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ahundredtimesover · 1 year ago

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I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of implied of domestic violence (PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii we're close to the end! I've been enjoying this journey with all of you; thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I continue to work and study. On another note, pls savour this! Hehe

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly.

You zone out while watching your variety shows the rest of Saturday. On Sunday, you do errands and clean your apartment. Whether you’re lying on the couch or moving about, you find yourself constantly stopping, wondering how Jungkook is doing.

You could say that the trip ended on a good note. The drive back home had you sharing both the silence and conversations about growing up with your friends and finding refuge in your favorite places. He was smiling as you narrated your stories and while he told his. He was engaged most of the time, drifting away for only some short moments before coming back to you.

There was a different emotion in his eyes when you said your goodbye after he dropped you off, though. You could see gratitude in them but also sadness, as if the memories from the night before and from 20 years ago lingered. You know enough about that, too. Good memories can override bad ones sometimes, but in some cases, they only do so for a while, and they can only do so much.

The image of him of looking afraid from that Friday night is etched in your mind. The way he heaved, how he gripped your wrists as if in desperation for the sounds to stop, and the emptiness in his eyes as the thunder continued to roar keep you up at night.

You felt so constrained at that moment. There wasn’t much you could do that would be appropriate, but it doesn’t mean that you didn’t wish you could’ve done something more to comfort him, to tell him that no matter how scared he was, he wasn’t alone. That night and the morning after, you saw the most human side of Jungkook - the one that buries a lot of memories, that deals with pain and loneliness, the part that’s fearful of others seeing him stripped bare, that cowers in his own corner until the storm has passed. You saw him as someone who needs a companion but is too scared, maybe too stubborn to reach out. He looked familiar because he looked like you.

All you could do was hold him in any way, protect him from the monsters outside and maybe within, and show him that whatever hurt, gentleness could make it hurt less; hopefully it could slowly heal the ache, too.

That’s what you learned all these years - all the fear and pain you experienced as a child slowly turned into scars because of your mother’s grace and your best friends’ kindness. You don’t know who gives any of that to Jungkook, and you hoped that during that moment, you were able to give even just a fraction of what you received.

Even if he kept his distance, you stayed close because you knew that that’s when he needed you the most. And you won’t ever forget the way his eyes softened during that ride home; you won’t forget the smile tinged with apology and gratitude that accompanied the silence. You knew it was his way of expressing emotions he couldn’t verbalize and you could only wish that he knew that you accept them, that you understand.

You stop yourself from sending him messages a few times, not wanting to invade his space if he prefers to be alone. Maybe he’s figured out a way to cope. Maybe he’s moved on from the incident and wants to just forget about it. Regardless, the last thing you want is to push him away by being too close, so you do the hard thing and wait for the start of the week to see him again.

You enter the car that Monday morning with Mr. Ri’s soft eyes greeting you. You ask if he’s feeling better and he says he is, expressing his disappointment at not being there to drive you and Jungkook last week.

“How was he?” He asks, knowing that the weather was pretty bad.

“He wasn’t good,” you answer dejectedly. “I think he had a nightmare. I had to calm him down. And he… he told me what happened at that cabin when he was young. I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“It was. He was just a kid. He was only excited about the trip because he thought his parents were joining him and his brother,” the elder man says. “And well, that was when they had to be separated for safety reasons. Then that incident happened. I think he’s carried that resentment towards them ever since.”

“Were you there?”

“I was the one who found him,” Mr. Ri answers, baring his own pain at having witnessed a young Jungkook being so scared. “I noticed he was missing and I searched for over an hour. It was a big area and the ground was wet and I couldn’t hear him because of the rain. When I finally found him, I carried him back and stayed with him until he woke up. He was so frightened and he… he wasn’t the same after. There was this constant fear and this desire to just be left on his own.”

You force the scene of a young Jungkook yelling for someone under the rain out of your mind. Perhaps the detachment in his eyes that you always see is a remnant from that time when he’d felt so helpless and alone. You don’t know how someone can carry that with them for 20 years. You don’t know how someone heals from that either.

“I know he’s not your responsibility, ___. You’ve done so much for him already,” Mr. Ri continues in your silence. “But no one has shown him kindness the way you have and he's learned to accept that now. He needs it the most during those times. If it’s not too much, I hope you can continue doing that.”

“I intend to,” you respond. It had been natural for you to be gentle, to be patient, and reluctant he may have been at the start, you know your persistence helped him as well. “He’s done so much for me and I don’t think I’ll ever get to thank him for that.”

“Is that why, then?” He wonders. “Is all this just to repay him for the times he was there for you? Or is there another reason?”

You meet his eyes in the rear view mirror and the sullen, almost guilty look in yours tells him that there's more. When you look away, he learns it’s something you don’t want to accept, something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, you know?” He says, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking and maybe he does. “We can’t help what we feel sometimes.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” you sigh.

“I know it isn’t. But I just think that being honest about what you feel helps. It may not be easy but you owe it to yourself to find the happiness you deserve.”

“But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“You do,” he insists. “Maybe you’re just scared of what chasing it would mean. But if you allow yourself to truly feel what you feel, then it would be clear what you’d need to do. Just remember that whatever decision you make, you’re gonna have to stand by it, okay? You can’t regret any of it.”

You let his words settle, knowing that they come from a place of pain. But still, you ask a question you’ve been meaning to for a while now.

“Do you regret the decision you made back then?”

Mr. Ri prolongs the silence. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he answers.

“Everyday.”

Your heart breaks for him. You know what he did all those years ago, and knowing that it continues to haunt him pains you. You don’t want that burden. You don’t want one decision to determine how the rest of your life is gonna go with no way to make up for it. You suppose that’s what will happen to you, but you’ve got time to change all that. Maybe you just need the courage to do it.

“The debt I owed kept me from chasing my happiness,” he continues. “You’ve paid yours so don’t let it stop you. You just have to be brave enough for it.”

You nod, meeting his eyes through the mirror this time in understanding and gratitude, letting his words comfort you as you exit the car.

You walk towards Jungkook’s penthouse in anticipation, as the worry of how he’s been creeps in again. The moment you enter, you get your answer, as you hear the sound of leather hitting leather, the loudest it’s ever been. You could hear him heaving, almost breathless with every movement, but he grunts in between, and you hear the frustration in his every breath.

From your position in the kitchen, you can see him in the far right corner of his gym, throwing one punch after another, his face wincing in pain, his body gradually giving in as he slows down. He hugs the punching bag with one arm while his free hand continues to jab at it until eventually, that stops, too. He releases it then spreads his body out on the floor as he tries to catch his breath now. You can feel his exhaustion; there’s desperation, too.

He stays there for a while, and you wonder if he’s releasing whatever negative emotions he’s had these past days just now, or if this is what he’s been doing everyday since he got back.

He sits up, and you look away the moment he glances at your direction. He heads your way, nods at you in acknowledgment, then gulps down the energy drink that he takes from the fridge. His drenched white shirt sticks to his body, but it’s his bruised knuckles that catch your attention. You don’t know if these wounds are from this morning or from the days before but regardless, he acts as if they’re not there. You doubt if he even feels them sting.

Perhaps this is how he copes with anything - tiring himself out, expending all his energy until he’s numb, releasing his emotions in a way that doesn’t require him to be honest or to even say anything. Maybe this is how he accepts; maybe it’s how he moves on and forgets.

He drags himself towards his bedroom then you make your way to his closet to prepare his clothes. You return to the kitchen soon after and decide to make some fried rice. It’s the one dish you make that might make a difference to his mood this morning, so you get to work and cook with what you can, deciding that it’s definitely one of the most delicious ones you’ve ever made.

He finishes his morning routine later than usual. When you walk towards him to fix his tie, you try to hold his gaze, wanting to tell him in your own way that you’re there if he ever wants to talk, but he only glances at you before looking away. You’re unsure of the cause of his somber disposition but the sadness in his eyes causes a crack in your heart. It’s different, you think, and you don’t know how else you can comfort him.

“I made some fried rice,” you tell him as you walk to the dining table.

He follows, taking his seat then quietly eating his meal as you go through his schedule. He merely hums and doesn’t ask questions, only speaking up when you bring up last week’s site visits, with him saying that there’s no rush for that, and that you’ll talk about it some other time. It’s what tells you that what happened last Friday isn’t something he’s really gotten over. Maybe there are still remnants from that night - of fear, of discomfort; perhaps a bit of shame. And you don’t blame him. They’re what you felt after the incident at the restaurant and after your injury. Being helpless in front of someone is confronting; there’s so much of yourself that gets exposed, and you suppose it’s not something that Jungkook is used to.

You share in the silence, glancing at him to see if what you’ve prepared is affecting him in any way, and you don’t miss the subtle satisfied look he makes once he finishes his meal. It’s what prompts you to push it a little. You stand up, take an ice pack from the fridge, then retrieve the first-aid kit from the drawer. Taking a seat next to him, you lay your palm out on the table, gesturing for him to give you his hands to treat.

“There’s no need,” he says, turning away again.

“I let you push my wheelchair,” you remind him. “And I let you dress my foot.”

“You were injured.”

“And you have gashes on your hands,” you point out. “Which means you’re wounded and you can’t leave those exposed. So please, would you let me do this for you?”

There’s a hint of desperation in your voice, as if all you want is for him to give in and let you help him. You’ve been trying to meet his eyes since you arrived and he’s been the coward who avoids it every time. But the last thing he wants is for you to think that he wants to push you away because he doesn’t; he just doesn’t know how to act around you after what happened last Friday. It may have ended with your unspoken forgiveness and your smile telling him that he’ll be alright, that you’ll be alright, but the past days haven’t been good to him.

In an effort to show you that he’s not angry, he moves his hand towards yours ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at you when you take his left hand and put it over your palm, but he does feel his heart skip a beat at your touch. You place the ice pack over his knuckles, then you move it over to his other hand so you can put antiseptic cream on the one that’s free.

You’re so gentle with him even when tending to his wounds. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, especially now, as he sees you make an effort in letting him know that everything’s okay and that you’re around in case he needs anything.

The thing is, he doesn’t know what he needs right now. After last week’s incident when he blamed you for not checking the weather, he felt ashamed. He’d apologized for how he used to treat you right before that, and then he went ahead and did all that again over a fear of his that he couldn’t get over, one that came to light that night.

You saw it all - that part of him that he despises, that he keeps hidden, that he’s burdened by.

That was another thing - you were the one who woke him up and kept him steady. Perhaps it was a nightmare he was having, but it’s also always been the way his body reacted to the rain and the thunder because of what happened when he was a child. But you saw him bare and terrified, a side of him he wasn’t sure you’d want to see or be around for. You saw him weak and helpless, things he never wants to be in front of other people. You experienced him being honest and not in control, and that made him feel unguarded.

You held him steady though, grounding him when he was slowly losing himself to the fear. Your hands on his head kept him in the present, pulling him back when his mind would travel to that fateful rainy evening in the woods. Your calm and soft voice sounded like a lullaby to him, fighting away the loud sounds that have haunted him for years. It soothed parts of him that were hurting, and you’d done it so naturally, so easily.

It’s what prompted him to share with you the memory he just can’t erase. And you told him that he could call you when it happened again so you can both replace the bad memories with good ones. Maybe you want him to be brave; he thinks that’s not something that he is.

Maybe that’s why he’s been this way since he got home that day. There’s a lot of emotion he doesn’t know how to express nor even properly name. He’s sure they’re negative though, and somehow that makes him even more ashamed. He doesn’t like not being in control. He doesn’t like being that bare and uninhibited, especially in front of you, the only person he doesn’t want to scare away.

He spent the entire weekend boxing and running around the Han River parks in hopes that all the tiredness would help keep his mind off things. But somehow, it always ended up thinking of you. It wanted to hear your voice once more; it wanted your touch.

He has them again today and he feels undeserving. Yet you’re here, healing his physical wounds and everything else that’s hurting within in the ways only you know how to. And he just wants to pull you close. He realizes now that even on days when he hates himself, you’re the one he wants to be around. Somehow you make that hate a little less than before.

“All done,” you say after placing the fabric bandage on his knuckles. “Minimal movements, okay? And ice them when you can in case something’s swollen.”

“I will,” he says softly, retrieving his hand and feeling your touch still linger, knowing he wants more of it.

You proceed to discuss some events he needs to attend all the way to the office with no mentions of how either of your weekends went. He wonders how you spent yours, hoping it was better than his. He wonders, too, if you thought about him the way he thought about you. But you seem focused on work matters for today, perhaps thinking he doesn’t want to talk about anything else. And you wouldn’t be wrong.

He gets to his room where he sighs in relief once he sits on his desk chair. It’s now that he feels the soreness and fatigue, as all he wants is to go home and lay in bed for the rest of the day. But he can’t afford that, so he pushes on, surviving a morning meeting and slowly going through each of his emails. He’s surprised when you serve him his favorite beef brisket for lunch, and your soft smile as he thanks you is his bright spot for the rest of the afternoon.

He powers through reviewing documents right after but his eyes start falling, prompting him to just lean back on his chair for a good few seconds before getting back to work. You knock on the door not long after, and then you place a cup of chamomile tea on his desk.

“I need about five espresso shots, Ms. Cho, not this,” he sighs, the tiredness in his voice evident. But you don’t seem taken aback by his words.

“I disagree, sir,” you reply. “This is to help you calm down. There’s also a couch right there. There’s a reason why it’s big and comfortable.”

He picks up on what you’re suggesting, and he shakes his head in response.

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

“No one will know,” you shrug. “But you know it’s okay, right? I can’t imagine how tired you must be. You’re not Superman, Mr. Jeon. Plus, Mr. Jung would take naps here after long nights or during hectic days. It’s normal. And it might just be what you need.”

“I’ll decide what I need, Ms. Cho,” he says defensively. “I wouldn’t want my staff sleeping on the job so why should I?”

Jungkook regrets the words right as he says them, especially when he sees your face fall the tiniest bit. But you recover, saying that you understand then turning to head out. But you fix the pillow on the couch and place the blanket on the armrest before leaving, and he knows that your stubbornness is often a reflection of how you care.

So he takes a sip of the tea and eventually finishes it, indulging you in this way, but given the morning he’s had, his body gives in. He decides, like you said, that he needs a nap, and he doesn’t miss the victorious smile on your face that he sees from inside when he calls to instruct you not to disturb him for the next half hour.

With the dim lights and air purifier, he falls asleep right as his body hits the couch. When he wakes up 30 minutes later, he feels infinitely better; now he can focus and be productive.

You see the lights turn back on from outside and it’s your signal that he’s woken up from his nap. You wait a while before asking to enter his room to say that his father requested a meeting due to start in an hour. Jungkook’s putting his coat back on and you walk towards him to help.

“Was it good?” You ask, fixing the creases and aligning his necktie.

“Yeah,” he hums, not meeting your eyes again. “You were right, I needed that. And the couch really is comfortable.”

“That’s good. You should listen to your assistant more often,” you tease.

“I really should,” he smiles now, soft and reserved. “But I do feel better. Thank you.”

You exit his room and feel accomplished. You believe, like what others have told you, that showing him a bit of gentleness will prompt him to be a little gentler to himself, too. He works too hard sometimes, and taking a break when he needs it is one thing, but of course, it’s not everything.

The rest of the week goes by fairly similarly. Jungkook always looks tired, and it makes you wonder if he’s able to sleep properly at night or if he just overexerts himself during his morning workouts. He’s quiet when you’re not discussing work matters, making you miss your casual conversations. And though he acknowledges your occasional teasing remark, he doesn’t tease back like he’s been doing recently.

He has his moments of frustration but he’s mostly serious when you glance at him. He’s less engaging, too, and you suppose that’s what bothers you the most, as you realize that you enjoy talking with him, you enjoy getting to know him through your exchanges, allowing you a peek into his world that you know is reserved for very, very few people.

You suppose that whatever he’s dealing with is something he wants to go through on his own. Accepting your fears is one thing; accepting that you exposed all those to someone else is another. It’s why you try, in your own ways, to lift his spirits, wanting to let him know that he has nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to you.

You get him lunch from his favorite restaurants everyday, you add sweets to his servings of coffee or chocolate milk, you smile at him more, encourage him frequently, and during the times when he seems distant, you don’t completely move away. You reach out just a little bit, hoping that he’ll know that you’re around even when he doesn’t feel much like himself. You don’t want to match his detachment with your own.

It seems that you got your point across. On Friday, he dismisses you after he insists that he wants to stay back to work on a few things.

“___,” he calls out as you’re about to exit his room. “Thank you for being patient with me this week. I… I needed that.”

You turn around and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from meeting your eyes this time. He’s noticed you try to hold his gaze all week; you always lingered, too. Maybe it’s your way of comforting him or saying that you understand him. He felt both of those but he couldn’t find it in him to acknowledge them. There was a lot on his mind as he dealt with the frustration and shame of what happened, of how exposed and unguarded he was in front of you.

But you didn’t complain; you didn’t push him to engage or share anything. Even his moments of frustration were met with kindness and his silence was received with assurance. You tried to cheer him up in whatever way you could, and he could feel you just giving him time to be on his own.

He hopes he didn’t push you away. There were so many times when he just wanted you around so he could see more of your smile and hear the calmness of your voice; those always made him feel better. Whatever fears he had about how you would think of him after the incident have dissipated, as you look softly at him in understanding. He doesn’t need to say anything more, as you seem to know exactly what he means because this whole time, you seemed to also know exactly what he needed.

“I hope you’re feeling better, Jungkook,” you smile. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Jungkook returns to his usual self the week after. He says he went to one of their properties in Gwangju over the weekend where the weather was good and the long drive helped him stay focused and rejuvenated. He doesn’t say much of what he’s feeling and you expect that, but you’re glad his little trip gave him some peace somehow.

You, on the other hand, were left to deal with your growing feelings for him while downplaying them to your best friends. They came over for their regular visit on Saturday and while they were sympathetic with Jungkook over what happened, they still reminded you to be cautious. Once you cross a line, there’s no going back, and once you fully admit to what you feel, you can’t unfeel it; not acting on it becomes too hard and in your case, complicated.

The week is like any other but with much anticipation, given the upcoming annual team building that everyone’s excited about. This is one of the things that the support team was worried wouldn’t happen under Jungkook’s leadership, but you assured them early on that it was mandatory. And with him having loosened up and feeling more comfortable around them, you have high hopes that he’ll enjoy it as much as everyone will.

It’s why on that Saturday, you find yourself in the mall to buy the things that you’ll be needing for those three days that you’ll be spending in one of the Jeon properties in Gangwon. The venue changes every year and the villas by the lake are perfect for spring this time. Your shopping list includes all the materials for the activities and some other things Jungkook requested, like a certain book that he doesn’t have time to buy.

You enter a bookstore and as you try to find what you’re looking for, something else catches your eye. You may love the library for the space more than the books, but there will always be those that pull you in and make you curious. Even if you only read picture books when you were younger, there were a few short stories and poems that piqued your interest. You never finished them but you did manage to get through several pages.

The one right in front of you - with its pastel colored cover and simple yet intriguing design - feels like one of those. To your delight, it’s a short story collection, and your smile is immediate as you go through the pages, with each story being accompanied by illustrations that feel so personal. This would be a nice read while you’re lounging at the villa’s deck or even on your balcony, you think.

Another book catches your attention. The title is familiar, and you realize it’s one of the classics that you were required to read in high school. It has a new cover, and you see that it’s a new edition to celebrate its 30th year. You go through the pages as well, thinking back to when you had to force yourself to finish this some 15 years ago. It looks more fresh now, and definitely more enticing.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?”

You look up to find a tall man with deep-set eyes as the owner of the voice who’d interrupted your moment of book appreciation.

“I’m okay,” you dismiss him. “I don’t need assistance.”

You politely smile then return the books in their respective spots, ready to head out and search for what you came here to buy.

“Are you not going to get those?” The man presses. “You seemed to be interested in them and—”

“Were you watching me?” You ask, taken aback.

“Uh, no. I mean, not in the way you think,” he answers in panic, seemingly nervous at how it looks. “I wasn’t being creepy or anything I just… I…”

“Do you even work here?” You interrogate him, your alarm bells ringing at this man’s odd behavior and the absence of a nameplate that the other staff have on.

“I actually work for the company that published those books,” he says, his head down as if in embarrassment. “And we just put those out this week and I’m checking around to see people’s reaction and I realize now that it’s incredibly foolish of me to stand around and observe customers because it’s not only creepy, it’s also terribly disrespectful. I’m so sorry.”

There’s guilt in his eyes and it’s something you can recognize. You decide he’s being sincere and engage him a little.

“So… you work at Rkive Publishing?” You ask as you glance at the books. “As what?”

“I’m an editor, actually,” he answers, revealing his shy smile and dimples. “I’ve spent months on these books and thought, what better way to know people’s impression than to see them for myself? It seemed better in my head. I guess I wasn’t being subtle.”

“No, not really. I was kinda having a moment but then you popped out of nowhere,” you say, laughing to ease the tension. “But uh, the covers are stunning. I liked the personal touch of the short story collection and this classic looks a lot more interesting than I remember.”

“That’s uh, that’s good,” he grins, mostly to himself. “Our production team did really well in putting them together and to see the final products is incredibly satisfying, even more so when customers feel the same.”

“I don’t really read books but these just caught my eye. It’s a good way to pull people in,” you admit.

“That’s nice to know,” he smiles again. “I feel pretty fulfilled just knowing they got your attention. Even if you won’t buy them.”

He doesn’t seem like he’s guilt-tripping you but he still apologizes for how it sounds.

“I just… feel really strongly about how these pieces connect with people, even if it’s fleeting,” the man continues. “I just got over excited but thank you for not shunning me away.”

“I don’t think connections are fleeting, though,” you remark, surprising him and even yourself. “Even if it’s a thought or a memory or an impression… they stay with you in one way or another. I mean, every time I enter a bookstore, I’ll probably think about those covers and remember these books and maybe the excitement I felt. That’s still something, isn’t it?”

