#found this in my inbox. hehe: )

[kalofi]

zl fic idea

hii everyone i wrote something yesterday about an au idea i had for zolu and. i thought i'd share it here since its a bit too messy and disjointed in places to post on like. ao3 or something.

4.7k words, warning for temporary major character death but do not worry all will be fixed in due time. i'll put the rest under the cut

ok i have an idea for an au thats like kind of reincarnation but like reality displacement but like. okay just listen.

so we start at laughtale. its a couple years into the future from where we are in canon the strawhats are achieving their dreams luffy is about to find the one piece theres a big battle happening between them and the blackbeard pirates and whoever the fuck else is there idc. the rest of the strawhats are fighting the bb crew while luffy and zoro head off to find the one piece and also end up fighting black beard himself. luffy and zoro atp r like basically a thing but they never talk about it cuz theyre luffy and zoro and they kind of just exist with each other but like. theyre basically in love and everyone knows it. anyway they go off together luffy has the one piece almost in his grasp blackbeard attacks they fight its a big battle blood is shed bones are broken uumm in my mind luffy and zoro are like teaming up against bb bc his devil fruit is lowk broken and op and like ok theres gear5 too but i didnt rly consider that so lets just assume bb’s devil fruit can negate gear5 somehow or luffy exhausts it before bb is fully defeated. 

finally theyre able to knock bb down and hes out and theyre both tired and worn but they DID IT and the one piece is luffys and theyre facing each other grinning ear to ear and zoros saying “you ready, king of the pirates?” and luffy laughs and goes “not just yet zoro, i still gotta-“ and then theres a spear piercing right through his chest. and in the next moment its gone. 

theres a gaping hole through his captain and theres blood, theres so much blood and luffy’s still smiling like he hasnt realized it yet, like it hasnt even registered. zoros ears are ringing and he doesnt know what to make of whats hes seeing because its just not real, it CANT be. 

he looks over luffy’s shoulder and blackbeard is on the ground with his hand outstretched , black energy coiling back into his form and he’s laughing and laughing with bloodstained teeth. hes fucking laughing. one moment zoro is still standing parallel to luffy and the next hes in front of blackbeard and the mans head is rolling through the dirt and gravel, wado dripping crimson, a terrible gap toothed grin still stretching the man’s cheeks. 

zoro is breathing heavy, hes trembling and hes almost mesmerized by the blood pooling around a lacerated neck— then he’s remembering luffy and turning around and calling his name and he can see right through him theres a HOLE right through him and he chokes and stumbles and rushes to his side right as luffy starts to crumple to the floor . catches him and lowers him gently and doesnt know what to say. 

hes still shaking but cant move his mouth and everything is muffled, the sounds from the battle outside are distant and they dont matter but what does he do. what does he do. 

he snaps out of it when luffy gently calls his name. a strong “zoro,” like hes not fazed at all. like there isnt blood soaking into zoros clothes. 

his brain kickstarts and he’s speaking. saying things like “youre ok you’ll be ok” and “choppers right outside i’ll just call him and he’ll fix you right up” and “you always bounce back, right captain?” and hes thinking “dont die please dont fucking die. not now, not when we’re this close please dont fucking die” and hes silently praying to all the gods he doesnt believe in but luffy calls his name again and his mouth clicks shut. luffys saying it’ll be fine, that he had fun. that hes proud to have made it this far with all of them. and those sound a lot like parting words so zoro’s shaking his head no but luffy is still smiling. hes saying that hes glad he had zoro, that he made him happy. hes saying to tell everyone he’s glad they met, that hes glad they all had each other, that he knows theyll be just fine . 

zoro wants to say that luffy should tell that to them himself, when hes wrapped up and recovering and alive but his mouth is glued shut again and he feels that interrupting luffy now would be cursing him to death, like his words are the only thing keeping him tethered here, he just needs to get him to keep talking to stay awake. 

he tries to smile but it comes out ugly and wrong and he feels his lip wobble so he drops it. he settles on rubbing his thumb on luffys shoulder. something to keep him here. 

so he rubs and luffy talks little things until he cant anymore. until his eyes grow dull and his skin loses its warmth and still zoro rubs and he rubs.

—

thats how law finds them. zoro hunched over a body that should never be as still as it is. and its really no surprise hes there, hes been gunning for the one piece since the time he could captain a ship (or a submarine) but it all feels so wrong. 

zoro either doesnt notice him or doesnt care, but either way the man doesnt acknowledge law until he’s right behind him. its not like law can say anything to announce himself either, not after seeing the state of the body that zoros currently holding. the body that used to be luffy’s. hes still processing it all when the other man(the one whos alive) finally speaks. 

zoro asks if hes got a devil fruit. less of a question and more of a statement, but he should know anyway since theyve spent considerable time together and hes literally seen him use it. law cant unstick his jaw so he hums in affirmation. “and you can switch stuffs’ places?” another hum. “what about time.” 

that makes law pause. “what?” his voice comes out stronger than he feels. 

“what about time? can you switch things in time?” by this point law has awakened his devil fruit or some shit dont sweat the logistics but hes never tried anything of that sort so he kind of stumbles “im not- maybe? ive never attempted-“ zoro interrupts “send me back” 

“what?” 

“send me back so i can fix this. you can do that, right.” it clicks. law would pity zoro if he didnt know any better, instead he just feels mounting despair and resignation. 

he may not be crew, but he knew luffy too, he was allied with the man for fucks sake, and this just feels- wrong. he sighs, a tired, heavy thing. 

“what about your crew?” its useless. zoros as stubborn as his captain, with arguably a handful more screws loose. “it wont matter. they’ll never know because i’ll make sure this doesnt happen.” he still hasnt turned around. law doesnt know what expression hes making and hes sure he never wants to find out. 

hes ready to deny it, cut his losses and head for the one piece himself (hes not heartless, but if he stands here any longer and has to look at. well. he think he might never be able to move again) but then he really thinks about it. could he? would it even be possible? surely this isnt the way things were supposed to go, surely this isnt right. luffys never been one who was supposed to die just like that, like this, law knows that much. he thinks hes going to regret this, but he counts it as one last thank you for everything luffy did for him. 

youre gonna owe me big time strawhat-ya. if i even remember this, that is. 

he puffs a breath “i can try. i cant- promise anything but. i think we both know this,” he makes a vague, weak gesture, “isnt right.” 

zoro doesnt say anything, law didnt expect him to. he just bows his head slightly and law takes that as the acknowledgment it is. 

he brings his hand up, “dont do anything stupid, zoro-ya. or, at least, make it stupid enough to bring him back.” 

he positions his fingers in way so familiar, but the weight of it now is nearly unbearable.

room.

shambles

—

zoro’s world shatters, differently than before, and then theres nothing.

—

he wakes up in bed, bleary eyed and a pounding headache assaulting his senses. his alarm clock is going off which only adds to the drumbeat against his eyes. he grumbles and whacks around aimlessly to shut it off. the silence lasts a moment before his eyes fly open and he jolts up, sheets pooling around his waist. luffy. where was he? where was zoro? did the crew find him and take him back to the ship? did law fail? but this didnt look like chopper’s office.

he looks around to find hes in a room hes never seen before in his life, yet he instinctively knows is his. it all feels so wrong, like he doesnt belong in his own skin. he scratches lightly at his arm. he needs to go to work. 

work?

what the fuck is happening. 

its like his mind is at war with itself, one truth trying to dominate over the other. he trained at sensei’s dojo. he aged out of foster care. he was a swordsman, he was the first mate of the strawhat pirates. he didnt go to college, hes working construction. he made a promise, and kuina died. kuina…died. huh. his captain, his luffy, someone he knew so intimately and who knew him in turn. hes never met someone with that name his entire life. he needs to go to work, he needs to find his crew. 

he doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. 

without his permission his legs stand him right up and he moves confusedly, surely, to the bathroom he didnt know he had. his reflection stares back at him in the mirror and its him, of course it is, he doesnt know why he expected someone else, but hes also…different. he has both function of his eyes, first of all. a scar in the same place as before but its light and healed over and doesnt seem to have blinded him like it once did. his hair is green, sure, but black roots peek out from underneath the familiar shade. hes grown stubble, he should shave. he needs to go to work. 

hes so confused, but his body moves like its been doing this its whole life. as far as zoro knows, it has. 

he continues getting ready, mind still at odds, and makes himself a cup of coffee (in his own kitchen. his own kitchen? the state of it leaves less to be desired. sanji would surely skin him alive) before tucking into his shoes, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out the door. he seems to live in a single room apartment, and a crummy one at that. his legs move him faster, he has to go to work, he cant be late again (again?).

his car is parked outside the building, he has no fucking clue what it is but he unlocks it all the same and settles in. he feels like he shouldnt be operating this sort of machinery. franky would know better than him how it must work. he starts it up and backs out. trusting his gut to get him where he needs to be. he should be more concerned, he should be frantic and inconsolable, his captain was dead in his arms and now hes? what? going to lay some bricks or some shit? but he finds that part of him dulled in favor of following whatever mundanity this body is pushing him towards. 

uumm whatever whatever he arrives at work eventually i dont know how construction jobs work are there offices or something. idc thats not the point. johnny and yosaku are there and zoro is surprised to see them since, as far as he knows, the last time they were with each other was at arlong park which was years ago for him. but the two greet him like this is a daily occurence, like theyve been working together for years. and zoro thinks, knows, they must have. but this is good, this is great fucking news actually because until now theres been no confirmation if zoro was here alone (wherever “here” is) but now his proof is right in front of him because if johnny and yosaku are here, and they exist the same as from before, then that must mean everyone else is here too right? he clings onto this hope with both hands trembling. 

nami, usopp, the cook and chopper and robin and franky, brook, jinbe and fuck. fuck, luffy. theyve got to be here somewhere, zoro just has to find them. hes not sure if they remember things like he does but hes got to try because they are his as much as he has always been theirs and they should all exist together as it has always been. 

so then yeah he finishes his shift because its what hes ‘supposed’ to do but he doesnt go home. he drives around aimlessly before pulling into a random lot and pulling out his phone (theres no snail attached to it. weird.) he doesnt even know where to begin. hes not usually the one coming up with plans, he just goes where theres blood need to be shed. but no one seems to be in any danger here except for maybe himself, and its not like he has his swords anyway- shit. fuck did he still have wado? he must have right? he knows there was a kuina that existed here too, he knows because he remembers. and she, well she wasnt around anymore so he must have wado. he must. with shaking fingers he pushes that aside for now, though barely. he needs to find luffy, but he wouldnt even know where to start. luffy could probably find the rest of their crew by simply wandering around and happening upon them, thats how he did it before. but zoro has no idea where he’d be, he doesnt even know where he is. nami or robin would be a good bet to at least form a plan, but he wouldnt know how to find them either. 

is there even a coco village here? would robin still be part of baroque works? he needs someone who has a defined location that he could google or something (what the hell is google?). usopp would be at syrup village right? shit. is there even a drum island? these are all too broad, he needs something specific. specific…..a place with an identifiable name, somewhere smaller that would be easier to stake out…

a lightbulb goes off. 

fucking shit he thinks. of course. of fucking course it would come down to the cook. 

he types in “baratie” to his maps and a location pops up, just 27 minutes from where he is now. he hasnt eaten yet either, so he figures thats killing two birds with one stone. he taps the address, backs out of the lot and drives. 

(if it takes him nearly an hour to get there thats nobodys business but his own)

he pulls up to the building about a quarter after 7. it seems packed enough already, but if memory serves him right then that was just par for the course for baratie. he parks, gets out and locks his car, then shoves his hands in his pocket and resigns himself to another oncoming migraine hes sure to get upon interacting with the man hes certain is waiting somewhere inside. 

the tables are full, the host tells him, he slips a 20 from his wallet and suddenly (of course) theyre more than willing to serve him. 

he gets settled in a far and somewhat isolated booth and a waiter comes up to him, but he cuts the man off as hes introducing himself and says “you got a blonde working here? stupid ass side part with a weird eyebrow? goes by sanji” the waiter looks shocked and put off by his rudeness but quickly collects himself and says “we might. depends on whos asking” zoro snorts “just tell him hes got someone who wants to talk to him,” he cringes at this next part, tries to smile but knows it comes off as a sneer. hes not sure if he still has conquerors haki wherever he happens to be now, but he tries to channel that energy the same way he would if he were in battle and says “tell him im a fan.” the waiters eyes widen, in fear or surprise zoros not sure (most likely a mix of both) before he nods and scurries across the floor, weaving in between patrons and coworkers alike until he disappears behind the double doors to the kitchen. 

zoro sits with his arms crossed and skims through the menu out of boredom and impatience. its a couple minutes before he sees a familiar head of blonde hair emerge from across the way. a smile climbs onto his face despite himself. sure, the guy annoyed him to hell and back and their…friendship (if you could really call it that) was a tumultuous one, but it was good to see someone familiar nonetheless. he schools his expression before the blonde can spot him. a few moments pass before hes standing right in front of zoro, his stupid suit primped and pressed as always, and a cautious look on his face. 

“you asked for me?” his tone is the one he only reserves for men who he deems not worth his time. zoro grits his teeth but says “yeah, theres something ive gotta discuss with you.” 

hes never been one for tact, forever blunt unlike his swords. 

sanji quirks a brow “i dont plan on talking about anything with anyone unless theyre a paying customer” zoro feels his eyebrow twitch but grabs his menu nonetheless and points to a random item without looking “i’ll have this then, and whatever booze you got.” sanji leans in to see what hes pointing to before his one visible eye widens and a grin slowly overtakes his previously unaffected face. 

he speaks condescendingly. “wonderful choice sir, coming right up.” before zoro can get another word in he grabs the menu out of his hand, spins on his heel, and marches back to the kitchen. 

zoro clenches his fists and does his best not to grind his teeth into a fine dust. no matter where they are or what displacement in time the fucking curly brow never fails to be absolutely insufferable. at least this way though, zoro knows its him for real. 

its another 20 minutes before the shit cook reemerges from the back with a platter and a mug in his hand. he steps up to zoros table and places the plate and cup down in front of him with a smug look. zoro has no idea what the fuck hes looking at on his plate. he doesnt have time to question it before sanji plops down in the booth seat across from him, disregarding all previous faux-professionale and asking “so what do you want” zoro tears his eyes away from his plate and looks into sanji’s, trying to convey as much emotion, as much urgency as he possibly can. 

“luffy needs us. and we have to find him” whatever the cook was expecting him to say, it definitely wasnt that. the other man regards him more warily now, looking him up and down with a tense frown before replying “i dont know what the hell youre talking about. and i dont appreciate being mocked or having my time wasted” he goes to stand up but zoro grabs his wrist, yanking him back down unceremoniously. 

he blinks before rounding back on zoro, flaring his nostrils in a way zoro knows means hes about to get himself in deep shit “oi, what the fuck do you think youre-“ he doesnt let him finish “im not mocking you. this isnt some stupid prank or whatever youre thinking. and despite how much i would enjoy punching your teeth in right now im not looking for a fight either.” 

the cook still looks affronted but seems to actually be listening. zoro continues “look, i dont know what the fuck is going on. i was at laughtale with you and the others, with luffy, and then i woke up and now im here and i dont know how but this is all wrong. its all wrong but i need to find luffy and fuck, i cant do it alone. i need your help to find him. find everyone.” the blondes eye is wide, but he blinks and its gone. he looks more tired than zoro has ever seen him 

“im not paid enough for this shit. i dont know why i even-“ he looks like hes getting ready to leave again but zoro is desperate at this point so he blurts out whatever he thinks will convince the other man hes not bullshitting.

“we met you here, at the baratie. me and nami and usopp and luffy. luffy busted through one of your walls so your old man punished him by making him wash dishes. i dont, i dont know what luffy said to you, or how he convinced you to join us, but he changed your life like he did mine. we sailed together, and we had each others backs no matter how much we got on each others nerves. you were our cook. i was our swordsman. luffy was our captain and youd do anything to help him, i know you would, same as me. youre a pervert and an asshole and a damn annoyance, but youre strong. i could still kick your ass though” if the cook’s eyebrow could go any higher hes sure itd be clear off his forehead by now. 

“and you- your dream. you wanted to find the all blue.” he stalls there, engine sputtering. zoro doesnt know what else to say, so he snaps his mouth shut. 

the blonde is still gaping at him like a fish, but he mouths the phrase “all blue” like hes been searching for it his whole life, like he always knew but just never had the words. 

he blinks. 

then he blinks again, rapidly. there are tears pooling in his eyes. his mouth flaps for a moment before he seems to finally be able to push out words. 

“you- zoro?” he sounds small. he sounds hopeful. zoro grins. 

“yeah, yeah its me.” sanji stares at him a moment, then looks around, as if hes seeing everything with clear eyes for the very first time. zoro figures he might as well be. 

“holy shit. holy shit.” 

zoro laughs, a rough thing. theres a ball in his throat that he cant seem to dislodge. “nice to have you back, curly brow” sanji’s gaze snaps back to him before he scowls and tries wiping away the tears that are now streaking down his cheeks. its useless though, it seems they cant stop. zoro laughs again at the sorry state of the asshole in front of him, this time more full and genuine. he feels so relieved he doesnt know what to do with himself. 

“yeah yeah, whatever dick head.” sanji grumbles. zoro quiets down, glances away, lets him have his moment. “fuck, mosshead, im still on the clock and you unload all this on me? how the hell am i supposed to finish the rest of my shift?” his words are sharp but he doesnt sound angry at all. in fact, when zoro turns back to look, hes smiling. 

“you remember now though, dont you?” he has to be sure. 

“what does it look like, dumbass? think im tearin’ up cuz of pollen or some shit?” the cook rolls his eye. theyre both silent for a moment, trapped in their own heads, before he speaks up again. “so, what now?” zoro doesnt even have to think before he answers “we find everyone else, obviously.” “well no shit, but how?” zoro glances to the side. “i was hoping youd figure that out” sanji stares before bursting out laughing. zoro scowls and hunches into his shoulders. 

“of course!” sanji cackles “of course your dumbass wouldnt know what to do! you probably just typed in the most recognizable place you could remember and hoped one of us would be there!” zoro doesn’t answer, because yes thats what he fucking did, but it worked didnt it? he doesnt see whats so funny. 

“fuck you.” 

he wants nothing more than to bash that smarmy mouth in, but the familiar egging settles something in his soul. sanji gasps a few breaths before calming down, now wiping tears from his eyes for a completely different reason. 

“alright alright, well lets figure this out then, yeah? we figure out how we got here then we can figure out how to get back right? simple enough” 

zoro nods, “law was-“ he stops. remembers dull eyes and clammy skin and wrong wrong wrong. he shakes his head, “no, no we cant” sanji looks at him confused. 

“we cant go back,” zoro presses, “not until i fix things. i promised i would” the other man seems to pick up on his panic and his mood dampens, becomes more serious. ��promised what?” 

zoros never been one to sugarcoat, but now he wishes he could find a way to soften the blow hes about to deal. he inhales, pushes the breath out. says, “luffy died, sanji.” the fact the hes actually using the other mans name seems to fly right over his head in favor of the first part. “what?” zoro huffs, is he really gonna make him say it again? “luffy di-“ sanji interrupts, angry now, fists clenched and whitened from the pressure “i heard what you said. but what do you mean.” 

he doesnt want to have to tell sanji what happened, doesnt want to talk about it at all, wants to slice it up into small enough pieces that it very well may have never existed.

he told law the others wouldn't have to know, that he would make sure of it, but he's realizing now just how unrealistic that is. as much faith as zoro places in his own abilities, he's aware he's only one man.

and, he figures, if there's anyone i can trust enough to share a burden heavy as this with, might as well be the one who's strength i'd count on just as much as my own.

sanji cant help if he doesnt know what went down once they got separated at laughtale, so zoro sets his shoulders, clenches his fists, prepares himself like hes riding into a battle he knows he has no chance of winning—hes the first mate for fucks sake—and resigns himself to filling the other man in on every horrible detail

by the end, the cook looks much the same as zoro feels, pale-faced and shaky. he runs a trembling hand through his hair and clenches his eye shut. “fuck mosshead, thats…” he doesnt bother finishing, and zoro stays silent—already knowing just how much of a shitty situation it is that theyve found themselves in.

—

(btw the reason sanji was so smug about what zoro randomly chose on the menu is bc its one of their most expensive dishes. even upon regaining his memories he still makes zoro pay it cuz hes an asshole like that. business is business 😁)

uuummm i dont feel like detailing the rest basically my idea is that they work together to try and track down all the members as well as law, since hes also a part of this. i dont know how or when or in what order but i do know finding luffy would come last. so yes its zolu but for a majority of it more in spirit than anything. maybe i can throw in some luffy pov of him living with ace and sabo . he knows something is off but cant place his finger on what. he knows something is missing but hes got his brothers with him so what else could he possibly need? etc etc. you get the idea

[indecisive-dizzy]

Hi pookie wookie!!!

In honor of me redesigning some of my welcome home ocs (not Daisey and Flora cause they got their redesigns in human form lmao), I’m sharing some ideas I failed to share earlier :,3

Valentine’s Day cards of them maybe,,,,,,, they’re all personalized and based on the character’s theme and interests (holly = stars and ice skating, kiko = books and pink? Idk (probably gonna change her profession cause i ran out of ideas for her), etc)

Kiko might become a teacher instead,,,,,,, I ran out of ideas for her being a lawyer or a law student- might keep her being a clown in her past, but idk yet 😭

Random but I’m starting to get into Madoka Magica and madohomu gives me such holly/daisey vibes they murder me

Also I’ve delved into Daisey/Wallace a tiny bit cause they’re the only oc x oc ship i haven’t explored yet in my head

They’re actually really cute I like them

Their name can be Plant Photography,,,,,,,,, wait I love them

Also new ep of alien stage came out,,,,,,,,, I’m dead it killed me

I need more voice headcanons for my ocs- the only one I have is Daisey and they’re never consistent 😭

I have two redesigns done and I have two more to do :3

I’ll probably send them when they’re done- but I still need to explore more 70s clothing, especially for the different countries my ocs are from :,3333333

Hiiiiii bestiee!!! <333

Oh i love the idea of personalized Valentine's cards! (or would they be Mail-In-Time cards?)

What if Kiko taught law? I think combining the two ideas could be fun .3.

idk anything about the shows you mentioned but! im glad you're enjoying them oh and rip lol

Plant Photography sounds so cute! perhaps Wallace takes pictures of Daisey's garden and Daisey hangs them up <3

man i never think about voice headcanons lol, it's the one thing i always forget to do with ocs XD

70s fashion my beloved, there's so much fun stuff and ugh dont get me started on the Pants! I am foaming at the mouth i need them,,

[b1uedcollar]

outside  PEE-OH-VEE,  with  ‘em  fish  fingers,  s’easy  to  think  cody  charpentier  a  certain  way.   (  and  he’s  gunna  give  y’that.  of  course  he  is.  go  on,  make  his  day!  )   but,  pop  that  warhead  in  y’mouth  there  and  prepare  for  some  blowback.   —   he  generally  washes  his  hands   (  and  bleaches  the  sink  where  he  gutted  that  fish  ).   sweeps  ‘em  wood  shavings  from  the  floor  with  his  very  own  broom.   and  stacks  what  needs  stacking.   everything  has  its  place  on  that  boathome  of  his.   his  front  door  ain’t  no  exception.  swinging  loudly  back  into  frame  and  announcing  his  arrival.

“  I   WASN'T   SNOOPING.  ”     /     @whitelace   .

he  nods  along  to  her  lying  song,  but  his  lips  don’t  hitch  to  any  other  visible  reaction.   he’s  all  torn  up.   cody   loves   catching   people   in   lies   almost   as   much   as   ‘em   fishes   he’s   gearing   up   to   fry.   but  s’lil  harder  to  dodge  the  heat  rising  from  someone  rifling  through  his  shit.   licks  his  lips  before  he  shoots,    “   find   whatcha   was   lookin’   for,   snoopy?   ”

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 22.5k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, lovely hot nerdy jk ): (i think i speak for all women when i say that nerdy jungkook is the best jungkook say I IF U AGREE),[explicit sexual content: masturbation (f)], has the budding romance finally hit the second towers? read more to find out

NOTES hey everyone thank you so much for the overwhelming support on this silly little fic. i hope you guys enjoy this update and let me know your thoughts in the replies/reblog section and in my inbox, wherever you prefer hehe <3

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You usually finish prepping for the office at around 7:40 am, just enough time left to walk to the station and catch your bus at exactly 8 am.

As of now, it's 7 but the clock's longer hand has moved past the 40-minute mark, and you are still in your living room, supposedly all done and ready to go – except that you're stuck on the floor looking at your laptop perched on your coffee table, staring at it blankly, the HR email looking right back at you; almost daunting.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this event is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this meeting is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You've been reading it over and over again you're sure you can recite it with ease if prompted. It's in the hopes that the name Jeon Jungkook will suddenly disappear somewhere in the email – that maybe you missed some detail, and it doesn't actually mention his name at all. You read the email repeatedly wishing that it is just a glitch in the system and what you found out about yesterday are all just a part of your extreme delusion. Maybe it's one of those nights with Jimin at his apartment where you would indulge in a little bit of guilty pressure – pots, to be exact – and just let it take you to a whole new world.

But you and Jimin didn't go home together last night, and you definitely did not smoke pot. He went straight to the airport and you straight home with nothing but mixed feelings inside, and you were more than thankful that Jimin was in a bout of panic himself about not getting there on time that he didn't notice you squirming in his passenger seat.

There is a vague memory in your head with him telling you he was going to come with Namjoon, but you can't be for sure. Everything that transpired that night is all reduced down to the very moment in the comfort room when you realized the glaring information about Jungkook being three eggs in your basket: first, he's Jimin's cousin. Second, he's an executive in your company – a CTO, to be exact – and while you aren't exactly working under his department and they are all the way up ten floors above you, he's still technically your boss according to the hierarchy. The son of the CEO of the very company you are working at. Not only is he the CTO, but third he's also your neighbor. Someone you've met weeks ago whom you may have developed a growing relationship with that will now possibly be bleak in a matter of hours or days depending on if you are going to tell him or if he finds out.

That is the thing that you're currently debating with yourself about as you let your eyes glide over the unsuspecting email from HR for the nth time.

7:50 am – the clock on your screen reads.

You think about the dock pay that you're gonna get if you come to work late. At this point, you can run to the station and still catch your bus, but you have to decide in a minute for that to be possible.

Groaning, you feel defeated as you shut your laptop close and stand up from the floorboards, your eyes going over to the door across from you which earns yourself a wince.

I'm gonna get a dock pay and it will all be Jungkook's fault. That jerk.

Okay – obviously, he's far from a jerk and he has nothing to do with any of this. You just like blaming anybody.

You sigh, grabbing your bag, finally making up your mind to just go and see for yourself what today has to offer you. A little optimism, if you will. But if you manage to bump into Jungkook at that company you aren't sure if you're not going to do something embarrassing because one thing about you, you do not know how to face certain challenges in life like a matured individual – you always have to be a little overboard and overdramatic with it.

You were heading towards the door when you suddenly remember your ID.

Your ID. Funny.

As you pick it up off the coffee table, you think about how you don't really wear it on the way to work and on your way home. You don't like the feeling of the lanyard wrapping around the skin of your nape, so you've always just worn it when you're in the office where it is mandatory. Otherwise, you make sure to take it off.

Suddenly, you think about a scenario where you're the kind of employee to wear their ID all the time, and those nights where you'd go to Midday straight from work to have dinner with Jungkook would've turned out differently because then if you were to have worn your ID during one of those meetings, he would've figured out that you're working at the same company. And maybe... the conversation about his relation to Jimin would've came up.

And maybe, you won't feel so... complicated about the whole thing.

How – in the two weeks that you've spent with him – do you know too much yet so little about him? How did you ever not ask each other where you work and how did this all come to you like a landslide and now you have no way out?

God's sake, you know about his dog, and you've exchanged numbers... and yet...

Although, granted, maybe you should've asked for each other's socials? Does he have Instagram? Twitter? Maybe if you had exchanged those sooner, you would've gotten to know him more and made the connections you only recently found out.

You want so badly to reach out to Jimin to talk to him about all of this. But he hasn't really contacted you since he sent off Namjoon to the airport. Maybe he really did leave with him, and it isn't just your imagination when he said something about going there last night when you sneaked out of the party.

But deep inside... you do not really want to talk to him about any of this, at all.

It is, to simply put, awkward.

You feel ashamed for gushing about your neighbor that is apparently the same person as his cousin. Feel embarrassed about how you ogled over him to Jimin when in fact, they're related. You don't know about other people, but you know the unspoken rule about not dating your friends' relatives? Not like you're dating Jungkook, but you have a crush on him for fuck's sake. The strings do not even stop at their blood relation because it extends to your workplace as well.

You know Jimin well enough to feel confident about not getting judged by him if you were to tell him about it, and if he actually does, he will directly say it to your face as far as you're concerned. But...

It's just all too awkward to tell anyone about. You're in too deep in the sea of embarrassment and shame you cannot think of ways to get out of it.

Your head is starting to hurt, and you know it's the sign to stop thinking. So, you shut up all the voices in your head and walk towards the door ready to go out, telling yourself that whatever happened, you're going to handle everything cooly like the grown woman you are.

Stepping outside the threshold of your apartment, you're just about to turn around to lock the door on your way out when suddenly, the door across yours opens and there welcomes you the man starring in your list of problems for the day: Jeon Jungkook, your neighbor Unit 446.

"Oh, hi. Good morning—"

You turn on your heel so quickly and open the door to your apartment so fast it's almost at the speed of light, entering your apartment once again and slamming the door closed, pressing your back on it as your eyes widen; heart beating at a staccato of thug, thug, thug as you take a moment to hold your breath.

What the fuck.

How in the hell is this the first time you see each other getting ready to work? It couldn't have happened in the first week you knew him or hell, the first day?! Why must you have bumped into him like that the moment you finally knew about who he is? Everything is getting way too ridiculous. It's like the universe is telling you once again that you'll always be her middle child: unfavorable by all ends.

"Shit." You hiss, biting your lip quite harshly as you think about how you must've looked like a goddamn fool turning on him like that for no reason. Jungkook must've been weirded the hell out – and rightfully so.

You face-palm. Damn, you were just telling yourself you're gonna handle everything like a grown, matured woman.

You unconsciously walk on your tippy toes on the way to the small window on the side of the door that lets you oversee outside your door, peeking from there like a creep as you watch Jungkook, still on his porch – with his grey coat over his arm – looking down on his phone and doing something with it.

