feet kicking at the edge of the mattress. You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the exhaustion that pulled at your eyelids without reinforcements, so you had called in your favorite insomniac to keep you company.

Swaying aimlessly back and forth on your desk chair, you shrug. “I haven’t hung out with you in ages, I felt like a good, old-fashioned sleepover.”

He narrows his eyes at you, though it’s not particularly intimidating. “I’ve never once slept over at your house, idiot. What’s the real reason?”

You avoid his gaze, studiously focusing on picking a movie on Netflix. “Fine, then. I wanted the goss on that fair boy. You got his number, right? But you never told me how it went.”

Mission successful. Yoongi lights up, suspicion forgotten. “Hoseok! His name is Hoseok, and he’s amazing. We actually… went out for coffee the other day.”

Your eyebrows lift, shutting down your laptop lid to fully give your attention to the boy across from you. “Like a date?” Yoongi grins and nods enthusiastically. “You casanova, you! What’s he like?”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker strangely in the dim evening glow that peeks through your curtains. “He’s great,” he gushes, “friendly, and bubbly, and has the most beautiful smile. But… actually, I guess you could say there’s something I need to tell you.”

You frown. “What? What’s up?”

He pouts, kicking his heels more insistently against the edge of the mattress. “The date was really nice, and Hoseok is really nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking that… that maybe I just liked him because he was like you.”

Your face freezes in an expression of pure confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Yoongi ducks his head. “I’ve been trying to deny it for years. I figured you saw me as a friend and nothing else, and I thought if maybe I focused more on guys instead of girls I could separate myself enough from the image of you, but clearly that isn’t going so well for me.” He laughs, bitterly, and you’re overcome with the urge to rush forward and hug him. Nevertheless, you stay rooted in your spot.

“Yoongi, what are you saying?”

He shrugs, body hunching over like it always does when he’s shy. “Hoseok is nice, but he’s not you. And I think it’s time that stop lying to myself.” He looks up, then, eyes soft. “I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

Your lips are parted, jaw slightly slack in shock. “...okay,” you state eventually. Well, this is one way to stay awake. “So, uh, I don’t- What do we do now?”

Scratching behind his ear nervously, Yoongi bites his lip. “Maybe I… Can I kiss you?” When you don’t respond, he shuffles forward a little on the bed so that his feet rest on the ground. “Just once, to see if you feel anything. And if you don’t, we never have to bring it up again.”

You sigh out a rushing breath. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” Fighting the erratic pounding of your heart, you stand up on shaky legs and sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder and nose to nose.

Now that you’re right in front of him, something foreign rises up in your chest. It feels like he’s the only person in the world, like you can’t look away from the tender look in his eyes. You can practically feel the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt. He leans forward, and you reflexively suck in a shallow breath, eyelids fluttering shut.

His lips are featherlight when they first brush against yours. You feel a palm come up to cup your cheek, and his fingers tentatively fiddle with your hair. Like you’re magnetised, you lean in, and that small sign of reciprocation is enough for him.

Yoongi deepens the kiss, mouth slanting to get a better angle as he urgently moves his lips against you, tongue dipping out to swipe at the seam of your lips, encouraging you to open up to him. You gasp when his teeth nip gently, tugging the sensitive skin before letting it go with a kitten lick to soothe the bite marks. You’ve never felt this alive before, and it’s a wonder to you that until now you had never looked at Yoongi this way. Now it almost feels like he’s pure, euphoric oxygen and you’ll die if you break away for a second.

His hand has dipped into your hair, gently pressing the back of your head to hold you against him, and his other arm insistently grips your hip, encouraging you to get even closer. A searing bolt of need rips through you, and you swing a leg up, straddling him. He’s hard beneath you, and the feeling of him makes you groan, gingerly grinding your hips.

His tongue is in your mouth now, flicking against yours and sucking it back into his mouth like he wants to envelop you in his embrace. His fingers tighten in your hair, gripping a handful. You whimper, hips still working against him.

“Yoongi,” you make out in a hushed tone, “that hurts.” You sigh in relief when the sharp tugging on your scalp relaxes, his palm soothing the sting. Relaxing against him, you moan into his mouth when you feel him slip his hand under your shirt and palm at your breast, seeking out an already-stiff nipple, no bra to obstruct him. He rubs it, rolling the peak between two fingers, and you feel wet heat gathering between your legs.

Out of nowhere, he roughly pinches and twists your nipple and your legs jerk in response to the pain, your instincts wanting you to back away from the harsh sensation, but before you can sit up off him he’s yanking on your hair again, twisting your neck back enough that you can feel the muscles twinge and your scalp burn. Your eyes fly open in shock, only for you to freeze.