There’s appreciation in the man’s eyes as he takes in your words.

You may not be a book nerd nor an artsy person but you’ve been more introspective lately about the things around you. You don’t know if it’s the desperation to relate with anything and everything but if there’s one thing that working on the Arts Center has pushed you to do, it’s that pursuit of connection - with your surroundings, with people, and with yourself. You suppose that’s where all this is coming from, and the stranger in front of you whom you’re somehow connecting with right now understands that.

“It is something,” he flashes a smile again, the joy in it radiating and softening his very manly features. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.”

He steps aside and nods, perhaps giving you the space that he thinks he invaded, which in hindsight, you’re glad he did.

You bow in acknowledgment and head towards another aisle to look for that leadership book that Jungkook asked you to get. You immediately find it then make your way home, all the while thinking about your earlier encounter and how the briefest conversations can make you reflect about things and as you learn, lead you down a path you didn’t expect.

To appease your curiosity, you research about Rkive Publishing and learn that it’s a ten-year old company that works with up-and-coming local authors. It has also taken on special projects such as publishing classics for their milestone releases and some translated works. The man you met, who happens to be the editorial director, is a poet as well but apparently finds as much happiness in putting pieces out for people to enjoy as he does in writing them himself. He doesn’t seem that much older than you but he’s seen the world and in the eyes of an artist, you can’t imagine how beautiful and heartbreaking that must be.

You go down a rabbit hole of reading some of his poems and even some interviews he’d done when he set up the company years ago. You learn that he loves to write about the complexity of relationships, the fragility of human emotions, and the search for permanence in an impermanent world.

His words are captivating. You want to pick apart his brain to know more about what he thinks about humans’ need for connection despite our fear of them. You want to know what makes love the way it is, why it creates and sustains and ruins those who feel and have them. You want to know if he thinks that each person is capable of love, if that’s what makes us human, or if our humanness derives from the inadequacy of love - of what we give and what we receive.

You read a bit more about the books they’ve published and the authors they’ve worked with over the years. It’s midnight by the time you finish, and other than deciding that you’ll go back tomorrow to buy that short story book collection, one other thing fills your mind - the thought that there’s a reason for that encounter earlier, and it’s probably to lead you to finding this company and the production officer position that happens to be currently vacant.

The soft eyes that greet you from across the table where the books are placed is a welcome sight this time. The man from yesterday flashes you a shy smile and you greet him with your own.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon but I’m glad that you’re here,” he says as he approaches you.

You raise the book you intend to buy. “Connections aren’t fleeting,” you remind him. “I couldn’t really stop thinking about this since yesterday. And uh, curiosity got to me and I looked up Rkive Publishing. You’re doing great work. I read that you’re working on translations of several books, too.”

His eyes light up as he talks about wanting to attract a wider audience, given the increasing interest in Korean culture. The story of your people appeals to many because it’s shared, and he says that’s one beauty of art in whatever form - the meanings are endless, and they weave together to form something enduring and constant. That’s what he and his mother hoped for the company when they founded it a decade ago, he narrates, and he has the tough task of creating that avenue for such art to affect more people without diluting its meaning.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling again,” he shakes his head. “I just get so… yeah. I’ve just never met a buyer who actually searched us up after seeing our books on the shelf. I’m trying to engage more people. Our sales team said that’s one way to establish our presence.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him. “I may not be as passionate about anything as you but I understand feeling strongly about something. And if I’m being honest… there’s another thing that caught my eye about your company.”

“What is it?”

“You have an opening for the production officer position. I… I was impressed and looked up career options.”

“Ah, so you’re interested then?” He asks excitedly.

“I am. Although I don’t have any experience in publishing or anything related to books or literature for that matter.”

“Relevant experience is the qualification,” he hums. “I’d ask more but I can do so during the interview. What do you say?”

“That’s if I’ll make the shortlist,” you laugh. “Although I suppose my executive assistant experience is relevant enough.”

“Oh, it definitely is. That is no easy task.”

“Well, I hope meeting you like this won’t make any future application inappropriate,” you say.

“Not at all. That position has been vacant for a while. And we’re looking for two. It’s not always the role that those in the industry go for. I suppose it’s made for those looking for a career change,” he playfully winks. “But seriously though, think of this encounter as part of the process. You’ve done your research about us anyway, which kind of means you’re already a step ahead. It’s only a matter of actually applying, which I hope you do.”

“It’s an option,” you hum. “This wasn’t something I initially considered but it’s amazing how certain moments shape our decisions, isn’t it? I mean, they’re not really fleeting.”

“Of course,” he nods, thinking back to your comment from yesterday. “It’s all about being open, so please think about it. I may not know anything about your credentials but talking with you has already given me insight into what you think about our work and the power of stories. And that’s very important to me.”

“I still have a lot going on but I’ll definitely keep you in mind. I hope the position is still open when the time comes.”

“If it’s meant to be then it will be,” he assures you. “I’m Namjoon, by the way.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking the business card that he hands out. “And I’m ___. I’ll see you around.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you head out the store with your purchased book in hand. And as you lay in bed that night, the possibilities of taking on a new journey play in your mind.

There’s the connection to the good memories of your childhood and the unloading of the burdens you carry. There’s being around people you’re not tied or indebted to and there’s forging your own way towards a path that you deliberately chose.

But there’s also Jungkook, whom you can’t stop thinking about and who happens to be a hindrance when it comes to pursuing your own goals in life. Those goals include happiness and freedom even if ironically, those are the things he also gives you. There’s the new emotions he makes you feel, the connection you can’t deny you have with him, and the desire that constantly eats you up inside.

You’ve always had your feet inside your walls with your hand on the door, just waiting for the courage to finally step out. The only thing stopping you is Jungkook and all the other possibilities with him. They may remain unrealized but they’re there. You just hope that one day you’ll convince yourself that walking away from him was exactly the thing you had to do.

You watch in awe as Yohan loads the last crate of food in the rented van you’ll be using for this weekend’s team building in some lakeside property in Gangwon. The trunk is filled with all sorts of meat and vegetables, chips, and alcohol that seem to be good for a tribe of more than 10, way more than your team of seven.

“You do know we’re only there for three days, right?” You remind the younger man. “I don’t think we eat this much.”

“Don’t you know Do-hyun?” Yohan says. “She’s half my size but she eats twice as much as I do. And I eat a lot. Plus, the guy she was seeing ghosted her so she’s probably gonna eat even more. Heartbreak shit, you know?”

“I don’t,” you chuckle, although you can’t help but feel bad again for Do-hyun whom you had to comfort not long ago because of her boy problems. “But are you sure these are all within budget?”

“Yes. Chin-sun is a master at bargaining. And, because we’re such a good team, Mr. Min and Mr. Jung gave us some of their favorite liquor,” Yohan hums satisfyingly. “Those smell expensive. So yeah, we didn’t have to spend much on alcohol since Mr. Jeon brought some, too, which is why we got to buy all this food.”

“Fine, but we can’t have drunken shenanigans, okay? I don’t have the energy to babysit you guys. And Mr. Jeon is no weakling; he’ll be awake to see you misbehave if you do.”

“We’ll go as far as incredibly out-of-tune karaoke singing, we promise,” Yohan laughs, learning his lesson after last year’s midnight swim in the freezing cold river where he almost got swept away.

Hoseok was thankfully passed out and did not witness the almost-emergency. You had to remind your team that though you’ll be going on a team-building - which is really just an excuse for the staff to eat and drink in some scenic venue - there are still rules in place, and it would be best not to give Jungkook any problem, given the progress that you’ve all made.

You enter the car then leave the office - your meet up place - to take the long drive to your destination. You just got the message from Mr. Ri that they’re almost there; they left much earlier so that Jungkook could make it to a virtual meeting with Hoseok and his father.

The ride starts off peaceful, as everyone is still slowly waking up. Halfway through, it becomes chaotic, with Do-hyun and Yohan arguing about who’ll be on cleaning duties on which days as the youngest ones on the team. You laugh along, knowing you’ll end up helping them anyway, but you look out the window and wonder how Jungkook is doing.

He’s been incredibly busy leading to today, with several site visits to the Arts Center and meetings with the project teams multiple times the past two weeks. He’s been staying late in the office, too, and working on the weekends. You know, because you get the odd-hour emails and find portfolios on your desk in the morning. Despite the work that he still has to squeeze in during this weekend, you hope he gets a bit of rest. More than that, you hope he finds time to be with the team and bond with them. Only you know this may be your last, and you want to keep the memories of these three days and make sure they’re good ones.

You arrive at the place and look around, amazed at every corner and every space you set your eyes on. You know that the Jeon family has dozens of properties in scenic locations that they escape to or put out for rent. This lakeside estate is one of a few you haven’t been to yet, and there’s a reason why Jungkook wanted this to be your venue this year. It’s spacious with lots of things to do and the view is absolutely stunning. Lush mountains frame the sparkling body of water, and with the breeze of spring, it’s every bit relaxing as you hoped.

It’s quiet as the rest of the team walks around in awe. The main house boasts of a large kitchen and living space and it’s surrounded by four two-bedroom villas with their own decks. You, Chin-sun, and Do-hyun head to one while Yohan and Manager Lee head to another. You give yourselves half an hour to fix up before reconvening and when you do, you immediately smile upon seeing Jungkook already waiting.

He greets the team, formally welcomes you all, then talks about the property and all its amenities. He discusses what’s in store for these next three days, then he proceeds with the first activity, which is really the only work-related thing you’re all required to do.

Jungkook facilitates the session, and he starts by asking everyone to reflect on all the gains and challenges this past year. He instructs each of you to share your team highs and lows, what enabled you to achieve the successes and overcome the difficulties, what caused you the most stress, and what you’re most thankful for. Every answer is met with confirming nods and statements, and it seems that everyone is on the same page about how the year went.

The session highlights your team dynamics - you’re all very encouraging of each other, but it doesn’t stop the young ones from bickering and teasing the rest of you. It’s fun though, as you end the hour with laughter and more memories to take with you. You glance at Jungkook who seems satisfied with every response; you hope he’s proud of how he managed everything, too, and you make sure you mention it during your turn. The smile he makes when everyone agrees warms your heart in a way you don’t expect, even more so when he holds your gaze when he thanks the team in return.

You’re rewarded with a hearty lunch an hour later, and not long after, you find yourselves near the deck of the lake, discussing how to spend your two hours of free time before the next activity.

Chin-sun and Manager Lee decide on just laying on the lounge chairs to soak up the sun. Yohan gets on a jet-ski while Do-hyun flounders about in the lake. Sipping your beer, you lean on one of the tables and savor the fresh air.

There’s not much of this in the city, and the silence - save for the young ones’ laughter in the background - is definitely worth the long ride and the backlog you’ll be having once the weekend is over. You’re not really one to stay outdoors. You’d much rather stay inside, under the covers where you could watch movies or variety shows. That was always how you preserved your peace. Being outside always intimidated you, and you think now it’s probably because you just haven’t seen that many beautiful views like this in your life. If this is what’s outside your window everyday, you’d probably be out all the time.

“___, are you just gonna stay there? The water’s amazing,” Do-hyun whines as she approaches you. “Or sunbathe if you don’t want to get wet. Just get out there.”

“I’m content just watching you enjoy yourselves,” you say. “I can see the view just fine from here.”

“It’s much better up close,” she counters, standing next to you now. “Come on, this is your time to let loose since you have the permission to do so. Mr. Jeon isn’t gonna be a killjoy and watch your every move, you know? If he will, then I will…”

“You will what?” You laugh.

“I will tell him he’s being a killjoy. How often can we be in a place as beautiful as this?”

“Do-hyun’s right,” Jungkook says as he appears to your left, catching both of you off guard and prompting Do-hyun to sweetly smile at him. He’s in shorts and a loose long-sleeve shirt, perhaps ready to enjoy the outdoors as well. “The place is too beautiful for you to just sit back and watch.”

“And what will you do?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Sit back and watch,” he shrugs, earning him a laugh from you and Do-hyun. “And enjoy my beer. That’s how I relax.”

“Please don’t be boring,” Do-hyun pouts at him, embracing that little sister energy that you’ve all come to love. “You should know, Mr. Jeon, Yohan is being all cocky, saying that he’s the best jet ski rider among all of us here. I have a feeling that he’s wrong, so please show him who’s boss. I mean, you are, obviously. But, you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Jungkook chuckles, putting down his drink and looking out into the lake. “But sure. I haven’t ridden one in a while but let’s see how I go.”

Jungkook walks towards the water then unknots the other jet ski. He removes his shirt and wears the life vest before riding towards where Yohan is. The view of him half-naked triggers memories of all the times you’ve seen him like that, times when you’d look away and keep yourself from thinking inappropriate thoughts. It’s no different this time, but somehow, it’s much harder to keep your heart from racing this fast.

“Holy fuck,” Do-hyun gasps next to you. “Please don’t report me but shit, ___. Whoever’s doing Mr. Jeon is one lucky woman. I mean, look at that. And who knew he had a full sleeve of tattoo? That is so freaking hot.”

From your periphery, you could see her shocked face but you merely hum in response. You don’t want to get carried away by your own expletives because there really aren’t enough curses in the dictionary when it comes to describing Jungkook’s body.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she looks at you curiously. “And you’re not affected. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I’m with him everyday,” you say nonchalantly.

“In clothes, I would assume.”

“He works out every morning and he’s in sleeveless tops sometimes,” you clarify. “Obviously I’ve seen his arm.”

She furrows her brows as if she doesn’t believe you, even if you’re telling the truth. There are just other parts of that story that you don’t want to share.

“Hmm, fair enough,” she gives in. “But I’d probably be constantly flustered or even crushing on him if I were you. So how have you managed being around him and not being attracted all this time knowing he looks like that?”

You’re forced to look at Do-hyun, as you try to find the words to say, when she answers her own question.

“Right, he can be quite detached and too serious and he’s a playboy and—”

“You also forget that I am his assistant and he is my boss,” you remind her. “Thoughts like that—”

“Are perfectly normal,” she interjects. “And totally understandable. He’s a hot bachelor, ____. I wouldn’t be able to function professionally if I were in your shoes. Which is why it’s great that I’m here and you’re the one in that position.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I might lose this job if I lose my shit every time because my boss is so hot,” she reasons. “And it’s not just me. I’ve seen the female staff lose their cool around him just because he spoke to them or looked their way. It’s kind of embarrassing. But I guess the broody, asshole-y vibes add to that. And then there’s you who’s in his apartment every morning and heavens know what you’ve seen or heard since we all know that the rumors about his dating life are true and you seem fine and totally unbothered.”

You want to laugh at how completely off Do-hyun is with her observations. Sure, you tried to be cool about it at the beginning and you mostly succeeded in being calm whenever you came close or saw any part of his body exposed.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. When you saw the layers underneath, he wasn’t just attractive physically; he was suddenly so much more. That somehow made it harder but it also made all the restraint worth it. But that’s not something you want to divulge to Do-hyun. No matter how difficult, you know you need to keep yourself together and stop the feelings from going any deeper.

“Well, just like you, I can’t lose my job and I will if I let it affect me,” you say. “But if I may say so… there’s definitely more to the broody, serious man we met almost a year ago.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. He’s definitely more thoughtful than I expected. Maybe a little funny, too. But that’s really all I know. He just seems too reserved, you know? Seeing him do something like ride a jet ski or laugh with us feels like such a luxury for a man like him,” Do-hyun adds. “It must be hard to get to know him beyond all this. I know it sure is hard to love someone like that.”

You know that Do-hyun’s merely projecting. The recent guy she was seeing was a lot more shy and private than the ones she’s dated before. But she got him to open up and she thought that was it, that she’d broken through his walls and they’d be permanently down for her, only to realize it wasn’t the case. He was distant for a few days and she tried to get through again only for him to completely shut her out; she hasn’t heard from him in weeks.

It’s probably why you agree. People who keep their distance and disengage whenever they want are hard to love. You’d know because you’re like that. It hits you hard knowing that Jungkook is probably the same.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you and Do-hyun watch Jungkook and Yohan outride one another, splashing each other with water and screaming in excitement when they speed up. Seeing this other side of Jungkook does something to you again, and the sight of his smile as he dries his hair while teasing Yohan triggers the butterflies in your belly.

He approaches you - thankfully with his shirt on this time - and you suddenly feel too hot. He tells you that the water’s nice and you should get in, but you’re too self-conscious now, so you compromise and say you’ll just dip your feet in the water while you sit on the steps that lead down to the lake.

That’s how you spend the rest of the hour, as Chin-sun, Manager Lee, and Do-hyun join Yohan in swimming while Jungkook stays back, watching you all from afar. You glance at him a few times and he catches your eyes. He lifts his can in cheers and you do the same. He heads to where you are some time after with five cans of beer then walks back to his room, and you suddenly miss his presence. You wish he was next to you, perhaps laughing or talking about something random or just sitting with you in silence. You’ve learned that last bit brings you a lot of comfort and peace; the view somehow isn’t as beautiful when you aren’t sharing it with him.

It’s an hour later, after having dried and fixed up, when you’re all on the basketball court to start the next activity that Mr. Ri prepared. Divided into teams of two, each pair is assigned a path that leads to either the mountain, the woods, or the stream to find bags of coins needed to “purchase” materials to create a science experiment-type water rocket. It’s meant to practice your communication and problem-solving skills with those you work most closely with, which is why Chin-sun and Do-hyun, and Manager Lee and Yohan are paired up respectively while you, of course, end up with Jungkook.

“The caretakers and I spent all morning preparing this game, so please take it seriously,” Mr Ri says. “And bond with each other while you’re at it.”

You see the competitiveness in the young ones’ eyes, especially when it’s announced that there’s a prize for the winners, and you like the energy. Being Jungkook’s partner, you know it’s just about completing the task and somehow, it’s the bonding bit that makes you nervous. You already know you’re going to like it, which is precisely why it terrifies you.

“There are ATVs for each team which you will ride to the start of the path. You’ll have to go by foot when you get there or else you’ll miss the bags of coins,” Mr. Ri instructs. “You have walkie-talkies to reach me in case you get lost but please don’t. And try to be back here in an hour. All clear?”

You all express your acknowledgement and he signals the start. The other teams rush to their rides and quickly drive off while you and Jungkook stroll to yours.

He takes the helmet and puts it on you, and he laughs again like he did at the Arts Center months ago before riding the vehicle.

“I should’ve expected that,” you pout.

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

“It looks cute on you,” he says casually before riding the vehicle.

Your eyes widen at his words and you’re glad he has his back turned on you. That way he can’t see the way you’re trying to hold your smile and suppress the giddy feeling at his remark. It makes it that much harder for you to climb up behind him though, but you manage, and you ensure there’s some distance between you and him, knowing how you tend to be when you get close.

Jungkook, on the other hand, internally smacks himself after he says the words. He didn’t mean for the thoughts in his head to actually come out. He’s glad he didn’t see your probably awkward expression, and that right now, he needs to focus on the road. That way, he can preoccupy himself with your safety and not his embarrassment.

He means it though. There’s something about you in a helmet that gets him, or even in anything oversized, like his jacket that he made you wear once. There’s also something about you wading in the water and laughing so freely that make his insides melt. Anything you do actually triggers something in him - a protective side, a care-free side; a side that wants to take a pause and bask in the scenery that includes you.

Now he has to act like he’s not affected with you sitting behind him as he drives the ATV down the rugged path. He feels you far from him, sitting close to the edge and holding onto the handles behind you. But as the road gets rockier, he starts to get worried.

“You should hold onto me,” he says, turning his head to the side so you could hear him before slowing down. “It’s safer that way.”

It takes a few seconds but he feels you move closer to him, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso. It’s a bit loose but it’s enough for his breathing to quicken.

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

“Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s a bit rocky out here so be careful. You can, uh, you can hold on tighter if you feel unstable.”

You hum in response but you maintain your position. He supposes you don’t know how bumpy it could be. It makes him worry and he wishes you’d grab onto him more only because he’s afraid you’d fall, and that’s exactly what happens after the first big bump.

You yelp, tightening your grip around him immediately. He feels his heart stop, unprepared to have your arms around his waist and your chest flushed against his back even if that’s what he’d suggested you do. He’s felt you close in several instances already, but each time feels different. It affects him the same way though - all he wants is to have you even closer.

But that’s not something he can think of right now, especially when you’re both alone, in a place that’s conducive to letting his inhibitions go.

It’s calm and peaceful out here. There’s a lot of open space but he enjoys it more when he’s looking at it from the comforts of the balcony or the deck. He always prefers to stay indoors because the outdoors somehow make him feel more constricted; he supposes that being trapped in the woods as a child would do that to anyone. He’s always just been a spectator, watching everything from behind the safety of his walls, knowing that he could feel a bit unsteady out there.

But ever since you got here and he’d seen you enjoy the surroundings, all he’s felt was the stability of having you near him. That, ironically, scares him, too. The more he’s comfortable with you, the more worried he becomes. So he settles on what he knows how to do - keeping you at a fair distance but creating moments here and there, only so you don’t think he’s pushing you away or detaching himself.

You decide to just hold onto Jungkook for safety purposes. You didn’t realize that the path towards the stream is this rocky, but you suppose it should be since you’re in the undeveloped part of the property. It's probably why he asked you to hold onto him; he’s your safety precaution and you know enough that he wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He’s steady and skilled in navigating the ATV, avoiding the big bumps and alerting you when there’s going to be one. It’s actually quite attractive. He feels so nice like this, with his soft hoodie and natural scent, and you have to pull away every once in a while so as not to get too comfortable. You can’t let yourself imagine this to be a possibility beyond today, you remind yourself. He can’t be someone you constantly seek, that you could fall into, even if that’s pretty much where you’re at at this point.