That something is apparently sending you a text.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: why did u seem like u just saw a ghost?

The message read when you open your phone at the bell of notification. You haven't even read all of it yet when another one comes in.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: am I that appalling in the mornings? Haha 🥴

On any occasion, you would've laughed and go along with the joke, but you do not know what to say to him.

You stand there doing nothing, just staring at his two consecutive messages, poorly left on read. You purse your lips as you peek from the small window again, getting a glimpse of Jungkook standing still on his porch, eyes glued to his phone. He waits for awhile, and then you see him shaking his head with a hint of... smile on his face?

And then your phone dings once again.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:53am]: good morning by the way. Get safely to work

You stare at it so hard that the next second you look at the window, he isn't there anymore.

Letting out a heavy breath, you knock your head on the door, thinking about how you missed your 8 am bus and you have to wait for 30 minutes for another one to come and most especially, how you're going to get a dock pay for being late.

It's almost as if Jungkook is running for higher office the way his face is plastered all over the LED screens inside the building, showing the announcement of his ceremony. It's taunting almost, the way it was the first thing you see when you swiped your ID for entry.

Although, you do find it funny that it's the same man you just saw in front of you when you stepped outside of your place earlier this morning.

"Sol," you call your co-worker and also your friend, sliding your swivel chair closer to her desk. "Do we really have to go to the ceremony?" You ask, seeing that everybody in the office is already setting aside the stuff on their desks to head out to the 12th floor where the announcement ceremony will be held.

Sol fixes the post-it note on her computer first before turning to you, "Of course we do."

You pout at that.

"Is Ms. Jung really gonna be mad if we don't attend?"

"You know how she has this obsession of making our department look good, so I'm assuming yes." She answers, and you slump in your seat knowing damn well she's right to think that. Sol sees your seemingly grumpy disposition and asks, "Why? You don't wanna go?"

If only she knew.

You shake your head to her question.

"I just think it's gonna be boring," you shrug, the lie rolling on your tongue seamlessly.

"Eh, at least it's less work for today. Those things run for two hours and there's free lunch so that's that."

Events like these are supposed to be advantageous for you because again, Sol is right and those things do run for about two hours meaning less workload. Also, free lunch. Who doesn't like free stuff? But then again, Jungkook is going to be there and with your luck, you're starting to think that you're going to see more of him from now on. That is just how the world works against you.

"You're right." You say, frowning becoming more and more apparent, you're sure.

Sol chuckles at you and stands up herself, fixing her dress as you follow her out of the office.

Before you could completely go out though, you stop her on her tracks.

"Hey, do you think you have a face mask I can borrow?" You say, looking hopefully at her. Sol raises her brows, obviously confused at your strange request. Clearing your throat, you pretend to cough a little in your fisted hand. "I'm feeling a little under the weather today, but I drank my meds this morning. Forgot the mask." You reason with her, adding more lies to the conversation.

"Oh, I see. Okay, I think I have it." Sol perks up at the realization and you both enter your office once again, with your co-worker digging through her desk's drawer for the mask you were asking her for.

She hands it to you as soon as she finds it and you're quick to wear it around your mouth, silently rejoicing in your head at the brilliant last-minute plan you came up with in your head in order to avoid anything with Jungkook later. Not that you expect him to do something if he, indeed, sees you – you doubt he even will, given that the hall is huge, and you are planning to sit all the way back – but the mask is just a precautionary measure so there are less chances of him recognizing you or anything crazy like that.

Together, Sol and you ride the elevator down to the 12th floor and unsurprisingly, a lot of the company's employees are already there, finding their seats, chitchats heard across the hall.

"Sol, __!" Joonhwi, one of your co-junior accountants and also a friend, calls out to you both, separating himself from the other accountants and heading to your direction. "You're sick?" He asks as soon as he sees your face covered with the mask.

"A little." You reply.

Joonhwi nods his head and then say, "I thought you girls were planning to ditch the ceremony."

"I'll do anything to not see your face but then again we work together so I have no choice." Sol snarkily remarks.

"Sol, can you please refrain from professing your love to me with all these people around?" Joonhwi retorts back, smarmy and teasing, ever the expert on how to get on Sol's nerves.

"__, can you get this khia away from me?"

You laugh at both of their exchange, shaking your head at their silly antics. You don't know if Sol is just... emotionally constipated, but damn, she sure is clueless as hell about Joonhwi's feelings. It seems like everybody from the accounting department knows except for her.

Shaking your head, you go straight to the seats available with Joonhwi and Sol sitting on opposite sides of you.

"Anyway, I heard they're appointing Mr. Jeon's son." Joonhwi suddenly say.

Now that makes you squirm.

"Really?" You utter, just to give them a reaction.

Sol looks at you weird. "I thought everybody knew that?"

"Well, there are lots of Jeons in Korea..." you tell her, earning a laugh from Joonhwi which makes Sol frown.

"A man is not allowed to laugh in my vicinity, Joonhwi, shut up," she says rolling her eyes. Her tone shifts when she speaks to you though, suddenly sounding more gossip-y as she shows you a picture on her phone. "Look at the material, though,"

You look at the photo of a man who very much has the same and exact coloring of the one and only Jeon Jungkook you know and you have to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I mean, I've always thought Mr. Jeon was a DILF but his son is – damn." She adds, zooming in on Jungkook's professional head shot.

You and Joonhwi both give her the stinky eye.

"Have some class." you tell her, earning a laugh from both of them.

"For the record, you agreed to that before." Sol points out, referring to that dinner you three had at a barbecue house awhile ago. For the record, though, you were both drunk and Joonhwi had to haul Sol's ass back to her place and call Jimin to get you to yours.

"I refuse to acknowledge anything I've ever said when I was drunk."

"Okay but is anybody getting the urge to get transferred to the IT department expeditiously?" Sol jokes, obviously swooning over Jungkook.

Joonhwi snorts. "The CTO doesn't even go there."

"Killjoy much?" Sol frowns at him. "He'd visit, though. Imagine the eye candy."

You eye her in a teasing manner, "You have enough candy on your plate, Sol." And then you subtly look over Joonhwi.

Joonhwi himself doesn't seem to expect the insinuation, but nonetheless you know that he got the message of you implying he's good-looking and if Sol is looking for that, he's just there. That is why he suddenly loses his smirk and rests his back on the seat, crossing his arms as he retires himself from the conversation, obviously dodging your teasing.

Psh. Emotionally constipated co-worker number two.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sol asks, but she can't get an answer as the ceremony begins.

"Good morning, everyone. Today marks a significant moment as we gather to appoint our interim Chief Technology Officer," The host starts the introduction, "We are here to acknowledge the pivotal role of the CTO in our company's journey to ensure continuity in our innovation efforts. It is with great pleasure that I introduce Mr. Jeon Jungkook, our interim CTO, who has been selected to step into the position."

And there is him, in his grey suit that you've seen him in earlier. He's wearing his glasses as well, the one that has the thinner frame. You notice he switches between two kinds; he wears the thick-framed one off work and the thin-framed one during work, like right now. 

Jungkook smiles at the applause that reverberates all over the hall. There are LED screens that hang on both sides of the room and you can see his face clearly there. Sol gushes over how good he looks.

"Jesus, wow..." Sol whispers to herself, and you're sure she did not mean for you to hear that, so you try not to acknowledge it because deep inside, you agree with her. That's exactly your reaction when you saw him for the first time in the stairs of your apartment complex – and he didn't even clean up in his suit that time.

Jungkook stands on the podium with an easy-going smile on his face, his aura screaming confidence. He looks so sure of himself, like he's born to actually do this.

"Thank you, Mr. Park. Good day to all. I am deeply honored and humbled to accept the role of Chief Technology Officer at Blue Nexus Incorporation. As we navigate this interim period, my commitment is to uphold..."

You watch as he starts his speech, noting how well he speaks. You aren't a stranger to how people have different personalities when they are in and off work, but it's almost disorienting to see Jungkook going all professional, his voice soft but edgy at the same time, just enough for you and everyone to recognize a bit of authority in there.

He looks over the crowd, and for a brief second, you feel as if his eyes glossed over you far longer than he had other parts in the room.

But that thought dies down as quickly when he immediately goes back to speaking, and you're sure you just imagined it.

You're in the middle of your night routine when your phone suddenly dings.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:44pm]: just remembered we never really got around to that boxing machine, did we

Right. Today is Friday and you are supposed to go that boxing machine to determine if he's gonna supply your daily boba or if you're coming over to his place so he can cook you both a meal.

But that deal was made days ago when you still were clueless about his identity, and admittedly, you'd say that right now, you're doing anything to avoid him.

Scrolling through your message thread and seeing Jungkook's texts since that morning being left on read makes you feel bad. You know it isn't fair. It isn't nice to just suddenly go leave people dry like that, especially Jungkook who has been so strangely non-confronting about your sudden weird behavior.

It takes you a few minutes to give him a reply due to you erasing and retyping your message repeatedly.

You [10:47pm]: sorry ive been busy the whole day with work ):

Was what you lamely came up with. You couldn't have done better than that, to be honest with yourself.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:47pm]: I see Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:48pm]: so raincheck tonight?

You [10:48]: sorryyyy for cancellig im just feeling a little under the weather

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:49pm]: ohhhh ok ok sorry for texting late

You [10:50pm]: asbdbsfjshf its fine!!!!!!!!

Maybe you didn't think it through, but you find yourself typing the next message and hitting send way too quickly.

You [10:51pm]: maybe tomorrow?

You're thinking about taking it back, but Jungkook has already replied.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:51pm]: ok. I'll see you tomorrow 😊

Pursing your lips, you wonder what he's doing tonight.

Is he working? Maybe some take-home paperworks? What do CTOs even do? He must be really busy... though you think it has to be otherwise since he had the time to text you.

You stand up from the chair of your vanity table, patting your hair one last time and jumping to your bed, ready to overthink some more then sleep when an idea suddenly pops up into your head the moment your eyes lay on your phone.

Making yourself comfortable on your mattress, you pick up the phone from your night stand and unlock it, your fingers making quick work of opening the Instagram app and typing jeonjungkook on the search bar.

The results show you a few accounts that resemble the username you looked up, but as you check each one, none of them seems to belong to the man you're looking for. So, you try a few varieties: jungkook, jungkookjeon, jeon... JK?... but then you're sure you've milked out the last of your brain juice trying to come up with a possible username for him but to no avail.

Jimin must be following him, you think to yourself. Since Jimin is a snob on his verified and public account and isn't following anybody there, you go straight to his private account to try and find a Jungkook in his following but again – you guessed it, failed search.

"Does he not have an IG?" you ask yourself, feeling quite exhilarated.

You think about Twitter, but remembering Jungkook's face makes you share your head in disagreement with yourself. There is no way he has Twitter. That guy looks terminally offline and doesn't have the face of someone who likes tweeting in his leisure time.

You'd say it was curiosity rather than desperation when you decided to install Facebook and hoped to see some of him there. You did have little hopes though, as you started typing his name, thinking there was no way you'd see him on the app because, who even uses Facebook nowadays except moms and dads and grandparents?

But then as you jokingly type his name and enter it on the search bar, a few tagged pictures of him show up.

The first one is posted by a Jeon Junghyun, his brother, and the picture is from 2017. Said picture is of Jungkook at the airport sitting on his luggage, and the caption reads as: good luck in college brother.

You stare at the picture, noting how young he looked in it and suddenly feel disoriented when you see his arms with no ink around them. They're so bare, and he definitely looked more lean, not like the muscly guy you know him as now. He was starting college here, so he must've been only 19 in the photo... meaning he got his tattoos in the States while he was in college or maybe even later than that?

You click on Jungkook's page, the one that his brother tagged in the photo, but all you see is the default Facebook profile picture and a locked account.

Feeling disappointed at that, you go back to his brother's page and check it out, throwing all your shame away as you look through his photos.

He must've limited his audience since the public posts are all outdated, but there are a few pictures in which Jungkook is in them, as well as other recurring people who seem to be their parents.

There's a recent family picture of them in the Eiffel Tower – uploaded in 2022 – all four of them.

As you see Mr. Jeon, the CEO of your company, with his family, it's hard not to feel... whiplashed, for the lack of better term. From the looks of it, they seem to be... close? For the record, Jimin does not have any casual pictures of him with his parents, and as far as you know, they never went out on trips together – just galas and all that socialite events. You know they are only mere pictures, not solid enough to assume what Jungkook's relationship is with his family, but you're starting to think maybe it's a good one.

That'll honestly be surprising, given that every wealthy family you know has dysfunctional relationships. Nevertheless, it will be quite... adorable if what you think is true.

"Oh my god," you say, disbelieving, as you recognize Jimin in one of Junghyun's public photos while scrolling through more.

It's an event of some sort, and how can you not spot Jimin when he looks conspicuous in his orange hair? You remember this being in your sophomore year in college, and how much Jimin actually hates that hair and wants to burn down every picture that reminds him of it.

You snort as you zoom in on Jimin, taking a screenshot of the photo, mindlessly going to your messaging app; ready to send him the photo to poke lighthearted fun, but then you realize—

"Oh, I can't do that."

Jimin will ask you where you got the photo from, and you'll have to tell him that you were cyber stalking his cousin. Then, he'll ask why you were stalking his cousin, and he will find out the very thing you don't want him to find out.

That makes you frown, quick to delete the message you were just about to send and put your phone back to your nightstand.

Well, that ruins fun.

You wish you can tell Jimin or anyone for the matter, but you currently don't feel comfortable about doing that.

Sighing, you look up at your ceiling, then forcefully close your eyes to avoid more thoughts coming into your head.

You start counting sheep until you fall asleep.

There had been a lot of times where you felt like shit about yourself. They happen way too many times that at this point, you'd lost count. It wired you to think that there must be something wrong when a day goes all too well.

But there is no beating the feeling of self-antagonism when you ditch somebody – even if it's for a valid reason.

Sure, you've ditched Jimin a couple of times, and he always makes sure to rub it on your face as much as he can until you pout at him and explain to him that there are just some days you do not feel like going out. Jimin, as your best friend, understands that about you, of course.

A lot of times, though, it's the dates you tend to ditch the most. Three dates – you recall – is the number of times you'd skipped out of, just because you had a panic attack thirty minutes before the meeting that one time and two times for the plain, simple fact that you had a realization that you did not really like the guy you were planning to see.

Shin Taemu, the guy from the IT department asked you out last month for a second date and you texted him a last-minute, half-assed lame excuse about having gotten period cramps. Up to this day, you're still wary about using the IT department's copy room because his texts, since then, have been left unanswered. You saw him awhile ago at the cafeteria, though, and he seemed to be treating you non-differently even after you ghosted him suddenly. 

Recently, you're doing the same thing again to Jungkook.

It isn't dating, of course – just the whole ditching thing.

You feel terrible for canceling on him again on Saturday when you just told him Friday night that you would go to that boxing machine. He had texted you a simple "we still on?" with a smiley emoji that gave you the creeps (because that smiley emoji does not ever mean the person is smiling behind it – knowing Jungkook though, it's probably not the case, and you're just overthinking it). You've left that text to rot until Sunday morning, and only picked it up later during the night, telling him you were "sorry I just saw this now! I was swamped with work stuff" even though you've never brought paperworks at home in your whole career and you were just binging The X-Files, bashing those two idiotic emotionally constipated FBI agents when you are quite one, yourself.

Sometimes, you fear you're no better than a man. Jimin will willingly knock your head on a door to get you to your senses and tell you all the things about why you should never compare yourself to them – but there are times like these when your shortcomings – specifically your lack of proficiency in communication – mirror that of a man's, and you hate every single second of it.

Until then, you dreaded for Monday to come.

But it's ultimately inevitable 

And when you wake up from your sleep, it's Monday, and you have to go to work whether you like it or not.

And oh, to add, Jungkook hasn't replied to your message. Which – okay – ouch. But you're not supposed to be hurt by it; if anything, you kind of deserve it after ditching him so many times. He isn't an idiot, and you're sure he knows you lied... you're just thankful that he's not saying anything if he does know, indeed.

You have thought things over in the shower this morning, though.

If Jungkook is three eggs in your basket, why will it matter? So, what's the big deal if he is Jimin's cousin and that he works at the same company and lives in the same apartment complex?

You finally admit that those things matter to you initially because... you have a crush on him. If you didn't, you'll give fuck-all if he's related to your best friend. You won't care at all if he's your boss because you don't have to worry about fantasizing about him.

But the thing is, you do have some sort of romantic feelings for him, and that is why those things moved you in a way that makes you feel and act a little weird around him.

And now there's this feeling of guilt that has overtaken your entire system. Because if you just see Jungkook platonically, these things won't happen. And you hate it, because he's genuinely a good friend. Someone who may want a friend in you too, but you are ruining it all because you have trivial feelings for him.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But now that those realizations have become clear in your head, you've made up your mind by thinking that those eggs don't matter.

It doesn't matter that he's Jimin's cousin, doesn't matter that he's an executive. You are his friend, and it's was okay to have friends that are your other friend's relative and friends who are your boss.

Of course, it's still awkward to think about him catching you in your home clothes but on a more serious note, your crush will never see the light of the day and even if it does, there's no way Jungkook will accept it because guys like him never settle with people like you. And you don't even mean that in a self-deprecating way, not at all! You are just fully aware of the practical world you live in and know that the vast disparity of your economic status will never work, especially with the kind of family he was born into.

With that said, you are ready for things to be back the way they were. No more pussyfooting in the office in fear that you'll bump into him, no more canceling on his innocent invitations to dinner, no more pining over him secretly and putting malice over everything that he does because you're going to be a renewed person now.

You're ready to take on the big shoes and be matured enough to address his questions if ever he has one.

So, you enter the elevator of Blue Nexus Inc. with a sort of spirit that you're sure will be hard to take down, creating pictures in your head that depict a smooth-sailing conversation with Jungkook where you're ideally going to be cool in it and not at all panic-y.

It's alright. Nothing is going to change—

Your thoughts are disrupted when somebody enters the elevator and the people in it suddenly start bowing their heads, a series of greetings reverberating in the confined space.

Fuck.

"Good morning, Mr. Jeon."

"Greetings, Mr. Jeon."

"Mr. Jeon."

Your eyes widen when you see Jungkook walking in with his black suit and sleek black hair, his eyeglasses sitting on his nose.

Okay, so nevermind the illusion that you're going to be cool now – you're absolutely panicking in your position!

Thank fucking god you're at the back with two persons in front of you, hoping they are enough to at least cover your frame as Jungkook stands in front after greeting back the employees inside.

Oh my god. Fuck me.

You tilt your head to the side with a wince on your face, sneakily raising your arm over your head to take your hairclip off so your hair fans your face. It is a poor attempt at covering yourself lest Jungkook suddenly turns around and recognizes you as a result.

But in that moment, you must look stupid as hell that the guy beside you looks at you weird.

You stand upright, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He just snubs you.

That makes you roll your eyes.

You go back to staring at Jungkook's back agonizing the thought that you really aren't ready at all to confront him. You thought about it all morning, but the moment he got here, all those ideations of you being cool around him from thereon are suddenly thrown out the building.

A few seconds after, somebody drops off at the 13th floor, and it starts to make you feel nervous.

What if more people start going out and then you'll be left alone with Jungkook? You intended to go to the 16th floor where your office is... Jungkook is – wait, where is his floor? You actually have no idea. But you are certain it's floors above you. Oh god! How can you possibly move past him without him recognizing you? Shit. You didn't think about that.

Now, you're starting to lose your bottle, your head not able to form ideas to get through him. The elevator is small! And people are starting to head out...

You look at the position indicator of the elevator, telling you that you're going way up to the 15th floor. A few seconds after and it dings, the elevator door opening. The guy in front of you heads way out, and you can see Jungkook still on his spot.

You find yourself not being able to move, completely stoned in your position.

You sure as hell aren't going out unless he does first! That's your solution. If he's located at the topmost floor, you're going to wait until then. You're just going to ride the elevator down again.

But what you don't see coming is Jungkook suddenly moving to head outside the elevator.

Looking at the indicator once again, you confirm if he really is going to the 15th floor.

The door already closed by the time Jungkook is finally out, which eases your nerves. You're way too relieved to forget thinking about why he's in the 15th floor.

You stop at the 16th with a smile on your face, feeling like you just got away with murder. You've never done it – get away with murder – but that's exactly how you feel.

On your way to the office, your phone vibrates from the pocket of your trousers.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [8:56am]: Correct me if I'm wrong but I think I just saw you at the elevator today

You thought of ways to dodge his bullet, thought about denying his claim and telling him that he must've seen somebody else because you work all the way across town and him seeing you would've been impossible.

But you know the attempts will be futile.

If anything, though, you take it as a sign to finally make things right.

Avoiding Jungkook will never be efficient. In order to be successful in that regard, you'll have to hand in your resignation or move out of your apartment completely and you can't do that.

Besides, for what it's worth, you kind of miss hanging out with him and if you were to continue hiding from him, you will have to say goodbye to having him around at all.

The moment you got off work today, you think of plans to talk to him and maybe, just maybe, invite him for dinner – to, hopefully, make up for all the times you've bailed on him.

With a tail tucked between your legs, you stand apprehensively in front of the door of his unit, still unsure about your plans but doing it nonetheless. There's no going back now.

You ring the doorbell, taking your hand back quickly as if you just got electrocuted by it.

Please don't answer. Please don't be home. Please don't answer—

And there he goes, in his plain white shirt and grey sweats, hair wet from his previous shower – you assume. He's still drying his hair with a towel when he opens the door, but his ministrations stop the moment he lays his eyes on you.

You just give him an awkward smile that probably look more like a grimace.

"Hi."

The surprise is evident on Jungkook's face. Regardless, he is quick to get over it and gives you a big grin instead. An expression you did not expect to get.

"__, hey," Jungkook greets, placing the towel around his neck and letting go of his doorknob. "What brings you here?"

You balance your weight on your other side and purse your lips in a thin line.

"Do you, uh, wanna grab dinner?" You ask right away, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Jungkook's smile somehow grows wider at your question, and you don't know what to feel. If he's petty, he'll reject your invitation but with the look on his face right now, he doesn't seem to have the intention to do so. At least you hope so. It will be so embarrassing for you to have come all the way to his place instead of just asking him through text.

He was about to answer when somebody suddenly approaches the door.

"Jeon Jungkook?" The guy asks, and you immediately shot your eyes to look at him. With his printed shirt that reads a famous food delivery brand and his hands carrying bags of what you assumed take-out food, you figure what he's here for. "Here's your order, sir."

Embarrassed, you scoot to the side to give way to the food delivery guy and let him extend the bags towards Jungkook who grabs his wallet from the pocket of his sweats to pay for the food, thanking the man in the process.

He already has plans for tonight, you realize. Your invitation to dinner is futile because he already bought take-out.

The food delivery guy gave you a look before he took off in which you returned a timid smile for. And then, you turn around to look at Jungkook again.

"Nevermind, don't answer my question." You say, referring to your invitation prior to the arrival of his food delivery. "Uhm, bye. Good night."

You were just turning your heels to go the other way around when Jungkook suddenly speaks.

"Wait, don't go yet," Jungkook steps to the side and inserts his wallet back into his pants. He raises the bags of take-out and arches his brow towards your way, "Do you like Thai?"

"I do." You reply, not really understanding where he's getting at first.

Jungkook smiles. "Good. Do you wanna come inside?"

When you realize what he just said, you shake your head, "Oh, no, no. We could grab dinner outside tomorrow if you're free."

"This is enough for two?"

He's inviting you to his place. Is he insane?

You shake your head once again. "No, Jungkook, I really don't want to impose on—"

Jungkook cut you off with a hearty laugh.

"__, you won't be imposing. Come on, I bet you haven't had dinner yet either." When you don't answer, he insists again, "I think I have Thai tea around here somewhere."

You narrow your eyes at him.

"You think I'll go inside just 'cause you have Thai tea?" you say, raising your brow at him, challenging Jungkook to say something to that. He shrugs with a smile of amusement. Then you break your demeanor and sigh. "You're actually right. I can probably be bribed with daily boba supply."

Jungkook laughs at your absurd claim.

"No matter what's on the line?"

"Yeah," Then you decide to joke a little, "If you're the one on the line."

His laughter only becomes louder, and you shake your head at him because you genuinely wonder why he laughs so much at your nonsensical jokes. You would consider yourself funny but not that funny.

But this is good. Joking is good. This dynamic is surely better than you avoiding him.

"You're so..." Jungkook stops to look at you and you stare back at him. That moment stretches into a minute until you feel the hair on your nape stand.

It's the night air, and not at all the almost intimate way he looked into your eyes.

That's what you'll tell yourself tonight.

"I'm so what?" You decide to break the silence, seemingly snapping Jungkook out of the trance he's put himself in awhile ago.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Okay, now you're just making me curious."

"It's nothing."

"Okay, I'm gonna let it pass this time..." you say, eliciting a low chuckle from him.

He must realize that you've both been standing on his porch for a while now.

"Come," he says, gesturing inside his place.

Your steps are a bit hesitant as you follow him inside. But nonetheless, you both get in, Jungkook offering you a pair of home slipper that are almost twice as big as your feet as he locks the door.

When you let your eyes wander, you're more than surprised to see the state of the interior.

Jungkook's place is surprisingly... clean.

Sure, it must be because there aren't any decorations or much furniture yet, but from your experiences with men, the one thing they have in common is that they are messy. It's almost impossible to not see clothes strewn all over their places or food wrappings on any surface at a corner, but Jungkook's is spotless.

Except maybe for the few boxes that stand beside the door of the room all the way across the room which you assume is his bedroom, but other than that, there's no indicator that a man is residing inside. Admittedly, it's even cleaner than your own.

"Sorry, it's a little messy. I haven't unpacked all of my stuff. Got busy."

He seems to notice you eyeing the aforementioned boxes, and hearing his words, you shake your head.

"Oh, no, trust me. This is the cleanest place I've ever seen." You say truthfully.

"Thanks." Jungkook responds with a smile.

His apartment, like yours, has an open layout so from where you are in the living room, you can see him putting the bags on the kitchen counter, unloading them and starting to transfer some of them into his own plates.

You approach his direction to find yourself useful.

"Is it okay if we eat at the coffee table? My table set hasn't arrived yet..." he rubbs the back of his head, a sheepish smile painting his face.

"It's fine."

His coffee table is wide enough for all the food to fit, anyway. That's what you thought when you bring all the food to the living room, sitting on the floorboards opposite of him.

Before you start dinner, Jungkook asks if you want to watch something on the TV.

"It's like a jumbotron." Is your throw-away comment when he turns on his huge ass TV. It's genuinely so big you aren't even exaggerating. You are not that good with estimation but the screen is probably the same height as you...

"What?" Jungkook chuckles, looking at you all confused.

"Nothing. Just that your TV is so big."

"Yeah? I wanted to buy this one for so long and I got really lucky to get it on sale here. I have the Criterion channel so I've been wanting to watch stuff with an OLED screen—" he cuts himself off and looks at you with a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry."

You look away before you can go on a spiral about how cute he looked with a proud smile on his face while he was going off about how he got his jumbotron on sale. He was geeking out about a freaking TV. But you guess it makes sense for a tech guy like him.

"Uh, what do you want to watch?" He asks, going through his streaming services.

The big TV and the streaming services just click so much in the context of him. You, in contrast, cannot relate. After forgetting to unsubscribe to Netflix a few months ago, it automatically stole the thirteen thousand won from your account, and since then, you're more than traumatized to pay for any streaming services until today. Pirating is bad but so is capitalism.

"Anything is fine."

"Okay."

You really couldn't have cared less about what he's going to click on, but National Geographic pops up on his big screen and you think he must be joking but he starts tuning in with genuine interest.

Oh. Wow.

He's just a big nerd trapped in a hot human body, huh?

How cute. And how unbelievably hot to discover this about him.

After a few minutes into the documentary, it turns out that whales are interesting to a certain degree. Sure, Jungkook's huge ass screen made it a little funny because the pictures are too big, but they did pique your interest a little, especially when Jungkook would add in a little of his own knowledge about them. When you asked him about the weird little stick thing on their mouth, he told you that they were tusks and only male narwhals had them, and that they used it as some sort of sensory tool. He admitted he hyperfixated on whales for a while when he saw them first on Discovery Channel as a kid.

You didn't even have to pretend to be engrossed, you were just in genuine awe of his interests and how enthusiastic he was about sharing them.

Food is starting to run out, making you realize that it's been awhile since you've eaten Thai food and you should probably eat them once again tomorrow.

You're just about to ask Jungkook which restaurant he got it from when he beats you to speaking first.

"You're still in your work clothes."

You stop.

"Yeah..."

And then you're reminded of why you're here in the first place.

It isn't for the whales or for Thai food, that's for sure.

You haven't changed out of your work clothes, indeed, since you planned going out for dinner in hopes of talking to Jungkook while ago. The night is going so well so far that you actually forgot about that. But then since he already cocked the gun, might as well just pull the trigger and get it over with.

You look at him, an uneasy feeling settling in your nerves.

"So... about your text earlier."

There is a hint of a smile on Jungkook's lips when he nods his head.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't me." You say, trying to look for a reaction, trying to see if he'll insist or anything.

But Jungkook just nods his head again.

"I see."

He does not seem to see, though, and you know right then and there that your cover is finally and officially blown.

"Okay, I lied. That was me." You take back your words, jutting your bottom lip out when you add, "Turns out we work at the same company. And that you're apparently my boss."

"And you're my cousin's girlfriend."

You gasp audibly.

So he knows you were at that party! How? And what? He thought you were Jimin's girlfriend for real? Wait, does he not know it was all Jimin's ruse?

"How did you know that?"

"They mentioned Jimin's girlfriend was in the bathroom when I arrived. I asked Jimin about it and he told me her name was __."

You would face-palm yourself if Jungkook wasn't present.

Ugh. Of course, Jimin doesn't know.

"Well, okay, just so you know, I was a paid actress." You tell Jungkook, which earns you a laugh from him. Then you cover your mouth, realizing you shouldn't have said that. "Oh—uhm, do you know...?" You trail off, looking at him expectantly and hoping he knows what you meant.

You swear you remember Jimin telling you that Jungkook knows about him being gay, but now you are second-guessing yourself and you will be in trouble if you did slip up.

Thankfully, Jungkook nods, seemingly understanding where you're getting at.