Taehyung sits beneath you, dressed in the same shirt and basketball shorts that Yoongi was in, though his much broader chest makes the baggy fabric look fitted. He stares up at you with spit-slicked lips and blown pupils, almost completely enveloping the gold of his irises. With a shit-eating grin, he releases your nipple and pats it, chuckling under his breath when you twitch.

“Wha- What did you do with Yoongi?” you demand, as forcefully as you can while your legs are still around him.

He drops his gaze, sliding his hand over to your other breast, the fabric moving over his hand your only warning before he begins to flick your other nipple, every few seconds as you jump and try and twist away. Though he only has one hand in your hair, you feel completely anchored in place, like your arms and legs are too heavy to move even if you tried. “Yoongi is at home, my little human. Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

“You pretended to be him,” you guess, “he probably never came over, then.” He quirks his eyebrows once in affirmation, still teasing roughly at your chest, dragging a fingernail over and over the abused nerves of your nipple, the other one still aching. “But you said you couldn’t feel anything in my world. So what, you’re just doing this to fuck with me?”

A bewildered grin lights up his face. “My god, you’re dense,” he remarks in wonder. “Let me spell it out for you. Yoongi never came over because you never texted him earlier tonight. And you never texted him because you’ve been asleep since you got up onto your bed to put on the washed pillowcases. This is a dream, sweet thing. You’re in my world.”

“But-” You splutter for a few moments, glancing around at your room. Everything seems in perfect order. “This isn’t like the other ones, I… The dreams you create are always messy at the edges like an unfinished painting, but I can see everything fine now. This exactly what my room is like.”

“Convenient, then,” Taehyung teases, “that I can make dreams as realistic or rudimentary as I want.” The levity vanishes from his face, leaving behind a dark grin. “You’re out of your depth, Y/n. Stop assuming things just because you don’t know any better.”

His grip on your hair loosens as you do, realising shaking out of his hold is futile in a plane he completely controls. “Then how am I supposed to tell if something’s a dream or not?”

He leaves your nipple alone, hand dipping to fiddle with a pant hem of your pyjama shorts, calloused fingertips running lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His smile is brilliant, wider than you’d ever seen on him before. “That’s the beauty of it, little human. You can’t.”

You shiver as his hand disappears below the fabric of your shorts, rising up to brush against the front of your panties, thumbing at your clit through the cotton. You feel the tension leave your body, and though a part of you is terrified by this knowledge, a different side takes over. The side that’s indulging in the warm pleasure unfurling in your stomach as his uncharacteristically gentle touch stimulates you. The side that says, you already know you’re dreaming now. Fuck it.

Taehyung watches in bemusement as you relax above him giving in. Only once you sigh out in pleasure, hand resting on his shoulder for stability, does he remove his thumb from you just enough to grip onto the elastic waistband. He tugs, and you feel the strangest sensation of the fabric dissolving, being pulled off you from the side even though you never hear or feel a tear. By the time his hand emerges from your pant leg, the fabric is whole again, and he bunches it up in his hand, chucking it away from you. With your panties gone, the sewn hem in the crotch of your pyjama shorts drags against your clit, and you heave a shuddering breath, rocking your hips to chase the friction.

“Do you want a hint?”

You blink, staring down at Taehyung in confusion. The golden silk of his hair hangs low over his forehead, but you can’t mistake the glitter of his piercing gaze on you. “What?”

His hand leaves your hair, sliding down your back until it rests on your ass, gripping the flesh and pushing you down onto his crotch. “A hint,” he repeats, “for knowing if this is a dream.”

You stare down at him, eyes lidded. “What?” As you speak, you feel something begin to move beneath you. You frown, looking down, and suck in a horrified breath when you lean back and see his crotch. The tented erection from before is...shifting beneath the fabric of his shorts, creating a rippling effect. You watch it entranced, as one bump slides upwards towards the waistband, prodding at it, before it manages to slip underneath, peeking out to show something that glitters in the dim lighting…

“The real world doesn’t have this,” he reveals, leaning back slightly as a rounded, blunt end of a golden appendage draws out of his shorts, rising in the air between the two of you. It’s smooth, fleshy yet entirely inhuman. He grips your ass tighter and pulls you forward, the tentacle feeling surprisingly cool as it lays down, curling around your thigh. It clashes with the heat from his hands on you, and you feel yourself sighing out, basking in the contrasting sensations.

“Is that...your real form?” you ask tentatively, curiously reaching down to touch it. It’s firm yet moving, much like muscle, and when you run a finger down the tapering length of it, it flicks in the air, seeking more of your touch.