You reach the end of the road and Jungkook lets you get down first, instructing you to hold his arm for support, before following right after. You walk towards the mark that signifies the start of the path where you’re supposed to find the bags of coins, and you look around to see that there are more shrubs than trees. It feels a little less constricting compared to if you were in the mountains or the woods, which is why you think Mr. Ri assigned this to both of you.

You and Jungkook start searching, and with the topography of the place, it’s easy to spot the bags that are hanging from the tree branches. You point one out and Jungkook steps on the hollowed out trunk to retrieve it. You stand by watching, reminding him to be careful. And though you tell yourself to focus on the bag, you can’t help but glance at the sight of him - in his light gray sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, looking casual and comfortable and even more attractive.

It doesn’t help when he reaches out towards the branch while you stay on a spot below him, and the view of him from this angle leaves you quite breathless. Not only does his hoodie rise up to reveal his waist and that lower half of his torso that you’d held onto earlier, but you also get a peek of the band of his underwear, too. Your mind short-circuits for the briefest moment, even more when he stretches even more to pull the bag towards him, and you’re able to snap out of it in time, as you watch him slowly make his way down.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” You call out.

He easily descends, and with his smug face, he lifts the bag for you to see.

“Do you not have faith in my tree-climbing capabilities?” he asks you.

“It’s just not something I’ve seen you do before,” you shrug, acting nonchalantly as you return to walking down the path.

“So, were you worried?”

“Uhm, yes? I can’t have an injured Vice President on my watch,” you exclaim, earning you a laugh. “How am I gonna transport you out of this dirt road and back to the house? I can barely keep still as a passenger on the ATV.”

“Well, I could get hurt but I definitely won’t be immobile,” he points out. “I won’t be a hard person to help.”

“Right… I’m the one who gets injured and then can’t walk.”

He frowns at you at the reminder, and you counter that it’s okay for you to make fun of your injury but that he’s right, he probably won’t be as injured as you. You wave him off, hoping that you don’t have to deal with an incapacitated version of him during this game. You also won’t be able to handle worrying about him without giving too much away.

You return your focus on finding the other bags. There are those hidden behind rocks and in shallow holes; you know because of the shovel next to them. There’s another one tied around the trunk of the tree, and you have to hold your breath again when Jungkook climbs up to get it.

As expected, you have good teamwork. You section off areas to search at and quickly find what you’re looking for. You go for the ones you can get and then ask him to reach for the ones you can’t. There’s some bickering in between, with him pretending that he’s stuck or caught on something while you panic and then pout at him for scaring you. But there are some moments of silence, too, where you walk side by side and bask in the scent of your surroundings. Either way, it’s time that you enjoy just being around him, taking in the environment that you often stayed away from. With him, it’s a lot less scary and definitely more freeing.

When you’re down to your last one, you and Jungkook think that Mr. Ri would hide it somewhere near the end of the path, so you both decide to just take in your surroundings as you stroll towards the stream.

“So, nature smells like this, huh?” you hum. “It’s quite comforting.”

“It is,” he says. “I forget sometimes. It’s nice to remember.”

“Don’t you spend a lot of time outdoors?” You wonder. “You’ve mentioned driving out to some of your properties with views like this. I’d assume you stay out and enjoy the scenery.”

“I do enjoy the scenery… just from inside,” he chuckles, knowing the irony of his words. “It’s just more comfortable that way, I guess. So I appreciate being forced to go outside this weekend.”

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

“I’m the same,” you say. “I don’t go out much. I mean, I’m often on my own so I just stay indoors but I do enjoy the scenery when I’m with others. It feels too lonely when you’re by yourself. To be something so small in a world so big… It's kind of scary.”

“Well, I’m here with you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You don’t think Jungkook will ever know the weight of his words and just how wrong he is. To be in a place so beautiful with him next to you… it’s everything you’re scared of. You’ve come to appreciate a lot of things because of him. You’ve come to want more when you shouldn’t because of him. You always find yourself in a state of push-and-pull with your emotions when it comes to him, knowing that he’s someone you can’t have. He’ll always be out of reach no matter how close he is. He’ll always hinder you from the kind of life you want to have even if that includes him.

The logical part of you wants to keep your distance, to not create any more memories that will haunt you and that you’ll miss. But the stubborn part of you wants you to hold onto this to remind you that beautiful things are tangible and he’s the one thing you can see and hear; maybe he’s something you can touch, too.

The latter one wins, so you slow your pace, take in the sight before you, and decide that this is a memory you’ll want to keep. You take the disposable camera from your pouch, something you bought the other week specifically for this trip, knowing it might be your last. You take a photo of the sky, then of the path ahead of you, then of the stream, making sure there’s a bit of him in there - a mop of hair, a portion of his arm, his shadow.

It’s then that you see the last bright red bag on one of the big rocks near the water’s edge.

“Oh, there it is,” you say, immediately walking towards it.

You look around and strategize how you’ll get to the rock safely but Jungkook insists that he’ll be the one to get it.

“You’ve gotten all the tricky ones,” you argue, given that he’d climbed the tree and crawled under the shrub because your leggings were too thin and wouldn’t be able to protect you from the thorny branches. “I can get this.”

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

“Uh, I clearly remember that you don’t.”

“Hey,” you pout at him, knowing he’s referring to that time you tripped on yourself during one of your Arts Center visits. “It was the heels. That’s clearly not a problem this time.”

You step on the wet stones and balance your way as they lead towards the big rock, with Jungkook repeatedly telling you to be careful. His voice just gets louder and louder, but you turn around and see that he’s actually just following you. It’s your mistake, as your loss of focus causes you to slip on one of the rocks and almost lose your balance. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you fall on your ass. Your foot merely slides to the side, barely missing the water, which is really fine, but Jungkook doesn’t think so.

“Don’t move until you’re stable,” he instructs, holding out his hand for you to take, prompting you to look at him questioningly. “That’s the foot you injured. You can’t risk spraining it again. Just take my hand or hold my wrist so you can safely get the bag.”

You do as he says, grabbing his forearm so you can stabilize yourself. You let him go once you do, then you turn and take a few small steps to get what you need. He stays close to you though, and once you retrieve the bag, you turn towards him with a proud smile and announce that half of your task has been completed.

“You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?” He says instead, his firm voice a contrast to his playful frown.

“And you are quite the nagger,” you hit back. “I wouldn’t have slipped if I hadn’t turned and I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t so noisy.”

“Sure, it’s my fault. Sorry for caring about your safety,” he shakes his head.

“Well, you were underestimating me,” you frown now. “I could’ve done all this without your help.”

“Really?” He challenges.

“Yes,” you stand your ground. “Although I would still need your help to get back to land.”

It’s what makes him laugh, and the way his eyes light up and crinkle makes your heart race. He has such a sweet sound, and you wish you could hear more of it.

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” you stop him and check your watch. “We still have time. Can we stay for a bit? The water’s quite nice and the view of the mountains is prettier from here.”

Jungkook looks around. The mountain range from far away looks majestic from this angle, and with the sun about to set soon, the way the light shines on the water is just as beautiful.

“Okay then,” he says, wanting to savor this as well.

You just said you don’t go out much, and maybe like what he feels, being with him makes you want to take it all in; maybe it makes you feel less scared.

You both find dry rocks to sit at and it’s the perfect spot for you to take more photos, so you take out your camera and see which angles look best.

“Did you buy that for this trip?” he asks.

“Yeah. I knew the sights would be beautiful. I just wanted to keep something from here,” you explain.

“Give it to me then,” he says, reaching out his hand and gesturing towards your camera. “Let me take one of you so you’ll always remember.”

You hand it over to him then suddenly feel awkward at how you’re supposed to pose. You stay seated with your legs just slightly bent but are unsure of where you’re supposed to look. It feels a little too tense if you look at his direction, even if that’s what you should be doing.

“It’s free to smile, you know? That’s what people usually do for photos,” he says, causing you to giggle. He takes the photo right then, and you have an idea he caught your smile at the right time.

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

“Sort of. I knew you were gonna think of how bold it was of me to say that, considering that I barely even smile.”

“Wow, I can’t even tease you anymore because you already know what I’m gonna say.”

“I know sometimes you can’t help but just tease me like that. I know you too well,” he smugly says. “But I think I got a good photo. You’re welcome.”

You laugh at his playfulness, knowing it’s rare for him to show that side of him. So you ask for your camera back and decide you want him to be part of this particular memory. You hold it out and turn towards him.

“May I?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” he hums. “I just don’t know how to smile.”

You giggle again and you’re quick enough to catch the brief moment when he lets out a short laugh.

You look at him softly, as if there’s more you want to say - that you’ll keep this close to you so you’ll remember what his smile looks like, that he’s something beautiful you can hear and see, that you feel so safe out here with him, and that you hope he’ll remember this, too.

But you look away before any of the words make it out.

You think to just quietly savor this, as you bask in the sounds of the cicadas and the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves. You’re so small in this big world, but being with Jungkook makes things a little less scary. With him, you don’t feel so alone.

A bit more time passes before you both decide to head back. He reaches out his hand which you mindlessly take, your fingers instinctively wrapping around his palm. You’re too focused on your steps that you only realize you’re still holding him once you both safely make it to dry land. But it’s also at that moment when he lets go. Though a part of you wishes he’d drag the illusion a bit more, you’re also glad he didn’t; you would’ve probably held on longer if he didn’t pull away.

The silence continues as you both walk back to the start of the path, but he stays near you, occasionally asking if you’re tired or cold. You make it to the ATV and you hold onto his waist again with no instructions needed this time. He drives a bit faster than earlier but you feel safe and steady, and there’s something natural about the way you’re clinging to him for support. Part of the illusion as well, you think, but that ends, too.

You’re the last one back to the villas but you and Jungkook quickly make up some ground in assembling the water rocket. It was mostly him, though, as he says that he tinkers around and easily figures these things out. Do-hyun and Chin-sun feel the pressure as you catch up, and they shriek as they slowly feel the win slipping away from them. But then Jungkook holds onto the last piece and lets them win instead. The way they celebrate after their rocket successfully launches makes it feel worth it; you don’t feel bad about it at all. If anything, you expected he’d let either of the other two teams finish first.

After the winners are handed out hotel accommodation gift cards, Jungkook excuses himself to get a bit of work done while the rest of the team prepares for dinner. The team works on your assigned tasks of preparing the grill and slicing the vegetables, while you cook your famed fried rice after Do-hyun convinced you that it would heal her broken heart. Seated outside with the cool evening air, you all wait for Jungkook before starting.

“Mr. Jeon said he’ll just message me once he’s ready to eat,” Mr. Ri says as he takes his seat. “We can start without him.”

“But it’s not a team dinner without him,” Do-hyun whines. “He should take a break from working and spend time with us.”

“I’m sure he wants that, too,” you say. “Let’s just give him some time, maybe there’s something urgent he needs to do. Let’s just enjoy our meal and leave some food for him.”

Everyone dives in once the meat is cooked, and there’s a consensus that your fried rice is definitely worth all the hype. The laughter and teasing immediately start, and you wish Jungkook was here to enjoy it with you. You constantly glance at his villa, noting the dim lights, and you wonder what has him holed up inside this time, knowing he didn’t plan on working too much while he’s here.

It’s one hour later when you decide that he’s gone too long without having dinner, so you take portions of everything and set them on a tray.

“Wait, let me make him a drink. Hopefully that’ll convince him to come out,” Yohan says.

Managing to carry everything, you head towards Jungkook’s villa, and when he opens the door after your constant bell-ringing, he looks at you in surprise.

“The team’s been wondering when you were coming out,” you say. “You might be in there because of work, but I’m not fully convinced. Whatever it is, the food’s too delicious for you to not have a taste, so I brought you some.”

You raise the tray that you placed on the small table outside and flash him a smile. He nods in acknowledgement and takes it from you but you don’t leave just yet.

“I hope you’re not working anymore,” you say.

“I only did for a while,” he replies. “I… got a bit tired.”

“I’ve seen you workout in the morning and work all day after only having three hours of sleep, Jungkook. You wouldn’t get tired from just a jet ski ride and some scavenger hunt,” you raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a dry laugh before heading to the dining room. He leaves the door open so you follow him inside.

“I mean I’m socially tired. Isn’t that a thing?”

“Gee, I didn’t think that spending time with me outdoors drained your energy so much,” you frown.

Your playful pout tells him you’re teasing. He sure hopes it’s not what you really feel. It’s the opposite, in fact. He felt relieved of a lot of things during that hour that he walked around and breathed in the fresh air with you. And you both had moments - comforting glances, the shared silence… the fleeting touches that made him want more. You’re everything new and familiar and he wants to know how it’s like to have you close to him.

He knows it’s a desire he can’t act on, not just because he’s your superior but also because he can’t imagine you feeling a fraction of what he feels. It’s tempting to mistake your kindness for something more, and he’d fall into it if only hoping didn’t lead to disappointment. But like what Yoongi had said before, it’s how you naturally are, even as someone who prefers to be alone. Whatever type of friendship you offer is all that it is - friendship.

Jungkook clearly doesn’t deserve you. It’s not just because of the way he treated you at the beginning but because even until now, whenever he pulls away, you’re always the first one who reaches out. He’s scared that anything he does might push you away, and that’s the last thing he wants. He’ll keep you at a distance for as much as he can and for as long as you’re around. He can handle that, but losing you in any way has become his biggest fear.

That’s why he needed to be on his own after your time together in such a casual and comfortable environment. It’s easy to want that with you and to think that he can have it. Pulling away has always been his default when dealing with things he can’t control, and earlier, he just couldn’t control his mind and his heart.

But you’re here now, having knocked on his door like you always do, wondering if he’ll come out.

“I brought you dinner but I purposely gave you small servings so you’ll want more and leave your villa,” you explain.

“Half a cup of your fried rice?” He scowls. “That’s a crime.”

“I know. And you’ll run out if you don’t go outside,” you warn. “Are you planning on just staying here? Do-hyun’s right. It’s not a team dinner without you there.”

“I… I was planning to go out a bit later. It’s a different setting and I’m a little anxious,” he admits.

He looks away and you feel for him. You were the same in the beginning, too. It’s one thing to share meals with people in a work environment but it’s another when it’s more casual, where people are less filtered and guarded. But you had to try, and after spending time getting to know your colleagues, things got easier.

The team has adjusted to Jungkook but you suppose Jungkook hasn’t fully adjusted to them. Perhaps he was planning on sneaking in much later in the evening or using work as an excuse. But this is part of his function, and like you promised him early on, you want to help him with this aspect of his role.

“I’ll help you loosen up a bit,” you suggest. “I can have dinner with you here first and then we can go out once you’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees, even if he’d decided earlier that he’d keep his distance. “You can get your food outside. I’m not sharing mine.”

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

“I know,” you say. “And by the way, Yohan made you that drink.”

“How’d he know I like highball?”

“A little birdie told him,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

You smile before walking out, with Jungkook reminding you to set aside some fried rice for him.

You take your plate and reason to the team that you and Jungkook will just discuss some work stuff and they buy it, saying they won't get drunk until you’re both back outside.

You return to the villa with your dish and a bottle of beer, immediately realizing that it’s new territory for you and Jungkook, too. Sure, you’ve spent some time together out of work, but not in a place and situation like this.

But you want to be there for him. You like that he looks to you for energy and support. On days when he’s distant, you want moments like right now to remind you of the times he needed you, that he wanted you around, even if it’s for a different reason.

It takes half an hour for Jungkook to ease his nerves. In that time, you talk about random things, like his favorite hawker centers in Singapore and the variety shows you watch on which days. You both tease each other, then compete on who gets less affected. You tell him it’s good preparation for when the team, in their drunken states, does the same. You assure him, though, that they won’t go below the belt but he also assures you that he’s a big boy and can handle it.

When he says he wants more fried rice, it becomes your cue to head outside. You’re thankful that other than Mr. Ri subtly smirking at you, no one else reacts uncomfortably. You and Jungkook just came from his villa alone, after all, but you suppose everyone’s too tired or too careful to say anything.

“I hope no one’s eaten my share of the fried rice,” Jungkook says as he sits across from you. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Here, all yours, Mr. Jeon,” Yohan says as he hands him a bowl. “If it isn’t enough, just know that Do-hyun took one last scoop before we set this aside.”

“Traitor,” Do-hyun scowls at the younger man. “I couldn’t help it. It’s so good, right?” She turns to Jungkook now. “___ gatekeeps this! She says she’s too busy to make it and I only got her to do it now because I’m heartbroken.”

Jungkook smiles internally. You’ve made this for him a few times and it’s heartwarming to think that you had your reasons for doing so, knowing now that it’s not something you easily share.

“It’s way better than the one I make,” Jungkook says, glancing at you. “I can have this everyday.”

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells.

“Uh, yeah. I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?” Jungkook asks.

“Paying people to do things for you,” Do-hyun shrugs.

It’s a line he’s heard you say before and neither of you are wrong. It’s normal to make that assumption and it’s also true. He had people to do pretty much everything for him when he was in Singapore. He has that option here in Seoul, too, but he’s found himself wanting less people in his space for long periods of time. You’re really the only one he doesn’t mind being around him.

The conversation shifts to what happened in the afternoon, and you all end up talking about each team’s scavenger hunt experience and the anticipation for the next day’s obstacle course and relay games. A few more shots and bottles of beer later, the vibe turns more serious, as Manager Lee’s question to Do-hyun about how she’s feeling turns into an emotional session where she asks what she’s supposed to do about the man she was seeing, wondering if it’s worth reaching out or just moving on from him.

Chin-sun shares a piece of her mind and so does Yohan. Manager Lee says that sometimes, people don’t know what they want and isolate themselves in response. The pieces of advice are a mix of being patient and forgetting about the man, and you choose to observe rather than give an opinion. It’s always easy to say something but things could be totally different once you’re the one experiencing it. You think Jungkook feels the same, as he stays quiet but listens earnestly.

“What do you think, Mr. Ri?” Do-hyun asks. “You’re the oldest one here and would probably have a lot to say.”

“I wish I did but I wouldn’t say I’ve made the best decisions when it comes to my love life,” Mr. Ri laughs. “I mean, I’ve only ever loved one woman but I let her go. And that was over 20 years ago; I haven’t loved anyone that way since. I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

You watch everyone’s faces turn from shocked to somber. Mr. Ri, having been CEO Jeon’s right-hand man for a long time, has a stable and commanding presence. Everyone knows him to be loyal and firm, yet there’s a warmth about him with how protective and dependable he is. They all know about his commitment to his job, but his faithfulness to one person is perhaps surprising; he was never one to show much emotion, after all. But then again, people make sacrifices in the name of love - sometimes they give everything up for it, sometimes it’s what they let go of.

“Twenty years is a long time,” Do-hyun sighs. “And you never stopped. Where does all that love go?”

“I have people I care about,” Mr. Ri answers. “It goes to them. Obviously it’s different but I learned that if I keep all that love to myself, it hurts even more. That’s how I learned to live with the decision I made. It’s how I learned to let her go.”

“That’s so sad,” Do-hyun sniffles. “Here I am, heartbroken about a guy I was dating for only a few months while you’ve been harboring these feelings for decades.”

“It’s not about the length of time you were together or apart,” Mr. Ri shakes his head. “When you give a part of yourself to someone, losing them always hurts. That part of you is gone because they took it with them and you can’t take it back. So your pain is valid. We all love and grieve and move forward differently,” he says. “It’s all terrifying but that’s the irony of life, I’ve learned. The thing we all want and can’t live without is the same thing that hurts us the most, whether we have it or not.”

There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the elder man’s words. They cut deep, as you know they come from a place of deep pain. You don’t want to ever go through something that hurts that much.

“I’m too emotional,” Do-hyun sighs, not wanting to spend the rest of the evening crying and having everyone feel bad for her, so she shifts her attention to something else. “I want something juicy.” She briefly looks at Jungkook, who looks blankly at her, so she turns to you instead. “I don’t know much about your love life, ___.”

“Yes, because I don’t have one,” you chuckle, masking the nervousness you feel because talking about its inexistence in front of the man plaguing your mind was not something you planned for this trip.

“But I know you did,” she insists. “I mean, why wouldn’t you?”

“I think what Do-hyun means is that you’re a highly capable, kind, and attractive woman,” Chin-sun chimes in. “Surely there have been prospects for a relationship, yes?”

“Like Mr. Min!” Yohan says now. “I always thought you two were cute together. Do-hyun and I would bet on it since she says you’re not the type to date co-workers.”

“And she’s right,” you say, glancing at Jungkook whose face you can’t read. “Yoongi and I are good friends. That’s all we ever were.”

“Well, I think he’s very nice and he’d treat you well,” Yohan sighs. “But I guess it might be weird to date someone you work with. I have friends I can match you with!”

“That’s not necessary,” you laugh. “I don’t think relationships are for everyone.”

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

You contemplate on whether or not you’re ready for this conversation, especially since it’s the type you usually just have with your best friends. You suppose it’s why your colleagues claim they don’t know much about you other than the way you work because you don’t really share much about your life, your dreams, or the things you wonder about. You’ve always preferred to keep things to yourself, always worried about how they will be received.

But everyone’s allowed themselves to be vulnerable tonight, and given the distance you’ve created between you and them all these years, you think the least you could do is be honest. It’s a team building thing anyway, and people bond over shared experiences during these times.

“I’ve… dated people but it was never serious,” you start. “I never really saw myself committing to them. Sure, I’d give my time and energy but nothing more. There’s so much courage in loving another person. I just don’t think I’ll ever be brave enough for that. I mean, it’s just hard to control. Once you start, you can’t stop; once you do it too much, you can’t pull back.”

“Sounds to me like you’re afraid that you won’t receive as much as you give,” Manager Lee states. “It’s how love is, though. It’s not always equal. But that’s the risk you take, that’s the trust you build. That even when what’s given isn’t the same, there’s still love there.”