"Don't worry, I know." You heave a sigh of relief at his verbal confirmation. Jungkook takes the tom yum goong and started peeling the shrimp from the bowl, continuing to say, "And Jimin brings a fake date to every family gathering, so I knew right away he was lying about dating somebody," Jungkook chuckles, and as if an afterthought, he adds, "I wish I could've seen you act. You two left so early."

Well... you did play a role in that, you think. But you can't tell him you purposefully didn't go back to the table that night because you saw him.

"Oh, Jimin had to send Joon off at the airport." You say, which is actually true. For a change.

He nods. "His boyfriend, yeah... did he go to Italy with him?"

You wonder how he knows about the Italy thing. Jimin, probably. They're close after all—

"Namjoon's a close friend as well." Jungkook adds, as if having read your thoughts.

"Ah," you nod, not surprised at all about their apparent link.

Wealthy people do have a tiny world.

"Jimin hasn't actually contacted me yet since that night."

It has been a few days, and you're starting to think he's dead or something. Your calls go straight to voicemail and your messages do not send. You've sent him a few on social media as well but it seems like he hasn't been online at all.

"I'm worried about him. Has Namjoon said anything?" You look at Jungkook, hoping he'll say yes.

But he shakes his head instead.

"I wouldn't be worried, though. I think they're together."

"In Italy?"

"Yeah."

You won't be surprised if that's the case. Jimin is the king of spontaneity and if he did fly off to another country abruptly with his boyfriend, you won't question it.

You do miss him though and you're gonna make sure to make him feel bad for not telling you anything soon.

"You're right." You sigh.

Jungkook has been peeling shrimp for awhile now, setting them aside in a small bowl. You think he's gonna eat it himself, but you're surprised when he slides off the bowl to your direction.

"There. I noticed you weren't eating the tom yum. You don't like it?" Jungkook asks, smiling at you.

You can't help it; blood rushes to your cheeks at the realization that he just peeled shrimps for you.

Is this normal for him? Like, does he just go around and do things like these for friends?

You will scream in your bathroom later when you get home.

"Oh, no, uh... I'm actually allergic to shrimp." You give him a tight-lipped smile.

You feel bad at the way Jungkook's expression drops as soon as you said that.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't know," He takes the small bowl quickly and looks at you apologetically.

"No, it's fine! I didn't tell you either."

"I'm really sorry. I should've asked first."

"Jungkook," you chuckle. "It's fine. Thank you, anyway."

"I could've done serious damage to you, huh?"

"Yeah, you'd have to tell Jimin you killed me because you fed me shrimp."

"Don't say that," Jungkook laughs. "How long are you friends now, by the way?"

You nip on your chopsticks, answering him.

"We've been friends since college... so almost ten years."

"That's really nice."

And then you remember to ask, "Did you tell him?"

"What?"

"That you know me?"

"No. Not yet, at least. Didn't have the chance." Jungkook proceeds to eat the shrimp himself and you have to keep yourself from letting out a breath of relief at his answer. "Did you tell him?"

"No. Uh— I know this is weird. But... can you not tell him?" You ask. Jungkook looks at you for a bit, studying your face. You clear your throat when seconds passed and he still hasn't said anything. "It's just that I want to tell him on my own time." You decide to add.

"Okay." He says after a while, smiling.

Thank god he doesn't ask any more questions.

"Thanks."

And now there's another elephant in the room that you still need to address.

A bit hesitant, you open with, "Did you uhm..." You think about how to word it, but then you think, fuck it. "Did you know by that time at the party that I work at Blue Nexus?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

"No, I saw you at the company and only put two and two together."

Your brows furrow. "When?"

"Uh... earlier this morning."

"Oh. Yeah..."

You don't know exactly why, but you feel a tinge of disappointment that he meant earlier. You really thought he recognized you at the ceremony.

But then you shake the feeling off and jokingly narrow your eyes at him. "Why didn't you tell me about the party, then?"

"Why, did you see me there?"

You shut your mouth. Right. You're supposed to pretend you didn't seen him that time.

"No." You lie.

"So I thought it didn't matter... though I was pretty surprised when I saw you today."

"Ugh, I thought I hid myself pretty well." You lament dramatically, embarrassed that you really thought covering your face with your hair would do you any good.

"Nah," Jungkook shakes his head while laughing at your misery, "I thought, "who is this five-foot woman hiding in the back","

"Wow." You gasp, not believing his audacity. But you're also thankful that he makes talking to him so easy. The way your conversations goes from funny to serious is so seamless, all because Jungkook knows exactly how to turn the wheels around.

"Kidding. I actually recognized you by your blouse..." he gestures at your baby blue polo sleeves, making you furrow your brows, not quite sure how he meant. But then, he continues, "Did the ink ever come off?"

Oh. Right! He had seen you wear the blouse before and even heard you tell him the story about how the jammed printer caused a blot of ink to stain your cuff.

You're surprised he even remembers that. It seems so long ago.

Raising your arm to examine the cuff area of your blouse, you look at it with small amusement.

"Yeah, it did, actually."

"How did you do it?"

You deadpan, "You're not asking me how I do my laundry, Jungkook."

"Hey, I love doing laundry," You raise your brow, not believing him, but Jungkook insists. "No, I really do."

"Okay." You nod, chuckling because he really seems way too eager to prove to you that he loves doing laundry.

What you've found out about him so far is so... mesmerizing, to say the least. With how he looks like – you meant, the tattoos and the body – you would most likely assume he likes guy stuff. You know, big macho man stuff like that. But turns out, he's just a guy who likes big TVs and NatGeo and... laundry.

He's such a fascinating person.

"I'm also not your boss." Jungkook suddenly says, making you look up at him.

"Well, you're CTO, you technically are." You point out.

"Technically, yes. But I don't oversee the accounting department, so you're not really working for me, which means I'm not your boss."

The mental gymnastics make you frown but you get his point.

"Okay, that's true. But still... your father is Mr. Jeon."

"Would you believe me if I denied that?" He jokes, the tilt in his voice telling you he is.

"You kind of look the same, so I probably wouldn't believe you."

"Really? A lot of people say I look more like my mother..."

You've seen the pictures. It's more of a split, really. But you can't tell him that obviously.

Silence sits in his living room for a while, the NatGeo narrator serving as background noise at this point.

You drop your chopsticks down and sigh. Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows, worried about your sudden seriousness.

"So, you're not like weirded out about this whole thing?" You ask him straight to the point.

Joking is good, as you said. And this night is going better than you thought. But it feels like you are just glossing over the facts, and you need to address it with him lest it becomes a problem in the future. You don't know how exactly they are going to be; you just have a feeling in your heart that they are going to.

"The what?" Jungkook says, looking genuinely confused, as if he doesn't know what your deal is.

"The I'm-your-cousin's-best-friend? And the fact that you're an executive at the company I work at and we live in the same building?" You lay out, sounding exasperated now that you're taking it all out.

Jungkook stares at you for a bit.

"Why would that weird me out?"

He isn't being dense, you can see that. He's just plain confused.

You sigh once again. Seems like you've been doing a lot of that these past few days.

"Because it's just... too many eggs in the basket."

Jungkook chuckles, wiping his hands with a tissue. "Isn't it good you have many eggs in the basket?"

You glare at him, and it makes him raise his hands as a peace offering.

"It's bad because..."

"... because?" Jungkook, now with his hands clean, props an elbow on the coffee table, looking right into your eyes as he leans closer to your direction.

You look away.

"Because it means I can't hang out with you anymore."

When you look at him again, the smile is wiped off his face, suddenly exchanged with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because again, it's too many eggs in the basket and—" Running out with metaphors, you say the first thing that was off the top of your head, "That makes you my uncle."

Jungkook's jaw drops a bit.

"Your thought process really amazes me."

You grimace, already expecting that. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

"No, it's really... interesting."

He doesn't look judgmental at all, just full of genuine awe, but you're eager to come to your own defense and so you say, "You don't get it? It's like—" You fling your hands around, trying to explain what you just said. "You don't have a close relationship with your uncle, right? 'Cause it's awkward. When you're with them it's like being with your boss, which means you can't be friends with them 'cause, again, it's awkward."

Jungkook still looks like he doesn't know what the hell you're talking about, but he nods his head, nonetheless.

"Okay... but I have a very close relationship with the CEO..."

You pout. "That's not what I meant."

And when he chuckles at that, you know he's fucking with you and understand exactly what you were trying to say; fooling around as if you aren't having an internal crisis.

Jungkook must've seen how you're genuinely not finding anything funny and stops.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me the past few days?" He raises his brow, but his voice is gentle as he speaks.

You didn't think he'd confront you about that, but you decide to look away when you try to lie as an answer.

"No...?"

Jungkook only chuckle at your indignation.

"Okay, okay, let's divide and conquer, yeah?" He smiles at you. Warm and soft. "First, you're Jimin's best friend, what's the issue? It just means you must be a good person to hang around with because you're friends with the person I'm close to. Second, I'm not your boss, will you please stop saying that? And third, we're neighbors... so what? We just happened to rent in the same building. No big deal."

Your frown just gets deeper at what he said because... he's right. So right.

You overreacted the whole time you tried to hide from him.

With nothing else to add, you weakly ask, "Okay but... can you fire me?"

In your head, it's a relevant question. You don't know how the chain of command worked at the company. He's an executive which probably means he has firing rights, right? What if he finds you too rude towards him over the past few days that he wants to take your job away from you? Can he fire you because of personal vendetta?

"Asking the important question?" Jungkook teases.

"Damn straight, I am. I mean, I did complain to you about my job before, and it turns out you're one of the executives at the company."

"I can see the wheels in your head turning but sorry to say I'm not actually an official executive. I'm just an interim CTO. And no, I don't have the right to fire you," Jungkook chuckles, seemingly amused at your thoughts. "And you can complain to me about your job all you want."

You send him a suspicious look.

"No, thank you."

"Seriously?" He asks incredulously. "Interim CTO or Jimin's cousin or not, I'm still Jeon Jungkook. Just your plain ol' neighbor."

"You say that but what if I arrive to my desk tomorrow with my things packed because you told Ms. Jung all the things I told you about her?" You squint your eyes at him.

"God, you're unbelievable." Jungkook says in between his laughter.

"Okay, but I wanna ask you something." You say. Jungkook hums. "I'm curious... why here?"

It isn't like your apartment complex is abominable or anything of the sort. When you were still on the look-out of apartments five years ago, here was the only decent one that did not cause you a 3-month pay. It's why you chose it in the first place. The unit is big enough for yourself and it's located at the center of the city, which means that it's near establishments that are relevant to your daily living. The bus station is also just a few minutes walk, and it only takes you an hour commute to get to your company building. It was the best out of all your choices back then.

However, for a guy like Jungkook, you wonder why he isn't at the big shot complexes like in Cheongdam or Hannam. You don't doubt he can afford those.

But Jungkook surprises you with his answer.

"It's cheaper."

You can't help but raise your brow.

"What?" And then as if realizing your look, Jungkook chuckles. "Oh, I see... you think I'm, like, rich?"

You shrug.

Jungkook answer with a simple, "My parents are loaded. And anyway, it's near the company. I also really like it here so far. Hannam felt like prison when I stayed there in my first week. Guards were way too strict."

Nodding, you recall Jimin's stories about that gated community when he himself stayed there for merely three months. It makes sense for it to almost seem like prison, though, given that most people who live there are high profile.

"I commute on my way to work. What about you?"

"I bought a parking spot nearby; it's surprisingly cheap compared to America."

You wouldn't know because you've never had a car in your life. First of all, you refuse to apply for a driving license because you're sure you'll kill yourself on the road. Besides, cars are expensive. You'll stick to your buses and trains all your life even though commuting sucks ass sometimes.

But you nod at Jungkook's words.

Soon, you both engage in more conversation about yourselves until you notice the time.

"It's getting late, I should go. I have work tomorrow." You tell him with a pout, genuinely disappointed about having to go.

Jungkook looks over at the clock hanging on his wall and then turns to you, "We have work tomorrow, you mean."

You blush at that for no reason.

"Well..."

"Okay, I'll walk you to your place."

"What?" You laugh. "That's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about it? You're so short, the crickets might attack you." Jungkook says with a serious face.

That makes you frown instantly.

"Ugh, you've got to stop saying that. I'm starting to dislike you."

"Hmm."

Jungkook indeed followed you on your way out, though, but not without you insisting that he didn't need to walk you to your door because it was literally just across his, but Jungkook was persistent and you had no choice but to walk the five steps it took to get in front of your apartment from his own.

He's still laughing when your face is still contorted into an unpleasant expression.

"Okay, good night." You say. You point to his chest absent-mindedly, but you quickly take it back when you feel how hard it is. "A-and stop calling me short, I'm not. The __ karma is real, I have Jimin to prove that."

"Fine, I'll stop." Jungkook smiles, watching as you enter your threshold.

"Good."

You stand on your door, leaning over the frame and not closing it just yet.

Jungkook gives you a heart-warming smile before he says, "See you tomorrow."

And he speaks the words so gently that you feel your cheeks heating once again.

"S-see you as well."

"You look banging in that polo shirt." Jimin says, obviously chatting you up because the moment you accepted his call earlier this morning, you did not hesitate to tell him off about going MIA on you so suddenly.

"It's literally just a plain white polo."

"Okay, and you still look good in it, so..." He shrugs, but you can see the look on his face, sheepish and apologetic.

You scoff.

"You can't compliment me out of sulking. I'm mad at you."

There's a pout that forms on his lips quickly; a tactic so predictable you almost roll your eyes.

"I know... but I told you! Joon and I spent the last week—"

"Fucking each other to Sunday and back, blah blah blah. Still, you could've told me you went to Italy, you slut."

Jimin lets out a loud laugh at your blunt words.

"Slut shaming in the big year of 2028? I thought you were better than that." He shakes his head, pretending to be pointed and curt with the bitchy look on his face. But you know he's just teasing to get you out of your own bitchy mode as well.

It works every time.

You don't fight the way your eyes roll on their own accord as a response this time. Jimin compromises, "Okay, I'm sorry! For not telling. It's just that I've turned off my phone for the past week because I'm sure dad and his secretary are going to blow up my phone— they are, by the way, so cut me some slack."

Forgiveness comes easy when you take into consideration what he's been through for the past few weeks. The spontaneous trip to Italy and him flying along with his boyfriend may come off as immature, but you know deep inside he's just wanting to get away from the reality of his life: which is pretty much toxic family with incredibly high expectations and boring ass management school.

You are certain they are giving him shit, and you don't need to add more to that.

It's 7:20 and you're currently prepping for work. Privacy is almost moot in your friendship with Jimin, so you're quite literally dressing up in front of him on call, sweeping your hair to the side as you pull up your trousers.

"Okay... are you having fun there?" You ask instead.

Jimin smiles a knowing grin. "Babe, I just told you me and my boyfriend are having sex 24/7 in here, I'm having the most fun in my life."

You button your trousers and groan at his words.

"I wish I was also in Italy."

"I mean, you could."

You give him a look.

"And what? Third wheel you and Joon? No thanks."

Jimin just shrugs, the angle of his camera going shaky for a bit as he moves to lay on what you assume is his bed.

"I don't know, girl, maybe you'll find a nice Italian man here."

That earns him a snort from you while you duck to wear your sandals.

"I've long forgotten that fantasy since I was 19."

"You're not a stranger to relapsing..." Jimin clocks and that makes you shoot up straight so he can see the look of incredulity on your face as an immediate reaction to what he just said.

"Rude!"

Jimin just snorts. "Okay but for real, how are things going over there for you?"

You sigh. "Same old, same old. Pretty and single and working a very boring job."

Your best friend can't help but mirror the wince on your face.

"You could change the last two but never the first one, babe. So, you see, you're still miles ahead." He says as a matter of fact, sounding like he's giving out some sort of motivational speech.

"Lucky me," you noted with a straight face. You start rummaging your bag to see if you got everything you need. Then, there's something at the tip of your tongue. Something you've been wanting to open up to him. So, you start by clearing your throat – subtly, you hope.

"But you know, life's pretty... eventful the past few days."

Jimin quirks his eyebrow at that, obviously catching onto what could possibly be a new news.

You bite your lower lip, nibbling on it slightly as you contemplate whether to tell him about what you've been up to.

For some weird reason, you still haven't told him about Jungkook, and it seems like Jungkook has made good on his promise not to tell your best friend because if he did break it, Jimin would be inquiring you all about it now.

You figure now is sort of the perfect time to... maybe tell him.

"Uh, well... not eventful, per se, just a little..." you trailed off, finding a bit of uncertainty in your voice. You see Jimin's face morphing into more of a confused look rather than intrigued as the second passes. Pursing your lips into a thin line, you finish your previous sentence with, "Just a little different, I guess."

"Don't edge me, I swear to god." Jimin threatens playfully, making you chuckle.

"It's not something groundbreaking, okay? It's just the, uh, do you still remember Mr—"

The yawn that Jimin lets out stops you from completing your words, and you remember him mentioning a while ago that it's currently midnight from where he is.

"Ugh," Jimin groans, "Sorry, I slept so late yesterday. Anyway, go on, what were you saying?"

The uncertainty you felt a while ago increases, and you decide that maybe, now is so not the perfect time to bring up Jungkook, his cousin.

So, you shake your head, smiling at him, packing the words of your confession in a box that that you place at the back of your head, ready for unpacking when the time calls for it – which you don't exactly know when.

"Nah, go to sleep. This conversation can wait."

"You're gonna kill me with curiosity."

Rolling your eyes, you make a gesture of shoving him.

"I have to catch up with my bus soon, anyway." You say, dodging his insistence.

"Just tell me pretty please, I won't be able to sleep!" He dramatically says.

You roll your eyes again at the theatrics.

"It's really nothing big."

Well, it is. Sort of. Or maybe it's not, and you're just doing that thing again where you put too much thought over something inconsequential.

You swear you were ready to tell him about Jungkook, having even hyped yourself in the bathroom a few days ago and practicing what you're going to tell Jimin. But as of this moment, right now, it suddenly feels... unimportant. Not in a negative way. Just in a... does-it-really-matter way.

Jimin will find out eventually. But not now when you're not totally ready.

"I know what this is," Jimin suddenly says. At his suspicious tone, your heart starts to pick up the rate of its beat. You can see the way Jimin squints his eyes at you, and you wish he doesn't see the way you're slightly frozen. "You got back with your ex, Hansung."

You hope he sees the disgust on your face the moment he let out the words.

"Oh my god, hell no!" Is your instant response. Just hearing that name again made the hairs on your nape rise. "Jimin, what the fuck."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "You look so nervous, that's how you look like when you're about to tell me you've done something stupid."

Okay, fair. The assumption is coming from a valid basis. It makes you frown at him.

"You're such a bitch." Jimin laughs at the way you deflate. You let out a sign. "It's just... Taemu. From the IT dep."

"That guy?!" He exclaims and quickly covers his mouth. "The cute guy you refused to date a second time... you're finally dating him again?"

"What do you mean, finally?" You narrow your eyes at him, surprise at the positive comment about Taemu. "Jesus, I thought you were with me when I said I found him boring."

"What can I say? He can be cute and boring." He points out, as if he did not talk behind the Taemu's back when you ranted about the guy to him.

"You're fake as hell." You laugh, unbelieving.

Jimin joins your laughter, finding his sudden switch up funny as well.

"But you're, for real, dating him again? It means he still likes you?" He asks, obviously intrigued at this newfound information.

Unfortunately, it's a bit of a lie. You feel bad, but it is a great scapegoat to dodge the bullet of the conversation about Jungkook.

"I don't know... we're talking."

Which, for once, is true. Taemu and you did not exactly end on a good note (courtesy to you, boo), but you work in the same company, after all. There are times in the company's cafeteria where you bump into him, and it would have felt weird if you just snub him and act like you did not have an acquaintanceship before he asked you out to a date. Taemu's ultimately still your friend, and there are no hard feelings on his part, you can confidently say. He's... nice, you guess. Somehow of an afterthought. You're starting to think you completely misjudged him on your first date.

You take a quick trip to the fridge to grab a glass of cold water since Jimin is on loudspeaker anyway.

"That reminds me," Jimin suddenly quips. You hum to acknowledge him. "My cousin now works at your company, right? You still remember Jungkook? Have you met him yet?"

You couldn't help it; the water splattered all over the place when you heard Jungkook's name from his mouth.

Jimin quickly asks you a series of "are you okays" and you respond with a "yes" that's interrupted with a cough every time; a weak nod with a raised hand, telling him not to worry.

"Water just got in the wrong track." You reason, coughing and slapping your chest to regain your breathing. When you see wet spots on your shirt, you let out a whiny groan.

"You're so jumpy today. You're sure you're fine?" Jimin checks once again, and you have to bite your tongue to not show the way you froze a little at his observation.

You nod at him, showing him an expression that hopefully conveys he's the one being weird and definitely not you.

"Yeah, it's fine." You look down on your shirt. You're debating whether to stick with it and just let it dry in the bus later or completely change out of it. "But uh, your cousin! I did see him. We had a ceremony a week ago."

You would've said that with a smile, but Jimin knows you too well that he'll surely know it's fake. So, you spoke with an almost straight face. What Jimin says next surprises you a bit, though.

"I hope you meet each other," Jimin's excitement is visible on his face. "It'd be kinda fun; my closest cousin and my best friend... imagine that? I think you'll like each other." He seems to be so geeked about the idea that even when you're internally having a crisis, you can't help but find it cute. But then his smile gets wiped off his lips just as quickly as it showed. "It'd be awkward, though. He's, kinda like, your boss, right?"

You suddenly remember Jungkook's words about him not being your boss. It makes your lips curl, but you have to shake off the thought.

You give him a hesitant look.

"Well, not really, but he's an executive. So... it would be awkward. I guess."

Jimin nods, agreeing with you.

"It's crazy though, I never thought he'd be working at uncle's company so soon..." He trails off and he looks deep in thought, like his words were just supposed to be inner thoughts and you're not supposed to hear them. But he shakes his head after a while, moving on to another subject that makes you quietly sigh in relief. "Anyway, I'm sure I'm keeping you up. I'll sleep and you better tell me all about Kang Taemu when I wake up, okay?"

You chuckle, shaking your head at the threatening tone of his voice.

"I will. When will you come home, anyway?"

He groans, obviously not wanting to discuss home for the reasons you know exactly what. He confirms your assumption by telling so.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm trying to avoid responsibilities as much as I can. God, I wish you were also here. There's a bar Joon and I discovered that sells these insane bottomless mimosas."

Before you could reply, Jimin goes off the frame suddenly, but the lower part of his face makes you see the way his lips curling up into a smile and saying, "Hey, hon."

There's a greeting from another person on the other end of the line – one that you are certainly familiar with.

Jimin moves his camera and as expected, you see Namjoon waving at you.

"Hey, __,"

You mirror the smile on his face. "Hi, Joon."

"Let's not keep her up. She has to go to work," Jimin tells Namjoon. "Anyway, bye. Kick some ass at work."

Laughing, you tell them, "I'll be off. Good night to you both."

When the call ends, you look down to your shirt once again, seeing that the little wet spots still haven't dried yet. Sighing, you decide to change out of it because it looked untidy.

Too bad you didn't check the time when you were doing it though, because as soon as you were done buttoning the new shirt you've worn, the clock hits 7:55 am. You bus arrives at exactly 8 am.

"Shit." You hiss, scrambling out of the apartment hoping that you can somehow run your way fast to the station and hop on it on time.

But you're no The Flash or Usain Bolt. To piss you off more, the strap of your bag got caught up with the handle of your door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You whisper, hastily untangling the strap off the door which won't let up.

"__?" As soon as you hear the familiar voice, you stop with what you were doing and turn to Jungkook, conjuring up a what you can only hope a pleasant enough smile.

"Hey!" You say, chirpy in that weird way. You hope he didn't catch you cursing the door.

But with the way he was looking at your hand on your door, you knew he did.

Sigh. He just really has to catch you in your most vulnerable moments, huh?

"Good morning," Jungkook greets with a smile, ignoring the case at hand. As usual, he looks put together with his sleek suit and styled hair and eyeglasses.

"Morning," You say, slowly taking off the strap around the handle, gentle and slower this time.

Fucking door handle, you thought bitterly.

As you do that, you catch a glimpse of your wristwatch. Shoot.

You look back at Jungkook apologetically, moving away from your porch. "Nice seeing you. I have to catch my bus."

"When is it coming?"

"At exactly... two minutes from now. Bye! Gotta run!" You were about ready to literally run but Jungkook calls out your name.

"Wait!"

You stop coming down the flight of stairs to ask him, "What?"

"I can drive us together there."

"Oh," You slap your hands on your trousers. "That's so nice of you. Thank you—" And then suddenly, his words register, and you take back your quick agreement. You hate that you're so slow sometimes, but it's innate at this point. "I mean, no! That's a nice offer, but no, thank you."

"You won't catch your bus at this point," Jungkook says as a matter of fact, even taking a quick glance at his own watch. He begins to walk down the stairs to walk with you. "It only takes thirty minutes to drive by car to the company." When it takes you long to answer, Jungkook insists, already predicting the "no" that you're going to hit him with. "Come on, do you want to be late?"

"No."

Jungkook smiles at you. "Okay, so...?"

You purse your lips into a thin line, blowing your bangs and giving him a sheepish look.

"Okay, fine. But I owe you."

The smile on his face only grows wider. "More than fine by me."

He leads you both to the parking building nearby where his car was, only taking about a few minutes to walk towards.

When Jungkook points at his car, you follow his behind him shortly, stopping on the one side of the door. You're just about to open it when you feel Jungkook looming behind you, his hand extended forward to open the same door. You stretch your neck to look at him in question, making sure to keep a decent distance between you both.

"Uh...?" You utter.

And then it hits you.

He's trying to open the door for you.

You take a step back after the realization, feeling shy about the prospect of such a chivalrous act from him.

"This is the driver's seat."

"Oh!" You exclaimed. Eyes widening, you walk backwards to give him more space. "Yeah! Fuck... sorry," You apologize, cheeks starting to heat in embarrassment.

You round about the car and enter the passenger seat quickly, seeing Jungkook already set in his own place. You look to the side, almost pressing yourself to the window just so he won't see the way you wince.

So fucking embarrassing. This is exactly what you write about in your diary during high school days.

"Your seatbelt," Jungkook says, and you look at him with widened eyes. Right. You were way too deep in embarrassment that you forgot about it. You fiddle with the seatbelt a few seconds before he speaks once again, "Let me."

And you couldn't have stopped him from leaning closer to you to grab the seatbelt and wear it around your waist, carefully and gently, making you hitch your breath at the sudden proximity.

Of course you've noticed it way before, but this is the first time you were close enough to deduce that he smells like green apple and fresh laundry. A little different from the musky scent that you were used to smelling on men that you've been with before.

"There." He smiles at you before sitting back on his chair, wearing his own seatbelt.

You are way too stunned to acknowledge what he did that for the first few minutes, you're just quiet, mind flying to some place. You only snap out of it when Jungkook speaks again.

"Slept late last night?"

You shake your head at his question. "No... just facetime with Jimin this morning. You were right to tell me not to worry, he's with Joon."

Jungkook nods at your words, turning the ignition of the car. He starts to reverse, and you feel yourself growing embarrassingly hot when he does the thing of putting his arm around the back of your seat while the other spins the wheel, stretching his neck to look back.

You decide to look away for your own sake.

"Uh, anyway, I'm really sorry."

"Hm?" Jungkook hums, eyes on the road as he starts driving.

If you think about it, you were just at his place a few nights ago eating dinner with him, and now, you somehow find yourself in his car as he drives you both to work. His constant kindness is not lost on you... but Jungkook's casualty makes it seem like this is just his plain nature.

You quirk your head to the side.

"Are you free later for lunch?"

"I can arrange my sched. Why?"

"Do you want to go together?" You ask. You'd say the offer is a form of compensation for his help today, but getting lunch together for the pure sake of it doesn't sound bad, either. Both works, so you're only a bit hopeful as you try to look for his reaction.

Jungkook has a hint of surprise on his face when he takes a quick look at you before turning his attention back on the road.

"Really?" There's a little lilt to his voice, as if he's not surer if you're being serious.

You shrug to appear casual. "If you're not too busy, that is."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"You're gonna find out later." You tell him. Jungkook cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"Okay... where should I meet you, then? At your office?"

"Oh, god, no." Is your quick response. Jungkook immediately looks at you in offense, but it's more like amusement when he stares longer. At that, you wave your hand so he doesn't get the wrong idea. "No, no, I mean— it's just rude if an executive, like, comes to our office."

"You're still not hung up on the boss thing?" You roll your eyes at his teasing tone which earns a hearty chuckle from Jungkook. He shakes his head playfully at you. "I doubt anyone would care."

You jut your bottom lip out because he's probably right. But still, your co-workers would ask, and you're not trying to dig yourself a hole by making yourself news of the day because the newly appointed interim CTO just walked into your office for what? Lunch? The HR would have a field day.

"Maybe we can meet at the parking lot?" You offer, thinking it's the sensible place.

Jungkook smiles. "Alright."

You had to stay behind Joonhwi and Sol as lunch came, making an excuse about going out with a friend as opposed to not coming with them. In your head, you think you were doing Joonhwi a favor.

After that, you were welcomed with text from Jungkook when you turned on your phone. It said he was already at the basement where he parked earlier, so it wasn't exactly hard to spot him right away the moment you got there.

The drive to your destination was quick enough to only amount to around fifteen minutes. As soon as Jungkook managed to park his car somewhere, you lead him to where the place you'd chosen for lunch.

When he finally registered where you were, his amusement does not go unnoticed.

"I've always wanted to go here," He tells you, looking around the stores in-line by the street.

You look back at him in surprise.

"You haven't been here?" Jungkook nods and you want to ask him if he's kidding around, but then you realize he's no ordinary person like most of the people you know in your life, recalling that Jimin's first time in a marketplace like this was only when you introduced him to it during sophomore year. "But you eat street food, right?" You ask him, even though you know he does. You did spend nights on that food truck around your building.

"Of course I do," Jungkook chuckles, rubbing a hand at the back of his head, seemingly shy. "I just never tried it here."

You give him a wide grin. "You're gonna enjoy it here. Follow me, I have a favorite store here that sells really good hotteok."

You spent the better part of the morning thinking about the place where you can bring him, opting out of going to cafes and restaurant because it was just getting kind of old. Aside from the fact that you stopped going to the food truck across your apartment building, it's also been a while since you enjoyed some street food yourself. You're also delighted to know that this is apparently Jungkook's first time going here.