“I suppose,” Taehyung allows, “though when I can become anything I like, a real form doesn’t matter much.” He stares intensely at the tip of the appendage as it winds around, sliding underneath the fabric of your shorts just as his hand did earlier, though this time with your panties gone there’s nothing between him and your core, and you let out a surprised moan when you feel it begin to massage your clit, pressing its way lower to try and get between you and his crotch, seeking your entrance. Your mouth falls open, too shocked to react to anything except the pleasure, and the sandman hums in response. “You see? These things don’t exist in your world. Your world is dull, basic, human. In here, anything is possible. This doesn’t have to be a fight, Y/n. Give in to me.”

You sigh out, your stomach thick with pleasure, and you nod slowly, lifting your hips to leave some room for the golden tentacle, which doesn’t hesitate before pressing deep inside you, more and more of the tentacle slipping out of his trousers and up into your cunt until you feel a pressure deep inside, the tip poking at your cervix.

Your legs are jelly and your fingers are iron tight on his shoulders as you moan, the sound broken up by choked gasps. “So...deep,” you pant out, mind unable to string together anything more than that, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, as his brows are knitted together in pleasure too, huffing out groaned breaths in a beautiful baritone.

“God, it’s been so fucking long, you have no idea,” he curses deep in his throat. He closes his eyes in concentration, and you feel the thick muscle shift inside you, recending from your wet heat like waves in low tide, before slamming back up into you, striking your g-spot with a change in angle. You keen, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, wishing you were out of the restricting fabric of your shirt and shorts already, wishing you could run your hands over his bare chest and shoulders, hot like a furnace even as his golden member cools you from the inside.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced. The cock inside you moves and writhes like it has a mind of its own, but it’s addictive; almost like the deft flicks of a tongue, the tentacle navigates you from the inside out, stimulating parts of you you didn’t even know could feel pleasure. You find yourself mindlessly grinding into it. Since it gets thicker the closer to the base it gets - though you still haven’t seen where that might be with how long it is - you rock yourself against it, your clit receiving delicious stimulation that has you almost drooling.

Taehyung’s tanned skin is glistening with perspiration and the glow of his irises is so dark it’s almost amber below his lids. With his hands gripping your ass and hips tightly, he lifts you up onto your knees again so that he can begin to rut his hips up into you, the tentacle splitting you open with every thrust. You tremble and buckle but you’re somehow kept aloft, top half leaning heavily on his chest as the stretch and the deep warmth of pleasure bring you closer to the edge.

On this angle, your clit no longer grinds against the gleaming gold of his slick-covered cock, but Taehyung’s thumb blissfully finds it and you cry out in relief as he quickly rubs it, speeding up your high. “‘m close,” you moan out deliriously, feeling desperation at your impending orgasm shorten your breath.

“Thank god,” the sandman breathes, his face increasing as he grunts with exertion, “I need to fill this perfect pussy of yours up already.”

Your mouth drops open as the constant stimulation paired with his words pitch you over the edge. Your orgasm takes you by storm, seizing up and shuddering violently on top of him. When you clench around him, Taehyung swears throatily and lowers you down again, both hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds deeply into your core, reaching his own end.

You’re slowly on the come-down of your powerful orgasm as he begins to spill into you, and you hiss at the sudden warmth filling you up. Streaks and streaks are milked from him, and when you finally get the energy to sit up a little and look down, your eyes widen.

Your stomach is a little rounder than normal, a bulge just below your belly button that you can see as your shirt’s ridden up. And below that, your pyjama shorts, absolutely soaked with cum. Your hands grip his shoulders as you feel him continuing to move inside you as the fabric turns dark with moisture, until you see it flood past, wetting your thighs with deep bronzed gold, rich and gleaming. When he finally twitches and goes still, the thick substance has begun to slide down your knees and stain the bed, an exorbitant amount of it that spills more and more every time you shift.

In wonder, you lower a hand and tentatively swipe your fingers through it, marveling at the way it reflects the light and glosses thickly, dripping down to your wrist. Unable to resist the curiosity, you wrap your lips around the tip of your pointer finger and suck, letting the taste of him fill your mouth. Immediately, you hum as the rich taste of dark chocolate fills your mouth, at odds wth the metallic colour. You raise your gaze to Taehyung, who’s propped back on his elbows, staring up at you with his cock still buried deeply inside. His eyes are dark, pupils blown even wider than before as you systematically lick off each finger, being sure to flick your tongue between them before catching the drip that runs halfway down your forearm, indulging in the deep flavor.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Taehyung swears, groaning when you lean forward to press your mouth to his, sharing his taste between your lips.

You let your tongues lazily dance around each other for a few languid moments before he curses and breaks off.

“I can’t hold it,” he admits, and you look around to see the walls and furniture in your room crystallising and morphing together, losing detail until the colour begins to melt away, the black void slowly creeping inwards. “I don’t want this to end already, fuck.”

You place one last kiss upon his swollen lips. “Don’t worry,” you remark with a playful grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

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