“But isn’t that the scary part of it all?” You counter. “Like what Mr. Ri said, you give a part of yourself to someone when you love them but what if they don’t want that specific part of you? Or they did then one day they decide they don’t anymore? So they just retreat and leave you out in the open. They’re safe but you’re not, because you broke down your walls for them but they didn’t do the same.”

“That’s the thing about finding the right person, ___,” Manager Lee says, with all the wisdom of a man who’s loved and lost and loved again. “You either trust that they won’t do that, or you accept that they could and you’d still think that loving them is worth all the pain that losing them would cost. In the end, you get to decide. If you keep yourself from feeling it, how are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t?”

You’ve heard versions of these words before, too. Soomin and Jimin, whose respective relationship ups and downs you’ve witnessed, have said themselves that committing yourself to someone takes a whole lot of faith in the person and in yourself. It’s because you’re giving them an opportunity to hurt you but you have to trust that they won’t. A lot of times, they do, so you then have to trust in your own ability to get over them.

The thoughts swim in your head and with your silence, Chin-sun gives you an encouraging smile. She’s a few years older than you and has experienced a lot when it comes to relationships, and you can sense that she understands your hesitation and your fear.

“It’s scary but when you find someone who makes you feel brave, that can make all the difference,” she says.

Admitting all this makes you feel exposed, especially when your eyes flit to Jungkook and you find him gazing at you, as if he’s trying to figure you out. You’re worried that any other move you make or things you say will lead him to uncovering your feelings that you acknowledge is beyond just physical attraction at this point.

You find yourself worrying about him constantly, wondering what he’s doing or if he’s getting proper rest. You’re always thinking about his smile and the sound of his laugh, and you imagine how much sweeter and softer they could get. You want him to be happy, to find his peace, to have something to look forward to. And you want to know what his touch feels and how it’s like to have him close.

You know all this is wrong because of who you are and who he is in this world, especially as you realize that you’ve never felt anything quite like this before. The fear makes itself even more known as it is embodied in the man across from you - so palpable and overwhelming that you can’t help but want more, and the more his eyes bore into you, the closer you are to giving in.

How are you to know what’s worth it and what isn’t if you don’t let yourself feel all of it? And if Jungkook makes you feel brave, then what if he’s the person you’re willing to break down your walls for?

You shake your head, knowing you can’t fall into the trap of your own mind. You need to be logical about this, but you also think that you’ve been that way all your life and it hasn’t brought you much happiness. At this point, you question what that looks like.

Maybe it looks like him. Maybe it’s also life without him.

How do people make decisions like this? You wonder. How do they know how much pain they can bear? And when does it become worth it?

“Wise words,” you manage to say after a tense silence. “You make it sound simple.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Chin-sun says. “Human beings are complicated, ___, so are our emotions. Love makes people stupid. But it also makes us brave and happy and complete. And when it’s shared with the right person, god it feels so good.”

You’re able to get her to share about her own experience and remove the spotlight away from you. Manager Lee narrates his serendipitous love story as well, and the serious tone of the conversation turns into a giddy, enjoyable one. You find yourself constantly glancing at Jungkook, liking his soft smiles and giggles as the stories are told. He briefly meets your eyes during some moments though, and that’s when you look away.

The night ends when he announces that everyone should get some rest and prepare for tomorrow’s activities, so you all clean up and wish each other a good night. Your eyes linger on Jungkook as he walks back to his villa, and you turn away before he does the same, the yearning for him getting stronger as each day passes.

The sun shines beautifully over the lake as you lean on the railing overlooking the water. The clouds over the mountains look like the fog that cleared earlier, and the majestic way that the scenery is framed by the blue skies is absolutely stunning.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Jungkook hums from several meters next to you. “I never really bothered to appreciate this view before.”

“It is,” you say, turning to him as he continues to gaze at the scene before you while you gaze at him. If he notices from his periphery, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s breathtaking. I could take a picture but that wouldn’t give this justice.”

“I can try,” he says, reaching out to ask for your phone. “I’m good at this.”

You indulge him and watch as he finds the right angle to beautifully capture the surroundings. He asks if you want him to take another photo with you in it this time, and though you’re a little shy, you let him.

You warm at how natural your smile looks, realizing that you were focusing on his smile while he was taking the picture. The view looks surreal but you’re in there, and it’s a reminder of where you are and who you’re with. Jungkook remarks that it’s a nice shot before turning back to the water, and while you wish you were braver and had asked to take one with him so you could hold onto this memory, you know you’ll look at this photo of you and also remember what you’re feeling. There’s so much calm and clarity, and you know it’s not just because of the mountains.

The tension and fear that filled you up last night have slowly turned into a sense of relief. The distance that once bothered you about Jungkook now gives you comfort. No matter how far or unattainable he may be, you still feel his presence - his warmth is in the peacefulness of a park at night, or in the calmness of the lake, or in the safety of your neighborhood library. You never imagined that one Jeon Jungkook would ever make you feel this way, and if he’s someone who makes you be brave to feel something new, maybe you owe it to him and to yourself to be brave to pursue that, too.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Yohan yells that breakfast is ready. You all gather in the common dining room for some dumpling soup before a short planning session to give you time to digest. At 9:30, the first activity begins, with all six of you divided into two teams to finish an obstacle course.

It gets competitive when you’re teamed up with the younger ones, as Do-hyun and Yohan attempt to trash talk the others. They give it their all, especially when they see Jungkook dominating the kayaking part of the course, but the three of you manage in the end. A part of you feels that the other team just wanted to make the younger ones win only to use it against them later on, but the fun and excitement are what matter.

You enjoy some meat and stew for lunch and have another planning session before doing the afternoon games, which has Jungkook on the losing team again. He comes up with a last minute individual game that gives Manager Lee the chance to win this time, and the afternoon ends with all of you, excluding him, winning prizes you can enjoy after this.

The free time before dinner has you reading your book by the lake and then talking with Chin-sun in the hammock while the rest of the team enjoy the sunset and some beer. You’re thankful that this time, Mr. Ri was tasked to handle all the activities instead of you, and so you’re able to focus on spending time with your colleagues.

You grill meat again for dinner, roast marshmallows over the campfire, and passionately sing off-key in the karaoke. But unlike last night, people decide to go to bed early, definitely tired from today’s physical activities.

You’re exhausted as well but somehow, the pull of the cold evening air is too strong, so you decide to walk to the main house and grab a bottle of beer. When you walk out to the deck, you’re surprised to find Jungkook seated on a lounge chair outside of his villa, glass in hand as he looks up at the sky.

Jungkook savors the crisp breeze, knowing that once he gets back to Seoul, all he’ll have is the musty air and the buzzing sounds of the city. He wants to remember this weekend and the peace he felt. Maybe he should’ve taken a photo of the view this morning like he did for you; he at least has the one of you in it that he took ingrained in his mind. You looked so calm and happy; he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face then.

He’s trying to keep as much of today in his memory as he can, knowing how hectic it’s going to be when you all get back. Other than the amount of fun he didn’t expect to have with the team, he enjoyed seeing a different side of you.

You were competitive but encouraging, probably not the most athletic but definitely capable. He could pick out your squeals and laughter and he thought they were sweet and hypnotic, and he appreciated how thoughtful you were during dinner, making sure everyone had enough to eat, especially him. You would catch his attention to ask if his meat is okay or if he’s feeling comfortable; he hated that it all ended so soon. Though he shouldn’t, he wanted more time with you. It’s different being out here than it is in the office or even in his home. Here, he’s unguarded and a lot more free, and he’s able to make more sense of how you affect him; in a way, he’s able to truly feel all that you make him feel.

There’s so much of you in his mind but you’re not around, so he stands up to head to bed already, hoping he’d at least see you in his dreams. But when he turns towards the door, he sees a silhouette in the main house’s deck. And as if the universe is giving him some sign, he finds you there, standing by the post with a beer in hand. You lift the bottle in cheers and he lifts his drink in return, sipping every last drop he could.

He sees you grab another bottle from the outdoor fridge then place it on the coffee table, an invitation to join you that he’s glad you make. He would’ve been too hesitant to make the move, unsure of your willingness to be in his presence.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask as he nears the couch.

He sits next to you, the short distance a little too tempting to close.

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

“Not really. I don’t get much of the outdoors back in my tiny apartment,” you chuckle.

“Fair enough. The weather’s been nice, fortunately. Not like the last time we were out of town, yeah?”

“Yeah, fortunately,” you shyly look at him, not saying more, perhaps unsure if it’s something he’s ready to talk about.

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I’ve accepted you having witnessed my extreme moment of weakness. You were patient and understanding even when I was angry and I… I don’t know if I’ve thanked you enough for that.”

“You have, and I understand it all. But Jungkook, what happened at that guest house is not weakness,” you insist. “That’s… dealing with a painful memory.”

“That wasn’t dealing, ___. I was suffering. That's… that’s what happens when someone doesn’t know how to move on from something.”

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder.

“Well, the nightmares tend to happen when the thunder is really loud,” he says. “Otherwise I just get really anxious, like when it rains, my brain just expects things to get bad.”

“What do you do when it does?”

“I don’t know how I manage, actually,” he answers. “I usually forget and just remember that I wake up dry in my bed. I mean, I’d be sweating but not soaked. I guess that night, I was just too nervous because the rain was so strong, we were on the road. And I was somewhere completely unfamiliar with you. I… I think that made it worse.”

Your silence prompts him to clarify. “I mean, I didn’t want you to see me that way, that’s why it was worse,” he states. “It’s not a side of me I’m proud of. Which is silly thinking about it now because you’ve seen a lot of sides of me that I’m not proud of. All of them, actually.”

“So you’re not proud of the side of you that protected me? That made sure I was safe? That rushed to find me when I was stuck in the rain?” You ask.

“It’s what any decent human being would do,” he dismisses. “Those just probably stand out because I wasn’t exactly one in the beginning.”

“Well, you had Mr. Ri drive me. You’d make me go home early sometimes, too.”

“___, again, that’s what a decent boss should be doing. It’s the bare minimum. You deserve more kindness than you’re receiving. I… I should have been that to you from the start.”

“We’ve moved past that, remember? It’s all okay. I managed, I stayed. And I’m glad I did. I got to learn so much from you,” you assure him. “And you deserve more kindness than you’re receiving, too.”

Jungkook hums. He wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to freely talk to you about all this - about how he was before and how he’s been recently. And like always, you’re gentle with him. He could only hope you’re as gentle as you are with yourself, something he doesn’t know how to do.

“I… I hope you’ve found ways to cope with all that you went through,” he says, turning away from you in shame. “I… I’m still learning.”

“It’s a process, and it’s not an easy one. No one really tells you how to do it. You kind of just… find your way,” you share. “But just think that the thunder doesn’t last long. It’s going to pass. So maybe when it starts raining, you can do what I did. Just cover your ears to block out the sounds. All we can do sometimes is shield ourselves from it, you know? It would scare us a little less.”

“I don’t even remember how you did it,” he admits. “I felt so out of it that night.”

“But did it help?” You ask.

He nods in response. “I wasn’t alone. I think that was the first time in a long time.”

“When you are, just do what I do,” you say, turning towards him and closing the distance to cover his ears with your hands. “Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly. The hollowness will drown out the sounds until they stop.”

Jungkook’s eyes swim in yours. He can’t tell you that he doubts it’d work without you, since your comforting look and your calm voice are what made him pull through. But still, he knows that imagining you’re there would definitely help.

“Edge of the palms or your fingers then press tightly,” he repeats, almost like a whisper. “Got it.”

You smile and it’s like a spell for him, as he mindlessly puts his hands over yours and slowly brings them down. He’s so lost in you that he only realizes he’s still holding your hands when you look down, so he immediately pulls away.

“Who taught you how to do that?” He asks, masking his embarrassment.

“My mom,” you answer, shifting back on your seat and looking out at the horizon. “My dad copped out before he knew I existed and she was too heartbroken to ask for him back. It took a while but she eventually found another man. I was pretty young then. He was okay, but then he lost his job and things went downhill from there.”

Jungkook sees the way your face falls and he already knows his heart is going to break for you.

“He would drink a lot and they’d fight all the time. He’d yell and yell, and then yell some more,” you narrate. “Mom would make me hide in the closet or under the bed just so I’d hear less of it. Thunder used to scare me, too; it sounded like his banging on the wall when he’d scream at her but eventually, I realized the roar drowns him out so I welcomed it. But I would just cover my ears and think of happy thoughts like she said. Sometimes she’d come to me and do it like I did with you. I always liked that better.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, wanting to take your hand back and comfort you in any way. “You shouldn’t have experienced that.”

“Life isn’t fair sometimes,” you sigh, having accepted the hand you were dealt. “My mom and I got out and she found someone who loves and respects her. And we just found ways to deal with the pain, you know? We could only bury it for so long. And so covering my ears just became a habit as I grew up. It was a way to battle all that.”

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

“It’s like a general coping mechanism of some sort,” you explain. “Sometimes the loud sounds come from inside, too. Thoughts of not being good enough, of being selfish, of not deserving of happiness… I mean, they come from others but they stay in my head. I have to cover my ears to stop them from overwhelming me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking away in shame when you turn to him questioningly. “You did that several times during my first weeks. I know I… I said things that hurt you.”

“Hey, it’s okay. It was hard for everyone and like I said, I forgive you. But I've been told worse things,” you shake your head. “You’ve heard some of them.”

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

“I know. That’s why I walked away. It’s easy to do that when you don’t give much of yourself to them. And I do it all the time,” you say. “I never really stay.”

“Would you stay if you found the right person?”

You remember a conversation with him months ago, about people being temporary and how they’d only stay if they had a reason to. It’s safe to say that finding the right person would be your reason, but that also makes it harder.

“I probably would,” you respond. “And I think that scares me, too.”

“Why?” He asks.

“What if I would stay for them? But they won’t stay for me?”

Jungkook leaves your question unanswered, knowing there’s nothing he can say that would sufficiently validate your fear nor comfort you about it. His own past relationship doesn’t give him any right - Chaerin left him but he gave her all the reasons to; she walked away and he did the same. Sometimes he wonders if she’d lost him before he lost her. He also doesn’t know if he loved her so much that he let her go, or if he didn’t love her enough to make her stay. Maybe it was neither. Or maybe he was just too scared - that she’d reject him, or that he wouldn’t be able to love her better if he she came back, he doesn’t know. He was never brave enough to find out.

He lets the silence linger, prompting you to remark that the conversation is too sad for a night as pretty as tonight.

“We should probably head to bed, though,” he suggests. “We still have stuff in the morning then a long ride home. I don’t have to remind you how hectic this next week is gonna be.”

“You just did,” you frown, earning you a laugh. “But I agree. Thank you for keeping me company tonight.”

Your shy smile makes his breath hitch. He wants this to go on for longer but he knows he might just let his guard down even more, maybe share about his other pains and frustrations and worries about life. Maybe he’ll end up moving closer to you, close enough that he’d smell your classic rose scent that makes his mind feel hazy. Maybe he’ll want more, and he reminds himself of all the boundaries he shouldn’t cross, and that crossing them may push you away.

So he says goodnight and you both walk towards your respective villas, looking back one more time before heading inside.

You’re all he thinks about for the rest of the night. His gaze follows you all through the next morning, too. He misses your presence when he leaves for Seoul in his own car, and he’s back to being a giddy mess when you message him, saying you hope he got home safely.

It almost feels like the weekend was a dream and when Monday comes, he has to remind himself that he’s back to reality and that includes how he should be when it comes to you. Those days remain in his memory, but when you enter his apartment that morning with the softest smile, and when you meet his eyes as you fix his necktie, he knows it wasn’t a dream. And that somehow, just like him, you wish it didn’t have to end.

It’s been over a week since the team building and you haven’t really moved on from all that happened during those three days. There was the joy of being with your colleagues and the companionship you felt thankful to have. There was also the tranquility of the lake and the refreshing environment that rejuvenated you, making you wish you were back there, especially as you sort through the printed photos from your disposable camera and see the pretty views that you already miss.

There’s that photo you took of Jungkook by the stream that you’ve been staring at, another reason why you want to go back to that time. His eyes are warm and his smile is soft and subtle, unforced and just as captivating. It’s quite calming, and it’s the image that you hold onto later that Thursday evening when you’re piled under loads of paperwork. It’s past 6PM but you can’t afford to leave yet, and the only good thing about it is that he’s still around, and you get to sneak in some glances through the window.

You’ve become that person, smitten by her attractive boss and definitely stupid enough to be overwhelmed by her emotions. You haven’t stopped thinking about him. Everyday that you enter his space, the desire to know him more gets stronger; with every common place you step into, you keep wishing he’d ask you to stay close, that he’d invite you to somewhere reserved for those he lets in. Every time your fingers brush, you’re reminded of the way his hands felt on top of yours and how you wanted him to keep them there, and every look you share makes you hope that you’re not the only one in this mess of emotions. And that if you’ll give in, so would he.

You’re not quite sure what he feels, but if his shy smiles and the way he intensely looks at you before looking away mean anything, then you could at least say that there’s definitely something there. You just don’t know if he would acknowledge it or if like you, it’s gotten too strong that you’re unable to think clearly or act rationally.

Finally done with the last item on your task list for today, you start to pack up. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits from his room to return a portfolio he took earlier and place it on your desk. You’re about to pick it up but he says you should just leave it there and fix it tomorrow.

But you disregard him. You retrieve the stool and attempt to return the portfolio on the top shelf. It’s a little heavy but you manage; you even start fixing the others that moved because Jungkook’s been getting them these past days. You’re about to step down when you hear his heavy sigh.

“I told you to do that tomorrow,” he groans, walking towards you.

With your back turned, you reply, “I like starting my days with a tidy desk, okay?”

“It’s just one portfolio,” he points out.

“It still takes up so much space. It makes my table look messy.”

“You still could’ve waited. Or you could’ve asked me to help,” he insists, continuing to reprimand you as you try to step down the stool.

He’s a little close, blocking your view of the floor, and that’s why you miss a step and trip again, your squeal echoing throughout the empty floor. You think your heart racing is about to join in on the sounds, too, as it quickens when you realize that Jungkook has caught you by your waist, his tight grip on you sending shivers down your spine.

He’s gotten even closer, as you look up and find his scrunched eyebrows and worried eyes staring back at you. The tension starts to rise but you manage to tell him that you’re fine after he asks if you’re hurt.

“I’m sure,” you tell him. “You caught my fall. Again.”

You giggle and that’s what makes him let out a laugh as well. Your left hand holds onto the shelf but his hands remain on you. He’s still a breath away but you suddenly don’t mind, as your right hand mindlessly makes its way to rest on his arm. At this moment, this feels right. You’re all alone in your little bubble with him where you’re all he sees and he’s all you can breathe in.

His bergamot scent wafts through your nose. You can count his eyelashes and see the scar on his cheek that you never noticed. He’s even more breathtaking up close, and as if all reason evaporates from your body, you don’t pull away. You want him just like this.

On second thought, you want him even closer.

“You’re a clumsy woman, aren’t you?” He says, his voice low and deep. “This isn’t the first time that I’m breaking your fall.”

“Well, if you would just be quiet while I’m attempting to go down, then that wouldn’t be a problem,” you breathily giggle, inching the tiniest bit forward.

“Well, if you just listened to me the first time, then you wouldn't have to climb up there,” he responds, earning him a playful roll of your eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, too.”

“So I’ve heard,” you match his teasing. “Can't help it sometimes.”

“So you acknowledge it?” He raises an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say much more nervously now, meeting his eyes. It’s like you’re hypnotized again, caught in some spell where being in his presence makes you honest and uninhibited. “I mean, I feel things I shouldn’t feel and want people I shouldn’t want,” you add. “Doesn’t that make me stubborn?”

“What’s stopping you from feeling them? From having them?” He asks, his voice remaining low and his eyes, even more piercing and desperate now as they stare back at you.

His thumbs lightly caress your waist and his touch electrifies you through the thin material of your blouse. There’s so much to say and it’s way more complicated, just as your feelings for him are. You can’t help but eye his lips, soft and pink, and the desire to know what they taste like intensifies, prompting you to nibble your own.

“What’s stopping me?” You pant now, your gaze flitting from his eyes back to his lips, with him doing the same. “The ways of the world. And some… boundary that pulls me back, a line that I don’t know he’s ready to cross for me.”

The words actualize your fears the moment you say them. You know all the reasons why wanting him is wrong. But there’s a small part of you that wants to give in, and it’s terrified that he wouldn’t, that he’d dismiss what you feel and pull away. The way he’s been with you and the way he’s holding you right now spark that sliver of hope you have that he feels the same way, but it’s also the same moment that he lets you go, perhaps realizing that he’s not willing to take the risk the way you are.

He releases you from his hold and steps back, creating distance, and you suddenly feel bare - exposed and unguarded without his touch. He looks at you in panic, in apology, in fear, as if he’d had some sense knocked into him, as if he awakened from some spell that pushed him close to you, only to realize that that’s a place he can’t go.

“I—”

“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

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occamstfs · 1 year ago

Text

Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-”

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway?

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.”

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.”

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.”

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do.

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head.

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!”

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.”

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #jockification #himbofication #hair growth #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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recordmemes · 5 days ago

Text

༘⋆｡ hard conversations starters

for those hard conversations you have to have sometimes. romantic, platonic, familial, & a few others!

i don't know how to say this without hurting you.

you've been so different lately...

i've been trying to say this for a while now.

i know i messed up. i just need you to listen.

did you fall out of love with me?

you don't have to forgive me.

at what point did you decide i wasn't worth the effort?

why didn't you tell me?

why is love in this family always conditional?

please just say something.

i've spent my whole life trying to be enough for you.

i'm scared if we talk about this, we're going to fall apart.

do you even want to fix this anymore?

you were supposed to be the one person who wouldn't give up on me!

tell me what to do. tell me what you need.

if this is the end, i want to hear you say it.

i'm scared you're only here because it's easier to stay.

i can't keep pretending nothing happened.

you left me to clean up the pieces of what you broke.

you act like you're fine but i can tell you're not.

i can't keep holding this in anymore.

it feels like you don't need me anymore.

was it easier to ghost me than admit you gave up?

say it. say you never loved me.

when did we stop being on the same side?

sometimes i wish i'd never met you.

loving someone isn't supposed to feel like this.

why is it so hard to talk to you without feeling small?

i'm tired of being the one who holds it all together.

if you cared, you would've stayed.

i'm trying to learn how to forgive you.