The area is usually livelier in the later hours of the night, but there are still a lot of people by lunch time. Students, civilians, tourists... a usual day in Seoul, you can say.

When you reach the hotteok stall, you ask for your usual right away, almost asking the same thing for Jungkook but remember that he might actually want something else.

"Do you want other flavors instead?" You look back at him while he stands behind you with his hands in his pockets. He's forgone the coat – it's somewhere in his car seat – which left him with his usual polo shirt, sleeves folded up to his forearms. He kind of looks broody with his stance and you know... the exposed tattoos – but he looks adorable when he gives you that familiar easy-going smile at your question.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

You're hungry for a while now so you don't wait a long time to take a bite of the hotteok when it's finally served. It's hot, and Jungkook laughs as you learn it the hard way, sputtering as you move the food away from you.

"Fuck!" You curse, blowing air and fanning your mouth which doesn't really do anything.

"Slow down," Jungkook says in between his chuckles. You feel his arm resting on your back as some sort of support. "I'll get you some water."

It only takes him a few seconds to stop by a nearby stall to get you some bottled water, and you thank him after drinking it quickly.

"Sorry 'bout that," You apologize, smiling sheepishly.

"There's a—" Jungkook gestures at his mouth. You arch your brow at him, a bit confused. He tries again. "Something in your—" He interrupts himself, shaking his head, and takes out a handkerchief from the depths of his slacks.

Your immediate reaction is to take a few steps back when he goes to wipe at your mouth. Jungkook stops, pausing his movement. You give him an awkward thumbs up which prompts him to continue.

"Done."

You choose to gloss over that occurrence, taking another bite of hotteok after that.

"You know I always wondered why I don't see you going out of your apartment every morning." You start a conversation while you walk together mindlessly.

"You wonder... why?" Jungkook looks at you for a brief moment. With a teasing grin, he says, "You wanna see me every day?"

You gasp.

"Gross, Jungkook." You say, absolutely scandalized at what he said.

He just laughs, shaking his head, amused at your reaction. It makes you roll your eyes.

"I just figured you don't commute so you don't need to leave early." You tell him.

You notice he seems to be extra playful today.

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

"Lucky you. I'm so sick of commuting."

"You don't like driving?"

You shake your head, "I don't know how to drive, and I don't have any intention to."

"I think I've heard that from Joon before." Jungkook chuckles.

"Oh yeah, he told me one time he'll most probably kill himself if he drives. Which– same."

Jungkook bites on his hotteok, chews on it for a while before saying, "That's what I thought when I started to drive a motorcycle."

You almost snap your head to look at him.

"You drive a motorcycle?" You ask, just to be sure you heard him right.

Jungkook nods. "Hm."

"Oh, wow... that must be..." You trail off, looking blankly ahead of you.

Well, now you can't get it out of your head. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with his tattoos out. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with a leather jacket.

Ugh. You told yourself you were gonna forget about the stupid crush! This is so counterproductive. There's nothing special about a man who drives a motorcycle! Not at all.

"Must be...?" Jungkook curiously asks you.

"Nerve-wracking." You say, which you think is a fair answer. He doesn't have to know that you're thinking about a totally different thing.

He nods. "It was for the first time. Mom always gives me an earful whenever I use it." He shakes his head while laughing.

You can't help but ask.

"You're close with your mom?" It only registers to you that the question must be way too privy, but Jungkook doesn't seem to think so as he answers casually right away.

"Yeah. She was really glad when I came home."

You smile. You once thought he's close with his family... turns out you aren't exactly wrong.

"That's sweet."

He just gives you a soft smile. "You?"

"Oh, me? She, uh, died awhile ago. So."

The smile on Jungkook's face falters.

"That... sucks."

"Thanks." And then it makes you laugh. "You know most people say sorry. You're the first one to say it sucks."

"I..." Jungkook seems to track back on what he said. "I mean, I'm sorry, of course. But it must suck, right? I just... love my mom a lot. Can't imagine losing her."

You nod, completely understanding where he's coming from.

All your life, people have always felt sorry for you for losing your mom, your only parent. Of course, you're thankful for the sympathy, but sometimes... you just need someone to be real with it. Someone to say it sucks – because losing a parent is hard. Losing a mother suck.

"You're not so bad, Jungkook." you comment after a while, and as you take a quick look at Jungkook, you see him in another light. The same light you see a person in when you figure you want to befriend them and be in their life.

"What do you mean by that?" Jungkook asks with an arched brow.

You shake your head, smile not going away.

"Nothing!"

Jungkook annoyed you some more about it and you had to laugh at his curiosity because it was funny the way he insisted about something really inconsequential. Even when you went to another stall to buy some drinks, he still tried to bring up the same thing, but you're more stubborn than him so of course his efforts did not bear any fruit.

After a while, you sit on some bench while you eat tornado fries.

"I don't like this." You say, looking at your stick and frowning. Turning to Jungkook, you extend your tornado fries to him. "Try this one."

He takes a bite from your own stick. Surprisingly, he seems to like it.

"You wanna exchange?" He offers his cheesy tornado fries in exchange with your sour barbecue-flavored one. You nod, taking it from him. Jungkook chuckles at you. "I told you to get that one."

"I was feeling experimental." You tell him simply.

When you were in front of the stall, you told him how you didn't like sour barbecue at all but still wanted to give it a try. Obviously, that did not go well. Good thing Jungkook bought the cheesy flavor, though.

From your peripheral vision, you see a group of what seems to be a group of teenage girls sitting on the bench across from you. Judging from the very familiar uniform, they're in high school. They've been there for a while now and you notice they've been stealing glances at your direction.

You glance at Jungkook and snort.

"Looks like someone here has some admirers from Seoul High School." You tease Jungkook. He does not seem to notice the girls at all, looking at you with confusion first before turning his head to look across.

In a second, Jungkook turns uncomfortable in his seat.

"That's Seoul High School?"

You laugh at the obvious way he ignores them looking at him. Still, you nod your head at his question, "Yup. Went there."

You subtly look at the girls' direction again, catching them do the same and you can just see Jungkook's ears getting red by the second, visibly embarrassed at the unwanted attention.

"That's just across my high school." He casually says, trying so hard not to mind the girls.

"No way!" You gasp. "Yongsan International?"

He nods.

"The cheerleading teams on both schools used to have, like, this big beef before, you know that?" You tell him, ready to lay out the huge gossip that happened in your batch. And then you remember, "Oh. You've probably graduated when I entered senior year in high school."

Jungkook gives you a look. "Rude. I'm not that old."

The sass comes unexpectedly which makes you laugh out loud you almost choke on the fries.

You were just about to tease him some more when somebody approaches you both.

"U-uhm..."

When you both look at the girl, she's one from the group who was shamelessly looking towards your direction, which is obviously aimed at a specific someone by your side, Jungkook.

"Hi!" You greet cheerfully.

The girl blushes and then turns to Jungkook.

"O-oppa..." She utters, hesitant when she pulls something out of her skirt pocket. It's a small, crocheted sunflower.

You coo at the sight, looking at Jungkook in amusement. The man beside you just grow more uncomfortable in his seat. He looks so constipated, god bless him.

"My friend told me to give this to the eonni beside you."

Your smile is quickly wiped off your face the moment her words sink in, confusion slowly coming to paint your expression. You look at the girl but before you can say anything, she's already walking away as soon as Jungkook takes the crocheted flower from her. You watch as she and her friends ran, their figures slowly disappearing from your line of sight.

"Looks like you got admirers from Seoul High School." Jungkook quips beside you. "For the eonni beside me." He teases, extending the cute little flower to you.

Hesitantly, you take the flower from his hands.

"You know, it suits you." Jungkook says when you don't say anything, still stunned from the literal turn of events.

You look up, baffled. "Huh?"

"A sunflower. It suits you... you're like it." He smiles, soft and gentle. There's a look of fondness in his eyes that you couldn't have mistaken for anything else. "I'm glad they gave that to you."

You open your mouth to speak, but there's nothing at the tip of your tongue.

Shying away from his gaze, you mumble a low, "Thank you."

You don't think you hear his next word right.

"Cute."

You have a hobby of collecting hobbies instead of focusing on one thing to be good at, jumping from one activity to another, even if it means abandoning your previous thing. Hobbies for most people means time lent to be better with it every day, but in your defense, you don't necessarily think you have to be good at something.

You've tried drawing. You've tried dancing. You've tried the guitar and you've tried the ukelele and you've tried crocheting and you've tried to study astrology. You've built three huge boxes of storage containing the needed materials for each of them, but they end up collecting dust.

Why can't a hobby just stay as a hobby, anyway? Why can't you just feel goofy one day to suddenly start drawing and give up the next day the moment you realize shading is hard? Why can't you just buy dress patterns and only sew the skirt part because tops are complicated to sew? Why can't you just learn four guitar chords because it's enough to play at least five songs using them?

None of it matters, you think. People will pressure you to push and push until you can possibly capitalize on something you're good at, but it just isn't the case for you.

You'll collect all the hobbies in the world until your head is full of random things and you just burst with it.

And true to your words, you find yourself wandering about in the baking aisle of your local grocery store at the late evening hours.

Yep. It's 2028 and your hobby pick for the year is baking.

So, what if you're a disaster in the kitchen? Cooking and baking are two different worlds! At least that's what Google tried to tell you a while ago when you were cleaning your bathroom earlier this morning, suddenly craving for some matcha cookies after you were done.

It sounded about right in your head that you decided to pick up ingredients for it, deciding it will be your dinner. At the back of your head, you think you should've just gone to the hundred cafes surrounding your apartment complex like, you know, any regular person would if they're craving something. But you figured that if you know how to bake, you could get matcha cookies anytime you want.

What can you say? You like to live life on edge. (You'll probably burn yourself in the oven later, but that will just be another lesson that life is soon to give you. You're just taking it in advance.)

But living on edge doesn't mean getting your card declined when you turn it to the cashier to supposedly pay for your grocery.

"I'm so sorry, uhm, can I have a few seconds, please?" You tell the cashier, giving her an awkward smile as you grab your wallet from your tote bag again, taking your card from her. You take another one of your debit cards this time and offer it to her, subtly looking around in hopes that no one is watching.

"Oh, we don't accept debit cards issued by this bank, ma'am." She says, and you're just about ready to dig yourself a hole from this complete, utter embarrassment.

"Okay..." you trail off nervously, glancing at the computer to look at your total. "I'll just pay in cash."

You do not, in fact, have enough cash.

You can tell the cashier is getting impatient from the way she shifts her weight from one side to another, and you keep yourself from making eye contact with her, fumbling with your wallet.

Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year and your card chose to decline on this very particular day. Why don't they accept your debit card? And why don't you have enough cash with you? Are you really this broke?

This is going to be a disaster. You can't afford to go to prison for this. Can you even go to prison for not paying grocery? Okay, maybe jail time for like 12 hours? But you have work tomorrow!

"Excuse me, miss,"

Somebody says but you refused to look at whoever it was, still counting the bills in your wallet that do not even accumulate to half the amount of your total.

"You can charge her bill here."

At that, your head quickly snap to the owner of the voice only to reveal himself as no other than Jeon Jungkook.

You swear you almost sigh in relief at the sight of him and have the sudden urge to hug him big time.

Jungkook looks at you and gives you a smile.

"Hi."

"Jungkook," you breathe. "Thank god you're here."

The cashier looks at you both weirdly but nonetheless swipes the card Jungkook gave her., instructing him to type his code on the key pad. There's nobody in line for the cashier you went to other than you both because it is too late an hour to be getting groceries, so Jungkook is able to butt in seamlessly and get his cart checked out as well.

"You're very much welcome." He says warmly.

Jungkook's dressed just as casually as you; a combination of simple white t-shirt and shorts and a pair of sliders. His grocery contains a lot different than yours, showing all sorts of food ingredients. You wait for his stuff to get bagged until you both head out of the store.

His car was just parked nearby, so you follow him towards its direction to apologize.

"I'm so, so sorry for earlier. I'll pay you later when we get home, of course." You say, just now registering how embarrassing it is for him to catch you in that situation. You're no stranger to getting your card declined... but really, now?

You decide to add awkwardly, "Or... do you have Kakao Pay?"

Jungkook chuckles while he opens his trunk, picking up his bags of groceries to place them in there. He shakes his head, keeping his hand outstretched to upwards to hold the hood of his car.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

You're about to speak in protest when he gestures at the bag in your hands, as if asking you to place it in the trunk as well. You shake your head repeatedly.

"No, it's okay, I'm just gonna take a cab home." You say, pointing to your back where the street is, politely refusing his obvious offer to drive you home.

He's done too much in the span of ten minutes you've seen each other tonight. He's paid for your groceries for heaven's sake, and he still has the intention to drive you again to your destination? Not adding the fact that he also just drove you to work yesterday to keep you from being late. It's like he's just doing you heaps of favors and so far, you've done nothing in return.

"__, please, I'm offering." Jungkook insists. As usual. "I really don't mind."

Shoulders deflating, you let out a sigh.

"It's just that..." You start, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"What?"

"You've just been doing me a lot of favors lately." You say, looking away from his gaze.

Jungkook calls your name gently. You train your gaze at him. He steps closer to you and gives your shoulder a soft tap. "Hey, I'm not counting."

The words in itself aren't all that special, but the way he said it and the way he looked at you while he did may have just did a little damage to your heart because why did it seem so genuine?

Still, you shy away.

"It's just really embarrassing." You say, out of argument now.

Jungkook lets out a sound of amusement and takes the bag from your hands. He didn't even give you the chance to protest before he managed to put it successfully in the trunk of his car, together with his own groceries.

"Why don't you pay me back by helping me make dinner tonight?" Jungkook muses.

You give him a weird look.

"You really want me in a kitchen? Have you not listened to my horror stories this whole time, Jungkook?"

He laughs as he leads you both inside his car. You follow quietly behind but this time, you don't mistake the passenger seat from the driver's seat and instantly wear your seatbelt as soon as you're sat.

"I dunno, I'm just offering. I thought it'll be fun." He shrugs, turning on the ignition of the car and starting to drive back to the apartment building.

"Okay, I can at least chop some onions and garlic..." You trail off. And then you remember as an afterthought, "Oh, I'm actually baking tonight as well."

Jungkook takes a quick surprise glance at you. "You never told me you know how."

You snort. "I don't know how, trust me. I'm just starting right now."

"Is that why you went out grocery shopping tonight?" He arches a brow.

"Yep. Totally a spontaneous thing. I wanted, like, this very specific matcha cookie..."

Jungkook laughs. "Should I help you with the baking as well? I might learn from you."

"Really? You want to help?" You ask him delightfully.

He nods, making your grin wider.

"Sounds fun."

You both agreed to cook and bake at his place, partly because you personally are not ready for him to see your own flat. When you get inside his unit, Jungkook cutely bragged about his table set that just arrived earlier this morning according to him.

Personally, you've barely cooked at your own place let alone somebody else's. The one time you were in someone else's kitchen was Jimin's but even then, it was just to microwave some pizza and other take-out food.

It should feel weird to be prepping ingredients with someone, to move around the kitchen with the goal to make yourself a homecooked meal – especially with somebody like Jungkook – but truthfully, it felt almost... natural. Probably because you're conversing casually while you're doing things so there isn't any awkward silence.

You're making tangsuyuk, according to him, and he's obviously taking the lead – expertly prepping the meat while you go chop some spices needed for the dish.

"Is this okay?" You ask, showing him your work. You hope he likes it because you're kind of under a weird pressure to be in here, helping him. Also, you're not sure if you minced the garlic right.

But Jungkook just gives you a hearty smile.

"Good girl."

And goes back to what he's doing as if he just said nothing.

Which—okay, he seemed to have unconsciously said it that now you're gaslighting yourself whether you heard him right or not. Did he really say what you think he just said? What the fucking fuck.

Thankfully, Jungkook's too busy to notice that you become a bit frozen in your position for a good ten seconds. If he truly didn't mean to say that, he needs to get those words out of his vocabulary before he sends you in a sudden cardiac arrest. It'd be the most mysterious death of humanity.

"Do you need the carrots?" You ask, raising the vegetable in your hand.

Jungkook nods and you start to peel it. He watches by your side when you begin slicing the carrot.

"Cut them into Julienne slices."

"Huh?" You look back at him. "Not the cooking jargon, Kook." You deadpan, the nickname seamlessly coming out of your mouth.

He apologizes and tells you exactly what he meant. You furrow your brows in concentration to achieve what he wants, but Jungkook just laughs beside you.

"Okay, let me just—"

He's behind you a second after that, towering over your form and circling his arms around you. Your breath hitches as Jungkook places his hand on top of yours – the one that holds the knife – and begins to guide you through slicing the carrot.

You can feel his breathing from the proximity of your position, and even though there's still distance between the both of you, it's only hairsbreadth away and frankly, the ridges of the front of his body are so prominent against your back.

Jungkook does not seem to face the same internal panic as you though, because as soon as he deems that you are staring to get it, he steps back and let you do the thing on your own.

He leans back on the countertop, crossing his arms while looking at you.

"You're not so bad at this like you claimed." He comments.

You feel your cheeks heating up, so you focus your full attention on the carrot, your hands seemingly having developed a mind of their own throughout the time. Well, at least it's doing the right job. You can only hope you don't slice through your fingers... imagine cutting them right into this very moment.

"This is a trauma response from watching too much Gordon Ramsay."

Jungkook chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

"We're just gonna wait for another thirty minutes for the meat and the mushroom. Should we start baking? What do we do first?" He says, washing his hands first before walking towards your direction.

You take your phone out from your pocket, looking at him a bit apologetically as you say "sorry" for pulling up Google. For the record, you haven't memorized shit and this is your first time baking.

Jungkook shakes his head, telling you there's no need for apologies because he "can't bake for shit" himself. That makes you feel relieved. You thought he's just good at a lot of things.

You don't encounter any trouble while mixing the dry ingredients, but when it comes to the wet ones, you think you've done something wrong. Jungkook tells you to try it. When you dip your finger into the mixture and taste it, you automatically scrunch your face.

"What, why?" Jungkook asks curiously.

"I don't think this is quite right..." You say, looking down at the mixture sadly.

"Mayve we can add more vanilla...?" He takes the bottle with him, ready to pour some into the bowl.

You pout. "But it says one teaspoon and we already put one teaspoon."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know... give up?"

Jungkook chuckles as he says your name.

You sigh. "Okay, maybe we'll try some that."

You do as you say, and as you taste it again, you're delighted to notice the elevated flavor. Mindlessly dipping your finger again into the bowl, you offer it to Jungkook to try.

The very act just sinks into your head when he leans down to suck it off your finger.

It happened quick, not at all sensual and slow like the movies make it out to be, but you feel your heart rate picking up at the feel after-effect of Jungkook's hot tongue touching your skin. But as you look at him, his eyebrows are furrowed, assessing the taste, not at all in a trance by what just happened.

"Oh, definitely better." He comments, as if he didn't just... suck your finger?

... Which you offered.

That he took willingly.

You turn away from him and pretend to busy yourself with the electric mixer, fumbling with the paddle.

"Are you cooking the tangsuyuk yet?" You ask, changing the subject. Jungkook is completely unaware of the current chaos in your head, walking towards the refrigerator to take out the pork he marinated earlier and the bowl of mushrooms.

"Just tell me if you need help." He tells you, touching the small of your back as he passes by you to get to the stove.

You feel your cheeks heating at the touch, moving aside to let him start frying the meat with the batter he's busied himself with awhile ago.

"Shit!" You say, surprised at the sudden whir of the machine. Jungkook quickly looks at you. You laugh and give him a thumbs up. "I'm fine here!"

You both work together on your own thing, and when you let the dough to rest, Jungkook, at the same time, finishes frying the meat of the tangsuyuk. You don't want to feel useless while you don't have anything to work on, so you peer over what Jungkook is doing and ask him if you there's anything he needs.

"Do you want to make the sauce?" Jungkook asks you. You scrunch your nose and hesitantly nod. He seems to notice your uncertainty and chuckles. "I'll teach you."

"Okay, but don't blame me if it tastes like shit later, okay?" You warn but he just shrugs and laugh, telling you that he'll talk you through the process and there's no need to be nervous. You can just experiment with it a little, he says.

You've watched a lot of Hell's Kitchen episodes that you have this silly, unrealistic expectation on what goes on in kitchens, but thankfully, Jungkook isn't like Gordon Ramsay at all and is so unbelievably gentle in teaching you even when you almost spilled soy sauce on the countertop and put too much vinegar than needed. He shrugs your worries off by fixing the thing, thankful that when he offers you the ladle to taste the sauce from it, it's more than decent.

While Jungkook prepares the tangsuyuk for your dinner, you take the time to form your cookie dough into small circles, leaving it in the oven to bake while you follow Jungkook into the living room and start eating the food that you cooked – or he cooked.

Jungkook teases you that you lied about not being good at cooking, but you have to remind him you didn't do shit and only the bare minimum. He looks like he's not convinced.

By the time that you're finished with your dinner, the oven's timer went off. Jungkook insists that he wash the dishes even though you feel like you should be the one doing it, but he tells you to check your cookies in the oven and so you did.

You're not expecting anything, but it will feel really good if it tastes at least okay.

Crossed fingers, your mind says as you take out the sheet pan.

First impression: it looks okay to the eye. Like real cookies.

But soon, your parade is rained on when you try to bite into the cookie.

It looks like real cookie, all right, but apparently doesn't taste like one.

Your face contorts into a frown as soon as you bite down into it a second time.

Okay, that's it. Put them in the tupperware as soon as possible, you thought. So, you do just that, placing all of the pieces into the plastic box and securing them away.

From where you were, you can hear Jungkook shutting the water off on the sink, his footsteps coming near you. Once he gets close, he peers down at what you're doing. Intrigued, he asks for one.

"No." you shake your head. The cookies are to be gatekept not because it's too good but because it should not be consumed at all. Jesus. You just ate Jungkook's tangsuyuk and it tasted exactly like the ones you've eaten from restaurants; it'd be such an embarrassing contrast to your own work.

"Don't be stingy," Jungkook playfully says, already making a move to reach for the cookies in your hands.

You hide the tupperware behind your back and stop him with your other free hand.

"Don't come closer. These cookies are not for consumption. Go away."

But he just arches a brow, walking a few steps forward.

"Jungkook!" You whine. "They don't taste good, and I'm embarrassed by them."

"Just one bite," Jungkook chuckles at you, not understanding your mortification. "Come on, __."

But you're stubborn and you won't let him have any of it even if he tries hard.

Jungkook is just as determined though, as he threatens to get closer and closer to you.

You squeaked out his name when he takes a hold of the tupperware but thankfully, you're quick on your reflex and able to take it back.

The whole thing prompts you to burst into laughter as you run around the island of his kitchen, giggling at the silliness of it all.

Your efforts to get away from him eventually go to waste as he managed to get ahold of your waist with his one arm, the other not missing the beat to steal the cookies from you.

He's firm over his hold, lifting you up while laughing against your head as you try to wriggle away.

"Let me have one bite, __," He says, and with his one arm, sits you on the countertop, not letting you go just yet even when you're fully sat.

You try to snatch the plastic from him but he's much quicker this time. When he opens it, you have no choice but to cover your face in embarrassment.

"I told you it's bad." You say, pouting at him, noting the expression on his face as he chews on the cookies that tells you it definitely does not taste good.

"You're a first timer." Jungkook just says, putting down the tupperware.

"Don't try to make me feel better." You frown even more.

"I'm not! I'm just pointing out that this is the first time you tried so of course it's not gonna be perfect right away?" He offers, some sort of comfort, maybe?

But your shoulders deflate because he's right.

Still.

Jungkook must have noticed your mood and tries to cheer you up one more time.

"Come on, you still made a really good tangsuyuk."

That makes you chuckle, unconsciously kicking his knee slightly making him let out an ingenuine, "Ow!"

You don't notice one of the straps of your spaghetti top falling off until Jungkook fixes it for you in the middle of your shared laughter.

"Thanks." You smile at him, mindlessly touching the strap, keeping it in place.

Jungkook hums as he helps you jump out of the kitchen counter.

The night ended with him walking you to your unit again, a rather silly thing he keeps on insisting to do. It's hard to put a name on it, but there's a certain feeling in your chest when you went out of Jungkook's apartment.

A feeling that lingers its way through when you receive a text from him after you come out of the shower that night.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:05pm]: good night chef

You fight off the smile that forces its way into your lips as you type out a reply.

You [11:06pm]: good night :)))))

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:06pm]: i thought u already slept

You [11:07pm]: at 11oclock??? what do u think am i a grandma

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: fair Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: but i had fun earlier. we should do it again sometime

You lie on your back, can't help yourself from letting a small giggle.

You [11:09pm]: jungkook-a You [11:09pm]: just tell me u wanna be with me??

You meant that as a joke, obviously. Just like how he joked about you one time over lunch about wanting to see him every day when you brought up the topic of not seeing him come out of his apartment. You did not mean anything by it other than friendly banter.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:10pm]: 🤔 Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: that can be arranged. you can be my personal sous chef and I'll build us a restaurant

You [11:11pm]: sweet

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:11pm]: you havent seen all, baby

Your lips part.

Okay...

Your relationship is absolutely platonic at best. But you can't help but think that he gets a little flirty at times... like the few moments in his kitchen earlier. Is it bad that you're thinking way too much about that specific memory of him licking your finger without thought? Of his strong arm effortlessly carrying you against his rigid body and putting you on the countertop, almost manhandling you? Is it bad you can't get the memory of him fixing your top out of your head?

His use of nickname ticks a little light at the back of your head, and you decide to poke the nest a little.

You [11:12pm]: really? what r u wearing right now

Just a little jokey-joke between friends and nothing more.

You don't even expect a reply to that, but your phone dings a second after, and when you open your message thread again, your jaw parts wider this time.

It's a picture of Jungkook lying his bed, his face cut off from the frame. But you know it's him from the arm that peeks out, his tattoos a familiar sight by now. The photo is taken at a low angle, just enough for you to see the sleeveless shirt he's sporting and the strings of his grey shorts.

You [11:14pm]: i meant that as a joke

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:14pm]: 🥴

You do not know what he meant by that. You look for a picture to reply with, and the HAHA reaction is expected the moment you pressed send.

You [11:15pm]: stripper patrick says good night

Laughing silently at the meme you sent him which was Patrick from Spongebob wearing a pair of black fishnet tights and boots, you wait as three dots appear on Jungkook's line.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:15pm]: you're a minx

You chuckle, reacting to his message with an emoji and turn off your phone, almost throwing it on your nightstand and scrambling to bury your face in your pillow to let out a sound of a weird sob, but you're smiling your face off and your cheeks feel way too hot.

The truth of the matter is that you ended the conversation because you're afraid of where it's going.

Turning around, you lay on your back and stare at your ceiling, calming the beat of your heart and forcing your eyes to shut close.

But the picture Jungkook sent you keeps on popping up in your head, almost like those ads from shady websites on the internet, and when you think about it, it triggers a slur of memories that play like a picture in your head: his lips wrapped around your finger... his strong arm... his subtle touch on the small of your back...

"Ugh," you groan, slapping your hands over your face.

You furrow your brows to appear serious, thinking that it'll make you think of something serious as well, wrapping a blanket over your body and sighing when the technique doesn't work.

Okay, think of dogs... and puppies...but that's apparently a wrong move because now you're thinking of Jungkook with his dog.

You're obviously awful at this.

You turn on your bed once again, muffling a sound in your pillow.

But then as minutes passed, your restlessness continues to prevail and you're about to cry with the unknown frustration that sits at the back of your head.

Laying in silence for a while, your hand finds itself roaming over your body, your thumb catching your nipple through your thin top. You pinch the nub, experimental, until it turns into a pebbled rock in your touch.

You bite your bottom lip as your other hand trails down over your panties, running it around the waistband, down until you reach down, down, down to your core.

Your lips part when you feel its heat, two of your fingers starting to stroke where your nether lips were. You sigh at the sensation, squeezing at your boob and turning your head to the side, thinking about how good it feels.

Slowly, you reach down under your parties to part your lips, moaning at the wetness that welcomes you below.

You start to stroke gently with your middle finger, drawing figure eights over your core and making sure to put friction on your clit. The ministration produces more wetness in your cunt, and you spread it over for easier access inside as you start to poke into your hole.

"Oh my god," you mewled, breathing heavily against your pillow, pumping a finger into you. It's a little tight, and you remember you haven't touched yourself like this for over a few weeks now.

But god, how could you forget the feeling of it? The feeling of something going in and out of your cunt, gliding so smoothly because of the abundance of wetness all over.

"Fuck." you sigh out, lips parted, eyes closed to feel more of the sensation.

Your other hand reaches under your top to fondle with your boob, helping you stimulate yourself into that familiar feeling of great ecstasy that comes with your pussy getting touched.

It's starting to feel hot, and you can feel the beads of sweat starting to form on the side of your head even though the AC and your fan are both on. There's a zap that starts from your spine that comes with a sort of electricity coming from within, transferring that tick into your belly which prompts you to pump into your hole faster.

The sheets are a mess at this point, with your feet kicking into them as your movement picks up pace.

"Oh god," you cry out silently, muffling your sob in the comfort of your fluffy pillow.

You chase the feeling of completion, closing your eyes once more, trying to figure out how to get there.

And there's one familiar man that pops inside your head.

Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh shit," you hiss, pinching your nipple and going in and out faster.

Jungkook with his lips around your finger. Jungkook pressing his body against your back. Jungkook carrying you against his body. Jungkook's electric touch as he fixes the strap that's fallen over your naked shoulder.

You let out a pathetic moan, trying to shake away the thoughts of him.

You aren't supposed to. It feels wrong. So wrong.

Suddenly, you feel frustrated over still not reaching your climax up to this point.

You let out a heavy breath, pulling out your fingers from your pussy and from under your panties.

You don't get off. You never do – with your fingers, anyway, that is. And that's why you have a trusted toy buried deep at the back of the drawer of your nightstand, kept away for occasional uses. You'd say you need it right now, but you're too flushed and tired to take it out.

And there's also a melancholic feeling in your heart upon realizing that you just thought of Jungkook while touching yourself.

"Shit, shit, shit." You hiss, the cusses mostly dedicated to yourself.

You shake your head as you sit on the edge of your bed, your hair a bird's nest and clothes strewn over your body as per your reflection on the full-body mirror across your bed.

Sighing, you let your head down and massage your temples.

"God, what's wrong with me,"

You feel guilty... because you aren't supposed to think of a friend when you're trying to get off. You told yourself you'd stop finding Jungkook hot or cute or what-the-fuck-ever so that stupid crush can go away finally. But it feels like all your efforts – or lack, thereof – always seem to fall short.

This isn't good. You need to think straight.

A sudden loud ping catches your attention, almost startling you because it's in the middle of the night, after all. When you snap your head to the side, you see your phone with the light out.

You instantly feel a little nervous. What if it's Jungkook? There's an irrational fear in your head that he knows what you just did, but you shake the thought away, scolding yourself for getting way over your head.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you feel scared to open your phone but then, did you really have a choice?

Slowly trudging to the direction of your phone, you pick it up from the table and turn it on.

August 18: Your cycle forecast Ovulation in 2 days. Your sex drive may just be hitting its peak🌡️ Tap for tips to make most out of it👉

"Oh fuck me." You curse, throwing your phone on the bed, feeling pissed all of the sudden.

Fucking period tracker app... and ovulation.

PART THREE | ...

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[koiukiy-o]

orphic; (adj.) mysterious and entrancing, beyond ordinary understanding. ─── 008 (II). the disquiet.

-> summary: when you, a final-year student at the grove, get assigned to study under anaxagoras—one of the legendary seven sages—you know things are about to get interesting. but as the weeks go by, the line between correlation and causation starts to blur, and the more time you spend with professor anaxagoras, the more drawn to him you become in ways you never expected. the rules of the academy are clear, and the risks are an unfortunate possibility, but curiosity is a dangerous thing. and maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. after all, isn’t every great discovery just a leap of faith? -> pairing: anaxa x gn!reader. -> tropes: professor x student, slow burn, forbidden romance. -> wc: 1.2k -> warnings: potential hsr spoilers from TB mission: "Light Slips the Gate, Shadow Greets the Throne" (3.1 update). main character is written to be 21+ years of age, at the very least. (anaxa is written to be around 26-27 years of age.) swearing, mature themes, suggestive content.

-> a/n: um... surprise anaxa pov? mini update once again bc i couldnt help myself. hes a loser and i have no self control i fear... welcome home professor and fuck you very much for ruining my LIFE. i hope you guys like it! <3 next update NOT coming soon bc its going to need a LOT OF RESEARCH !! but it will come, hehe. -> prev. || next. -> orphic; the masterlist.

Anaxagoras sits unnaturally still, save for the occasional, minute twitch of his finger against the trackpad. The inbox is open again—has been, for the last thirty-seven minutes. He’s refreshed it thirteen times. Fourteen. He does not look at the time.

The email remains unread.

No reply.

Of course not.

He closes the tab. Opens another. Reopens the inbox. As if that would change the outcome.

He leans back, then forward, spine stiff and aching with tension he refuses to acknowledge. His other hand flexes once against the armrest, fingers curling in tight, rhythmic spasms. He imagines, absurdly, that he can will the message into existence by the precise calibration of his breathing: inhale, two beats, exhale, one. Inhale. Exhale.

Footsteps behind him. Soft. Familiar. The cadence of someone who does not knock.

“I thought you only hovered when you were revising a grant proposal,” says a voice, dry as old paper.

Cerces.

Anaxagoras doesn’t turn. “You’re early.”

She shrugs. He hears it in her voice. “You’re transparent.”

He ignores that. She crosses the office anyway, folds herself into the spare chair without invitation, like she’s amused by how much it bothers him.

“You know,” she says, glancing toward the screen, “for someone who claims to detest inefficiency, you’re wasting an awful lot of neural bandwidth watching that inbox not blink.”

He keeps his tone level. “I’m waiting for a reply.”

“Oh, I gathered.” Her smile is all teeth. “From the little prodigy, yes?”

“Pathetic,” she says lightly. “You’ve hit refresh so many times, the poor thing’s going to short-circuit.”

“I’m expecting–”

Cerces glides in, unimpressed. “You’re brooding. Badly. Honestly, it’s unbecoming. You usually pace.”

Cerces taps her nail idly against the edge of the desk. “Sent them my paper on subjective structure, did you?” She lifts a brow. “Bold.”

“It was relevant.”

“To their project, or to you?” she asks, with mock-innocence. “Can’t tell anymore. You sent out less reading than usual this term. Except to them.”

Anaxagoras does not dignify that with a response.

Cerces hums, leaning back in the chair like a cat preparing to nap on his thesis notes. “No wonder you’ve been unbearable all day,” she muses. He closes the inbox.

Cerces, satisfied, stands. “Just admit it’s getting to you.”

“It isn’t.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely getting to you.” She adjusts her coat. “You know what I think? I think you’ve finally found a student who doesn’t need your approval to be brilliant, and it’s making you—” she lifts a hand, gesturing vaguely at his expression—“like this.”

She’s halfway to the door when she adds, lightly: “It’d be romantic, if it weren’t so predictable.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Anaxagoras stares at the inbox again.

Then he clicks refresh.

Just once more.

Anaxagoras locked the door behind him with a muted click, the old brass deadbolt sliding home with a satisfying weight. He stood there for a moment, coat still draped over one arm, his keys resting loosely in his hand.

The apartment was dim, lit only by the soft, residual glow filtering in from the streetlights outside. Dromas stirred from her place on the windowsill, her feline silhouette stretching languidly, but didn’t bother to cross the room to greet him. She knew his rhythms too well to expect anything different tonight.

He exhaled, low and measured, setting his folio and coat onto the small entry table. His movements were deliberate—almost mechanical. He loosened his cuffs, folded them back neatly, crossed the room to the kitchen only to stop halfway there, hands half-lifted in the faint, aborted gesture of making tea he didn’t really want.

Instead, he turned, leaning back against the counter’s edge, arms crossing over his chest as he stared into the middle distance.

It should have been a straightforward afternoon.

He had predicted the conversation. He had anticipated the questions—sharp, incisive, urgent in a way most students couldn’t muster even on their best days. He had even foreseen the almost inevitable moment when he would have to reveal that he had submitted the symposium application on your behalf weeks ago.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the look you gave him.

Not gratitude—that would have been easier to dismiss. Gratitude was impersonal, clean, academic. He could have tucked it neatly away with every other minor debt and favor exchanged in the endless currency of university life.

No—what unsettled him was that you had looked at him as if you understood. The warmth of it, the raw, unguarded recognition—it lodged under his ribs like a splinter.

Anaxagoras dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture more frustrated than he would have allowed anyone to see.

It wasn’t improper.

It wasn’t wrong.

You were brilliant—deserving. Your mind had already begun to unfurl in ways that few others' ever could. It would have been criminal not to give you the chance to sit in that room with Cerces and the others, to sharpen yourself against the brightest, most dangerous minds the field had ever produced.

And yet—

He pushed off the counter sharply, crossing the room to the bookshelf by the window. His fingers skimmed across the worn spines without truly reading any of the titles.

And yet there was an edge to it he could not name—a precarious, almost gravitational pull that had nothing to do with academics.

He had always prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize. To categorize attachments neatly away from the crisp structures of logic and methodology he demanded of his work.

But when you had stood across from him this afternoon, tablet still glowing faintly in your hands, passion and ambition thrumming just beneath the surface of your carefully controlled demeanor—

He had wanted.

Not just to teach.

Not just to challenge.

He wanted to see what would happen if you didn’t hold back. If you let that mind—the one so few even recognized as extraordinary—unfurl without apology or restraint.

To watch you unmask the depths of yourself, raw and unfiltered, free from the weight of expectation. He longed to see you, not as the student you so often hid behind, but as the person you were when you let go of the barriers you had so carefully constructed. He wasn’t just waiting to be impressed—he wanted to be seen by you, to be part of that unfolding, as if by witnessing it, he could catch a glimpse of something he had only dared to touch in the quiet spaces of his own soul.

He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

Cowardice isn’t always irrational.

Cerces' words. He understood them now, in a way he hadn’t when she first said them years ago, with that half-smile and a glint in her eye that hinted at the ruins she was quietly accepting.

If he was careful, this would pass. The symposium would come and go. You would find larger horizons to chase. That was the plan. That was the only rational outcome.

Dromas jumped down from the sill, padding over to rub herself against his leg. He bent down, absently running a hand along her back. She purred once, low and approving.

"You," he said softly, as if the cat could understand the accusation laced into the word, "have far fewer complications."

-> next.

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[pennyold]

visit | c.c

Summary: you were all week trying to hide the vivid night with Carlisle a few days ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about it, and the visit to his work made everything worse.

Warnings: flirting, cursing, step!cest, just the tip ‘Carlisle’, dirty talk, infidelity (Carlisle is cheating again) and suggestive content.

w.c: 1,384

a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb but i got so inspired that it became longer and longer, so i made it a full fic hehe. btw i missed stepdaddy!carlisle, that i couldn’t resist, enjoy and leave some requests in my inbox, im a clean and alone paper on the table without any ideas of new fics lmao. no proofreading!!! sorry for any grammar mistakes.

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Upon entering the hospital, you felt your skin prickle, your spine tense, and a slight tingle at the nape of your neck. You walked down the hallways until you found the hospital receptionist. You placed your bag on the shelf before you and stammered nervously, "Is Dr. Carlisle in his office?" The woman looked at you and nodded happily, "Of course, do you have an appointment with him?" you denied immediately, "No, no, I came to drop off his food, I'm his..." your tongue got stuck in your mouth, would it be appropriate to pass yourself off as his daughter? You cleared your mind, wanting to end the sentence, but the secretary interrupted you before you could say anything, "You are Maggie's daughter, aren't you? She called me, she said you would come," you nodded without saying a word, and the secretary let you pass. "It's the brown door on the right," she pointed to the distant door and you nodded, walking in that direction.

Standing right in front of the door, you took the bag tightly and squeezed it so hard that your knuckles turned white, you knocked on the door and a faint 'Come in' was heard. You opened the doorknob, and as you entered the office, Carlisle's scent filled your nostrils, almost feeling like a slap in the face. You closed the door and Carlisle looked up, he was working. "Hi," you said with a smile, trying to hide the slight nervousness stuck in your chest. "Hello, darling," he said removing his glasses, which he rarely used at home. You approached the desk and placed the bag in front of him. "I brought you some food... Mom said you would be very busy and wouldn't get home until late." He smiled gently, getting up from the chair behind the desk.

His height was very tall compared to yours. You felt small, like an ant next to him, and he looked at you intently without laying a finger on you. Your legs weakened and your chin tensed. "Why so tense?" he said, looking at you curiously, gently took your chin, and made you relax it. You couldn't say a word, and everything that had happened that night, while your mother was out of the house, flooded your mind quickly.

Your legs trembled again and you felt a wave of heat wash over your body. "Is everything alright, darling?" You nodded and looked into his eyes, inhaled, and his scent flooded your nose again. "Carlisle... I-" he silenced you by planting a kiss on your lips, you held firm for a few seconds, but his weight leaned on you and you took him by the shoulders, reciprocating his kiss. He took you by the back, pressing you against his chest, you felt warm and moaned against his mouth, he took the opportunity and slipped his tongue into your mouth, sharing his saliva with yours.

Your pussy contracted, starting to wet the panties you were wearing, you gasped, tightening your grip on his shoulders, you broke the kiss and their saliva was the only thing connecting you for seconds. "The door..." you whispered, licking your lips. Without letting you go, he led you to the door and locked it. He slammed your back against the door, pressing his lips once again against yours. You hugged him by the neck, deepening the kiss, letting him devour your mouth. You felt his hand grab your hair from the roots, he buried his fingers among the strands and clenched it into a fist, making you firmer and more accessible so he could kiss you better. "Shit..." he whispered against your mouth, making a trail of wet kisses around your chin and jaw. "You smell delicious," his voice was so warm that it heated your throat just from feeling it against your neck. He kissed your trachea and lightly bit a sensitive spot, making your legs go numb. "Wow, take it easy," he said, holding you by the hips to keep you steady in his arms.

But he thought of something better, he swept you with his body, taking you to his desk, he grabbed your hips tightly to lift you and place you on the desk. "Better?" you nodded. Your cheeks were so rosy from excitement that you looked down, avoiding his gaze. "No, look at me," he said, taking you by the jaw, making you look him in the eyes. You looked at him and Carlisle felt his heart tighten and his cock swell in his pants, he loved your eyes, big and divine, but when you looked at him, begging or seductively, either way, it made him fall into a trance and feel everything disappear.

You looked at his reddish, swollen, and trembling lips due to the wild kissing session. Carlisle caressed your back, moving down to your hip area and ending at your buttocks. He firmly held each part of your butt and pulled you towards him, making you feel the prominent bulge behind the zipper of his pants. His cock collided with your covered pussy, the material of your panties sticking to your folds, feeling a cold sensation in your hole. "I'm so needy... please," he smiled, squeezing your ass cheeks. "What do you want? Tell me," he whispered into your mouth, almost kissing you.

Instead of speaking, your hand traveled to his bulge, feeling how hard it was, as if it were a rock. You squeezed it and he moaned, trying to stay still in his position. You could feel his cock throb and heat up every time you squeezed it, "Shit..." he whispered, watching your hand rub against his immense problem. "Do you want me to masturbate you?" you asked, looking him in the eyes, trying to look as sweet as possible, when all you wanted was him fucking you against the desk. "I want to fuck you, hard, but it will be very difficult," his words seemed to turn into a seductive melody, gently taking your hair and rubbing his hands on your hips. "Will you stay quiet?" you nodded excitedly, biting your lower lip, stifling your moans.

You removed your hand from his pants and let him unbutton them, revealing his underwear. He looked at your pants and you lifted your hips, letting him know he could remove them. He abandoned the pants on the chair, taking your legs, looked at your panties, focusing on your pussy, where a darker stain than the material's tone was noticeable, "so wet?" You looked to the side, trying to let go of the obvious redness and heat in your cheeks. "You want my cock, don't you?" you nodded. "Then open those pretty legs," you obeyed, spreading your legs and some folds peeked on the sides of your panties. "Are you ready?" He looked at you searching for an answer. "Just put it in, I can't..." he laughed on your cheek, then kissed you. "I only follow your orders, sweetheart," he lowered the elastic of his underwear and revealed his swollen and hard cock. "So I'll put it in, just like you said."

It seemed like he was doing it on purpose; the tip of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy hole, making you tremble and whimper every time you felt his wet tip entering and exiting every second. "Stop," you whispered almost inaudibly. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, watching his erect cock rubbing against your folds. You nodded, biting your lip, placed your arm over his shoulder, and pulled him closer, trying to get him to push his cock deeper, but it didn't work; you only made Carlisle mock your clumsy move. "You want it all, don't you?" Then he kissed the side of your ear, "It will happen when I get home," he said without further ado. He tucked his cock back into his pants and adjusted your panties and pants, leaving you as you had arrived. "Tell your mother to not wait for me, I'll be back late," he winked at you and returned to his seat, going back to his work. You swallowed hard and got up from the table, walking towards the door. "Text me when you get home." That was the last thing you said before stepping out of the office.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - if we were us (part two)

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which life gives you and Jungkook one more chance to hold on.

note ; nothing like a month long hiatus to really set the mood!! right? hehe. r-right? right.. guys? OK FIRST OFF — apologies for my absence on this fic. i did not forget about her i swear. i just wanted more time to sit with her (and like i am so glad i did. she needed to marinate in my notion templates and google docs even more). writing a fic like this is heavy and heartbreaking, and i think i was struggling a bit on direction. as we all know i'm THEE™️ romcom writer and it sometimes hurts me to write angst if its too psychologically tolling on my oc's but i have found my happy little middle ground and we are sticking to it!! writers block be damned!!! all that to say, next chapter will be jungkook's pov (ooooohhh it's juicy.) but this chapter... well, this chapter is the beginning of their story. sit back, relax, get some ice cream, and don't scream in my inbox please (or you can. i'll allow it just this once)

playlist here

series masterlist here

wc ; 5.4k

[YOUR POV]

There’s a book in a pink box under your bed titled ‘The Dream Book.’

Next to the dust bunnies, next to Namjoon’s old socks that mysteriously keep disappearing under there, next to the candles you keep forgetting to light. 

It’s flimsy now, pages showing their years. Full of magazine cutouts of picturesque kitchens and winding staircases. 

In that book, you knew exactly what you wanted. You had it down to a science; everything from the career to the loving husband to the cat to the house with a picket fence. 

It was always the same house in every sketch, every torn-out photo you’d taped inside. White exterior, blue shutters, close enough to the ocean that you could taste salt in the rain. 

It’s all there, in bad gel pen handwriting and glittery highlighter.

You used to love that book. 

Then you broke up with Jeon Jungkook.

Now, when you turn the pages, when they glare back at you at 3 AM as you turn through them on your bathroom floor with a flashlight on, you hate it. You hate how foolish you were to think that anything in that book could come true.

You hate how naive you were at 18. You hate how in your teenage years, all you knew how to do was dream, because life hadn’t taught you otherwise yet. You hate it all. 

Because here’s the thing about any 18 year old who still knows how to dream: they think the universe owes them something. They still think dreams are plans. 

And if you were still 18, still that girl who believed in pink gel pens and destiny, you probably would have ended up with Jeon Jungkook at 32. 

Jeon Jungkook is nothing like you imagined he would be at this age. You don’t know what you thought he would be like — you never let yourself imagine it. 

So as you look at Jeon Jungkook now, the white house materializes behind your eyelids. Kids’ laughter echoes from a swing in a yard. 

You see what you were supposed to have. 

Brown waves curl on the nape of his neck — shorter than you remembered — along with his big brown eyes with undereye bags threatening to form. A navy-blue sweater adorns his body, broad shoulders filling up every seam. He looks older in the way people do when they've lived a whole life you weren’t a part of.

How is it possible that he looks this beautiful at 8 in the morning? Some cosmic joke, probably.

The Jeon Jungkook you loved in college would rather have died than be awake before 10 AM. His arms would pull you back under the covers of his college apartment that smelled like his detergent and your perfume.

“Ten more minutes, baby,” he’d mumble into your shoulder, voice thick with sleep. “I want ten more with you.”

Then he’d complain that you snored — you did not snore, you barely breathed when you slept next to him — and you would retaliate with a pillow to his face, both of you dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

The memory hits like a slap to the face. Blood whooshes through your ears and the coffee shop begins to sway. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about—

It’s too late. You’re 22 again, standing in his apartment in his t-shirt, tears collecting on your shirt like raindrops, begging him to go. Begging him to take the job offer, to chase the dream he’d been talking about since you were freshmen. His dream had stopped being maybes; they were tangible things living in the depths of his email inbox. Yours were still living in a book.

“Go,” you’d said, the word scraping your throat raw. “Just go, Jungkook. Please.”

He’d looked back at you like you were asking him to cut out his own heart. 

His coffee cup trembles in his right hand like he’s remembering the same day. His other hand is jammed deep into his pocket, probably clenched into a fist as he normally did when he was trying to hold himself together. 

You wonder if he remembers the last real morning, when you'd pretended to be asleep as he packed. Wonder if he knows you heard him crying in the bathroom, or that you waited until his taxi pulled away before you let yourself completely break.

Some people say that if you love someone, you let them go. They don't tell you that letting go feels like dying. They don't mention that you'll spend the next decade wondering if loving someone means destroying yourself in the process, or if you destroyed the best thing you ever had by being too afraid to fight for it.

“Jungkook?”

You do your best to hide any state of panic, but you can’t seem to relax your shoulders or soothe your pounding heart as you take in the man in front of you. 

He seems to have the same reaction as you. 

“[Y/N]?”

“It’s good to see you.” The lie flows out of your mouth. You’ve gotten good at saying things that sound right instead of true. ‘When.. when did you get back?”

“Last week.” He shifts his weight onto his other foot, fingers clamping the coffee cup with a death grip. “I just bought a place in Gangnam.”

“Bought?” 

Buying means permanent. Buying means he’s not just visiting. Buying means Jeon Jungkook is staying in the same country as you. Your heart does this awful swooping thing, like it's free-falling and taking the rest of you with it.

“U-uh yeah.” He’s fidgeting now. He runs a hand through his hair, tousles it a little. You notice the tattoos on his knuckles. They don’t look new. “Yeah, I'm moving back to Korea.”

“Oh.” Your brain short-circuits. He'd made it crystal clear — it was America or nothing. Come with me or lose me forever. You'd chosen to let him go, chosen to be the martyr, the one who loved him enough to set him free. 

And he'd let you. He'd taken that plane ticket and your broken heart and built himself a whole new life on the other side of the world. Now he’s buying property in Korea like that was part of the options he presented to you. 

The coffee shop walls swallow you whole, pressing in. Your chest tightens as if a brick just slammed down on it.

You need to ask. Need to understand what could possibly bring him back, if not you.“Why?” 

“Work. I’m here for work.”

It’s always work with him. Success was his security blanket in college, and apparently life moves on but some things don’t. You nod like a bobblehead, like this makes perfect sense. 

It does make sense. You just don’t want it to. 

“That’s good.” Another lie. You’re racking them up this morning. 

“And how are you?” he asks. His body leans into you, shoes pointing in your direction. He looks genuinely interested in what you might have to say. Like he’s been praying those pages in the dream book have manifested to reality. 

“Very good.” You straighten your shoulders, slip into the voice you use with difficult parents during conferences. “I, um, I teach.”

His face softens. “No way. You got a teaching job?” 

He looks proud of you. You remember spending nights recapping your education classes, how you’d light up talking about lesson plans and classroom decorations. How he’d listen, with his chin cupped in his palm, brown eyes twinkling up at you. 

You’re about to drop your coffee cup on the floor and ask Jiwoo to just send you the bill to your home. 

“Yup. Kindergarten.” You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face. “The school’s actually pretty close to here.”

He nods slowly, almost shaking his head as if he can’t believe it. As if he’s trying to envision you in front of that classroom, writing on a chalkboard or handing out addition exercises. “God, that’s… that’s amazing, [Y/N]. Kindergarten. That’s perfect for you.”

He still knows you well enough to see the puzzle pieces where they fit. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. The kids are great.”

You’re doing it again — downplaying, minimizing, making yourself smaller. 

Pretty neat is the understatement of the century. 

Like teaching isn’t the only thing that gets you up in the morning, like you don’t spend your own salary on classroom supplies and stay late to make sure Min-jun’s reading comprehension improves. 

Admitting how much you love it, though, feels too vulnerable, like you’re handing him a piece of your heart when you’ve worked so hard to keep all the pieces to yourself. 

“Do you.. do you wanna sit for a minute?” He asks, eyes gesturing towards the black chairs messily arranged around tables. 

You really shouldn’t. It’s 8:40 and you’re supposed to be at the school at 9. You have 23 tiny five-year-olds depending on you to have your shit together, and sitting in your favorite coffee shop with Jeon Jungkook feels like the opposite of having your shit together. 

But that’s not what your mouth says. Your mouth goes: “absolutely.” 

He leads you to a table by the window, where the rain is still collecting on the sill, droplets catching on the pane vigorously. One of Jin’s paintings hangs nearby. You had sold it to Jiwoo for half the price as a thank you for all that extra sugar she tosses in your coffee. 

Jungkook pulls out your own chair, and then settles himself across. 

“So, what else is new?” 

Where do you even start? The decade of learning how to exist without him? How, for the first year he was gone, you unconsciously saved funny stories to tell him before you remembered he wasn’t there to hear them?

“Not much, really.” Lie number three. Third time’s the charm. You’re starting to believe them.

“Well, where do you live?” His eyes eagerly meet yours as he takes a sip out of his coffee cup.

“Apartment, it’s not far from here. Downtown Seoul.” You fidget with your own cup, wrapping your hands around it for something to do. The cold seeps through the plastic. 

His eyebrows scrunch together. “I thought you hated Seoul? Said it was where dreams go to die.”

You vaguely remember saying that. 22 year old you, slumped over his couch, declaring that Seoul was a soul-sucking corporate wasteland where creativity went to suffocate. You’d been so sure that anywhere but here held the key to happiness. 

But then you got the offer letter for your job a few months later, and you learned pretty quickly happiness isn’t really about geography. 

“Oh, do not be fooled.” You manage out a laugh that’s meant to be genuine. “My dreams die every time I realize I’m here.”

Some days you do feel like you’re sleepwalking through a life that looks nothing like you planned. Though lately, when you're reading Where the Wild Things Are to a circle of wide-eyed kids, or when Soo-jin finally writes her name without help, the life you're living doesn't feel so bad.

“Do you live with a roommate?”

His fingers tighten around his cup. He’s bracing himself for an answer he might not want to hear, you think. 

You realize what he’s really asking. What he can’t bring himself to ask directly. 

Kim Namjoon, your boyfriend. That is who you live with. Ten words that draw a clear line in the sand, that would protect you both. 

Namjoon, who’s steady and smart and doesn’t hop on flights to the United States. 

His name sits lodged in your throat, buried under about a hundred other words you want to say. 

Just say it, you tell yourself. Say Namjoon’s name and end this before it starts. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes. One roommate.”

God, you must be an idiot. A monumental idiot who deduces her relationship to roommate because her ex is sitting across from her. Yes, because Kim Namjoon is just some dude who splits the electric bill with you, not the man whose toothbrush sits next to yours in the bathroom.

He nods, “That’s economical of you.”

Your eyes get a better look at him. For the first time, you take note of the silver chain hiding underneath his sweater. The navy-blue top that mixes so well with his golden skin. Brings out the sparkle in his eye that hasn’t left since you said the word roommate. 

“Us teachers gotta lay low. Underpaid and overworked.” You lean back against your chair, taking a sip out of your straw. The sweetness slides down your throat, melting away those words that had been building up in there. 

“You guys deserve better, I swear. Shaping the minds of the youth and what not.” The earnestness in his tone catches you a little off guard. 

“Kinda.” You shrug. “I’m doing a bug project right now with my kids, so I don’t know if I’m really shaping the youth.”

“Bug project?” His eyebrows lift with curiosity. 

When was the last time someone asked about your actual work instead of just nodding politely when you mentioned teaching?

“Ants, caterpillars, the whole shebang. It’s absolutely fucking disgusting.” The curse slips out before you can stop it, and you feel heat creep up your neck sheepishly. 

His laugh booms throughout the shop. You want to bottle it up and hide it under your bed. “I’ll have to come and see that.” 

Your heart flutters. He wants to see your classroom. He wants to see your kids covered in finger paint and learning about metamorphosis. 

Your brain is screaming Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon, red sirens blaring in your frontal lobe. 

Clearing your throat, you deflect. You don’t know what else to do with the way he’s looking at you. His chin has found a home in his palm. “So what about you, Mister Home in Gangnam? Very fancy.”

“What about me?” He tilts his head in your direction. 

You don’t even know what you want to ask. You guess, if you’re being completely honest, you want to know if he has a roommate as well. You want to know if there's someone in that fancy Gangnam home who knows how he takes his coffee, who's learned that he gets grumpy when he's hungry and soft when he's sleepy. 

“Roommates?” you ask, and you can’t keep the hesitation out of your voice. 

“Uh, yeah. You could say that.”

You have no energy to decode what that could possibly mean. Your chest is so full of this feeling you only get when you’re with him, one that hasn’t sprouted in over a decade and is poking through the dirt trepidly. 

You settle on switching gears. 

“How was… New York?"

“It was good. Really different from Korea.” His right fingers trace absentminded patterns on the table. He used to do that when he was thinking, working through problems in his head. “My eomma almost had a heart attack the first time she visited.”

You can picture it vividly — Mrs. Jeon, tiny but fierce, clutching her purse in Times Square. When the image flashes through your mind, something lurches in your chest, because you should have been there for that visit. 

“Different in a good way?” You ask, though you're not sure you want the answer. 

What if he says yes? What if he confirms that leaving was the best thing that ever happened to him?

“Well, 7/11 didn’t have any ramyeon so you tell me.” The corner of his mouth twitches upward. 

“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” Pressing a hand over your heart, your jaw falls slack in mock sympathy. 

“And finding samgyeopsal is even worse. I had to travel 30 minutes on the train.” He shakes his head in despair, and you’re both smiling now. 

“Oh god.” Your lips are betraying you before you can tell them to shut up. “Do you remember that time we drove 40 minutes in Busan because that new shop that opened up allegedly had the best samgyeopsal in the town?”

“Yeah and then we got food poisoning? Fucking nightmare.” The memory is so clear you can almost taste the regret and ginger ale, can feel his hand cool against your forehead as you’d curled up on his floor. You two were so young then, back when you thought even food poisoning was an adventure as long as you were suffering through it together.

He’s really laughing now, the sound filling empty spaces in your ribs you’d forgotten were there. Behind him, the line grows longer in the shop, and you glance over at Jiwoo quickly to see that her hair is now in a haphazard bun.

“I hope Gangnam has better samgyeopsal.” You smile at him.

“Hmm. I tested this out already. It’s not bad.” His eyes trail down to his cup shyly. You almost think maybe he came back to Korea looking for tastes that would remind him of home. 

“How is your eomma doing, by the way?”

Mrs. Jeon had always been kind to you. She would press extra banchan into your hands when you visited and ask about your classes. A second mother figure to you. 

“She’s good. I still don’t think she likes New York. Plus my brother’s getting married.” His features light up. “She’s been throwing herself into wedding planning. You would think the wedding was for her.”

“Oh my god??” Your voice raises about ten octaves. “Junghyun is getting married? Don’t tell me it’s to Ri-won.”

Ri-won was Junghyun’s college girlfriend who used to show up to family dinners with homemade desserts and flowers for the entire family, even you. Seamlessly, she had fit into the family like she’d been born into it. 

“It is, actually.” Jungkook grins fondly. “She pretty much tied him to a chair and begged him to marry her.”

“Can’t tell if that’s cute or terrifying.” You laugh as you picture small Ri-won wrestling Junghyun into submission. The image is so ridiculous that the knot in your chest loosens slightly, 

“They’re disgustingly in love, so cute.” He shakes his head, hair falling over his forehead. “Like I’m happy for them, but I don’t need to see hyung feeding her strawberries at the kitchen table.”

The domesticity of the image hits you sideways. Junghyun and Ri-won in their home, probably arguing over wedding venues and seating charts, feeding each other fruit like teenagers desperately in love. 

“What about you? How’s your eomma and sister?” He wonders innocently. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that your sister picked up the shattered pieces of you he left behind. That she despises him with every fiber of her being despite none of this being his fault. 

“Jia’s good. She’s married now. Eomma’s been pestering her for kids.”