#rp meme #rp starters #starter meme #rp prompts #sentence meme #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #request

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pha55ed · 6 months ago

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I'll Be Home || F1/F2

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, ollie, paul, pepe

summary :: you introduce him to your family, he's terrified by he still pulls through

xmas celly here! || f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist

Carlos Sainz | 55

When you told Carlos to come to your family's party, he instantly accepted with glee. Except, right after he began to panic and process the preparation needed to go into this. It was sweet to see his smile drop so quickly, meaning he put his thinking mode on.

Despite Carlos being loved by so many, he's still so nervous. You both sit in the car for almost 5 minutes just chatting to help calm him down. He's fidgeting with his hands, pushing his hair back and forth to perfect it, and he's doing his best to remember the ice-breakers he learned online.

"I promise, they'll love you no matter what." You say, grabbing his hands to stop his constant fidgeting. "You're going to do great!"

You knew he was going to try and "but" you so you quickly jumped outside the car. Which made his jaw drop, since he swore to forever open every door for you, no matter what. Instantly, he runs outside of the car and before you can even step 2 feet away from the car, he gently pushes you back into the car and shut the door.

He's saying something outside of the door, definitely complaining about losing his streak. By the time he opens the door for you, gently reaching for your hand to bring you inside, you can see most of your family outside ready to greet you.

Carlos is embarrassed, terrified that he just seemed like a controlling monster. But you knew your family, and you knew they would have adored his commitment to treating you like a princess. And you were right, they greeted him with welcome arms and loved his gesture.

Charles Leclerc | 16

He was well prepared for this day. It was like he was training to be in the military. The day you invited him to your family dinner, he's been grinding day and night to create the most perfect answers and conversation starters. He had his outfit ready and steamed, shoes cleaned, and even did an intense night routine to prepare.

So when he comes to your family's house, he's well prepared. You can't help but try to hold your laugh back at how serious he's taking this all. All your effort to hold back the laugh instantly comes out the second Charles begin to speak to them, because his chill-rich-nonchalant act came apart so quickly.

Your family brings up anything and instantly Charles is unable to hold back a fun fact he knows. Even something as random as a bananas then turned into: "Did you know if you add them to smoothies, it actually ruins the vitamins of the other fruits? I also dressed up as one on stream haha! Look!"

He's also unable to hold the touch guy persona with the kids. They instantly melt him, making stupid jokes with them. He's severely behind on trends though... Mentioning whips and nae-naes, the troll face, and G-mod. But that's fine, it makes the kids giggle at his old knowledge.

He's even acting like a fool with the dog. Trying to get the dogs to sit, roll over, and failing miserably. It makes everyone laugh and chuckle at him. But it's not at his expense, but instead at the pure energy he has to become part of this family. Which makes him instantly accepted by everyone in your family, including the dogs.

Lando Norris | 04

Before his fuck-boy reputation, there was rookie-Lando. The sweet boy who didn't grow pubes yet,,, somehow... And although you met Lando in his new era, filled with confidence and sass, you saw the real him behind his persona.

His palms were sweating, his voice was slightly higher, and his smile was flashing every second out of nerves. Anyone could tell he was nervous, he looked like a high schooler about to give a presentation. You two sat in the car, about to leave but he gently asked you:

"Can we stay in here for a minute?" He asks, turning to you as he fixes his sweater.

You were confused slightly. It was normal when you asked to stay in the car for a minute to redo your lip combo, since he usually ate it off of you. But Lando doesn't have a lip combo, or any makeup at all.

"I'm just," He could tell you were puzzled, "Nervous.. I wanna just talk to you, get the nerves out."

You smile at his words, he looked so cute being so nervous to meet your family of weirdos. "Lando, you'll do great! I know for a fact that they're going to love-"

"No no. I don't need reassurance or anything, thank you though love." He cuts you off. "I just, jus' want to talk to you. You calm me down."

"Talk about what?" You ask.

"Anything." He shrugs. "You just, calm me down." He says, making you smile from his simple yet impactful words. "You're like a walking vape."

"Oh shut up!" You smack him playfully, "You ruined a good moment!" Chuckling at his comment. But your chuckle brought a smile to his face, but this time it was a genuine smile.

Not out of nervousness or fear, but a real smile. Your laugh was able to brighten him up within a split second. And that's all he needed. Because truthfully, he didn't care too much of what your family thought of him. Of course he wanted them to like him, but he's able to accept other's opinions. All he really cared for was that you loved him, and he knew you did.

Oscar Piastri | 81

"Should I wear my midnight blue tie or navy blue tie?" Oscar asks, holding both up for you to look at. He was sweating bullets at the idea of meeting your entire family for the first time. Even though you reassured him endlessly that your family would love him, he wasn't certain on it.

"Either works, love" You say, trying your best to multi-task answering his stupid questions while getting ready yourself. You knew he wasn't trying to be annoying. It was cute to you that he was so nervous, despite him being on the verge of a breakdown.

"Okay what about white or black socks?" You told him white. "What length though? Above or below the ankle???" You told him above. "Okay, but should I pick the ones with a logo or no logo-"

"Oscar." You said firmly. He gulped, he knew he should have picked the no logo socks, what a stupid question! But that wasn't what you were going to say. "I promise you'll be perfectly fine. They don't care what you wear, how you sound, or even what you like."

"I know, I know, but I don't want to disappoint them." He says before remembering, "Oh shit! We need to leave soon! I need to pick up the bouquets I ordered for your family on the way there-"

You couldn't help but laugh at him. Every question he asked was just further proof that would be perfectly fine meeting them all. You had no doubts that your family would adore him: which they did.

Oliver Bearman | 87

The second Ollie stepped foot into your family's party, he was bombarded with questions. Bringing a tall, handsome, and talented young man into your family automatically made him lovable. They almost forgot about the fact that the only reason he was there was because of you.

He can't escape the grandmas and aunties fawning over how cute he is and all the uncles can't stop bothering him with questions about cars. Even your little cousins love him, asking him annoying questions that he handled really well.

Before you know it, he's carrying your baby cousin in one arm, holding a paper plate filled to the brim with food, wearing your uncle's hat that he insisted suited Ollie more, and being forced to tell everyone his facebook so they can stalk him.

The night lasted hours, but thankfully all your family got drunk or sleepy. Meaning you two were able to escape from the party. The second you're in the car, he sighs. It confused you, was he tired? Relieved to leave? Sad???

"Do you think they liked me?" He asks you. Which you instantly want to slam his head into the window.

"Yes Ollie, they liked you." You say with a smile, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "They loved you."

Paul Aron | 17

You've met Paul's family many times due to them being extremely present in his life. His sister always makes sure to check on him, taking you out for little gossip coffee dates. His brother is constantly calling Paul, making sure to tease him endlessly. And his parents are always there to encourage you two and take you on their family vacations.

So now that it's Paul's turn to be part of your family, he feels so nervous. He's ruffling up his hair for the 100th time, mumbling the lines he practiced to say. It's just a small get together for the holiday season, but Paul insisted that he should still be dressed nicely.

Once you arrive, you're on time... By 10 minutes. Despite you insisting that no one ever comes early to a family party, he doesn't care. He'd much rather be early and help set up than be late and risk ruining his first impression. Besides, if there's less people, then he can make sure he talks to every single family member.

And his plan worked really well. He's helping set up the plates and utensils while chatting with your aunt about how he loves her decor. Making her feel appreciated, finally someone saw the effort she put into picking the perfect width of a fork handle!

He helps your uncle prepare the back yard by opening all the lounge chairs. Which lets him make small talk with him, where they both find out that they love Star Wars. Now your uncle loves him because he can finally talk to someone who's as passionate as him.

Paul keeps doing this with every family member that arrives, being able to talk to them each one on one in order to create a bond. Because in group settings, Paul tends to get a tad bit nervous. He doesn't know when to jump in or what to say instantly.

By doing this, you both return home with every single family member loving him. And each of them remembering him from the little facts he shared with them. He was so respectful, engaged, and sweet the entire day. You couldn't help but just want to shower him in kisses for putting in so much effort and energy into your family.

Pepe Marti | 21

"Tall and tan and young and lovely," are lyrics dedicated to a girl but they perfectly fit Pepe. Because he instantly charms the entire family with his sweet smile and handsome looks. You're worried that he might get stolen from you by the end of the night.

He's just a future uncle in training. Making all the aunts laugh with quick jokes and then heading outside to sip on a beer while helping light a fire. He's even forced to help clean the grill and get a new gas tank to light it up.

You feel so much more mature now, no longer feeling part of the cousin crew but instead a future auntie in the making. He makes you feel so domestic, so warm and nurtured that the only thing you want to do is share the love of being cared for.

And you can't help but just fall for him deeper. And the same goes for him.

Despite being assigned random tasks to complete, he always makes sure to check up on you. Giving you a quick peck on the cheek as he walks back and forth from the kitchen to the yard. Making sure to shut down any rude comments from your aunts by turning it into a joke. Squeezing your hand three times under the dinner table to remind you that he loves you.

He couldn't have been more perfect.

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula 2 #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #paul aron x reader #pepe marti x reader #xmas celly!

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hivemuthur · 5 months ago

Text

Nothing's New - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut to come somewhere mid-way through

Ch.1. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 7,2K

tag: #nothings new

summary: More meetings, welcomed and unwelcomed + some foreshadowing. Nothing exactly smutty in this chapter, but I'm leaving it on explicit rating, for reasons of angst and generally adult emotions. Also, I should go to writer's jail for starting so many fics with dialogue.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Why the fuck are you only telling me this now?” You fume over the phone. A sloppy text message from Mel has made you stop in the middle of the street. Now. Now, when you are heading to act out your pretend chance meeting with Viktor. Now, when you are ten minutes away from the drop point and haven’t finished replaying all possible conversation starters in your head yet. Now, when your knuckles are white from clutching your coffee cup. Now, when you are bathed in the cold sweat of fear and the hot sweat of the temperature. Why now. Why now.

I feel you should know this. Viktor is seeing someone. Please don’t eat me.

You are going to fucking eat her and clean your teeth with her bones.

“Jayce spilled just recently. He was afraid I would tell you.” Oh, the irony. Mel is whispering on the phone, which indicates that Jayce is around, and her clock is ticking. “Apparently it’s been going on for about six weeks. It’s someone from work.”

“What?! Six weeks? What was that scene at your party then?!” To counter Mel’s whispering, you are screaming. White-hot anger surges through your veins, blinding fury. The audacity. The audacity to make you feel bad for doing something adjacent to moving on when he himself has moved on weeks ago. People scoff as they walk past you, and you glare daggers at them. Fuck off.

“I understand this is… hard, but… I thought you were happy with Paul? Maybe this is the way to fix this?” your friend offers carefully. Very carefully.

“I am happy. I am so fucking happy it makes me sick,” you spit into the speaker against Mel’s sigh. The thought of Paul makes you feel guilty. Your entire relationship has been built on guilt poisoning your reason. But the thought of Viktor. With someone else. That’s different.

“This is all I know. Jayce is leaving, I have to run!” Mel ignores your protests, puts the speaker an inch away from her mouth, and sends you three in-air kisses. You almost throw your phone into the trash bin. You almost slap a person walking past you who gives you a sodden look. You almost kick a beer can under your feet with the force of a rugby player.

This is so, so different. The thought of you and Paul suddenly makes you sad. The way he is a picture of kind insecurity, even though most of him is mouthwatering. There are ugly parts of him, yet invisible to the naked eye. He makes the thought of being touched by someone other than Viktor bearable.

Viktor touched you like he was keeping you. His claiming hands, a constant reminder of his yearning. Which is why, when he stopped, you forgot. You became unkept. A stray in a shelter, getting food, water, and blankets, but no carer. And you could’ve lived without all of those, but not without the belonging. For you, it decayed much sooner than for Viktor.

And then Paul found you. He stumbled upon the pieces of you, left to be picked up and put back together. And Paul touched you like he was asking for permission to be kept. So the two of you strays agreed to keep each other. With time, his touch became familiar; it had overridden the default touch of Viktor. It became comforting, consoling. You never long for it, but you always welcome it. And you no longer need a keeper.

And Paul is a man that everyone envies you for. He’s a man that steals glances and twists the necks of women who congratulate themselves for having a decadent taste in men. In fact, Paul just looks like he fucks well and would make a good dad in the future. He’s hot, but not intimidating, smart, but not a buffoon. Clingy and needy at times. He gets angry in traffic and then patronises you when you freak out about weak Wi-Fi. He has a sadness and kindness to him that makes him a whole human. And sometimes, a whole human is more than you can bear.

You wonder, who is this woman who found pieces of Viktor, and how has she put them back together? If she did. If he let her. If he is in pieces at all.

You feel yourself in fragments, appearing and disappearing, as you approach the shop. And oh God, he is there, and Jayce is running late. Viktor is... picking a bed.

Your shirt clings to you awfully, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the shop window—face red, remnants of foaming anger visible at the corners of your mouth twisted downwards, hair all messy from digging your hand into it, and two fucking sweat stains under your armpits. Great. Just great.

Why is he picking a bed? Is his bed soaked with you, and he wants a fresh one for the new woman? Is he ready for someone else’s scent so soon? You aren’t ready for him being ready.

You snort up three breaths in a row, no exhales. You hold them until one of your feet steps through the door, announced by a bell. Before your mind can throw you something—anything—you’ve prepared, you feel yourself walking up to him, and you hear yourself blurting out, “Why are you buying a bed?”

Viktor, who is standing by a frame much bigger than the one you two used to sleep in, looks up at you slowly, his lips disappearing into a thin line. “Because I need a bed. And hello.”

“What’s wrong with the old bed?” Unbelievably, you’ve lost all of your common sense. All that matters is why Viktor needs a new bed. His eyebrows raise, and he… smiles. With a horrible, smarmy curve of his lips.

“I don’t have a bed anymore,” he answers sweetly, acid dripping off his tongue.

He didn’t have the bed anymore. For months, he had slept on his tiny couch, which had significantly buggered his spine. But he couldn’t bear it—the bed had smelled of you, and whenever he came near it, it was as if you were still there, lying there, waiting for him. At first, he had wanted to burn it. He asked Jayce for help, and Jayce was frightened. He fidgeted around Viktor and asked him wary questions like, “Are you sure this is what you want?” or, “Isn’t it illegal?”

Viktor scoffed at the last one. He was convinced that if he had told the police why he was burning a bed, they would have helped him do it. But since he was in no shape to chop it with an axe while picturing your face or drive it out of town to build a pillar of hate to pay his respects to you in an eternal flame, he settled on a Craigslist deal. Some poor fucker wanted a bed in exchange for a book. It happened to be the first edition of Naked Lunch. The poor fucker had no idea.

You would have loved it. So he burned it instead.

He burned it on the balcony in the middle of the night, hoping it would make him feel better. Hoping you would feel the tickle of the flames around your soul as he purged it from his being. Hoping that this symbolic act of destroying a piece of literary history would also destroy his feeling of this—this thing he dared not name.

And now, he has just collected a shiny new set of keys to his apartment that he is going to give to Julia the next day. Not to live together, too early for that. But to come and go as she pleases. He will do things differently now. He will do them better this time.

And it is easier, because Jules isn’t so co-dependent. She is collected and pretty. She is alright with anything Viktor proposes. She never challenges him and manages to be funny on rare occasions. They have a lot in common, and it feels comfortable. Yes, Jules is an easy ride—one that he needs after his road through hell.

“What happened to the old bed?” you insist. You loved that bed. It was small and cozy and soft, and Viktor would always jokingly complain about it. And then he would really complain about it, because when he wanted to be far away from you, the softness of the mattress would suck you both into the middle by morning, like a black hole.

His vile smirk turns into a full, shit-eating grin. “It’s gone,” he says coldly. “I hated it. It was bad for my back. Why are you here?” He shoots you a look, and you feel a new wave of sweat pushing itself through your skin.

“I saw you in the window,” you blurt out idiotically, as if that would explain anything. You bite the inside of your cheek, your face contorting into a new expression every second. How utterly mortifying.

“And? You thought you could say hello?” He shifts his weight onto the cane, pinning you like a butterfly on one of those museum boards. Splayed flat, stretched and dried out, dust under anyone’s prying fingers. “Or… you thought it was proper to just come in and be disturbingly weird?”

“I— What? I am not being weird! I’m asking you a question, and you lie to my face,” you hiss, your tone defensive. Oh, he has caught you. His eyes glint, clearly pleased with your mind struggling to formulate a proper comeback.

“Disturbingly weird it is, then,” he deadpans, that fucking smirk still on his face.

Weird. He remembers it so well. He didn’t want to, yet the sensation burned itself into his brain. Even more now, as the act of burning history had the opposite effect of what he desired. After the last remnants of Naked Lunch lifted into the hot summer air and disappeared into glimmering dust, he felt himself stepping into the weird club. The way your weirdness was fascinating and hot. The way his was full of fear and remained unaccepted.

You were neurotic but refused to acknowledge it fully, even though you wore it as a verbal badge. The constant fidgeting, moving objects around, slow pacing across the room as you read your books, always with a soundtrack because your mind needed distractions to remain focused. You could sing a song and read a book simultaneously, and Viktor loved it. He lived to observe all those people encapsulated within you, every single one incomplete, as if you were made of a bunch of different personas.

The fidgeting became overwhelming when he asked you to move in with him. It had been fast, and he owned it—the recklessness of the decision. He left you a way out: keep your old place, just in case. The “just in case” came in handy three years later, when you returned to a dark cage shrouded in dust.

But back then, you had no idea what to do with yourself once your stuff travelled with you to Viktor’s. When you were a guest, the pressure was less. You could move things around, and he would put them back where they belonged after you left. Now, you debated heavily before touching anything. Your books splayed on the floor, your records in a box, while you moved from place to place trying to figure out the value of a random bundle of tomes that some poor soul had sold to your boss for a stupidly small sum.

Viktor was sitting at his desk, trying to work, but your groans made him wince, and your skittish movements lingered in the corner of his eye. He turned in his chair and sighed.

“Come here,” he beckoned, his arm opening in a welcoming gesture, inviting you to sit in his lap. You paused, a puzzled look on your face. Then, you dropped your computer onto the bed, walked up to him too fast to save yourself any dignity, and straddled his hips, hiding your face in his neck.

“Why are you being so jumpy?” Viktor asked, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from whatever answer you would have to come up with, signalling that whatever the reason was, it was alright.

“I am always jumpy,” you mumbled into his collar. No way to say this. Happy and sad at the same time. Excited and frightened. Bold and shy. Full of his love and hungry for more.

“Hmm, but this time more than usual,” he mused, placing a hot hand on the nape of your neck. A thought struck him.

“Miláčku, are you nervous about a new space?” His question was met with silence, only your nose pressing deeper into his neck. He chuckled, pleased to stumble upon the answer so quickly.

“Do you not feel like this is your home?” he asked, his tone warm and gentle as he propped your face against his palm and lifted it so you would look at him, the response painted on your face.

“Would you like to change something? Would you like to, say, paint a wall?” His peace offering made you wince at your own immaturity. Yes, you wanted to change something. Yes, you wanted to feel less like an invader. The comfort of being a guest was long forgotten, morphing into the feeling of being a stranger probing Viktor’s space, trying to squeeze yourself into it.

Seeing your eyes fixed on him expectantly, your mouth forming a pout, he continued. “Would you like a bookshelf?” A timid nod. He smiled. There we are.

“And maybe a record shelf?” An unhinged display of affection at this. You rubbed your face against his in thanks, nodding a few more times and purring. He chuckled, rolling your hips on his, warmth pooling low under his belly button.

“Hmm, and would you like to get all those things now?” Or would you rather seal the deal with a nice, afternoon fuck? He licked the lobe of your ear, breathing you in through his nose. Your hips pressed down on him, a sweet weight of your ass splayed on his lap making him warm. He ran his flat palms down your back to ground you further, his touch addictive.

“No. Now I want to do something else,” you said, picking up the ball, nipping at his lower lip. You kissed his beauty marks, and Viktor’s eyes fluttered shut in bliss. So much fun to crack you open.

“Ah, distracted already?” he mumbled before kissing you deeply. His hands travelled to cup your ass cheeks, his palms filled with your flesh, just as things should be.

“You always distract me.” Spoken with embarrassment at the admission. Sweet civility, your decorum still intact at those tiny confessions. He swallowed all of them, kept them to himself, and grew stronger and better each time he was granted one.

“And… I’m sorry for being weird,” you said, pulling away an inch to rest your forehead against his.

“I like weird,” Viktor said with a smile, his tone closer to a love confession than a blunt statement. “I am weird,” he added, tracing the lines of your face with his fingers.

“No, you are not,” you chuckled, disarmed. “You are… peculiar,” you announced, poking his lips gently, affectionately.

“That’s just a fancy weird,” Viktor snorted. Peculiar. What a word. What a beautiful word to be given to him. He would wear it like a crown from that point forward. You had anointed him with your gift, and he would cherish it with pride.

“No,” you defended, your brows furrowed at this clear misunderstanding. “No. Weird has bad connotations.” Your finger rested on the tip of his nose, accentuating your point. “Peculiar is fascinating and curious,” you mused as your finger began tracing upward, all the way to the spot between his eyebrows, and then higher, to the line of his hair, brushing it away so you could cup his face. “Odd, in a good way.”