It’s still weird to say out loud. Your older sister, married. When did everyone grow up and start making permanent decisions?

“Think it’ll happen soon?” 

“God, no. You know her. She thinks kids are gross snot bubbles.”

You realize too late what you’ve said. 

You know her. As if he’s still flipping through baby photo albums with your mother on the old couch in your living room.

But he does know her. He probably remembers better than you how Jia used to make elaborate excuses to avoid babysitting the neighbors’ kids, or when she would dramatically gag if someone’s toddler had a runny nose. 

Jia used to babysit for some of Jungkook’s cousins, and his aunt might possibly still laugh reminiscing on the time she almost got forced to change a diaper. 

“Yup, sounds exactly like Jia. Does she still watch those cartoons?” 

Yes, Jia absolutely does that. She has a masters degree and a marriage certificate but manages to text you theories about animated movie plots at 2 AM. 

“Some things never change,” you sigh, lightly chucking under your breath. 

Some things never really do. Mostly because you’re right where he left you, in a coffee shop on a rainy morning. 

“Eomma still own that flower shop?”

Your mother owns this beautiful flower shop at the end of a dead road in Busan. You would spend countless afternoons doing homework in high school behind the counter, where the smell of peonies and roses became synonymous with home. 

“Of course. Business is booming, she says.” You can’t help but smile. “I swear sometimes she tells me that so I don’t worry.”

“She’s smart, though. Best flowers in town.” He tugs the sleeve of his sweater down his left hand. She adored Jungkook — addressed him in family terms — and loved the person who made her daughter the happiest. 

You’ve never been certain she loves Namjoon the same.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” It's not meant to be a dig. In your chest, your heart speeds up, kicks into overdrive. 

He blinks a few times. He’d spent ample time in that shop, charming your mother into giving him employee discounts and teaching him the difference between plants. 

“Do you know how long it took me to find those flowers for our anniversary? She nearly kicked me out of the shop if I stayed another minute.” He trails off a little at the end of the sentence, like the memory has reached up and choked him. 

21-year-old Jungkook was stressing — he drove your mother crazy as he agonized over flower combinations. He claimed they needed to be ‘perfect like you.’ 

Then he had the nerve to drive over to your dorm at 1 AM with the most elaborate bouquet known to mankind. The security guard barely agreed to let him in when he saw the size of that monstrosity. It was white peonies and pink roses, wrapped in the brown paper your mother never let you play with as a kid. 

“They were perfect, Jungkook.” Absolutely perfect. 

He looks down at his simmered-down coffee, and you catch something that might be regret flickering across his face. 

 “Have you been… writing?” You ask, partly to change the subject, partly because you want to know. 

Jeon Jungkook — for all that he is handsome, put-together, and goofy at times — reminds you of a young Shakespeare. 

In college, he carried notebooks everywhere he went, scribbling down fragments of stories and character sketches like he was collecting pieces of the world to reassemble later. 

“No. I wish I was.” His shoulders sag. In this light, he looks more like the boy who read you his terrible first drafts before going to bed. “Haven’t had much time when I’m stuck in meetings all day.”

He sounds defeated. His eyes would light up when he would talk about the novel he was going to write, when he would map out plots on napkins and refuse to fall asleep anywhere beside his laptop in case inspiration struck. The light has dimmed a tad. 

“You should get back to that.”

“You’d still read my books to your kindergarten kids if I publish?” He anxiously chews at his bottom lip as he looks up at you, expectantly. 

“Even if I hadn’t seen you today, of course.”

And you mean that. Even though the thought of explaining to a bunch of kids why Miss [Y/L/N] is crying over a picture book would be its own special kind of torture. 

“Guess I gotta scrap that murder novel then.” He smiles.

“Probably for the best,” you exhale out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I can barely handle watching them dissect butterflies.”

He hums, then says while looking out the window, “It’s your favorite kind of morning, I see.”

His big eyes snap back to yours. 

It’s cloudy and gray outside as the forecast promised. You usually set alerts on your phone for when it rains. The predictability of all soothes you. And when you know it’s going to rain, when the excitement settles in your bones at the familiarity of it, you let all your troubles wash away too. 

This — this moment with Jungkook you hadn’t predicted — you don’t want to wash it away just yet. Not one bit. 

It feels fragile and impossible, like trying to hold water in your cupped palms. 

“Hm. Definitely.”

The bell above the door jingles, signaling the entrance of more coffee shop-goers. Reality starts to creep in like cold air through a cracked window.

“Drive into the city was ass though.” He hardly cranes his neck to check the door. 

“You’ll manage.” You roll your eyes jokingly. “You survived New York traffic, remember? Seoul’s got nothing on that.” 

But even as you say it, you're already standing, already reaching for your work bag, already nipping this entire thing right in the bud. Staying any longer feels dangerous. 

You’re also not sure what time it is, and you know that if you check the clock, you’ll panic. Principal Park is going to have your head on a stick before recess. 

He stands too, and for a moment, you both just look at each other across the frail table that wobbles. 

“I really should—” you start. 

“Yeah, of course. Your kids,” He steps backwards, hands sliding back into his pocket, coffee cup abandoned. “Don’t want to keep the future leaders of Korea waiting.” 

You realize now you don’t know how to say goodbye to someone who used to know all your secrets. It’s like trying to explain color to someone who’s blind. 

You wonder if you have time to Google ‘how to condense ten years of absence into a goodbye.’

He pauses. Mouth opens and closes like he’s testing words out in his brain to see how they fit. His jaw works silently in concentrated frustration. 

“I don't know if this is stupid, but I'd love to get your—”

“Daddy!”

The American word cuts through the coffee shop, a stark contrast to the native tongue being spoken.

Your blood turns to ice water. A small voice calls out, high and excited and unmistakably directed at the man standing right in front of you. 

The coffee shop, the morning light peeking from the rainclouds, the conversation you’ve been sharing — it all shatters into pieces that don’t fit together anymore. 

Jungkook whips around so fast you think he might get whiplash, and that’s when you see them — two small figures barreling toward him. 

A girl and a boy, about five years of age. Her pigtails bounce as she runs, and the boy is struggling to keep up, clutching a toy dinosaur to his chest. 

They are children. 

His children. 

Air gets stolen from your lungs, leaving you gasping in the wreckage. Your vision tunnels, edges going dark. 

He is a father. Jeon Jungkook — the boy who burned your ramyeon once and couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive — is someone’s daddy. 

The girl crashes into his leg first like a small hurricane, and he catches her instinctively. The boy is cautious, hanging behind his leg, but adoration is written in his face as he looks up at Jungkook. 

“We finished breakfast! Mommy said we could find you!” Her voice is breathless, bouncing on her toes even as Jungkook’s hands reach down and encircle her. 

Mommy.

There’s a mother. There’s a whole family. There’s an entire life Jungkook built while you were doing arts and crafts, teaching kindergartners about clouds, playing tag on the playground. 

His earlier response about his own imaginary roommates crashes back into your consciousness like a freight train. 

“You could say that.”

You’d been so focused on your own deflection, calling Namjoon your roommate, that you’d missed it completely. 

You're a moron. A grade-A, certified, absolutely spectacular moron.

You’re staring. You know you’re staring, but you can’t seem to stop, can’t seem to do anything but watch this unfold. Watch Jungkook transform from the man who was just struggling to ask you for something to someone who belongs to other people, someone who has promises and responsibilities that have nothing to do with you.

Your hands are shaking. You hope it’s not too visible. 

“Did you have a good breakfast, Hari?” Jungkook’s voice is soft as he picks the girl up and perches her on his hip. 

“So yummy, Daddy. I want more later.” Hari looks like pure sunshine. Her pink dress rides up a little, but he adjusts it thoughtfully. She wraps her small arms around his neck, and something cracks open in your chest.

He looks back over at you. There’s… panic floating behind his eyes. He probably realizes how impossible it is to explain why he’s still standing here with you when he has a family waiting for him. 

You just stand there awkwardly, wait for some stupid introduction. Dumb, dumb, dumb, you repeat to yourself. 

“This is Hari… and Jungwon. These are my kids.” He confirms it. 

Jungwon, the boy with the dinosaur, immediately ducks behind his leg. But you’re good with kids — it’s literally your job, the one thing you know how to do even when the world implodes around you. You speak this language. 

You crouch down to Jungwon’s eye level, making yourself smaller. “Hi there,” you start softly. You only use this voice during the first week of school, while everyone’s trying to figure out if you’re safe. “That’s a really cool dinosaur. Is it a t-rex?”

Jungwon peeks out from behind Jungkook’s leg, curiosity winning over shyness. He nods, holding the toy a little tighter. He has soft round cheeks, hair just as dark as his father’s. There’s a dinosaur bandage on his knee.

This little boy is half of the man you once loved, walking around in miniature with sticky fingers and a toy dinosaur.

“I love dinosaurs. My favorite is a pterodactyl.” You keep your voice gentle. 

His eyes light up, stepping out more confidently. "I like them too.”

“He normally doesn’t talk to strangers,” Jungkook rushes to say, and there’s a bit of wonder in his tone as he watches you work your teacher magic. 

“It’s okay, there's no rush.” Years of training kicks in even as your brain struggles to process it all. You're having a professional conversation about child development with your ex-boyfriend while his son — his fucking son — clutches a plastic dinosaur and looks at you with eyes that used to promise you forever.

You stand back up, knees protesting slightly, and turn your attention to Hari. 

“Who’s that, daddy?” she asks. For her young age, you can tell she notices everything. 

And that’s when you finally see it. Wrapped around her little leg is his left hand. The one he’s been keeping jammed in his pocket this whole time.

There’s a thin gold band on his left ring finger. 

The world tilts sideways again, and you have to grip the table to keep from toppling over. 

He’s not just a father, he’s a husband too. 

There is a woman in this world who gets to wake up next to him every morning. 

You ponder if she knows about his tendency to hum off-key in the shower, or his terrible sleeping habits, or that his guilty pleasure book is the Harry Potter series. 

You look over at him, desperate for any guidance. How exactly does one answer an innocent question like that when the truth is too complicated for you to understand? 

Well, sweetheart, Daddy and I used to love each other very much, but then he got on a big plane in the sky that transported him thousands of miles away, and now I play with bugs and he works a big boy job that lets him buy homes in Gangnam. 

“An old friend, baby,” Jungkook relieves you of the answer. You want to both thank him and absolutely lose your mind. 

As if you’re someone he knew in passing, not someone who knows that he twitches in his sleep when he’s having a really vivid dream. 

Hari processes this information, studying your face. Then she suddenly gets bashful, ducks her head into Jungkook’s shoulder, and giggles before going, “You’re really pretty.”

Kids have this way of cutting through adult problems with safety scissors. 

You and Jungkook both laugh. When you catch his eye, he’s looking at you like he agrees with her.

“So are you, Miss Hari.” You grin. 

She really is beautiful. She has a confidence that speaks to how deeply loved she must be. 

You take another long look at his kids. 

They have his big brown eyes, staring back up at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

Sometimes, and you’ll never admit this outloud, when you fight with Namjoon and head to bed angry, you have dreams where your children have the same ones.

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @arcanekookz @writesvani @yooniepot @whoa-jo @nimmmnikk @readingbee44 @jungshaking @starlight-1010 @jadaocon1 @phoenixxxxstarrrr @jkaxl @butterymin @almatiarau @lovingkoalaface @carriereadsbooks @bhonbhon @lola75111 @yoonstaar @namkookie222 @jeonjenny @lachimochala @kissyfacekoo @libra04 @minimoninini @goldenjeonkoo @ot7even @kopiosuam @annpeachy @literallyjimin @prxdajeon @purplelanterns @neg-l3ct @gguk-lvr @misakiminaa @wisebouquetbarbarian @smoljimjim @mar-lo-pap @senaqsstuff @jkkk9197 @nesha227

[justwinginglife]

So another request hehe but this would be my last one (for the meantime) since I don't want to flood your inbox.

I'm thinking about Hoshina with a Lieutenant reader that has a Disney Princess ability, like ya know the animal whisperer sort of thing. The reader is known for being loved by animals by the third division, so they called them a Disney Princess. They always saw the reader with a random animal in the middle of the battlefield and since then the whole division had a bet on what would be the animal they will be seen every time they enter the battlefield, or how many. One time they got attacked by a Wolf Kaiju, they thought they already killed all of the Kaiju's but Okonogi kept on saying there's still one left, and the reader is missing. When they found the Kaiju, they also found the reader who's now giving the Wolf Kaiju a belly rub.

/⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ -requester

I swear this request has been in my inbox so long it literally, actually collected dust and for that, I'm sorry. Thank you for your patience. Hope you like this!

Crushes and Crowns

Approx Word Count: 3800 Tags: idk, something like, "Hoshina is a silly brat but you love him anyway" and more Third Divison Shenanigans

“Evening, Princess!”

“Rough day, Princess?”

“See you later, Princess!”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself, as you made your way through the Third Division’s halls. Despite your protesting of this new nickname you’d earned, the soldiers continued to use it anyway (overuse it, really), and it’d started to grow on you (though you still found it rather silly.)

You still remembered the day you’d been dubbed, “Princess.” It was your fourth time in one week, bringing home an animal to the base, and it wasn’t even your fault. Your entire childhood, animals had been drawn to you, and it seemed that none of that had changed in your adulthood. It wasn’t like you purposely brought them along with you, they just…followed wherever you went. The first day you’d settled into the dorms, you’d tracked bees inside. No one had thought much of it at first, as you had brought flowers to brighten up your living space. The second time, a raccoon had trailed in behind you, eager to make its home beneath your bed. The third time, you’d come home with bags upon bags of clothes from your latest shopping spree, and when a bag slipped from your arms, a stray dog had caught it and walked it back to base for you. Soon, it became a running joke that the next time you tracked in an animal, it’d be a horse, as the animals you attracted seemed to be getting bigger and bigger in size. Or maybe this was how they discovered unicorns really existed, was when it sauntered in beside you after your next outing. 

It was honestly a wonder how you hadn’t been crowned “Princess” sooner, when your Defense Force exam was only made memorable because a flock of crows had suddenly flooded the arena during the test, working to distract the Kaiju while you took them out, one by one. It was even more peculiar that crows weren’t local to that area, and even if they had been, that would not have been the season to see them. 

Either way, as bizarre as these events were, you had never deemed them a result of any particular skill on your part. You just assumed it was pure coincidence that animals were drawn to you. Maybe you had an attractive scent; that couldn’t be helped. 

It wasn’t until you started showing up to battle with an animal by your side -completely unprompted- that you thought to yourself, maybe you were what they called an animal whisperer. You could coo to the birds and call them to your aid, you could click your tongue and the moles would burrow out of the ground, you could whistle to the wolves and they’d bound to your side, even the snakes (as stubborn and self serving as they were) answered to your every beck and call. At this point, it seemed there was no beast alive that you couldn’t tame. Or man, for that matter.

And recently, you’d had your eye on one Vice Captain Hoshina of the Defense Force’s Third Division. 

While you had eventually, begrudgingly accepted the title of “Princess” (after weeks of scrunching up your nose and wrinkling your brows at the name), you’d never had any real desire for the name to grace your ears. That is, until you fell in love with the Vice Captain, the one person who did not use your ridiculous nickname. And now, after having been accustomed to the pet name (being smothered with it, really), you developed a sudden longing for him to one day take you by the hand, look deep into your eyes, and whisper to you lovingly, “Princess,” as though it were a name only he could bestow. It was all you could think about. He was all you could think about.

It wasn’t difficult in the slightest to fall completely and totally in love with him. Not at all. While you had long proven yourself an asset to the Defense Force, you still remember the days when your every achievement was attributed solely to your animal help on the field. Hoshina was the first person to acknowledge that, while you’d had help, it’d been due to your skill and your skill alone that you achieved what you did. Making an impossible shot, your bullets piercing through a kaiju core with exact precision, even despite the flock of animals crowding around your shot- that accomplishment was the result of your tireless effort and dedication to honing your craft, and the recognition and rewards for such a talent belonged to you and you only. The animals may have done their part, but at the end of the day, it was you firing the shot, you ending the fight before lives could be lost, you saving the day. And you were invaluable to him. 

 Of course, you longed to be more than just an asset to him. 

If he wasn’t interested in you, it wasn't for lack of trying on your part. You noticed he always got up early to go for a run, so you’d join him on his runs. Every single day, without fail, you’d jog up to him, saying, “Fancy meeting you here,” like it was pure coincidence that you just so happened to be up at the crack of dawn even though you’d never woken up so early in your entire life, and you just so happened to run along the same path as him at the same time as him and the same pace as him. He’d laugh. Play along. Every single day, without fail, “What a coincidence,” He’d say with a grin. Some days, you wouldn’t talk much. You’d simply keep pace beside each other, enjoying the crisp, fresh air as your breaths painted clouds of white into the morning sky, and it’d be enough. Other days, he’d acknowledge that he knew you were coming. He’d hand you an extra bottle of water because he’d brought two. He’d pull out his portable speaker because you kept asking him what he was listening to on these runs. Sometimes, if you were late, you’d find him stretching on a nearby bench, and when you’d ask him why he hadn’t started his run yet, he’d raise an eyebrow to you like it was only obvious. He was waiting for you. Of course he was waiting for you. But was it just because he was used to you? Being his running partner didn’t mean you were anything else to him. 

So you’d snag seats by him on the transport to the battlefield. Ask if he’d gotten a chance to eat lunch or dinner before the alarm had gone off. If he said yes, you’d tease him for not sharing. If he said no, you’d slip him a snack. He’d nod his head in thanks, and tell you, with a playful grin, that he’d protect your gift with his life. You’d tell him to worry about protecting himself. Tell him that if he slipped up in combat and you ended up having to go on your morning runs by yourself, you’d strangle his ghost. He’d give a little chuckle, and then make his lighthearted promises to you that he’d do his best to remain in one piece. You wondered if he’d ever promise you anything else. 

But life went on, your relationship with him progressed at a snail’s pace, and the Third Division remained as rowdy as ever. You discovered that their latest source of entertainment was a betting pool. About you. 

It’d become common knowledge on base that wherever you were, the animals followed. Even if you made a trip overseas, they were sure that some sort of whale or shark or dolphin would accompany you on your journey. So they began to place their bets on what animal would make their appearance during your next march into battle. 

Haruichi mused that perhaps you’d appear with a fox by your side. 

Iharu swore that a fox was too meager, and you were more likely to show up with a bear bounding behind you. 

Ichikawa ruminated that it was possible a peacock would be your next companion. 

Kafka bellowed with laughter, telling them all that they were thinking too small. He was sure you’d find some way to will dragons into existence and bend them to your command. 

Platoon Leader Nakanoshima chided them all for being childish, but inside, she was hoping you’d bring home a kitten next time. 

Everyone had their guesses and though you found them outlandish, you were curious to hear what Hoshina’s prediction was. 

“Any thoughts, Vice Captain?”

He raised an amused brow to you. “Thoughts? On the betting pool? You’re really buying into what everyone is saying? That you’re some sort of animal goddess with the power to commune with nature?” 

“No, of course not!” Your cheeks burst into flames. “That….that would just be stupid…” You grumbled to yourself, a slight pout on your lips, as you turned away from him. 

He leaned into your field of view once more, head cocked, a cheeky grin dashed across his face. “I see, I see. So you were hoping to be some sort of deity after all.”

“I would never-!”

“Pufferfish.”

Your thoughts halted in their tracks. “A what??”

He grinned slyly. “You heard me. Bring a pufferfish next time.”

“To a BATTLEFIELD??? On LAND???”

He shrugged innocently, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. “I dunno, maybe you could blow it up big and hang it on a string, like it’s a balloon, or something,” 

“You really are just teasing me, Hoshina!” 

“I would never.”

“You told me that you found a shortcut on our little running trail the other day and led me straight through mud.” You made a show out of glaring at him. 

He burst into laughter, shoulders quaking as he wiped tears from his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d believe me! We’ve run that path so much, I thought you’d know there was no shortcut. And besides, that’s more of a prank and less of a tease, so your argument is invalid.” 

You would’ve fired back at him. Would’ve combat his teasing with a witty rebuttal. Maybe you would’ve even feigned upset and pretended to give him the cold shoulder just so he’d beg you to understand that he was just joking and he would never be so careless with your feelings. But you never got the chance to. 

The red alarm went off.

Hoshina’s lax demeanor instantly went rigid, solemnity crossing over his face as he popped his comms in to receive a report of the situation. You zipped up your suit as you watched him nod his head in response to the report. He gestured for you to follow him as he made his way to the door. 

“Honju. Ruins outside of town.” He mouthed to you.

You kept pace with him as he began speeding towards the transport, tying your hair up into a ponytail on the way. Along the way, the two of you collected soldiers, updating them on the situation as you all rushed to pull your gear together. 

The atmosphere should’ve been tense, the adrenaline buzzing, the fear of death lurking around the corner, the fear of failing your country looming in the air. But it wasn’t. Not when you were around. Your fellow officers raced to catch up to you, whispering to each other, “So did you bet on cougar or coyote this time?” They’d snicker to each other as they made their arguments on which situation was more likely. 

Even Hoshina couldn’t help but notice the lighthearted environment. “That’s enough chit chat, everyone in your vehicles now. And besides…I’m betting on a phoenix.” He winked and then hopped in the truck.

A phoenix??? Now he was on team mythical?? You groaned to yourself as you slunk in beside him. “You’re really setting the bar high, you know that?” You grumbled under your breath.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. “If anyone can do it, it’s you... Princess.”

Your heart choked on its own rhythm, stuttering to a stop. He said it. He really, actually, truly fucking said it. And by god, you were not prepared in the slightest. Was the room spinning? Was the air increasingly thin? Had the sun filed in behind all the soldiers and made camp in this truck? Why were you sweltering and shivering all at once? 

He bit back a laugh, opting instead to clear his throat into his fist. “Cat got your tongue?”

“P-pufferfish.” You mumbled meekly. “Thought you…wanted a pufferfish.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, chest shuddering, as he attempted to swallow down his own laughter. You were adorable, how else was he supposed to describe it? And how the hell was he supposed to contain himself? And in a truck full of people, no less. He was lucky they were all distracted with placing their bets, because he couldn’t help sneaking a look at your rose-tinted cheeks and it sent his heart into overdrive. 

He might’ve reached out to caress them or pinch them, anything to touch them, and soothe his sanity. But then the truck stopped.

“Time to move out.” He ordered.

The soldiers spilled out of the car, and you were left to stumble behind them. Hoshina glanced back at you, suddenly aware that he’d left you all too dazed, and he immediately regretted teasing you so close to battle. He instructed a Platoon Leader to take you into their care, assigning their squad to the very back of the line. On any other day, you might’ve felt offended that he was benching you. But today, you hadn’t even noticed. How could you, when your heart was sprinting in dizzying circles in your chest? Could you even remember how to breathe? Did you remember what oxygen was? Sheer muscle memory allowed you to lock and load your gun, but your heart had no previous practice with gallivanting through sunny meadows and rainbowed skies. By the time you even realized what platoon you’d been assigned to, Hoshina was long gone. 

He had rushed to the front lines, as he often did, slashing a path through his every foe with ease, until he reached his designated target. There it stood, hulking and howling, a Honju with a wolvish appearance- a beast among beasts. Hoshina noted to himself that it must have been the Alpha of the pack, as every bark and grunt appeared to be individual commands given to the Yoju that were currently swarming his comrades. He’d be sure to take it out quickly; he had to disrupt their chain of command. After all, he’d never forgive himself if even one of them caused any harm to you. Even as the last line of defense, you were still much too close to the battle for his liking. He trusted your skills, but he rebuked himself for the state he’d left you in. He’d be sure to finish this battle soon, and rush back to your side for a celebratory beer.

But even with all his talent, Hoshina was reminded that there was no such thing as a sure victory in battle. When he had decided to engage the Honju in battle, he had expected it to react much like a Kaiju would. He would attack and, having nothing but primal instincts to guide it, the Honju should respond in kind, bearing its fangs in retaliation. And, of course, it did at first. Hoshina’s blades clashed with its claws, weapons that somehow rivaled his own in both integrity and ferocity, and for a moment, it appeared as though it were anyone’s battle to win, with both sides equally as charged and tenacious. But it quickly became evident that Hoshina was stronger. And after a couple of fiery exchanges, the beast made the decision to retreat, its more animalistic nature winning out over its monstrous nature. Wolves, after all, hunt in packs and, even as the leader, a lone wolf is smart enough to know when to withdraw. 

Hoshina pursued its quickly fleeing figure but it was to no avail. Even tracking it did no good, and he eventually made the decision to rejoin his officers in the field, clearing out the remaining Yoju. By the time the battle was over, he had almost been able to forget the humiliating draw between him and the Honju. That is, until Okonogi chimed in on his comms.

“Vice Captain, picking up one remaining Honju on the field, sir.”

He shook his head in frustration. “System must be acting up, Okonogi. I watched it retreat myself. It’s long gone by now.”

“No, sir. The readings are accurate. It’s still on the field.”

Hot blood surged through his veins. “Where?” He demanded. 

“Sector Bravo.”

In an instant, his blood ran cold. Bravo. That was your sector. The end of the defensive line. “Okonogi, get me a sitrep on all officers in Sector Bravo. Is everyone accounted for?” His heart thundered in his chest as he sped through alleyways and burst through ruined buildings, all the while, listening to her rattle off each individual officer’s status. He couldn’t very well tell her that no one’s status but yours mattered. 

“And finally, Officer L/N. Vitals normal.”

His breathing evened.

“But she appears to be secluded from the rest of the officers.”

His chest tightened. “She what??”

“For some reason, she’s in an abandoned part of the map.” Okonogi reported.

What on god’s earth were you doing out there alone?? His already-rapid pace increased even further. “Get me a status on the Honju.”

“It’s…oh. OH.”

“Okonogi-” He hissed.

“It’s closing in on her as we speak, Vice Captain-!”

She’d barely finished her sentence when he rocketed ahead, renewed strength and renewed desperation propelling him forward. 

No, no, no, no. He hadn’t even asked your favorite genre of music, hadn’t asked if you ever minded always listening to his. He hadn’t asked you if you wanted to go with him to see the new, upcoming movie. He hadn’t asked you if you even liked animals or if you just somehow always got stuck with them. He hadn’t asked your deepest fears or your sincerest wishes. He hadn’t gotten to know you as well as he’d wanted. And most importantly…he hadn’t told you how he felt. 

Right now, all he felt was panic. Terror. Anxiety. 

He heard that familiar growl again and it sent his stomach spiraling into a knot. Why wasn’t he faster? Why wouldn’t his feet obey him? Why couldn’t he simply sprout wings and fly???

Then he heard your laugh.

He stumbled into the clearing just in time to see you, rubbing the wolf’s belly. 

“Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are. Yes, you are! You’re not so scary now, are you? Just a lil hungry. Just a lil hungry baby. Have something for you, sweetie pie.” You yanked a nearby, rusted stop sign out of the ground and waved it back and forth. 

Eyes lighting up, the Honju lunged forward.

Hoshina’s feet reacted before his mind did and he was at your side in a split second, swords at the ready, eager to spill the Kaiju’s organs all over the pavement.

But the Honju didn’t attack you. He simply gnawed on the “stick” you’d given him as a treat. 

“Oh, Hoshina, you’re here. Hey.”

He blinked. ‘Hey?’ That was all he got? He literally broke the sound barrier, rushing to your aid, and he got a simple, ‘Hey?’

“Hoshina- meet Spot. Spot, meet my Vice Captain.”

His jaw dropped and shattered on the ground. “You NAMED it??”

You gave a sheepish laugh. “Well…I couldn’t very well kill it. Not when he’s being such a good boy for me. Aren’t you?”

As if in response, the wolf flopped onto its back once again, eager for more belly rubs, its wagging tail stirring up dirt. 

Hoshina waved away the dust, coughing. “He’s not a ‘good boy.’ He tried to kill me.”

“But that was then. This is now. Can’t you just let this one Kaiju off the hook?”

Disbelief, shock, and indignation warred within him. But in the end, he fell victim to your glimmering eyes and your perfectly pouted lips. He sighed. “I…I suppose the… the Captain has her own kaiju pet so…it wouldn’t be completely inconceivable for you to…also have one.” His shoulders slumped in defeat.

Your eyes lit up like fireworks. “Really?? Oh- you’re the absolute best, Soshiro!” Excitement overtaking any sense of rationality, you threw your arms around him and squeezed him tight. 

It wasn’t until he was properly snuggled into your embrace that you realized the gravity of what you’d said. And done. 

“S…Soshiro?” He asked weakly.

Your arms froze around his waist. “I…I meant...Hosh…Vice…I…”

His body began to quiver and you wondered if you’d really upset him to the point of being so shaken with rage. But then he rested his forehead against your shoulder, laughter tumbling out of his lips. “You really just skipped straight to first names like it was nothing,” He gasped out in between fits of laughter. 

You bit your lip, having no choice but to endure the shame and humiliation.

He finally stopped laughing enough to pull back and look at you, amusement painted clearly across his features. “Cat got your tongue?” He repeated his earlier words. “Princess.”

And there it was again. That same, overwhelming flood of crimson that rushed to the surface of your skin, enveloping every inch of your face. This time, even the tips of your ears had begun to dye themselves in the similar shade of rouge. 

“Aww. How cute. Fearless in the face of monsters, but speechless when it comes to me. Why is that?” His voice danced with that familiar, teasing tone. 

You attempted to shrink away from him but he caught you by the waist. 

“No running away from me now, Princess.” His tone suddenly dropped, his words a low purr. “Tell me. What’s got you so worked up?”

“If you’re asking me things like that, you already know.” You grumbled in complaint. He chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’ll have to enlighten me.” 

“I like you. Stupid Soshiro.” You crossed your arms emphatically.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“I said you’re stupid, Soshiro!” 

He pressed his lips to yours, his taste intermingling with yours as he deepened the kiss.  “And…” He pulled away, leaving you entranced, “What was it you said before that?”

“...like you. Stupid.” You repeated meekly.

“Could’ve done without the stupid,” He grinned, “But I like you too. My princess.” He dipped his head down to smother his whispered words against the soft swell of your lips once again. And then he kept kissing you until your lips were chapped, until there was no question about his feelings for you. 

You’d never been too fond of your nickname before, but somehow, someway, whenever he murmured it the way he did, in that sickeningly sweet tone of his, as he buried his lips in yours, somehow- you felt like royalty.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Ohhh, has anyone requested for Shelly or Vee yet? I love playing as them, haha, Shelly will always be my favorite though! It makes me feel comforted since I relate to her so painfully much. I would love to talk with her about dinosaurs or just spend time with her, just anything hhhh!!