“Alright, word wizard. Did you just come up with this?” he relented with an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, I thought that on the first sight,” you announced proudly. You had. Peculiar was entirely Viktor’s. Wonderful, fascinating. Never fully uncovered, always something there lurking to surprise you. A wild landscape of his brilliant mind, of his raw body—so flawed, so beautiful, like an unfinished sculpture. Every time you remembered his angles, they would shift into something even more mesmerising. The complete lack of effort within him, the way he dressed like a man from a novel. The way he was always incomplete, always searching.

“Peculiar at first sight. Do you have a word for everyone?” he murmured. Seeing your timid nod, his eyebrows shot up. “Jayce?”

You laughed; this one was easy. “Big. Just big. Big everything—big hands, big teeth, big smile, big personality. There is enough of Jayce to literally hug the world,” you said, your tone warm and friendly, as all of this was true about Jayce.

Viktor chuckled, thought for a second. “Mel?”

“Rich.” The word came slightly too fast, and you grinned. Viktor laughed knowingly. “But it goes to everything about her, as I love her,” you clarified, your expression soft. Mel was rich through sharing it with other people. Her fortune came back to her, the more she gave it away. The fortune of her money, her personality, her beauty, spread across all the people she knew.

“Oh, I know. For yourself?” He cocked his eyebrows, his look probing. He had so many words for you. Beautiful. Unhinged. Skittish. Tender. Focused. Distracted. Vulgar. Weird. Hot. His.

“Uh… chaos,” you chuckled awkwardly. Yes, the chaos of your mind never tamed. Which was why your life landed in books. They had provided you with all the personalities you mended yourself from, making your chaotic being work. And Viktor seemed to like all of them.

Until he stopped, and there you were. The weird gained its disturbing friend, and it was no longer cute or fascinating. Now, it was gnawing at him, because he could see those parts of you that he once loved so dearly through a distorting layer of ice, burning his eyes.

“It is none of your concern how I furnish my apartment,” he says calmly. “I am seeing someone and would like your remaining stuff to be removed. Here.” His words stab at you as he pulls out a keychain from his back pocket.

“Next weekend, I’m out of town. Feel free to come and collect your things. Leave the keys in the post box,” he recites, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “If you don’t, I will dispose of them on my own.”

A rush of blood to your head—cold and vile—leaves icy spikes in your veins as it travels upward through your body. Your face drains of colour, your mouth agape. Thousands of “what”s push themselves to your tongue, and you let one slip through.

“W-what?”

“What is so surprising? The pragmatism, or the fact that I had the civility to tell you I’m moving forward on my own accord?” he asks, his tone so utterly cruel it makes your insides twist. “Take this as the last ounce of respect I have left for you.”

“Are you implying that I do not respect you?” you spit, the fury you felt while talking to Mel surging back with full force. What a wanker. “You blocked me. Everywhere. I had no way to let you know.”

“Just take the keys.”

“I… still have my set,” you offer weakly, instantly regretting it as Viktor’s lips curl into a smirk.

“These are new,” he says with feigned innocence. Of course. But you already know this, so why does it shoot straight through your chest? Why does it leave a steaming hole in it? Why do you want to take the keys and stab his eyes with them? Why do you want to scream at him—and yet you can’t.

You take them wordlessly, staring into the void. They burn your hand. “Okay. Alright,” you sigh, defeated, sliding the keychain into your pocket.

An automated smile glues itself to Viktor’s face. So why does he feel so rotten? Surely, this is a victory. Here you are, crumbled into a sad twat of a person, resigned from any further attempts to talk to him. Here you are, exactly where he wants you—hunched and shrunk under the weight of his boot stomping over your cruel heart. You lost, and he won.

So why does he feel so shitty?

He clears his throat and looks away.

“I will have you know that Jayce is desperate to piece the gang together. You and your new… partner will receive an invitation to dinner on Sunday. Jayce has informed me that we are expected to play nice.” The word “partner” is laced with so much venom, the radius could make all the kittens in the vicinity drop dead.

“W-what?” you ask dumbly again. What the fuck? Jayce has lost his mind.

Before you can ask again, the said madman appears by your side.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks wearily, but his embrace is warm.

“Can… can I talk to you for a second?” Your voice cracks, and you hate it. And the worst part is, there’s nobody to carry you home on the top of your shield.

Jayce glances over to Viktor nervously, but Viktor’s eyes are fixed on the mattress in front of him. Jayce sighs, nods, and pulls you a few steps away, pretending the reality isn’t as fucked up as it is.

“What’s up?” He keeps his tone light.

“Jayce, a dinner?”

“Uh, he told you already? I meant to… Yeh, I had an idea that maybe if we all meet and clear the air, things could move forward, at least a bit?”

When he sees your mouth opening and closing a couple of times, and your eyes not blinking even once, he adds, “Please. This is killing me. I feel exactly the same as I did when my parents were divorcing.”

You sigh, finally. Finally, a breath. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and you can feel Viktor’s secretive glances.

“Can I leave at any point?”

Jayce’s face lights up with relief. “Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, thank you for giving this a chance,” he blurts, so happy, wrapping you up in a hug.

You want to wince away at first, afraid that he might feel how restless your heart is or that he might smell how sweaty you are. But in the end, Jayce’s hug does what it had always done—it calms you, making your head give up. It is what it is.

“I’m gonna go,” you say weakly, pulling yourself away. Jayce shoots you a knowing look and nods, placing his hand on your shoulder before you disappear completely.

You don’t spare Viktor so much as a glance, his keys still burning a hole in your pocket.

***

You despair. The number of times Paul calmly tells you that you could still turn back makes you sick. This poor, kind bastard. He has agreed to this ridiculous idea in an instant, before even checking how you felt about it. Seeing that what you felt is utter peril, he does his best to calm you down and present you with around a thousand options for how this could go.

“We can just not go. We can pretend you’re sick. We can pretend I’m sick, and you can go alone. I can go alone and test the waters for you. We can stay for a drink. We can leave if you feel uncomfortable. Just remember this awesome thing called ‘free will,’ okay?” he says, sitting cross-legged, naked, on the bed.

You are pacing, also naked. Panic surges through your vascular system. It carries said panic to every tissue of your body, making it slowly decompose into a puddle of cries and sobs.

“Hey,” he says, getting up and rushing to hug you. “It’s alright. He’s just a guy.”

This very complacent lie makes you shoot him a look. He tries to be respectful of your old life, of your friendships. Unbidden, his love is too sweet on your tongue as you feel yourself becoming complacent as well.

And then you remember Jayce. His face when he was sad, and he was so, so fucking sad it ripped your heart out. And you feel this vast emptiness that is left after Viktor. With the absence of him, the absence of Jayce and Mel is unbearable. So you sigh.

“Alright. Okay. Let me just… try to do something to not look like a rat.”

Paul chuckles, assuring you that you never look like a rat. When you walk down to the restaurant, your feet stomp heavily on the pavement, and your hand squeezes Paul’s palm in an unrelenting grip. At the door, he says it again, “We can turn back.”

You shake your head and step inside, bravely hiding behind the mass of your boyfriend. Jayce spots you instantly. He gets up so fast, his cutlery clattering to the floor.

“I was afraid you were going to bail,” he whispers loudly into your ear when you finally make it across the room.

“I… thought about it,” you admit under his glare. “You have to thank this guru,” you add with a sigh, gesturing to Paul, who just shrugs, as if it were obvious that you would have bailed without him.

They exchange embraces. You smooch Mel’s face obscenely, actually quite happy to see her, before slumping into your chair, the question staring you in the face. Where is Viktor?

Noticing the question mark distorting your forehead, Mel quickly adds, “They’re on the way. Traffic.”

Bullshit. Viktor lives nearby, and there is no traffic on a Sunday evening. A small relief creeps into you—maybe the outer gods heard you, and it is Viktor who was going to bail. Maybe you have been pulling your hair out over nothing, and this will turn into just a nice evening with your two friends and your lovely boyfriend. Maybe—

“Apologies. Traffic,” comes a sharp tone, accompanied by a shrug and the familiar sight of a cane being hung over the chair’s armrest.

Something sinks in your chest. Peril has just taken relief’s head, ripped it off, and taken a huge shit into its neck. But this isn’t the worst. Introductions come next.

A girl comes running in after him. Pretty. Nerdy. Just… pretty. Nothing remarkable. Pliant and nice, with slightly shy body language. Potentially intelligent. Potentially nothing.

And suddenly, you feel odd having Paul at your side. It feels like you are trying to prove something. It eats at you—that Viktor has shown up with someone so unremarkable, while he himself oozes confidence about his champion. Your champion seems to be completely overblown—his massive frame, his charm that could sweep anyone off their feet.

Overachiever. Poser. Liar.

You feel a nasty fucking thing hatching in your chest. It envelopes your heart, fills your veins with ice, and you could swear the whites of your eyes have gone black. Your hand hesitates when she repeats your name with an oblivious voice, pulling her palm out for a handshake. Your own palm hovers as you muster every ounce of willpower not to slap that mediocre face.

“Hi, Julia. Nice to meet you,” you manage, swallowing the beast, which rakes its claws at your insides as it slides down to your stomach. Your throat burns as you down an entire whisky glass.

You realise it would feel less painful were she obscenely beautiful. Her absolutely average physique has meant that there was something within her soul that beckoned Viktor forth, and the thought makes your own soul wail.

You watch them all from your seat, exchanging names and glances. Jayce knows Julia from work. Paul knows both Jayce and Mel. Which leaves… oh.

“Right, sorry. I’m slow in this weather,” you chuckle a bit too loudly. “Paul. Julia. Viktor.” You gesture clumsily, presenting them to each other before scrambling back into your seat, craning your neck to eye the waiter back to your table.

You watch Paul charming Viktor’s new girlfriend with his smile. You watch Viktor’s slender hand disappear into Paul’s firm grip. You watch their eyes meet, cold and challenging.

You feel a sudden urge to slide under the table. To bury your head in your knees. To bite through the wooden floor to the basement. To dig your own grave and fall asleep in it forever.

“Thanks for the invite, Mel,” Julia beams at your friend, and you spot Mel’s unctuous smile gluing itself to her face. This one is one of her best—so oily and sleek that even Jayce notices. He presses a kiss on her cheek so deep that she has to relax her face.

“So… how did you guys all meet?” It falls on the table and it takes you a few seconds to pick it up.

Holy fucking shit in heaven. Of course. He hasn’t told her. He hasn’t told her that this innocent dinner with friends is actually a farce with the high potential of turning into a carnage. She is oblivious to you. She has no idea. Ignorance is bliss.

“Uh… well, me and Viktor know each other from university, but that you know. Mel I met at a business convention, and, well…” Jayce stammers, stumbling over his words as his forehead begins to glisten with sweat.

Poor soul. You feel so sorry for him, you throw him a lifeline.

“And I am Mel’s friend. Best bitches since business school,” you say, giving the best fake smile you have. Not as good as Mel’s, but it does the job. “And Paul and I met at my work. You can connect the dots,” you throw out nonchalantly. And Viktor was fucking me into heaven for three years. For two.

“Oh, so you’re in business too?” Julia really tries, but the tension is just too palpable. You blink, dumbfounded.

“Uh, no.” A forced chuckle, as if business were a vile way to live. “I sell books.”

“Alright, that’s just unfair,” Jayce intercepts, taken aback by your modesty. You are not trying to be modest; you are trying to give as little information about yourself as possible. You almost smack him, but he continues.

“She finds books like you wouldn’t imagine. Medieval texts, first editions, magic books—all the crazy shit people would write down and publish. Precious objects,” Jayce muses as you try to smooth a crease of panic from your forehead.

“And they trick people who have no idea of their value into selling them rare tomes for chunks of copper,” Viktor murmurs, twirling the wine in his glass.

“Knowledge comes at a price. Of all people, you should be the one to understand that,” you shoot back, your nails slicing through the skin of your palms. You feel Paul’s hand on yours. He doesn’t look at you; he just entwines your fingers together on your knee. The saviour.

“Anyway, it’s actually all incredibly bureaucratic and boring,” you offer weakly, finishing your second drink. “And what about you?”

And then Julia talks. How she is an assistant at the lab where Viktor and Jayce work. How she was always fascinated by their projects. How she thought Viktor distant and mysterious at the beginning, only to discover he was a sweet man. How she just couldn’t say no when he asked her out. Each sentence is a stab into your chest, each of your hard gulps making Viktor smile triumphantly. Until—

The first thing you see is his smirk dropping from his face. The second is Paul’s face as he pulls you in to whisper into your ear, disguising the act as a gesture of affection.

“Smile. And nod. Do you want me to punch him?” he murmurs, the question inaudible to anyone but you.

You smile lovingly, place your hand on his cheek, and shake your head. In fact, you smile so much that your face hurts, and you find yourself needing to physically relax your cheeks with your fingers.

The conversation carries on, all faces a tad sour save for Julia’s. She does most of the talking and asking questions. She focuses on Mel and Jayce, leaving you and Paul to exchange inside jokes. And he does such an exceptional job distracting you that some of your smiles are actually genuine.

You are on your third drink, and your body relaxes despite itself. The food arrives, finally bringing some silence, occasionally broken by hums of appreciation and Jayce’s voice, since he talks with his mouth full. For a moment, you forget Viktor is there—until Julia leaves for the bathroom and leans over to give Viktor a kiss.

His neck cranes to meet her mouth. His hand travels to her throat; the other squeezes her waist. Very briefly, his eyes meet yours. Before you can combust from the look, her hair falls, shielding them both, and all you can make out is the sound of lips smacking apart when she finally pulls away. You wonder what would happen if you stabbed your hand with a fork.

Viktor clears his throat and returns his attention to his plate. You watch him separating meat from the bone, chewing, and swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. And he feels your eyes on him, the smug curve of his lips betraying him.

Paul picks up the glove. He clumsily rolls a chunk of pasta onto his fork and asks innocently if you want to try his food. Absently, you nod, taking a sip of water first to flush your mouth. The bite is too big, and he smears sauce on your cheek and nose. You don’t worry about decorum; you chew as you always chew—jaw working heavily as you gulp down. You can swear Viktor’s eyes are burning a hole in your throat. Paul chuckles at how gross you are and leans in to kiss the sauce off your cheek, nose, and the corner of your mouth. He lingers and comments on how it tastes even better now. It’s all very sickening, and you feel dirty doing it. You can see Viktor eyeing his fork.

Julia returns and plops down next to Viktor with a happy sigh, as if she’s just had the most satisfying number two of her life. You cackle at the thought, but it dies in your throat when Viktor chirps, “I missed you,” to her and presses his lips to her temple.

You feel yourself simmering beneath the skin. It’s all too much.

“Excuse me for a second.” You offer another sweet smile, stand up, place a hand on Paul’s shoulder, and make your way toward the entrance. A gush of sticky air isn’t exactly a relief, but at least it’s not acidic.

“Sorry, can I bum one?” you ask a woman smoking outside. She gives you an understanding look and pulls the cigarette pack toward you.

“Sure, honey. Did you spot your ex in the crowd?”

“Uh, you have no idea. Thanks,” you exhale, letting her light your cigarette. You don’t smoke, but now it seems suitable.

You are expecting Paul to come out after you, ordering a regroup.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Viktor deadpans, giving you a scolding look.

“I don’t,” is all you manage to say without choking on the smoke. “Please, leave me alone,” you plead, seeing him move closer. You could rake that face with your nails. You could slap him and walk away. You could throw his keys back at him and tell him to eat shit. But no. Jayce needs you to play nice.

“Are you not having a nice time?” he asks innocently, just aiming to hurt. “I thought you wanted things back to normal.”

You sigh, looking at the cigarette lying oddly between your fingers. “I…” Your voice falters. And then, despite your efforts to hold the words back, they refuse to stay. They slice your throat open from the inside, bleeding straight into his ears. “I miss you.”

A slap. A slap straight through his heart, hooking his lungs out of his chest. Your beast gets him, instead of sweet Julia. It coils in, purring and eating him from the inside. It’s all he wanted to hear. He won, again. And he feels like shit about it, again.

Viktor’s cane wobbles under his weight, a sharp, uncomfortable cough forcing its way out of him. His face twists. He stands there, still as stone, except for the erratic rise and fall of his chest. His lips part, his tongue flicks to wet them, but no words come. He looks like he is suffocating under the weight of what you’ve just said.

“Fuck off.” The words come out jagged, like broken glass, his voice harsh and cracking. “You have no right.”

You deserve it. You have no right, indeed. Your chest tightens, your lungs pulling for air that isn’t there. He has gone for the kill, but his voice… His voice doesn’t match his words. It’s soft and trembling.

“I know.” Your voice cracks too, balancing on the edge of fury and despair. You step toward him, the cigarette still burning between your fingers, ash crumbling onto the pavement. “But I do.” It feels like scraping off a scab too fresh to be poked at.

Viktor’s eyes widen, just for a moment. It’s quick—too quick—but you catch it. A flash of something buried deep, a flicker of something that makes your knees want to buckle, to throw yourself at his feet. His jaw clenches hard, his lips twitching as if biting back every single thing he wants to say.

“This was supposed to be over,” he hisses finally, but his gaze betrays him, darting down to your mouth, lingering on the curve of your jaw.

“It… is, I just—” You step even closer, the words clawing their way out of you, half a plea, half a challenge. “This is different.” There is no logical explanation for how this is different, except for the absolute certainty, the gnawing truth in your heart of hearts. You are utterly convinced that Julia existed only to spite you, whereas Paul existed to save you, and in principle, the connection between him and Viktor was non-existent. You wonder, for a second, if you should tell him. And then you picture how he would react, and you decide not to.

His hand grips the handle of his cane tighter, his knuckles turning white. “Do not—” His voice wavers. “Do not do this to me.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound hollow and cruel even to your own ears. “What am I doing to you?” You gesture wildly, the cigarette burning low, its ember a heartbeat away from searing your skin. “I try to do right by you. All you do is block me and slap me around.”

“You left!” he snaps, his voice rising, sharp enough to cut through your already battered flesh. “You are the one who left, and now you stand here, saying—saying things you should have said before.” He looks completely crestfallen.

The silence that follows is deafening. Your shoulders slump as you stare at him, and for a moment, you don’t recognise the man in front of you. The Viktor you know wasn’t this—this wreckage, this storm barely holding itself together.

“I left because you made me,” you whisper, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “Because you pushed and pushed until I broke. And now I don’t even know if there’s enough of me left to stay mad at you.”

His head dips, his shoulders collapsing in defeat. His free hand runs through his hair, tugging at the roots like he wants to rip something out—anything, just to make the ache stop.

“You think it was easy for me?” he asks quietly, almost a whisper. “To let you go? To—” His voice cracks again, and he stops himself.

That is a first. You knew how hard it was—you had to crawl through your own shitty tunnel. You knew it was hard for him, but you’ve never heard him admit it before.

You both stand there, breathing hard, the air thick like tar. The cigarette finally burns out, the last ember dropping to the ground as you let it slip from your fingers.

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” you ask, and your voice breaks. “Why didn’t you—”

“I did.” His words come fast, cutting you off, raw and painful. “I did, but you didn’t see it. You wouldn’t.” Viktor fights his hands to not reach out for you and wipe your tears away with his thumbs. He fights his body to not pull you flush against him, to kiss you deeply and whisper a secret into your mouth. He takes a step back, and it costs him everything. Then you both stare at the thing in front of you.

The truth. Ugly and jagged, sitting between you like a gaping wound neither of you knows how to heal. You had both fucked up, royally. And then you went ahead and jumped into something new, hoping that a tiny bit of duct tape would seal a hole in a massive, overflowing tank of feelings.

“Go back inside.” His voice is soft now, a whisper lost in the sticky night air. “I’ll be right there.”

“Everything alright here?” Paul’s voice reaches you before you see him, and you wince. Viktor takes notice. Paul’s arms are crossed on his chest, lips pressed into a thin line.

You nod and drag yourself in obediently. A quick stop in the bathroom to fix your sorry face. A slump into the chair next to Paul, as he places a loving arm around your shoulders. Viktor comes back to the table with an unreadable smile on his face, his eyes wet, but only you can see it. A civil, nice evening, ending with exclamations of how you all should do this again. How it was fun.

“All good?” Paul asks you when you walk home. When you walk to his apartment, the one you silently refuse to move into.

“Yes, just… why did you come out after me?” you counter, puzzled. You pin him with your gaze until he relents into an embarrassed chuckle.

“I thought you needed saving, is all.”

“I don’t need to be saved from anyone, Paul. Don’t intervene again. I’m an adult,” you scoff, opening the door to his apartment.

For the first time, you flinch away from his touch when you are in bed. Tears choke up in your throat all night. But you hold them tight, not letting any slip out. And you realise it takes so long to get over losing someone. That no band-aid, no pretty and nice boyfriend, no amount of friends or sad music could make the process faster. And you realise it isn’t possible to get over Viktor so quickly. And then, you realise that your grief hasn’t moved an inch. It’s still in denial.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #nothings new

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

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hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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traumadumpwriter · 5 months ago

Text

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

My first OBX fic. I hope y’all like it.

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they’re unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Masterlist - Part two

Word count: 5.1k

Part One:

You'd been on the edge for a while now. The relapse should've been seen from a mile off. Your uncharacteristic quietness, the way you'd get lost in your thoughts, the distant look in your eyes. Everyone could tell that something was up, but even when they questioned you about it you had no real answers to give - uncertain yourself of what was making you feel so withdrawn.

When you'd first moved to OBX with your busy mum, you'd instantly found a group of friends - a really good group of friends - the Pogues. And they'd been quick to suss out that you were hiding things - particularly JJ. You were practically never sober, for starters, and though he wasn't either, you had a way of taking it to the next level. This was fun most of the time, but sometimes it got to a level that was concerning - even to the most problematic Pogue on the island. Whenever he'd pushed you for answers, trying to figure out what exactly you were self medicating for, you got extremely annoyed and so he never really got a straight answer. You couldn't bare to be so vulnerable with anyone - let alone the boy you'd started to develop feelings for - so you remained somewhat of a mystery.

Sure, there had been nights when you'd shared a bed - both of you very drunk. You'd convince yourself that maybe JJ liked you, maybe the sex meant more to him than just sex, but then when he'd continue to treat you like just a friend the morning after, your hopes would be crushed. It’s not like you ever gave him any reason to think that the sex was anything other than casual, but that was because you didn’t want him to be able to reject you. And besides, could he not tell that you wanted more? Kiera could and she wasn’t even in the bedroom.

Then the overdose happened. The Pogue's had suspected that you'd been taking something other than just alcohol for a while. The night that you'd almost died at the Chateau their suspicions became a painful fact. You'd taken a few too many pills - benzodiazepines to be exact - and though you'd known that you were reaching a point of no return, after hearing all about the gorgeous touron that JJ had been obsessed with, you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

That night had been awful for everyone, and you'd ended up tearfully promising that you would get clean after that, unable to bear the hurt on the Pogue's faces. So you'd been almost a year clean now, blossoming into a new person that the Pogue's liked even more than the old you. Yours and JJ's relationship remained just as complicated though - still having the occasional hookup but largely seeming as if you were just friends. Now that you weren't on pills and you could actually fully remember the sex, it hurt even more in the morning after. Still, you continued, desperate to feel wanted even if it was just for a night.

You hadn't realised how much this routine was actually bothering you until in a night similar to the one you'd overdosed on, JJ had been making out with another gorgeous touron.

*Your POV*

I'd watched jealously from across the party, ignoring the sound of Kie in my ear telling me that "I was much prettier than that touron."

I appreciated the sentiment, but I knew it was a lie, and so in a split second decision, I told Kie that I was going to go home. "I'm going to have an early one." I said, knowing it was a lie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

In that split second decision, I'd decided that all of my progress didn't matter if I still felt this worthless. What was the point in being clean if it meant that I wanted to die? JJ's insistence had been one of the things that had motivated me to stay away from the pills, but he hadn't been interested in me for a while now. He hadn't even asked me for a fuck. Had he grown bored of me? Or maybe I had gotten uglier without realising it. Maybe I had put on some weight or he didn't like my haircut. Maybe he’d developed feelings for a different girl - a better girl.

Kie nodded worriedly, clearly not sure whether to believe me or not. I hadn't even directly confessed to her that I liked JJ, she was just the only one in the group who wasn't too stupid to see it.

"Okay. Be safe." She smiled, pulling me into a hug, and though I felt bad, I still hopped on my bike and headed straight to Barry's as soon as the coast was clear.

Kie would be devastated if she'd known where I was actually going. So would John B, and Pope, and maybe even JJ, but they would forgive me quicker than her. At least, I thought that they would.

Blurred memories of the night I'd overdosed filled my mind; the sound of shouting, someone's fingers down my throat, a muffled sob, flashing lights. A shiver of shame ran down my spine as I struggled to push the images from my mind.

The ride to Barry's was short, though it felt like a lifetime as all the things I hated about myself bounced around in my head like a torturous broken record. Of course JJ didn't want to be with me. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't cool enough. I wasn't good enough. I would just continue to be his slutty friend that he could stick it in whenever it was convenient for him, and he didn't even seem to want that anymore. The thought made me even more ashamed, remembering all the times I'd let him fuck me, hoping that he'd found me beautiful, thinking that maybe he liked me, just to realise in the morning that I was easy to him.

Yet I knew, that if he were to approach me in that moment and ask for a fuck, I wouldn't say no. I wanted to be wanted so badly, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, and the feeling was unbearable. It ate me up inside, making my chest tight and my eyes water. I was quick to blink any dampness away from my eyes though, focused instead on the high that I would soon have - the comfortable numbness that it would bring me. My clean streak meant nothing, a stupid concept when compared to the internal anguish I felt. From my low self esteem to my repressed trauma, I had no fight left in the battle to stay clean. Sure, the Pogue's would be upset if they found out, but I wouldn't let them find out. I would keep it low-key, unlike I did before.

When I knocked on Barry's door, I was relieved that he was the one to answer and the house was seemingly empty, meaning I only had to speak to him. His friends were annoying, and though I didn't particularly like Barry, I found him funny sometimes.

"Well shit, Y/N. Been a while." He grinned.

"Yeahh. Well I'm back." I said with a mock smile.

"Come inside."

The transaction had soon been completed; a pot of pills in my hand and some cash in Barry's. I leant back into the sofa and took one immediately, swallowing it down with a beer handed to me by him.

"Bad night?" He questioned with an amused scoff.

"Something like that." I answered. "How about you? Place ain't usually this empty on a Friday."

"Want my own company sometimes. That a crime?"

"No. Just strange is all." I murmured, taking another swig from the beer.

Paired with my already drunkenness, the feeling of the pill was starting to hit - hard and strong - and I felt my body slump comfortably into the sofa. My head felt light whilst the rest of my body felt heavy, creating a strange, cosy sensation. It was a feeling I'd missed.

"Well what happened with you, party princess?" He scoffed, cracking open a beer for himself.

I let out a light chuckle at the question, now feeling as if it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

"Dumb shit."

"You looked pretty upset when I opened the door. Boyfriend troubles?"

I raised my eyebrows in mock offence.

"Why would I have a boyfriend?" I questioned with a laugh "Who'd you hear that from?"

Barry laughed too.

"Cus a girl like you - you're pretty. I'm surprised some Kook hasn't swiped you up."

I snorted at that and rolled my eyes.

"Well thanks I guess."

I thought about having sex with Barry in that moment, just to hear him call me pretty again. But I decided against it, slightly sickened by the idea, and pulled myself off the sofa.

"I should go, see you around?"

"You sure you can ride that thing safely?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine." I chuckled before heading out the door and throwing myself back onto my bike.

The ride home was perilous, and though I did almost crash a few times, my body went into autopilot and I was soon safely in my bed, mind too numb to pick myself apart for the first night in a while.

For the next week I was able to keep the pill-taking to a minimum, only popping two a day at most. I only did it to make the thoughts stop - to bring on the comfortable numbness so that I could actually bare to be awake. So that I could actually bare to be around my friends.

I'd always managed to keep my feelings for JJ locked up and manageable, but for some reason seeing him with that touron had bothered me in ways I hadn't been bothered before. Perhaps it was because she was so gorgeous, or maybe it was how pleased JJ looked to have pulled her. Either way, it just reinforced to me how worthless I was. He brought her up one day at the Chateau and it instantly made me feel hot with annoyance.

"That touron from the other night just texted me, should I go there again?" He said with a proud smirk, looking around the room.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the half smoked blunt from the ashtray, relighting it and sucking on it in hopes that it would make my jealousy fade.

"Didn't you steal like a hundred dollars from her purse?" Pope scoffed, eyes focused on the television. Adventure Time was playing with the volume on low, and both Pope and Kie seemed more interested in it than the conversation that JJ and John B had been having. I'd been drifting lazily between the two, too high to properly contribute to anything, but now JJ had my full attention.

"Yeah. Obviously didn't notice though. Girl had too much cash for her own good." He mused, eyes on his phone screen. "Ooh! And guess what she just sent me."

"Tit pic?" John B asked, a grin crawling onto his lips.

"Tit pic." JJ confirmed, chucking his phone over to John B.

"Nice." He chuckled, looking at the phone before chucking it back to JJ.

"You guys are disgusting." Kie scoffed. "I mean like really JJ? Did that girl send you that picture for you to show your friend? You have no respect for women sometimes."

"I respect women very much, actually Kie. I respect you and Y/N. I respect your mums and Pope's mum. I just don't respect easy, spoiled touron's like her." He said defensively, and I loudly scoffed at that. He didn't respect me.

"What? You think I don't respect women too?" He asked me with furrowed brows, crossing his arms.

He was sat across the room from me; myself, Kie and Pope spread out across the sofa whilst him and John B sat in chairs. I looked him up and down, pleased that there was no lump in my throat to swallow, no butterflies in my stomach to squash and no loving gaze to hide.

“Sure, you really respect women JJ. Whatever you say.”

He looked surprised by that response, probably expecting me to get defensive, then continued on a rant about how he wasn’t misogynistic. Kie argued with him for a little bit, and John B and Pope eventually joined in too. Usually I also would’ve joined, just for the amusement of it all, but no words came to my mind. Instead I just watched, chuckling at the occasional insult being thrown and smoking my blunt.

Two weeks later and I’d upped the dose to at least four pills a day. The thoughts had gotten harder to crush, growing a tolerance. Much to my relief though, none of the Pogue’s seemed to suspect anything.

It was a hot day and we’d decided to go swimming, using the inner ring of a tire as a floaty - which we all fought over.

“I stole the tire, so I should get it!” JJ proclaimed, and though he was right, I wanted the ring.

“Okay well if you’re not a woman hater, prove it by letting me and Kie have the ring!” I grinned.

“Yeah! Prove it!” Kie added, high-fiving me.

JJ groaned and rolled his eyes, but eventually gave in with a slight smirk to me.

“Okay fine - but we’re sharing it!”

I giggled at his childish nature, feeling the butterflies rise up in my stomach that I’d been managing so well to suppress. The second that I realised what I was feeling, I knew that I needed to take another pill.

“I’m gonna go pee. Don’t wait for me.” I said, heading back indoors.

Once I was in the bathroom, I dug through my bag to find the orange pot, irritated when I realised that I didn’t have a lot left. I’d have to go back to Barry’s soon. That was annoying. I swallowed one of the pills with some water from the sink and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back out. I looked tired and unattractive and I sighed at that, thinking of how good the girl that JJ had been dancing with at the boneyard this week looked.

I reached into the fridge and took myself out a beer, cracking it open and downing half of it before stepping out of the kitchen. I didn’t expect to see JJ stood on the porch waiting for me, a slight furrow to his brow. I purposely hadn’t been alone with him in weeks and it sent a pang of anxiety into my chest.

“Starting this early? Haven’t seen you do that in a while. You feeling alright?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem.. different.” He was wording himself carefully, I could tell, which was very out of character for him. What could he possibly want from me?

“I’m just tired.” I said with a huff and tried to walk past him.

He suddenly put his hands on my waist, which was exposed in a bikini, holding me still. At the initial contact, I felt electrified, but I was quickly reminded of what I had missed - and the reasons why. I worried that my flesh felt too squishy under his fingers, that there was too much of it, or that the dip of my waist wasn’t defined enough. Compared to that touron I probably felt like a whale.

“What’s going on Y/N? Are you mad at me?” He asked, his eyes wide with concern, but I couldn’t think about his words - only the crippling self hatred his hand on my waist was making me feel.

I stepped backwards so that he was no longer touching me, something that only seemed to deepen the crease between his eyebrows, and blinked a couple of times before I could speak.

“I’m, uh- I’m going to grab a shirt.”

And with that I paced back inside, finishing the beer and pulling one of John B’s oversized vests over my bikini. The pill hadn’t kicked in yet and I could still see JJ stood waiting on the porch so I decided to go into the bathroom and take another. Then I grabbed another beer from the fridge and downed it, relieved when I felt the relaxing effects kick in almost immediately.

“Why are you downing beer? Since when do you do that?” JJ’s voice from behind me made me jump, his face critical.

“I’m just having a good time.” I smiled at him.

“Really? Because you don’t look like you’re having a good time. You look miserable, Y/N.”

Was it that easy to see through my charade? It irritated me that he cared now when he should’ve cared a couple of weeks ago. Now it was too late.

I huffed and shook my head, managing to walk past him this time undisrupted and lead the way to the water.

“I’m fine. Come on, let’s go.”

He didn’t bother me for the inflatable ring at all. In fact, he didn’t speak to me for hours after that. I wasn’t bothered by it though, the mix of booze and benzos that had finally hit making me entirely unfazed by everything. The comfortable numbness that I craved so badly.

I lay floating in the ring for what felt like hours, my eyes closed as I felt the waves move me freely around. The water was so cold compared to the beaming sun, but the two extremes together made me feel more relaxed than I had been in a while. Maybe I had fallen asleep, I wasn’t too sure, but when someone was suddenly directly next to me, interfering with the natural direction of the waves, I jumped up at their presence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It was Kie, her tone lighthearted though her face was concerned.

“Not much. The sound of the water mostly. You?” I answered truthfully.

“Honestly, right now I’m thinking about you.”

“Why? You into me or something?” I teased, not expecting her tone to change to match her face.

“No Y/N I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since that party with the blonde touron.”

Kie was catching on, which was bad. It wouldn’t take her much to figure out what was really happening, so I had to come up with a lie, or maybe not a lie but a distraction.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m sad about JJ… But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it.” I confessed, relieved when I saw the stress in Kie’s face relax.

“He’s a total idiot. You can do better than him anyway.” She said with exasperation, stroking my hair.

“No I can’t.” I laughed. “But like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

Kie sighed.

“I wish you weren’t so harsh on yourself. If you could see what other people could see you wouldn’t be.”

I smiled at her, feeling appreciation for the girl buzz through me.

“Love ya Kie.”

She smiled too, but it was weaker than usual.

“Love you too… Now give me the floatie.”

When it got dark some hours later we all piled back into the Chateau and put on a movie, squeezing onto the couch. I sat on the edge and much to my displeasure, JJ sat next to me. That displeasure only lasted a second though before it was washed over by a tidal wave of carelessness, and I was able to relax my body against his like he was anyone - not the most problematic Pogue on the island.

The movie went on for a while until JJ shifted positions, wrapping his arm around me and placing his hand on my leg.

This had been a fairly standard position for us, his fingers creeping up my thigh in the darkness of the room and our friends none the wiser. Now it felt different though, and instead of being excited by it I was annoyed. Was I only good enough to touch in secret? Was he touching me now just because I was there and it was something to do? Could he only bare to touch me when he was drunk? I needed to take another pill.

With a wobble, I flicked JJ’s hands from me and pushed myself up, grabbing my handbag and heading to the bathroom. Pope and Kie had passed out on top of each other and John B was too engrossed in the movie to look up. So when I heard a knock on the bathroom door, I knew who it was before it even opened.

“I didn’t say you could come in. I could’ve been taking a shit.” I teased.

JJ’s stoney face didn’t offer a crack of amusement as he stepped closer to me.

“What’s going on with you? It’s like you can’t stand to be around me. Have I done something?”

“No. Everything is fine.” I answered with a fake smile.

He didn’t buy it, becoming visibly annoyed.

“You’re so full of shit Y/N. Don’t try to play dumb with me right now. I know you’re pissed off about something.”

“Why do I have to be pissed off about something?” I said combatively, crossing my arms.

“Because you’re acting like my touch is gonna make you sick or something and you clearly can’t stand to be around me! Is this because of that tit pic I showed John B? I don’t get it. Are you jealous or something? Or do you just think I’m a sexist pig too?”

“My world doesn’t revolve around you. Have you ever considered that I just stopped giving a shit about what you do?”

I usually felt horrible about lying to my friends, but looking at his beautiful face, thinking of how he didn’t want me, the lie came out easily. He clearly didn’t buy it though.

“Oh really? Is that why you don’t want to fuck anymore? Because you stopped giving a shit about me? Yeah right.” He scoffed and I felt my face start to angrily heat up. “What the fuck is going on? Did someone tell you some bullshit about me? Do you have a boyfriend now or something?”

I scoffed right back at him, widening my eyes in disbelief.

“Would that make you jealous? If I had a boyfriend?”

“Do you or do you not?” He demanded with gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer for a moment, enjoying the stressed expression on his usually uncaring face. Did he really care if I had a boyfriend? Surely not in any way that mattered. Just in some stupid male ego way. I sighed at that and uncrossed my arms as I answered.

“Obviously not. Who would want to be with me? Don’t be stupid, JJ. Now what did you come in here for?”

He looked at me incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why he seemed so stressed for and it was irritating to me.

“For this conversation, right now! What do you think I came in here for?” He said exasperatedly and I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know but can you leave? I need to pee.”

“No, I can’t leave until I know what the fuck is going on with you. Jesus! How much have you had to drink?”

Had I been slurring? I couldn’t tell.

“Not enough for this.” I tutted bitterly.

He sucked in his lips and took a deep breath, eyeing me like he was trying to work something out.

“Wait, look at me straight for a second.” He muttered, reaching his hand out to touch my face, angrily repeating himself when I questioned why.

His thumb stroked over my bottom lip and I straightened my back, trying to match his stare but unable to stand completely still. He hadn’t looked at me with such intrigue in a long time, and I was glad I was so high or else I would’ve completely submitted under his blue gaze. His next words instantly shattered any fantasies that could’ve been playing in my head though, instead filling me with unreasonable rage.

“You’re high aren’t you?”

I knew it wasn’t a question. The steely look in JJ’s eyes and his flared nostrils made it abundantly clear that he’d already figured out the answer for himself. But I couldn’t let him think he was right.

“I mean yeah, I’ve smoked a lot today, you have too-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He hissed, dropping his hand from my face. “I can’t fucking believe you. This is why you’ve been acting weird. I should’ve known.”

I rolled my eyes and mumbled “You’re overreacting, I’m just drunk” to which he quickly shot back “Oh yeah? Why are your pupils the size of mars then?”

“They’re not.” I felt my footing slip slightly as I lied, and I had to quickly lean against the wall to stop myself from falling.

“And now you’re just lying to my face. Nice one Y/N. How long had you been clean? A year, almost?”

I thought of the hours that he’d spent with me when I’d first gotten sober; looking after me when I was being sick, bringing around food, washing my hair. I’d felt so loved. I’d felt like there was no reason for me to ever pick up a benzo again.

The betrayal in his voice told me that that would never be happening again. With a huff, I picked up my bag from the side and shoved past the blonde, gasping when he grabbed my arm.

“Where are you trying to go now?” He laughed humourlessly.

“Get off me, JJ. I’m going home.”

“What because you’ve been caught out?”

“No. Because you’re being a dick.”

He wouldn’t loosen his grip on my arm despite my desperate pulling and so I started to speak louder, hoping someone would intervene and give me a chance to slip out.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not letting you go.” He said with gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What have you taken?”

“Get the fuck off me!” I repeated louder, relieved when John B appeared in the doorway.

“What the hell is going on?” He looked between us with a concerned expression and JJ loosened his grip.

“She’s on fucking drugs again, John B.” JJ hissed and though I wanted to argue and try to prove him wrong, I quickly slipped out of the bathroom and paced out of the house, ignoring JJ’s shouts from behind me.

“What the fuck is going on Y/N?”

“Do you just not give a shit about yourself? About your friends?”

“How could you do this? You were clean for so long.”

His words stung, and though I rationally knew he was right, I was too ashamed to feel anything other than anger and embarrassment. The Pogue’s would hate me now, and rightfully so.

I understood why JJ was so annoyed. I’d listened to him seethe about his dad, about how he was an abusive drug addict - but yet, when the blonde came home and he was passed out on the sofa, JJ still always checked if he was breathing. I’d seen the bruises, and met the man who left them, begrudgingly shook his hand and tried to forget what he’d done with them. Was I reminding JJ of that? Was I like his piece of shit father?

In a rush, I picked up my bike and went to get on it but instantly fell over, dropping the bike as I did.

“You’re gonna ride home like this? Seriously?” JJ’s voice came from behind me, loud and aggressive.

I struggled to pick my bike back up, almost falling over it again, and his hands were suddenly on top of mine, holding the handles and stopping me from going. John B was quick behind him.

“Are you really on drugs, Y/N?” John B questioned, eyes wide.

“I’m just drunk.” I hissed, trying to pull the bike out of JJ’s grip.

“Right, she says she’s just drunk, let her go JJ.” John B said harshly but JJ scoffed.

“She’s lying! Look at her! She can’t even walk properly!”

Then he turned to me, his voice suddenly pleading and face full of pain. It caught me off guard and I felt another pang of guilt ripple through my body, tears attempting to escape my eyes but being successfully pushed back by the Xanax.

“What have you taken, Y/N? Please don’t lie to me. I know you’ve taken something.”

I wanted to tell him the truth so bad. The whole truth. I wanted to break down and beg for his forgiveness, to tell him I loved him and that I would get clean again.

But I couldn’t do it.

There was no point.

I’d ruined everything now anyway.

“I’m just drunk. Leave me alone.” I slurred and tried to pull the bike from his grip again.

It didn’t work. I fell backwards onto the ground, landing on my butt with a groan. I laughed at my fall instinctively, forgetting the situation I was in for a second, but when I looked up and saw my friend’s distressed faces my laughing stopped. Even John B looked suspicious now, his eyes snapping from mine to JJ’s. He bent down and pulled me up with ease, though he huffed after he’d done it.

“Y/N, can we look in your bag?”

My heart leapt into my throat and I quickly jumped to defence.

“No way you fucking pervs. Let me go home.”

He turned to JJ with an straight face and both of them exchanged a short look before looking back at me.

That was it. He believed JJ. He knew.

“I’m not letting you ride home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice had been so monotone, so void of any real offering, that it caught me off guard. He was angry. I looked at JJ. He was angry too.

“N-No. I’m fine. I can ride-”

“I’m fucking driving you home, Y/N. Get in the Twinkie.” John B cut me off sharply and I jumped backwards, almost falling again until he caught me.

They both looked so disappointed and I was so ashamed at that point that all I could do was nod, following him silently to the van. JJ said nothing and I didn’t dare look back to see if he was looking, though I felt that I could feel his stare on the back of my head. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. Why did I have to take it so far? Why did I have to lie to their faces like that?

The short drive back to mine was agonisingly silent, all John B said was “Look after yourself” before I stepped out of the van.

My voice got caught in my throat and all I could force out was “Y-Yeah” before closing the door and stumbling towards my house.