Please make sure to take your time writing these requests! It can be draining so please take breaks and take care of yourself! You can also deny this if you want. I love your work so much! <3 It's a fun idea to imagine the characters hearing us! Especially when we start to tweak out or even silently yell at our screen or anything like that I know I do that too much hahaha-

Actually I've been hoping to write for Shelly and Vee! This is gonna be a drabble that's a fair bit different from the other drabbles I made so far, hehe.

Also, again, sorry if your request is taking awhile! I have a ton in my inbox and more keep coming in. Don't worry if you don't wanna send in a request now! I love getting requests and I can't wait to fufill them all!

Hehe. <3

Game Show of Love

Yandere!Self-Aware!Shelly x Reader; Yandere!Self-Aware!Vee x Reader; Yandere!Self-Aware!Dandy's World x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors, swearing, fighting (over you <3)

--☆☆☆☆☆--

When Shelly learnt she was your second favorite, she was happy.

But a good bit disappointed. What do you mean 'second favorite'?

Didn't you love dinosaurs? So why wasn't she your first favorite? Why was it Glisten?

Would her only being number 2 in your heart mean you would forget her too? Just like how everyone else did?

So she did what she could to figure out how to talk to you. To ask you if you would ever forget her.

And to ask what your favorite dinosaur is, hehe.

So she began searching. At first she thought she could use the Roblox chat...

But after what happened last time they tried that... yeah, no.

So she went elsewhere.

And then she found your phone number.

And she wanted to try it. So she went searching and found someone else, someone they couldn't hear, who rarely used their phone. Especially not for texting.

Then she tried to contact you.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Hello?

You: Who is this

Shelly panicked. What if you blocked her? She saw blocked numbers on this phone, mostly scammers... oh no! What if you thought she was a scammer?!

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: It's complicated.

You: Wdym

Shelly hesitated. Should she explain everything? Would you believe her? Should she just ask the question she was dying to ask??

...

Shelly shook her head and decided to try something.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I'm someone who's going through a bunch of different phone numbers to try to find someone I can talk about dinosaurs to.

She thought for a moment and quickly sent another message.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I'm not a scammer, I swear!

You: Isnt there better ways to yap to people about dinosaurs?

You: Like on tumblr or smth?

Shelly panicked, terrified you may block her.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: I mean I could. But on here there's no ads and stuff.

You: Dont people think your a scammer tho

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Sometimes they do. Then they just block me. But I just want to talk about dinosaurs!

You: Send me a dinosaur fact.

Shelly's breath hitched.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Wait, really?

You: Ye

You: I love dinos

You: Yap to me about them rn

You: Pls

Shelly almost squealed.

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: Of course!

You: Also what should I call ya?

(xxx) xxx - xxxx: My name's Shelly!

You: I'm [Name].

Shelly froze, staring at your name.

Your name... She was the first one to learn your real name.

You gave her your name.

She couldn't hide her thrilled grin. Even if no one else could see it.

--☆☆☆--

As Shelly texted you, Vee was busy figuring out information about you.

She ran a gameshow for crying out loud! Clearly, more Toons would be interested if she had some trivia about you thrown in there.

But then it spiraled into something more.

Gaining knowledge about you started off small. Things you mentioned in game. Such as your favorite Toons.

It annoyed her she wasn't one of your favorites.

Or the fact you owned a cat.

He seemed awfully clingy too. Oh, and she already knew his name is Blaze. Even if you called him 'Kitty' often.

But then she grew frustrated. You didn't mention enough about yourself when you were playing! How was she supposed to make trivia about you now?

So she began searching.

And figured out how to leave the game. Then how to leave Roblox on devices.

Specifically your device.

She didn't notice nor care that Shelly did it first.

No one noticed Shelly could leave because they never noticed she was gone.

Then Vee found the microphone function on your phone. Then she connected herself to it.

And suddenly...

She could hear it all.

She heard you talk, even when you weren't playing the game. If you had your phone on you, she could hear.

That's when her spiral truly started to occur.

Just like with Astro, she grew a soft spot for you.

She learnt of everything. From your favorite food to your primary mode of transportation.

And she saved every fact she learned about you to her database. In the span of a month at most, she probably knew you better than you knew yourself.

And it wasn't just the microphone she used for information. She went through your photos, your search history. Meticulously finding any bit of info she could gather.

Unfortunately, though, she couldn't use the camera. Since she could only risk searching around your phone for information when you weren't on it, she was never able to turn on your camera and look at you.

This fact frustrated her to no end, but she had to deal with it.

She kept searching through your phone, one day managing to find your text messages and started to go through them.

Hm? Who's this in your contacts? 'Shelly'? What a strange coincidence...

...and this Shelly spoke to you often about dinosaurs? Hm...

She'd need to keep an eye on this...

--☆☆☆--

Shelly was thrilled.

In a month she managed to become one of your best friends!

Of course she was living a lie, but she didn't care!

To you, she was your silly, dinosaur-loving online friend who you were able to share anything with!

And as time went on, she got more comfortable with you.

And got more and more in love...

She started taking more risks.

For example, she pretended to be a player of Dandy's World, talking about how funny it was she was so similar to the Shelly in game. At least personality-wise!

If only you knew...

Tisha knew of this.

She didn't mind.

In fact, sometimes she would even be able to talk with you when she wasn't busy.

And just like Shelly, Tisha kept the fact she could talk with you directly a secret. As well as keeping the fact she was a Toon private from you.

And eventually, she managed to get enough confidence to sort-of ask her question.

Shelly: Random question, but why are your favorite Toons your favorite?

You: You mean my top three?

Shelly: Yeah

You: Well... I like Glisten because he's a lot like me in a sense. I try to maintain stability and confidence even though I hate myself. And his Twisted form is a cutie pie that made me realize he needs all the hugs.

Shelly: But you're great tho!

You: So a lot of people say lol

You: I like Shelly since she deserves better, I too love dinosaurs, her design for both her toon form and her twisted form, and her lore makes her deserve all the hugs too.

You: And Shrimpy Boy is just a silly man lol

Shelly: Why's Shelly lower than Glisten?

You: I haven't told you yet?

You: mb

You: She's very slightly lower because I HATE the confusion debuff and I like Twisted Glisten's concept a lot. Otherwise the two are basically tied lol.

Shelly: So you utterly adore her?

You: Fully and completely!

Shelly squealed from glee.

You, her favorite person, loved her! The only reason she was lower than Glisten was because of some tiny things she couldn't really change. You thought she was basically perfect!

You loved her as much as she loved you!

Then Vee has to ruin it.

--☆☆☆--

"Shelly... what the f■■■?"

Vee stormed closer. One hand was balled into a fist. The other held her microphone so tightly that if she had blood, her hand would turn white.

"You've been talking with the player for over a month now? You could talk directly to her, and you didn't tell anyone?!"

Shelly gritted her teeth. "I did! I tried to tell you! None of you listened to me when I tried to talk! Not even you or Tisha!"

Vee's screen glitched, and never has she been more annoyed that- despite the fact she was a video game character and thus most of her lore wasn't really real, with her being a gameshow host only real because she went out of her way and did that the moment she figured out private servers- she had a censor over all swear words. Because she had a lot she would like to say.

The two stood opposing one another in Shelly's room, where Vee stormed in the moment she put all the pieces together.

She was by no means Rodger, but even the mystery of the Shelly in your contacts list wasn't too hard to solve.

And both were in their Twisted forms. So if this would become a physical fight, it would get messy very quickly.

"Can you blame me for giving up?" Shelly asks, "All basically ANY of you do is ignore me! The only one who doesn't is Tisha! And half the time you forget I exist! Anyways, YOU also told no one about the fact you figured out how to leave the game too! That YOU figured out so much of your information about them by violating their privacy!"

"What I did is different from what you did." Vee curtly replies, standing tall. "You were contacting them directly. Playing a lie the entire time."

"At least I wasn't going through private photos and search history." Shelly growls back, "Do you know how humans can be embarrassed by people looking through those things? Or do you ignore what privacy is just like how you ignore me? At least until you need something from me, you BITCH."

Vee scowls, slightly startled at Shelly swearing for the first time since... practically ever.

"This is why they don't like you." Shelly continues, "I'm one of their favorites. ME. Not you. So stop violating [Name]'s privacy and stop caring about the fact I talk to them."

"...say that again." Vee orders suddenly, screen glitching for a moment as she processed what Shelly said in the blink of an eye. "That word... [Name]."

"That's their name." Shelly says. "They told me it. Directly. Because I didn't violate them as much as you did!"

"I am not violating them." Vee retorts, processing your name. One of the few pieces of information she knew, but reeled from hearing come out of the mouth of someone who was speaking to her for the first time. "But now ...I have an idea."

"What is it now?" Shelly asks, pissed.

"...It involves you directly," Vee says, "How would you like to practically guarantee yourself a prize in one of my gameshows? The grand prize."

Shelly just stares at Vee, raising an eyebrow slighty.

"And the grand prize..." Vee says, suddenly smirking, "Is [Name]'s love."

--☆☆☆--

The grand prize being offered brought every Toon to the gameshow.

Not everyone was participating. Many were simply in the audience, due to the extra promise of a special prize given to any Toon who was simply there.

The gameshow was split into a tournament. Two toons would compete to move onto the next catagory, and the final two would compete for the grand prize.

Practically everyone was a little stunned when Shelly was a contestant.

Especially when Shelly started to crush anyone who went against her in the trivia.

And they were even more stunned when Vee started asking trivia questions they had no idea how she found out. Even Rodger didn't know this much information, and he was carefully documenting every bit of information he heard you mention when playing. Or others talking to you that they mentioned when playing.

And when people were eliminated? They were a good bit annoyed at losing the opportunity for your heart, but stayed for the special prize.

Eventually it just got to Dandy and Shelly. And Shelly won.

Shelly won by saying your name.

They all loved your name.

Dandy barely held himself toegther when Vee declared the winner to be Shelly. But he stayed. Especially when Vee stood on top of the podium, grinning.

Even if the two hated eachother, Dandy wanted that secret prize.

"Well, now that that's wrapped up." Vee says, twirling her mic, "I know all of you want the secret prize, yes? Even though Shelly has all the right to our beloved player's heart, that doesn't mean you all will just forget about them, mhm?"

"Just get to the point..." Dandy mutters, gritting his teeth.

Vee smirks. "Well, what if I told you that all of you could talk to them? Directly to them. No more little incidents due to the chat, but to them."

Everyone froze, staring up at the gameshow host. It was more silent than when everyone learned your name.

Your name was beautiful.

Your voice was beautiful.

They all loved you.

They all loved your voice.

"Now, all contestants and audience members of this Gameshow of Love, would you all like to learn what a phone number is?

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi baby!! dont worry!! it was about reader getting so stressed and annoyed while building a gingerbread house that they throw it in the garbage because its going all wrong and carmy finds it hilarious lol then he builds one for her hehe<3 love u

Perfectionist.

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks - especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

pairing - carmen berzatto x female reader warnings - cursing word count - under 1k!! short and sweet author's note - just a little dose of carmy at christmas for you. thanks baby angel for sending this request in (twice!!) <3

masterlist. inbox.

"Fuck this."

Carmy hears your raised voice and immediately comes running, coming to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen.

"You good, baby?"

"No."

The frown on your face is amusing him to no end, fighting to keep his smile from breaking out. He doesn't want to minimise your feelings, but you're cutest when you're mad.

Carmy takes in the scene in front of him, surveying carefully. There's chunks of gingerbread scattered across the table, icing dripping from the tablecloth. Your kitchen looks like a candy store exploded - sweets in red, green and blue littered over every surface. You're caked in frosting, hair falling into your eyes as you take deep breaths to try to keep your anger at bay.

"I knew this wouldn't be easy, but fuck me, Carmy... I'm on the brink of a breakdown here."

He makes his way over, grinning like an idiot. It's not often he gets to help you with things - you're fiercely independent, determined to get stuff done all by yourself. He likes teaching you, getting to feel like he's easing your worries a little.

"You want my help?"

"I said I'd do it," you huff, on the verge of stamping your feet and pushing the table over.

"It won't kill you to ask for what you need, baby."

You roll your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. It's difficult for you to admit defeat, but you might rip your hair out if your gingerbread collapses one more time.

"Can you help me, Carm?" you whisper.

"What was that, honey? Say it again?"

You sigh in exasperation, slumping back into your chair.

"Can you help me, Carmen? Please?"

He beams at you like the cat that got the cream, making his way over to sit next to you at the table.

"Lets start again, hmm?"

"Good idea."

You pick up the remnants of your gingerbread house and throw them so forcefully, the trash can almost tips over. Carmy laughs, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"I think we've finally found the one thing you're not good at, honey. It's a Christmas miracle."

You can't help but chuckle, leaning your head back to rest against his shoulder. He presses a kiss or four into your neck, nosing at the spot under your ear.

"Okay, Mr Michelin Star. Show me what you got."

You bake, first, Carmy explaining how to get the perfect texture you need for structural soundness. He even gets out a ruler, measuring the rolled out dough so the sides will be even.

He kisses you lazily while your gingerbread is in the oven. You're propped up on the counter as he stands between your legs, arms thrown around his shoulders. He tastes like cinnamon and spice, groaning when you lick the sugar straight from his tongue.

When it's cooled, you begin your assembly, sitting back while Carmy trims and remeasures. He draws out a template with a pencil and cuts accordingly, ensuring each piece has a straight edge. You watch in awe as he works, so careful, so attentive. You're fighting not to jump his bones at any given moment.

It's time to build, and Carmy has the perfect plan. He's made a thickened sugar syrup that acts as a glue, hardening when it dries and keeping everything together. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he concentrates, determined not to mess this up for you.

He steps back, then, to let you decorate. You clearly have a vision, your picturesque idea of what you wanted your original creation to look like. Carmy makes you multiple bags of icing in different colours, and melts down candies so you can make windows and doors. He opens packets of chocolates, and carves into them with a knife to make little trees for the yard.

Hours later, when you're both covered in powdered sugar and melted chocolate, you step back to admire your masterpiece.

"Holy shit, Carm."

"We did good, huh?"

"Is there like, a business in this? Can we do this for a living?"

He laughs, the sound vibrating through you from where his chest his pressed to your back. He's got you tightly in his arms, swaying gently to the soft music that plays from the radio.

"What were you saying about finding the one thing I wasn't good at, Berzatto? Hmm?"

He spins you, pressing his forehead into yours.

"I take it back. I take it all back, baby. You're good at everything."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

"Especially gingerbread houses."

You lean up to kiss him, wiping some frosting off his cheek with your thumb.

"Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot."

"I would never. Life is a learning curve, baby, You taught me that."

"I love you," you whisper. "And just so you know, we're never eating that. It's going to have to be display only."

He laughs, full chested and whole hearted, moving his hands to cradle your face.

"I love you too, baker extraordinaire. We don't need to eat it, anyway. We've got all this candy to get through."

You reach behind him to pick up a chocolate, tossing it into your mouth.

"It isn't as sweet as you," you wink.

A blush rises up his cheeks as he rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, Carmen."

[plussizefantasia]

Can I request "Why are you here" and "i will love you forever and ever and a little longer after that" for Jasper Hale? If you still write for Twilight that is.

Thank you for the request! I am slowly but surely working on the rest of what's in my inbox <3 3.2K words, lil angsty, lil sweet, if this sucks blame it on my writer's block hehe

Living forever wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, constantly moving around and never being able to set up roots took its toll on your immortal soul. If you even had one. There was one point in your life where you were sure you had a soul, and that you had a soulmate and that happiness was something that your kind could have. Those days have long since passed. 

You were turned in 1781, the man who turned you was building an army to sway the tide of the Revolutionary War, he just wasn’t counting on several of the newborns he created to be loyalists. You were a patriot, the daughter of a shopkeeper who couldn’t keep his head above water with the ever-rising prices of taxes. But you were also a pacifist, and it didn’t seem fair to you to use your supernatural strength against the young man who simply wished to fight for what they saw to be right. 

Your first kill was the man who created you it has been centuries and you’ll never forget the look on his face when you turned back on him instead of rushing into battle like the others. You had only been a vampire for a month and yet you knew, deep down that this wasn’t a life, and it wasn’t a fate you would wish on anybody else.

You spent the next two centuries of your life hunting down the creators of newborn armies, putting a stop to them as quickly as you could. That is where you met him. Major Whitlock was stationed in Texas when he was turned. He was a young man following the orders of his father, fighting a war he had no business fighting in. Then he was turned and he joined a much darker and much more nefarious army who had nothing real to fight for, nothing but blood and pain and hunger fueling their actions. 

You arrived in the middle of the day when the army was resting, sneaking through their covered tents until you found Maria and her sisters. Killing them was easy, turning around to leave and running into the most handsome young vampire you had ever met was not. 

Jasper immediately lunged for you, trying to avenge the death of his creator. You dodged and parried, trying not to hurt him. The two of you traded blows back and forth, a dance of death under the glowing Texas sun and yet you could see clear as day that he wasn’t trying to kill you. 

“Stop!” You yelled across the expanse of the desert you stood in, “Is she really worth the loyalty you show? Even after death.”

He growled deeply, a sound that started low in his chest and despite all your years of hunting the worst vampires on earth, it was only in that single moments that you feared for your life.

He took off towards you and you ran at him in turn, if this would be the way you died, then at least you had done some good during your time roaming the world. 

Right as he reached you, arms outstretched and a snarl on his face, you locked eyes.  He skidded to a stop, a few mere feet from where you stood and he froze.

Like a puppet whose strings had been cut he fell to the ground, his knees landing in the dust. “Why?” He asked.

“I think you know why.” You sighed, “This pain, this life of blood and anger and war is not one that I would wish upon a single soul. I only wish I had gotten here sooner. Maybe I could’ve saved you.”

“You just did.” He looked up then, red eyes framed by dusty golden locks and full of an emotion that you couldn’t quite place. 

You smiled at that, offering him a hand to stand.

That moment, in the hot Texas sun, shared between two lost souls started something new: a friendship between Jasper and you, one that you cherished for many years together.

Jasper joined you on your crusade against vampire warlords, he used his power to keep their armies calm, and together, the two of you freed countless newborns and saved countless more human lives.

As the years passed, the two of you grew closer. He was the one person who you shared everything with, he was the other half of your soul and you loved him with everything you had.

Which made the day he left all the more tragic.

It was 1910, and the two of you were somewhere in Europe, trying to blend in for a single evening. It was nice sometimes to pretend that you were a normal couple doing normal things.

The evening was rainy, but it was always rainy here, that’s what made it the perfect place to ahng around. The two of you walked hand in hand down a dimly lit street, trees lined the road on either side and your hadn’t seen a single person in almost half an hour. 

Jasper stopped walking, your arm still in his grasp. “I love you,” he said, “but I think I need to figure out who I am without you.” 

“What?” You faced him full on at that moment, craning your neck to try and meet his eyes.

“I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t fighting. The last time I was doing something I truly believed in instead of a battle someone else brought me into.” He raised your hand to his lips and pressed them to the skin of your knuckles. “Your fight is a noble one, but it isn’t mine.”

“I- I thought that you-” You couldn't finish your thought, feeling your heart crack inside your chest.

“I love you. And I know I always will, but I want to love me too, and I can’t do that if I’m still a killer.”

“You’re not a killer, Jas, we’ve saved so many lives.” You pleaded with him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He whispered into the space between you. 

He let go of your hands, and stepped back. The next second he was gone. You were alone, and your heart went with him.

The next century saw you traveling the world some more, and Jasper’s words were affecting you more than you’d like to admit. You stayed away from conflict, let nature take its course and fell into the shadows. The fight had left you that night, leaving just the need to keep moving forward.

You stayed in several places, Romania, Scotland, France, Canada and landed in New Orleans around the 1980’s staying there for the next several years.

You lived in a house in the middle of the swamp, often undisturbed and deeply lonely. But the bayou was gorgeous, and it had been a very long time since you felt connected to the world around you. 

You had never imagined yourself the settling type, even when you still had blood flowing through your veins, you had always been a wanderer. You felt pulled to explore and see the world around you. That was over 300 years ago, and your wanderlust had been sated by time and the experiences you had gained. Now you were content to live in your house, walls lined with books and dried flowers and plenty of pretty little things you had collected over the years.

That is how the pair found you, you sat against the beams holding together the fencing which lined your porch, a book in your hand, and a snake sitting around your neck.

You heard them before you saw them, your senses not having dulled in your ‘retirement’ 

“I don’t get many visitors these days.” You call out, closing the book and leaping off the railing, only to land on your tiptoes in front of the pair.

You looked at the woman on the right first, a small thing, short hair, and clothes that made her stick out like a sore thumb in the earthy landscape. Her companion, a tall blonde woman whose eyes screamed danger while everything about her was clearly meant to allure all those around her. Both women were very clearly vampires, but their yellow eyes gave you pause. You simply raised an eyebrow at them.

“We hear you like a good cause to fight for, we have one.” The short, pixie-like one spoke.

“You heard wrong, I don’t fight, not anymore.”

“Oh well, we tried.” The blonde dryly intoned, turning to leave.

“Rose, he begged us,” The short one grabbed her companion’s arm.

“Alright, I’ll bite, who told you I’d help?”

“He told us not to tell you.” Rose said.

“You’re not really selling your cause very well.”

“Our family is in danger, the Voltori are coming for us, and we are gathering witnesses to try and stop them.”

“What did you do wrong?” You asked. “Nothing,” The blonde, Rose snapped at you, “we’ve committed no wrongs, they simply want to come for my brother and sister for their talents, they’ll take any excuse they can get.” She ground out.

“Then what’s their excuse? If you want me to help, I need to know what I'm getting myself into.”

“Our brother… had a daughter. With a human.”

“That’s not possible.” You scoffed.

“Come with us, come and see. If you don’t want to stay, we won’t blame you, but please, come and see.”

You shook your head, and their faces fell. 

You took an unnecessary breath before letting it all out at once, “at least let me grab my book.” You jumped back onto your porch, grabbing your book and your overcoat before turning back to the sisters. “Where to?” You called out.

“Washington,” Rose answered.

“I’ve never been to Washington.” 

“We know.” The small one piped up.

“Alice.” Rose scolded.

“You all worry too much; this all works out, I promise.” Alice turned to her sister and tapped her temple twice before smiling.

The journey to Washington didn’t take long, and before you knew it, you were stood in the middle of the woods, looking upon a beautiful house made mostly of glass and waiting to meet the reason you came all this way.

The little girl wasn’t anything like you thought she’d be, she was soft spoken and sweet and when she placed her hand on your cheek, you saw the beauty of her birth.

You could clearly see the love that wove this family together, the hardships they had already overcome and for a moment, you cursed yourself for how easily you were to sway.

But then you looked into her eyes and saw the same love there that you once held so dear, and in that moment, you swore you would do everything in your power to help this family.

Her father, who had been introduced to you as Edward, smiled at you, “Thank you.” He spoke. “I hope you don’t change your mind when he gets back.”

“When who gets back?” You questioned the family, but you were met with silence and smiles. 

It was like that for the entire next week, you had offered to go back home, knowing that it wouldn’t take very long for you to run back if you needed to, but were told that it fine. If anything, you were one of the better-behaved guests currently residing at the Cullens.

Your routine didn’t change much, except that instead of re-reading the books you already had at home, Carlisle had given you full access to his own library, and you spent your time going over his collection, always perched somewhere out of sight.

You were lying on one of the branches in a tree that bordered the house, book in hand and one leg dangling over the side. A cough from below caught your attention, and you dramatically rolled your eyes before dropping from the branch and landing on the soft ground below.

Your eyes widened, and your heart felt all too much like the ice your kind were known for when you locked eyes with him again. You could feel the years of memories flooding back through your mind, your first fight in Texas, the years you spent together, the walks at night, sitting with your head in his lap as he read to you, running across the world, and him leaving. 

“Why are you here?” You whispered.

“I live here, this is my family.” He spoke softly back, searching your eyes for something that he was afraid of.

You scoffed, “So you’re the mystery man everyone had been avoiding talking about, the one they were afraid I’d run from.”

“Will you?” he asked. “Run.” 

“I want to.” You admitted. “It would be a lot easier, but no. I promised to protect that little girl, and that's what I plan to do.”

“You never could resist a good cause.” He smiled then, and you hated how it made you want to pull him into your arms again.

‘A good cause? Last time I remember it was more along the lines of senseless murder.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

He furrowed his brows, “I never said senseless murder, I never doubted that you had the right reasons.”

“Then why leave? If we were doing so much good?”

“I was scared,” he admitted. You were shocked by his honesty. “Scared of how much I felt around you, of how easily you could get me to do what you asked. Because I would, I would’ve done anything for you, no questions asked.”

“I never would’ve asked you to do something you didn’t want to do.” You looked down at the floor.

“I know.” The silence stretched between you two.

The rushing of little feet brought you both out of the moment.

“Uncle Jasper! Auntie Alice says she needs you.” Renesmee ran down the steps of the house.

“Okay.” He turned to take one more look at you, “Don’t run. Please.” Then off he went, walking back into the house in search of his sister.

“Will you read to me?” Renesmee asked you. You let a real smile spread across your face.

“Sure, but not this book,” you lifted the one in your hand, “do you have another favorite?” She nodded before taking off back to the house.

You looked out into the expanse of the forest. You were right, it would be easier to leave, to go back to your home amongst the water and trees and let them fight their own battle. You turned to make your move when you heard your name being called.

“I found my book! Are you coming?” 

A moment, a decision. 

“Yeah, I 'm coming.”

Into the house you went.

Time passed, more witnesses arrived, the weather grew colder, and the family shared every moment they could together; who could blame them? They might just be their last. 

You got into the habit of reading to Renesmee, laying her on your lap just like Jasper used to do to you. Using one hand to stroke her hair and the other to hold the book. Sometimes others would join you, sometimes it was just the two of you.

“Do you love my Uncle Jasper?” She asked out of the blue, you were halfway through reading Jane Eyre to her, and stopped abruptly at her question.

“I did.” You answered, “But that was a long time ago.”

“He loves you.” She said simply, “My dad says he never stopped thinking about you; he calls you guys a tragic romance.”

“Maybe it is,” You chuckled at her child-like bluntness. Nobody else in the house would’ve dared bring up your relationship with Jasper, too afraid of bringing up old heartache. “If I had it my way, I never would’ve let him go. But I didn’t want him back.”

“My Mom says that when you love something that you should let it go; if it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you.”

“Talk to your mom and dad about tragic romances a lot, do you?” You looked down at her.

“I just want my family to be happy.” She said, “Everyone is always so sad, and it’s my fault.”

“No, darling. It’s not your fault. Everyone is here because we care about you and your family. What the Volturi are doing is wrong, but that has nothing to do with you.”

“Okay.” She accepted your truth easily, “Can we keep reading?” She blinked up at you.

“Of course.” And you did, except this time your mind was only half there, the other half was centuries away, thinking of tragic romances and loves lost.

But one truth rang out louder than everything else, it came back to you.

Eventually, Alice made the final decision, they were on their way. All of you were on borrowed time already.

A campfire, surrounded by some old friends and some new ones, you all swapped war stories. Everyone interested in the tales you shared. Garrett especially told you he admired your crusade, and bemoaned not meeting you sooner, so he could’ve helped. You told him that you’d already had a partner who you thought believed in your cause, not just the bloodshed that Garett craved.

“You got me there,” the leather-clad patriot chuckled before turning to Kate and Tanya and sparking up a new conversation.

You sat there, stewing on your thoughts, when he sidled up next to you. He leaned in close and spoke so softly that only you could hear.

“I believed in you, I still do.” Jasper placed a single kiss on your cheek as he pulled away.

You didn’t say anything else, just leaned into him and listened. You listened to the burning of the fire and the sounds of the animals around you, letting everything wash over you. If tonight were to be your last night, it would surely be a good one.

You were no stranger to battlefields but this one, with the expanse of white and among people you had grown close to over the past month, this one was the most daunting one you had ever faced.

You knew the goal was to get through this without a fight. But you also knew the type of man Aro was, you had spent centuries stopping people from becoming him. You gripped Jasper’s hand tightly in yours and prayed for possibly the first time since you had turned that he could feel everything you were too afraid to say.

As Alice stood in front of everyone else, hand clasped between Aro’s you looked around. At the family that clutched to each other, love fueling their fight. At the people who had traveld the world to fight and injustice, to protect a child. At the man by your side, who left you, but never left your mind.

You felt more alive in this moment than you had in a century; you had your heart back. 

The Volturi retreated, and your side celebrated. Jasper pulled you into his arms, and you sank into him, missing the feeling of being wrapped up in him. 

“I love you.” You murmured into his chest.

His armes pulled you tighter, “I will love you forever and ever, and even a little longer after that.” He responded.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes, now yellow, “Promise?”

“Promise.”

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Muscle Memory : Chapter Four

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Word Count: 4.1k+

Chapter Warnings: angst with some happy moments Buckys pov this chapter.mentions of: death , surgery , medical things , nightmare , anxiety , mentions of abuse , injury , I think thats all <3

If I missed anything let me know!

A/N: hellooooo chapter four is here and yours!! i hope you like it hehe. I'm working on posting my series on archive of our own soon! if you have any tips on that lmk HAHA.🌷Anyhoo lots of series in the works and as always this will be updated every 4-7 days :3 my requests and inbox always open!

series masterlist 💖 main masterlist

chapter three Chapter Four chapter five

BEEP…..BEEP……BEEP……BEEP

 “Code Blue! Start compressions!” Dr. Charles' voice barked.

“Dr. Y/L/N come on , hand me the paddles!....” he said , voice cracking with measure. 

“Clear…..Damn it ….Again…Clear” The tension in the room was weighing down the hope that lingered.

BEEP….BEEP…

It was the heart monitor in the emergency room where Y/N worked. 

The steady sound of a life holding on turning to a continuous sound meaning the worst news anyone received.

Bucky was there , he saw her—she was lying on the gurney instead of standing above it , she was pale and still. 

Her face bruised and battered , lips parted as though she’d tried and wanted to speak but couldn’t. 

Wanda was there sobbing , her face a mask of horror and heartbreak as she held desperately to Bucky’s arm , whispering frantically that she’d called the ambulance as soon as she found Y/N unconscious on the kitchen floor. 

Tyler was nowhere to be seen—gone like a ghost , Wanda had tried to call him but nothing.