Had I destroyed my friendship with the Pogues? It certainly felt like I had.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 8 months ago

Text

Tense

Blue Jones x Nathan Bateman x nonbinary afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 11: Threesome

Summary: Nathan wants you to look after a new android. Maybe the android wants to look after you too.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for beating and saving me as always!

Warnings: kissing, pet names, fingering, oral (both receiving), anal sex, p in v sex, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 4593

“Nathan, well, this is… this is, erm…” You stare at the android in front of you. “Unexpected?”

Nathan grins, clearly amused at your reaction.

“What’s, erm, hmm,” you gesture with your hands. “Why does he look like you?”

Nathan snorts, “does he?”

You give him a glare. The android obviously looks very much like him.

“Also,” Nathan leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, all smug smiles and self-assuredness. “How do you know it’s a he? Kind of assuming gender here aren’t you?”

Your glare darkens. “If that’s a dig at me, then-”

Nathan quickly holds up his hands. “No,” he smiles kindly. “No dig. Just teasing, he’s a he.”

You nod. “What’s his name?”

“Doesn’t have one yet, that’s your job.”

The android is currently powered off, eyes closed and standing perfectly still. He’s a little uncanny to say the least, being so motionless, not even breathing. Not that he needs to breathe but…

He doesn’t look exactly like Nathan either, he’s clean shaven for starters. Which is a small mercy, you don’t know how you’d deal with a robot that was his spitting image. And his hair is slightly longer, about a ¾ of an inch. He’s also two inches shorter than Nathan.

“You made him smaller?”

“Sorry?”

“His height.” You can’t keep the amusement out of your voice.

Nathan shrugs. “Unintentional.” You know he’s lying, but you don’t push it.

You hum an affirmative.

“So… why does he look like you?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, used to Nathan’s unique ways of communicating.

“I like R2D2, Marvin, Robot in Lost in Space. You know, robots that look like robots? Not people.”

Nathan laughs. “You’re just getting uncanny vibes because he’s turned off and looks dead but still standing. The second he’s online you’ll feel different.”

You give him a not so convinced look.

“I promise– he blinks, he mimics breathing, even has a heartbeat.”

“What?”

Nathan nods, “you can take his temperature and everything.”

“Okay… so he’s obviously very impressive, you’re a genius, blah, blah, blah.”

Nathan snorts. “But?”

“But what do you want me to do, besides name him, I mean?”

“Well, that depends on what you want to do with him.” He grins and you're so close to getting fired for hitting your boss.

“Nathan,” you say warningly.

His smile widens and he chuckles. “I’m playing, I’m playing. Don’t be so uptight.” He doesn’t give you enough of a pause to say something back to him. “Talk with him, socialise with him, show him the ropes like he’s a new employee.”

“Am I getting fired?” You joke.

Nathan laughs again. “Look, I just need someone other than me to interact with him and give me some feedback, yeah? And since you’re the only other person here?”

You nod. “No problem.” But you pause as a small worry digs into the back of your mind.

Nathan answers your question before you can even ask it, seemingly reading your thoughts. “He can’t hurt you.”

“You Asimov Lawed him?”

“Pretty much.”

You nod again. “Okay.”

“I’ll leave you both to get acquainted.” Nathan heads for the door.

“Nathan?”

He turns.

“Does he know he’s a robot?”

Nathan nods.

“And that you made him?”

Nathan nods again, “I have spoken with him you know.” He shakes his head as he leaves.

“Oh, you’ve spoken with him,” you mutter under your breath, but there’s no fire to it. “Couldn’t give him a name though.”

You sigh and approach the android. You place your hand on the startup panel, it blinks into life as it recognises your palm print. You press a few commands and there’s a small click and hum.

The android opens his eyes, blinking like he’s just woken up. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt and white jogging bottoms. His chest rises and falls, just like Nathan said it would.

You give him a smile and a little wave. “Hello.”

He tilts his head for a second and then smiles back and says your name.

A little flash of surprise crosses your face before you recover. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. It’s, erm, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And to finally meet you, Nathan’s spoken about you at length.”

That doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence.

“I believe you are supposed to give me a name?” He asks, there’s a slight up turn of his lips that’s so completely Nathan like that you almost do a double take.

“Yeah, I,” you pause, your eyes falling on the BlueBook logo on the wall. “How about Blue?”

“Blue.” He repeats and smiles. “Yeah, I like that.”

You spend the rest of the day showing Blue around the facility, introducing him to systems as Nathan had introduced you when you first started working here.

Nathan stays out of the way, hidden up in his office. Though you’re sure he’s probably watching you on the monitors with interest.

Blue is quite charming, his voice is a little different from Nathan, but not by much. He’s quieter though, but with a good sense of humour. The differences and similarities between them both are interesting. Part of you wonders if this is how Nathan sees himself, or if he unintentionally programmed the likenesses in.

It’s only later on in the day that things start to get… strange.

You’re at your office desk, just working on a small piece of programming.

Blue is meant to be going over the safety protocol for the building – something you had to do when you started. But you hear his light footsteps come up behind you.

You pause in typing, but don’t look around. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

You glance up at him. He’s seemingly interested in your screen. “It’s just a prototype I was working on for-”

He puts his hand on your shoulder, still looking at the screen. “It’s very compelling.” He squeezes your shoulder lightly.

“Blu-”

“You seem tense?” He looks down at you. “Are you stressed?”

“I don’t think…”

“There’s a lot of tension here.” He presses his thumb into your back and rubs, you can feel the muscle relax instantly.

You swallow and when you don’t try to stop him again Blue moves directly behind you, placing his other hand on your shoulder.

He slowly starts to massage your neck and upper back. Taking his time and applying just the right amount of pressure to quickly make you feel like liquid.

You let out a small sigh.

“Feel okay?” He asks. There’s a slight edge to his voice, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Yeah, good, really good.” You try to keep your words quick and short to save from moaning over how wonderful it feels. It was like he could pull apart every knot and ache. Nathan must have programmed some kind of pressure point, masseuse knowledge. Though why, you had no idea.

“Good.” He whispers, his voice low.

You can’t focus on anything else but the feel of his hands, how warm they are, how life like they are.

“Move forward a little.”

You lean without even thinking and his hands travel a little further down your spine.

This time you can’t stop the moan that escapes you.

You snap your mouth shut the second you realise, heat rising to your face. “I-”

“It’s fine, perfectly normal reaction, I’m glad you’re relaxing.” His voice is low, and his fingers don’t stop.

You spend the next twenty minutes getting the best massage of your life and keeping one hand fixed permanently over your mouth.

You had made a not so subtle exit after that. Politely keeping out of Blue’s way (hiding) for the rest of the afternoon.

Part of you wanted to go and speak to Nathan, but you weren’t sure if you could face the teasing.

‘Perfectly normal reaction,’ ugh. You could picture Nathan’s smug smile perfectly. Choruses of ‘oh, you got turned on by an android that looks like me?’ No thanks.

Though he probably would tease the shit out of you later on, that was a Future You problem. And if you could keep it a Future You problem for as long as possible, you would.

Around 7pm your hunger got the better of you and you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to scavenge some of Nathan’s secret snack supply that he thought was well hidden.

A step into the room you stop dead in your tracks.

Blue was at one of the counters, chopping vegetables.

He turned and smiled at you before you even had a chance to think about turning on your heels and making a beeline out of there.

“Oh, hi Blue.” You try to sound casual, but the awkwardness radiates out of you like a beacon.

He smiles and looks back at the vegetables. “Are you hungry?”

You nod, promptly realising he couldn’t see your reaction and quickly speaking. “Yes, yeah, just, just gonna…” You trail off and pause. “Do you eat?”

Blue laughs and shakes his head. “This is for you.”

“For me?”

He nods and glances at you again, all smiles and seductive eyes- No, do not think about him that way.

“You tend to eat your evening meal around this time.”

“Oh,” you take a few steps closer and lean on the counter next to him. “That’s really kind of you, you didn’t need to. Wait, how do you know that?”

Blue raises his eyebrows and gives you a small smirk.

“Nathan, got it.”

“He said you liked pasta, so.”

You pause, looking at the meal he’s preparing. You don’t remember the last time someone cooked for you, outside of Nathan. And that was only because he was eating too.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You finally say.

“I wanted to.”

The food is good, even if Blue sits a little too close. His knee brushing against yours under the table. He talks to you about relatively normal things, work related, while leaning his elbow on the table, his chin resting on his hand.

He listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face. It’s uncanny being watched so attentively. You ask Blue a few questions but he always manages to steer the conversation back to you. Another Nathan like attribute.

Long after the meal is over you stretch, there’s a small popping sound as your shoulder clicks.

Blue frowns and stands. He touches your spine and shoulder blade again with those precise fingers. “Is your back still causing you discomfort?”

“I,” you swallow. “You don’t need to, it’s fine, really.” Heat rises to your face.

“Nonsense, you still have a lot of tension here.” He presses his thumb firmly into your skin and you sigh.

He massages the area for a few seconds. “Your stress levels are still high, come,” he holds out his hand to you expectantly.

There is a disastrously long second where you hear ‘come’ as ‘cum’. “I, erm, what?”

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand. You follow him, a little too flustered to object.

Blue leads you to the living room and gestures to the sofa. “Lay down on your stomach.”

“Blue-”

“I need you flat to relax you properly.” He smiles at you expectantly, his eyes dark and bordering on mischievous.

You stare for a second before managing a small nod, about to speak your agreement when Blue frowns as if a thought has just occurred to him.

“The space isn’t ideal…” He looks straight at you. “A bed would be better.”

A bed would be better. “Erm…”

“So you can lay flat.” He stares at you expectantly. Almost goading you. If you agreed to the sofa, why not the bed? What implications are you inferring?

You give him a tight smile. Nathan and his stupid mind games. He did this just to see if he could get you to crack. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Okay.” The word comes out more like a squeak than you hoped it would.

Blue leads you back to your room, opening the door as if he was inviting you into his space, not yours.

He waits for you to climb onto the bed and get comfortable, lying on your stomach, your head resting on your crossed arms.

And then he starts slowly on your shoulders. That same deep press from before that has you screwing up your eyes and burying your face. It’s barely been a minute before he stops and you nearly groan at the loss.

“This would be better without your t-shirt.”

You pause, your mind failing to translate his words for a few seconds. “Oh, erm,” it was perfectly reasonable, wasn’t it? People had professional massages all the time, they didn’t have them while their clothing was still on. “Okay.”

He turns, politely as you sit up and the anxiety in your chest eases. You were making this into something it wasn’t. He was just trying to help.

You tug off your t-shirt and drop it onto the floor off the side of your bed and lay back down. “All done.” You say, trying and failing to hide the little shake in your voice.

Blue turns, his fingers barely touch your skin before he’s lightly caressing just under your bra strap. “May I?”

You pause, then nod. He unclips it, letting the straps fall to the side before he continues to softly caress.

It feels good, his fingers dig in and work out the tension, making you liquid and weak under his hands.

Heat starts to pull at your stomach, sinking lower and lower. Wetness starts to build between your legs. You shouldn’t be-

“Oh!” A sudden gasp leaves your lips as Blue’s right hand slides quickly down, underneath your jogging bottoms and underwear, over the swell of your ass and straight to your core. “Blue!” It feels too good. “I-”

“You have so much tension.” He breathes close to your ear, his fingers trace along your entrance, teasing lightly. “I’m meant to help you relieve it.”

“Blue…” You bite your lip, instinctively pressing closer to his fingers. You shouldn’t… Fuck Nathan was probably watching, probably-

“Let me help you,” he whispers low in your ear, his warm breath searing your skin. “I’ve been given direct instructions to help you relax.” He lightly rubs your clit, slow and gentle and it makes you jolt.

“Blue, fuck-”

He kisses your temple. “Tell me to stop at any time, and I will. I only want to please you.”

Fuck, if his soft, deep voice didn’t nearly make you come on the spot.

You nod, swallowing thickening. “Please, I’d like… it’s been a while… and…”

“Of course,” he moves dizzyingly quickly, short and precise as he grabs hold of your hips and flips you over onto your back. You don’t even get a chance to let out a gasp of surprise before he’s pulling off your jogging bottoms and underwear and drops them to the floor.

He rubs his hands up your legs, digging into your inner thighs and spreads you wide before he dives in and latches onto your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rolling up to his warm eager mouth, your body moving completely on autopilot.

He sucks, for a few seconds before teasing it out and lapping, alternating between broad licks and that gentle suction that is dragging you so quickly to the edge. His dark eyes watch your reactions intently, monitoring and adjusting based on the smallest reactions.

He trails his right hand further down your thigh, pressing lightly at your core before sipping two fingers inside. He hums when you moan, the smallest smile pulling at his features.

Pleasure twists and coils as sweat beads on your forehead. The stretch sends a shiver along your nerves, makes your air catch in your throat.

“Blue, I- oh fuck!”

He moves his fingers, tapping and stroking so quickly on your inside walls that it is like a buzz of vibration right against your g spot.

You sob out his name, your thighs shaking as you come dizzyingly quickly, pulled over the edge by his precise movements.

As you breathe heavily, your mind a little short circuited by your orgasm and lagging behind, Blue helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare before he strips off his own.

He kneels between your legs, looking down at you with soft eyes as he gently touches your cheek. “More?”

“I…” You trail off, surprised by the sweetness in his gaze and distracted by his naked chest and warm soft skin.

You lightly touch his ribs and he smiles.

“What… what do you want?” You ask, your voice embarrassingly small.

“That’s a dangerous question.” His smile widens, his tone teasing.

“Why?”

He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly. “Because I don’t want to stop until you can’t form words.”

You swallow and glance down as he strokes himself with one hand. He’s impressively large, standing tall and erect. There’s copious amounts of precum leaking from the tip, which you quickly realise is, in fact, lube. He smears it down himself, watching you as you watch him.

You shift a little, widening your legs even though you don’t realise you're doing it. “Does it, will it feel good for you?”

Blue’s smile widens again, his eyes dark as he leans down. He guides himself to your pussy, pushing his tip against your clit before he drags his cock down and notches the head at your core. “Oh yes.” He mummers his voice low. He stills for half a second, studying your face until he finds what he was looking for.

He pushes in slowly, moving his hands so that one rests on the mattress and the other on your hip, pinning you down as he slips inside.

You gasp, letting out a soft ‘oh’ at the stretch.

“You can take it.” He mutters, voice velvet soft. “You’re very well lubricated even without mine.”

You wriggle against him, squeezing his biceps, both trying to get close to and escape from the pleasure, your eyes screwed shut.

As he finally sinks in the last inch you moan, it’s like you can feel him in your heart, your lungs. Pushing perfectly at the centre of you and pulsing.

“You find me attractive?” Blue asks, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side, a cheeky smile on his face as he rocks slowly. Short, powerful thrusts that move the bed and make you cry out in pleasure.

You nod, trying to move with him but he is well and truly fucking you into the mattress, and it’s all you can do to just hold on for the ride.

“So, you must find Nathan attractive too?” Blue teases, his voice even and unhindered despite his deep bucks as he sinks in and out of you.

You whine, your back arching, “Blue,” you squirm, gasp at a partially deep thrust that robs you of all thought and makes your toes curl. You cling onto him, sliding a hand up to the back of his neck.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, leaning down quickly to kiss your lips and swallow your moans, “I’ve got you.” And that’s when he really starts to move.

You all but scream at the rapid snap of his hips, pleasure turning your bones to liquid as he fucks into you, pushing you higher and higher as he hits every spot perfectly inside.

You can’t speak, can’t form words as he presses every single sensation out of you except for euphoria, playing your body perfectly to his wishes.

Your skin is on fire, every nerve tingling with the onslaught of your impending orgasm. He rolls his hips, the sound of his thrusts and your cries mixing. It’s so hot and wet between your legs, slippery as he just glides along your walls and sinks impossibly deep.

He kisses your lips, nips and bites your jaw and then sucks one nipple into his mouth as his fingers pluck and play with the other.

Your thighs are shaking, your moans growing in pitch as you desperately hold onto him, nonsense slipping from your mouth as your mind liquifies.

You don’t even hear the door open, too lost in your pleasure. But Blue does.

He looks up, but doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t move his mouth from your skin.

Nathan smirks. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You gasp, your eyes snapping open to see Nathan standing by the foot of your bed. “Natha-” You try to stammer, but Blue grinds his hips down and your cry cuts off the rest of his name.

“Enjoying him?” Nathan asks nonchalantly, like he was asking about the weather as he climbs onto the bed. He lays next to you on his side, his elbow propped up so he can rest his head and still watch your face.

“I…” You whine, you blink heavily, your mind isn’t working. Isn’t functioning at all, all you can do is feel and it feels so, so good.

Blue hums as he laps at your breast, his hips pistoning at an unforgiving pace, not giving you even a second of reprieve from the pleasure.

Nathan grins, he shifts closer, his voice low. “I knew you would.” He swallows, watching for the expressions on your face. He darts his tongue out to trace his bottom lip, thoughts racing.

“They like you.” Blue mutters, moving his mouth away from your skin just enough to be heard clearly.

You want to ask how he knows, what gave you away. But you don’t even get the chance to try.

Nathan presses a sweet kiss to your lips, groaning when you reciprocate and grab the back of his neck with one hand to pull him closer. He slips his tongue past your lips, stroking your cheek tenderly.

It’s a vast juxtaposition to how Blue is fucking the very life out of you.

You whine, your muscles tensing as you get close.

Nathan pulls back just enough to speak, his voice thick and hazy. “Make them come.” And then kisses you deeply once more.

Blue hums, pulling his mouth from your chest without slowing his manic thrusts. He slips his hand under Nathan’s shorts and Nathan lets out a surprised groan as Blue palms his erection.

But he doesn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he helps Blue pull them down his legs before he plucks at your nipples while he licks into your mouth.

Blue twists his torso that would have been impossible for anyone save a contortionist and licks a strip up Nathan’s hard cock before he takes him deep into his throat.

Your toes curl, the pleasure drowning you as you shake and spasm. You whine in Nathan’s mouth, his beard tickling your skin, and his lips muffling your moans.

You come hard, the sensation hitting you all at once and then flooding you. It robs you completely of thought, whiting out your vision as you’re swept away completely by pleasure.

Nathan thrusts into Blue’s mouth lazily, pulling back so he can watch your face as you come apart. He bites his lip, groaning for a second before he pulls Blue up to watch too.

“Fucking beautiful,” Nathan whispers.

Blue slows his hips as you relax under him, gently coming to a stop. He kisses your cheek as you open your eyes, while Nathan sucks at your neck.

“You out for the count, or can I be gentle with you?” Nathan mutters.

You breathe heavily, sweat cooling on your skin, your muscles aching. But you don’t get to answer before Blue is doing it for you.

“Very gentle… if they agree.” He kisses your cheek again as he slowly pulls out of you and you whine softly. He rubs the inside of your thighs to ease the burn as he gets up.

“Very gentle,” Nathan repeats, sitting up and pulling off his vest and wriggling himself completely free of his shorts. “Very, very.” He moves between your legs, watching you with soft doe eyes. “Can I?”

You nod. But he tuts.

“Gonna need you to say something, sweetheart.” He smiles.

“Yes.” You say, giving him a little look that makes him laugh.

“Haven't had the sass fucked out of you then. Good.” He kneels between your legs, his heavy cock in hand.

You glance down and can’t help but smile and shake your head when you see him, he’s exactly the same size as Blue.

“What?” He grins.

“Of course, you have a big dick.”

Nathan puffs out his chest a little.

“He made me two inches shorter,” Blue says, “but he-”

“I left the inches where it counts.” Nathan snaps playfully. “Now are you gonna put those inches to good use or what?”

Blue smiles sarcastically sweetly at him. “Of course I am.” He takes hold of Nathan’s cock with one hand and lays the other flat on his lower back, guiding him towards you. It’s Blue that strokes Nathan through the creaminess of your release before he pushes in, he keeps Nathan slow and careful, sinking in until you're stuffed full.

You let out a soft moan, you’re sore but it’s nice, more than nice. Pleasure burning just at the edge of your senses.

Nathan groans, his muscles twitching under the force to stay still. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Gentle.” Blue whispers in his ear, the smallest hint of a warning in his voice that sends a shot of arousal along Nathan’s spine.

He nods, his eyes lidded.

You're a little surprised when Blue rubs the lube from his cock over two fingers and eases them inside Nathan, forcing him down on top of you, his chest pressed to yours.

The moan Nathan lets out is sinful, deep as it rumbles against your skin.

You grab hold of him, wrapping your hands around his back as he buries his face into your neck, every breath coming out as a whine and grunt.

Blue smiles at you as he opens Nathan up for barely a minute before he guides his own cock inside. “He’s used to taking it.” He wriggles his eyebrows at you and you bite back a smile.

Blue rocks gently, quite unlike the rapid thrusts he’s used before. He barely pulls out but swirls his hips, the force of his movement moves Nathan in turn and you.

It’s slow, syrupily sweet with every push and pull. You grind up, moaning when Nathan simultaneously rubs against your clit with his pubic bone and the head of his thick cock slides against your walls.

“Think you can come again?” Blue asks you, one hand between Nathan’s shoulder blades, while he links fingers with you with the other.

“Ugh, please,” Nathan groans into your neck. He feels like jelly sandwiched between the both of you, the pleasure making him lightheaded.

You nod, biting your lip. It’s building in a rush, so close to boiling over.

Blue smiles and squeezes your hand.

It only takes a few more languid rocks for the pressure on your clit to explode. You come with a cry, shaking. This one isn’t as hard, it doesn’t shatter your very being but it’s long and drawn out, thick and molten and leaves you exhausted.

Blue thrusts three times harshly hitting Nathan’s prostate each time as you squeeze and pulse around his cock and he comes with a deep moan, emptying himself and holding you tight.

It’s only then that Blue allows himself to follow you both into pleasure, moaning both of your names happily.

Thank you for reading!

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