The monitor let out a flat , endless wail. 

The doctor’s voice cut through the fog.

Bucky watched in terror as the green line continued still.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he murmured, lips shaking hard.

 He watched them work—hands pumping at Y/N’s chest then switching to the harsh zap of the paddles , her head lolling to the side ,  hair spilling like ink across the white sheets. 

The room reeked like antiseptic and panic. Another nurse pushed drugs into her IV. 

Nothing.

“Time of death—”

 “No!” Bucky’s voice cracked. He lunged forward pushing back the medical team , hands darting out clinging to her lifeless hand.

 “No, please. Please don’t leave me.” Her hand was already cooling in his. The finality of it threatened to crush him.

But the beeping didn’t stop.

It kept going , piercing through the sterile room , insistent and out of place.

Bucky blinked back his tears , heart hammering. 

The fluorescent lights of the hospital flickered and vanished , replaced by the muted glow of early dawn creeping across his bedroom. 

His alarm clock—still beeping.

It was all a dream.

He lay there in the quiet , his sheets tangled around his legs , sweat cooling on his chest and covering his body. 

His fingers still clenched in fists , the ghost of Y/N’s cold hand lingering in his palm.

He exhaled shakily , pressing a hand over his eyes pressing hard.

 “Just a dream,” he told himself again, voice hoarse. But the terror of it clung to him, sticky and raw.

He reached for his phone with trembling fingers. His first instinct was to check his messages , any missed calls—anything. 

His thumb hovered over Wanda's name asking for her contact.

In less than 5 minutes Wanda sent it.

He pressed on his screen hard , immediate. 

Every ring was deafening , taunting that his worse fears might be true. Then he heard her voice. 

"This is Dr. Y/L/N” he could hear the professionalism tone through the phone. 

He sat there shaking out a deep exhale , she was okay and alive , heart beating and lungs breathing. 

“Hello?” she called out again. 

“H-Hey doll its me” he stammered out barely able to form a thought besides her safety. 

“Oh! Hi Buck , is everything alright?” She asked smiling but then quickly concern filling her voice. 

“Yes sorry I was just calling to ask um…to tell you… if you or your co worker ever want lunch this week from my place it's on the house.”

Really bucky?? That's what you went with , what you thought of? He scolded himself , rubbing a hand down his face , waiting for her response.

“That's really nice of you Bucky thank you , I'll let them know. I'm sorry I'm getting paged to the ER right now but I…”

“N-No I'm sorry for taking up your time , you go ahead i'll see you later doll , take care” 

“Oh ok bye Bucky” 

Click.

She was okay.

He could move on with his normal day.

Bucky’s mornings aways started the same way. He had a perfect routine , he would normally wake up at 5:00 am sharp and jump right into getting ready but this morning with the way it began-

He let himself lay there for a moment , taking in the calm of the early morning , letting it settle into his bones like a wave of a soothing ocean.

Beside him on the king sized bed lay , Alpine , his white diva of a cat. She was stretched out lazily , her paws kneading the comforter. She blinked up at him , blue eyes half-lidded and content.

“Good morning , trouble,” Bucky murmured , reaching out to scratch behind her velvet-like ears. She purred softly , head nudging into his large hand. 

For just  a moment his mind slipped back again to the weight of that dream. It was clinging to him , like a shadow in the corners of his bedroom—but Alpine’s warm presence pulled him back to the here and now.

He slipped out of bed with a groan , Alpine padding at his heels as he moved through the house. 

The place was all warm wood and soft light , a haven he’d built himself , he helped hammer nails , and measured each beam. 

He’d poured every ounce of care into it , turning it into something solid and safe. A promise he’d made real with his own hands on a perfect sliver of land he had purchased thanks to the success of Bucks.

In the brightly lit main bathroom , he ran the shower until the steam clouded and blurred the mirror. 

He scrubbed away the sweat and stress from the night. the hot water pounding against his muscular back. His shoulders ached , memories of his dream flickering behind his eyelids every time he let his mind slip , but he forced himself to focus on the simple routine he had in the shower —lather, rinse , repeat.

Turning off the water and wrapping the plush towel around his waist. He caught his reflection in the foggy mirror  , his blue eyes shadowed and dark , but steady and lucid.

 “You’re here,” he told himself quietly. “You’re here. She’s there.”

He carefully combed his hair back , putting each strand into its place. He liked the constant of it—the order and neatness , the small control in a world that felt too unpredictable and hurting. 

Alpine sat on the counter , tail flicking idly as she watched her dad , the queen of his mornings and truly the one who ruled his life.

Breakfast was next , eggs in a cast-iron skille t, a couple slices of sourdough turning golden in the toaster. 

He cooked on autopilot , the motions practiced and sure. The radio played an old tune as he hummed and whistled idly with the simple motions.

Alpine waited by her pink food dish , meowing softly until he scooped her a cup of kibble, pouring it out for her  , and she dove right in with a happy trill , as he gave her one more head scratch.

He carried his plate and mug of fresh black coffee out onto the creaky porch , the old boards creaking softly under his bare feet. 

The view was simple , just the green of the yard and hills , the rise of trees at the edge of the property , the low stone wall he’d built around the vibrant lively vegetable garden. 

He leaned back in an old rocking chair , Alpine winding around his ankles joining him after her breakfast. The breeze was cool , the scent of wet earth from the rain the right before and spring time growing things wrapping around him.

He sipped his hot coffee slowly , breathing deep. 

Letting himself be here—in this safe place he’d created. 

The world beyond the white fence could wait.

But even here , in this quiet morning , he couldn’t shake the echo of that dream. It was like it was haunting him.

The image of Y/N lying still and pale on that gurney clung to the back of his memory , making his hands curl tighter around the mug.

Alpine seemed to sense it , his shift , she jumped onto his lap , a warm , purring weight grounding him. 

He stroked her soft snowy fur , feeling her breath , her quiet trust and love.

“How do you feel about coming with me today,” he asked her softly , tipping his forehead and pressing it into hers. “Need the extra company today Al.”

She meowed in response , as though if she understood him and his request completely. 

He chuckled , the sound easing some of the tightness in his chest he wanted to leave so bad.

When he finally rose when his mug was empty and his belly full , he rinsed his dishes in the bright colored kitchen , grabbed his keys from the hook by the door , and scooped up Alpine into the soft-lined carrier she didn’t mind. Maybe even secretly liked.

He set it carefully in the passenger seat of his red pickup , still streaked with the dust of back dirt roads , the seat worn to a shape that fit him perfectly.

He paused for a moment , hand on the wheel tapping it , Alpine’s soft purring filling the cab. “Alright girl , let’s go,” he whispered , more to himself than to her.

He backed out of the driveway ,  dirt and gravel crunching under the tires , and pulled onto the winding road that led to his restaurant , his second home. 

Alpine watched the world blur past through the grate of the carrier , the early sun casting long shadows over the tall grass fields.

And as he drove through the quiet morning , he let himself believe that everything was going to be okay.

The restaurant was only a  fifteen minute drive from his place. He liked that. Close enough to feel like an extension of home , but far enough to leave work behind when he needed to. 

It wasn’t fancy but that's what made it his , though.

And that meant something.

He greeted his hostess Natalie, already setting up for opening at 8:00 AM , she cooed at Alpine as he walked up the stairs to his office.

Some of the new people had concerns when they heard their boss brining his cat into a restaurant but he kept her away from all the restaurant life downstairs. 

He sat down his keys and jacket on his old oak desk and clicked a key on his keyboard to wake his computer. 

Opening the crate Alpine stretched out making him laugh and went straight to her white cat tree in the corner.

Under it was her water and food bowls with a portable litter box. Her little setup he had made just for times like this. When he needed to not be as alone as he already was.

They spent the early part of the day tucked in the office upstairs , Bucky perched at the wooden desk littered with invoices and menus marked up with notes , for him to revise and edit.

Alpine was sprawled in a patch of sun pouring from the window , watching him with soft eyes.

Sam Wilson arrived an hour after Bucky had been there. Sam liked to come in early , sipping black coffee and charming the staff as he made his way to his best friend's “cave” as he liked to call his spot upstairs. 

Sam had a way of making everyone feel at ease , even on the busiest nights where they hosted sports games and parties. 

Today though , Sam was simply perched at the bar , talking to Mari , one of the few bartenders Bucky had , who was fussing with the newly ordered glassware.

“Morning , Buck,” Sam called out when he saw him coming down the stairs with a yellow notepad in his hand.

“Mornin’ ,” Bucky almost grumbled , dropping the notebook on a stool behind the bar and tucked the small pencil behind his ear. 

He leaned against the worn rustic counter , arms crossing over his broad chest.

“You here to just harass my staff or actually order something?”

Sam raised his cup. “Just making sure your bartender's skills are up to Buck's standards. Also , the eggs are better here than at that hipster place down the street.”

Bucky snorted. “Thats because this is a restaurant , Sam. Not a café like that place.”

“Details , I'm just the messenger whos hungry ,” Sam said.

He pointed to the phone on the bar , that was lighting up bright and buzzing with a new message. 

“Speaking of messages—someone’s blowing up your phone there.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed.

He picked up the device and glanced at the name on the screen—you.

He didn’t let it linger on the screen long enough for Sam to read , but Sam was already leaning in , eyebrows raised , eyes squinting.

“Oh , come on,” Sam laughed a look of mischief dancing on his face.

Bucky turned the phone from his friend's nosey glare.

“Who’s that girl? You got a new girlfriend now , Bucknastay?”

Bucky’s mouth twitched , the beginnings of a smile that he quickly buried remembering who was at the other end of the tease. 

“No,” he said , the word a little too sharp. “Just… an old friend.”

Sam snorted. “Uh-huh. Just a friend. You realize I’ve known you for years now , right? You’re a crap liar.”

“It’s not like that , ” He was already regretting how defensive he sounded.

He slid the phone into his pocket , ignoring the buzz as another message came in. “Just drop it , Wilson.”

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright , man. Alright. No girlfriend. Just a friend. I’ll let it go.”

“Good,” Bucky replied standing , his jaw tight.

He didn’t need to explain himself. Especially not to Sam , who would turn it into a joke he’d never let go.

He retreated upstairs again , away from Sam’s knowing grin as he ordered food to go. 

Bucky buried himself in the work that was sadly still waiting for him.

There was always something , inventory , menus , phone calls to make , staff emails.

He liked the rhythm of it , the steady beat of tasks that kept his mind occupied but sometimes it was a lot.

But as he worked , he kept thinking about that last text. About you. The way your words slipped under his skin , the way your smile could light up even the darkest corner of his day. 

He told himself it wasn’t anything. Just a friend , like he told Sam.

A friend telling ,  him that her coworkers were wondering if they could get Bucks in a couple of days when the hospital didn't cater lunch that day.

But the way he checked his phone every five minutes , the way he felt his chest tighten when he saw your name—he knew better. He replied quickly , not wanting his feelings to act just his professionalism.

Later that afternoon , the restaurant hummed with the soft sounds of customers and low music playing overhead. 

Bucky made his way downstairs , slipping out of his office with a pet to Alpine and back into the heart of the place. He tied his red apron behind his back , the motion automatic , his hands moving like they had a mind of their own.

He took his place behind the bar, nodding to Mari, who was busy  now slicing garnishes. She gave him a quick smile , sliding over a cutting board covered in citrus peels. “You’re on bar tonight when I leave?” she asked, slightly teasing.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Figured I’d jump in for a bit. Keep my skills sharp , I'm drowning in emails up there.”

Mari laughed. “You mean you also wanna keep an eye on Sam’s endless tab?”

“Exactly Mar , that too ,” Bucky said , smirking.

He busied himself with polishing the glasses after he was done with the fruit slices , feeling the weight of the bar beneath his hands. 

When he could escape his office it was his becoming his favorite spot , a place where he could hear and feel the pulse of the room , see the stories play out across the tables and booths. 

He liked the way the light caught the amber and green bottles behind him , the way they mirrored back light making the place feel bigger, warmer.

An older gentleman sat down at the bar, his tie loosened ,  jacket slung across the stool beside him. “Evening,” he said, his voice smooth. “What’s good tonight?”

Bucky gave him a measured smile. “Depends on what you’re after.”

“Something strong ,” the man said. “But not the usual. What special cocktails you got here?”

Bucky paused , his fingers drumming lightly on the bar. “Here's the drink menu” he said , sliding the laminated paper to the man. After deciding on a seasonal spring drink called “Wild Daisy” Bucky turned and started on it.

He worked in smooth silence , the motions careful and precise. 

A splash of sweet vermouth , a dash of bitters , the clink of ice in the glass. He garnished it with a single lemon twist , deep reddish orange and glistening.

He slid it across the bar, “Here you are sir , that's six dollars,” he said quietly.

The man smiled “nice name , here keep the change” he slid a $10 and opened a tab.

Bucky nodded. He didn’t explain the name. The drink was yours , even if you’d never know it. It was the drink he’d made you once with leftover alcohol you two rounded up in college—sweet but strong , with just enough bite to remind him of the way you laughed back then. 

Full of life. 

The name was a secret between him and his memories , a small rebellion in a world that demanded he keep everything close to his chest.

The man took a sip and sighed , nodding his approval. “It's good.”

Bucky gave a small smile , already turning to the next customer as he wiped his hands on his apron. 

As he made the next customers drink he went right back to thinking of you. How you’d probably roll your eyes if you knew he’d named a drink after you , how you’d tease him for being so sentimental. He didn’t mind. In some ways , he liked that it was just his secret.

The bar was now rapidly filling up , the murmur of conversation growing louder as the evening wore on , patrons watching basketball on the overhead TVs. 

Plates and bowls clattered in the kitchen , the scent of roasted garlic and fresh bread wafting through the air. It was getting pretty busy. 

Then the door swung wide open , Bucky whipped his head over and saw Tyler and his work associates. 

They had that air about them , all expensive watches and sharp smiles that never reached their eyes. Tyler led the pack , his hair slicked back , his grey suit perfectly tailored.

Bucky stiffened slightly, the dream memories coming flooding all back , but he kept his expression smooth, tucking his feelings deep , deep down. 

“Evening,” he said as they approached the bar.

“James,” Tyler said, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it. “Got a table for us?”

Bucky’s eyes fell to Tyler’s hands as he reached for the chair. Knuckles were red and raw , faintly bruised. 

Bucky’s own jaw clenched. He knew what that looked like , what it meant.

He walked over, greeting them with the easy professionalism he’d perfected over the years handing out the menus. “Gentlemen. What can I get you started with tonight?”

Tyler met his gaze with a smug smirk . “You're serving us tonight?

“Yeah a little understaffed tonight , I don't mind getting my hands dirty sometimes,” Bucky said lightly, though his voice was careful. 

His gaze flicked to Tyler’s knuckles again. “What happened to your hands?”

Tyler glanced down, feigning surprise. “Oh—this?” He flexed his fingers, the skin already scabbed in places. “Rough game of company basketball over the weekend. You know how it is—some people don’t know when to quit.”

“Basketball,” Bucky repeated , the word tasting like iron in his mouth eyes squinting a little . He gave a small , polite nod , but his gut twisted. Tyler’s story didn’t sit right.

“You know how it is ,” Tyler said again , a breathy laugh leaving his mouth. 

He leaned back in his chair , his friends already ordering a round of beers and apps. “So , what’s good tonight?”

Bucky forced himself to keep his tone light as he rattled off the specials , but his mind was already spinning. 

He stepped back to the bar , his hands steady as he poured the beers and drinks they ordered. 

He'd had years of practice keeping his face calm , his body calm , even when the storm was inside.

After serving their drinks he had another server take over the tabe as he slipped back to his office. 

 He sat in his chair behind the desk , Alpine jumping into his lap as soon as he leaned back spreading his legs with a sigh.

He pulled out his phone and shot you a quick text:

 Bucky: Hey , how's the hospital today? Busy here , Tyler and his friends came , talked a bit and apparently he hurt his hands?

He waited , the seconds ticking by slowly as he busied himself with leftover computer work. Alpine stirred in his lap , blinking sleepily , and he reached down to scratch her head , grounding himself yet again in the small comfort of her presence.

Finally, a response buzzed against his palm:

Y/N: Hi! Very busy here too Lol , Oh cool , yeah he got it at the gym the other day , accident with the weights.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. Basketball. Weights. Two different stories. 

He set his phone down carefully , exhaling a slow breath. He knew. He knew it like he knew the way her voice had sounded as a kid. 

He closed his eyes. Your words didn’t line up with Tyler’s story.

He didn’t call you on it. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare you off , didn’t want to make you feel like you had to run. 

“You alright , man?” Sam's voice , catching the tension in Bucky’s shoulders snapping him out of the thoughts aching in his head.

“Y-yeah,” Bucky stammered, his voice low. “Just a busy night.”

Sam gave him a long look , but didn’t press. Instead , he raised his glass he had brought up withhim. “To busy nights, then.”

Bucky clinked his own glass against Sam’s he had poured and left on his desk , the warmth of the bourbon doing nothing to chase away the cold in his gut.

Saying bye to Sam with a hug and “See ya buddy” Bucky moved through the night on autopilot , checking in with tables, pouring drinks , exchanging pleasantries with regulars. 

But every so often , his eyes would flick back to Tyler’s table , to the man’s easy laughter and the way he moved his bruised hand.

He hated how calm and innocent Tyler looked. How at ease he was , like he wasn't the person Bucky was slowly peeling apart and learning he was underneath that facade.

By closing time and the end of the night , the restaurant was quiet.  The last few tables lingered , the staff starting their end-of-night cleaning routines. Bucky was wiping down the counters and drying shot glasses when Tyler came over, glass in hand.

“Good night , James, good as always,” Tyler said smoothly. “You keep this place running tight.”

Bucky gave him a tight thin lipped smile. “It’s what I do.”

Bucky's gaze dropped to Tyler's hands once more , then to his face. “Take care of those bruises,” he said lightly. 

Tyler’s smile flickered. “Always do.”

He left without another word , his associates trailing behind. Bucky watched them go , the door swinging shut behind them.

The restaurant felt quieter in their absence , like a storm had rolled passed but left the air heavy and charged. He let out a long breath , rolling his taught shoulders.

When the last customer was gone , he locked the door and turned off the main lights , leaving the upstairs and his office in a soft warm toned glow.

Running his fingers through his hair, feeling the weight of it all settle in. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet. But he knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t going to nothing.

He flicked off the final light , the room sinking into shadows. 

He guided Alpine into her carrier , she was ready to go  home, and will probably be demanding attention as soon as they walk in the door  like she hadn’t just spent the day napping in his office chair. 

He knelt to scoop up the cat  , who gave a little chirp of contentment as he cradled her against his chest. “Come on , sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her soft white head. 

He slipped out into the cool night , air nipping at his skin. The city hummed around him, alive and indifferent as Alpine and him drove on home , his old truck rumbling the whole drive.

When he pulled up to the little house he sat for a moment in the driveway , his fingers drumming against high thighs. The old wood and brick of the home were familiar and steady , the porch light casting a  bright glow that spoke of safety and peace.

He let out a final sigh and climbed out of the truck , Alpine bounding ahead of him up the steps. 

Settled inside , he fed her and watched her eat , the soft crunch of her kibble almost too loud in the silence of the house. He turned off the kitchen light , the faint glow of the porch lantern the only thing left to keep the dark at bay.

Upstairs , he climbed up and shed the day’s clothes and took a quick shower. The water began washing away the lingering smell of the restaurant and the weight of the night. 

He dried off, pulled on an old t-shirt and a pair of worn sweats , and padded socked feet making little noise down the hallway to his bedroom.

Alpine was already curled in her designated spot at the foot of the bed , her bright eyes tracking his every move as he climbed under the covers. He lay back against the pillows , the room glowed under the softness of the bedside lamp, and stared up at the ceiling. 

He knew he wasn't giving up for failing you. But for now, he let the quiet settle over him , let the low purr of his cat lull him towards sleep. 

Tomorrow , he promised himself. Tomorrow he’d find a way to reach you. Tomorrow he’d start to put the pieces together and talk to you without Tylers lingering eyes or hold.Because she was out there , somewhere in their little town , carrying those bruises alone. And he was here waiting. Ready for her when she needed him ready for , you.

-end

If you want to be added/removed to tag list message me or comment <3 (sometimes it can get lost in comments but im trying my best!)

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

Taglist: @cupid4prez @valyriantarg @mgchaser @rosylnsworld @iyskgd @starstruckfirecat @vicmc624 @sebastians-love @1000shipsnh @liaverse37 @alex-cheraya

[ken-tfc]

MY INTRODUCTION

HIIII my name is Kennett or Ken and i do art (alot.)

I'm a dude but idc about pronouns so refer to me however you feel like 👍

im the co creator of undertrack and a few more aus that im obsessed with hehe.

i like requests and asks ALOT, please dont spam my inbox with requests though like max 3 a day from one person bc i cant keep up.

in my posts you may find queer relationships and shipping in general so DNI if you dislike ships or if youre one of those "canon only" mfs (I’m a multishipper dont expect consistency)

SIDE BLOGS:

This blog is very much all SFW other then some jokes and maybe some slightly suggestive drawings, the worse stuff / anything I think might need a warning goes to -> @ken-tfcsuspage

Commission blog: @commission-ken - https://www.tumblr.com/comission-ken/779992025417285632/pinned

In my posts you will find other fandoms than just undertale (but it is my main)

bounderies:

please dont give unwarrented critisism unless im drawing one of your characters or specifically asked for it!

2. please dont tag me or use my characters in media discussing SA (you know who you are)

3. you may trace or use my art as bases as long as you PROPERLY credit me!

4. Do NOT feed my art into ai or claim it as your own >:/

FIND ALL MY ORIGINAL POSTS (not reblogs) UNDER #kennettrememberstopost

thats it for now!

also if you draw any of my character or use them in anything you dont need to credit me but i do like seeing it so a tag would be nice anyways!!

UNDERTRACK INTRUDUCTION

under track is an au made by me and my friend @fivebecomesnone !! And our honorary creator @youregonnahavetime

Undertrack is an AU that features the survivors of a destroyed Universe.

As their universe was collapsing they created the train as a last resort to survive, once gathered onto the train they found out that instead of just going to a different universe and restarting life it was better to stay moving because they didn’t really wanna settle down. Currently they’re always travelling between universes transporting whoever has a ticket! (There’s a whole system for this, you can see examples from five’s post.)

IF YOU WANT MORE TECHNICAL INFO LIKE TICKET SYSTEM OR WORLD FUNCTIONS MAY I REDERECT YOU TO @fivebecomesnone BECAUSE THEYRE REALLY GOOD AT EXPLAINING !! (Also they made the system) They can also explain how to make tickets for your own characters if you want to make that!

We’re currently working on a lot of content for this AU so expect more posts along the way. Find all content of it under #undertrack !!

(Ps if you want to draw your undertale ocs and AUs into the train as a passenger feel free to do so hehe, also you may request me to draw that if you want a little doodle of it)

Thanks for reading chat, enjoy!!

[cozycitrus]

Hi!!! Hope u won't mind a rat skittering into your inbox :>

How does Moon's venom work exactly? You said kissing him will paralyze us (that won't stop me) but how fast? Will I be able to land a second smooch before dropping between his arms? And how long do its effects lasts? Def not thinking about smooching him again as soon as I can 👁👁 definitely not 👁👁 I am a resposible person that can be left unsupervised around hot worms I promise

HELLLOOOO RAT IN MY INBOXXXX

lets see if I can type this in a way that's readable...hehehoho

Moons venom is a general paralytic agent found in his spit and any other various fluids-- side effects are

-Initial numbness and tingling (1 - 2 kisses)

-Paralysis to the local area spreading further out if you hold extended contact. (3-4)

and well....if you keep it up

-PERMANT NERVE DAMAGE!!! SCARY.. (most seen in cases of biting or perhaps steamy makeouts cough,,,but um,,responsible worm kissers know the signs to BACK OFF)

Numbness can be an all day affair while paralysis wears off in about 2-3 hours or so. Case by case basis.....if you will.

HOWWWWWEVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR---

You absolutely can build a tolerance/resistance ----!!!!!!!! It may take a few months but I mean... who doesn't love a good slow burn.

Also other fun facts--

Moon is a kleptomaniac.. he loves to steal ur stuff,,,trash,,,ur heart,,, ect

He is also NOT BALD1!! ! ! WOAHH... he has soft almost feathery fur on the back of his head hehe....

[strlingsav]

hi! i see ur requests are closed so u can let this sit in ur inbox until they open up, i just wanted to say this before i forgot lol. could u maybe do something along the lines with simon and reader and she ends up accidentally spilling that nobody could ever make her cum before, and he takes action (hehe💋)

Hii!! It would be my pleasure 😇

Firsts

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon's the first to please you.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

You'd yet to confess your feelings of attraction and deep-rooted desire to Simon. It weighed heavily in every limb, sinking to the depths of your stomach with a searing heat anytime you'd cross paths. It seemed to intertwine itself in your mind, unable to focus on anything else when Simon was in your vicinity.

When you'd met him, he terrified you- a chilling stare and body built for violence- but then you'd heard him speak. The buttery tone of his deep voice, encompassed by his gruff accent; it made your innards flutter.

Most found him to be blunt, harsh, even a bit of an asshole- whether it was delusion or lust, you didn't see any of it. He was kind, maybe a bit aloof, but his eyes softened when he looked at you, his shoulders relaxing when he heard your voice.

It wasn't difficult by any means to fall into the waves of longing that tugged you under. It was far too easy, and proved to be inconvenient when you tried to hold a conversation- your cheeks filled with blistering heat, seemingly weighing more than usual, your stomach flipping before uprighting itself when you'd retreat to safety.

Simon, lacking social know-how and tact, had a bit of trouble spotting a crush when it was staring him in the face. He had an inkling- a spark that fizzled out quickly due to his own deduction, but he hadn't shown a speck of suspicion. In fact, his behaviour hadn't changed since meeting you- save for a few moments he kept to himself when he stared at you from across the canteen.

He liked indulging the pleasing view of your face, your body; it wouldn't hurt anyone that didn't know. He couldn't help his gaze, slowly drifting to you, drawn to you, as if you were all that existed.

He admired you- if not for your personality, for the appearance you displayed to the world. Your physical appearance drew testosterone from the depths of his body to the surface. It would strike a match that lit up into jealousy when you showed any attention to male colleagues; whether possession or attraction, Simon couldn't tell the difference.

You were interesting, intriguing; something not yet stained by the gunpowder and blood of his life. You were pure, unencumbered by anything other than the regular trivialities of everyday normalcy. It captivated his attention.

Regardless of the unknown, yet requited, feelings brewing between you, it sat heavy in the air, stagnant, still, untouched. You were becoming tired of hopeless yearning, and the uncertainty that came with it, but had no inclination to act on any of it. There was no more you could do but to watch, and wait.

Simon perched over his drink beside you, already a few in, though no different to his usual demeanour. You, on the other hand, didn't have the years of experience with holding your liquor, and it had begun to show. Simon noticed you weren't entirely sober- you were touchy, more brazen than usual.

Any excuse to graze his arm, feel the heat of his body beneath your fingertips, you took. He didn't seem to mind- his eyes were locked on your hands as you wrapped one around his forearm. You'd leaned in closer, feigning interest in the ongoing conversation, but your heartbeat in your ears prevented you from paying much attention.

Simon's teammates noticed the interaction- silently pushing the two of you together with smug grins and subtle winks in Simon's direction. Had he really been so oblivious before? Had he not realized you were attracted to him? Wanted to know him? Touch him?

"That's the worst you've ever had?"

Johnny's words stuck out like a red flag, waving in your face- your ears perked up.

"Nothin' like yours," Gaz replied, sipping the blonde ale in front of him.

"Don't think I've ever had a bird fake it," Johnny paused, pursing his lips as he searched his memory.

"Probably have," Gaz nodded, a short chuckle leaving his lips, "Not like she'd tell you."

Johnny's gaze landed on you, a grin forming over his face as he saw the glassy look in your eyes, lazy blinks between subtle hiccups. An idea- one that would potentially open the doors for Simon- popped into his head.

"You ever faked one?" Johnny asked, leaning into the table.

You furrowed your brows, your lips parting in confusion.

"Faked what?" Your eyes darted between Johnny and Gaz, before looking up at Simon briefly.

He was watching intently, peering down at you from behind the stained and battered mask. He wore no discernible expression, at least not in his eyes, though his heart had begun to speed up as Johnny phrased his question to you.

"An orgasm," Johnny said, locking eyes with you as he sipped from his glass.

You shut your eyes, reminiscing on the past sexual experiences you'd had with a heavy sigh. You'd faked more than a few- not for your own benefit, and regretfully so. You contemplated revealing the embarrassing truth for a moment, weighing the risks, but ultimately you couldn't hide behind a lie- it was written on your face.

Your cheeks were already flushed with heat, but the personal question triggered the same response in every limb. You exhaled, avoiding Simon's gaze as you nodded.

"I've faked it a few times," You blurted, your eyes snapping open. "No one's ever made me orgasm before."

The men before you looked shocked- as if it were unheard of.

"Never?" Johnny asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

You shook your head, clearing your throat. It was uncomfortable being the centre of attention, especially during such a sensitive debate.

"That's bloody terrible," Gaz huffed, sitting back.

You shrugged softly, sipping your beer. "More common than you think."

Simon's eyes hadn't left you. He was busy, too busy imagining the assholes you'd slept with before, who hadn't made your thighs shake, your face wet with tears, your pussy sore and sensitive.

It provoked another confusing bout of jealousy and anger inside him, something he itched to resolve. It nearly burst from his chest, but he contained himself- not without the discomfort he'd created whilst imagining the expressions you'd make when he'd slide inside you.

The evening came to a close, laxity and lazy grins as you bid goodnight to Simon's teammates. The two of you sat alone, under the dim, yellowed light, Simon's heavy, daunting gaze reminding you of the shameful secret you let loose at the table.

It was uncomfortably quiet, heartbeats nearly audible as you eyed one another, waiting for anything to come along and break the silence. More than a few drinks in, his gaze wandering to your chest, your thighs, those sparkling eyes that teased him, he sighed.

"You stayin' here tonight?" He asked, standing to his feet.

You swallowed, your face lifting to find his eyes. You nodded.

"I'll walk you," He said, waiting patiently for you to finally stand and follow.

Your bunk wasn't a far walk- a few turns down empty, dingy hallways and you'd arrived. You wanted to invite him in, to forget about consequences and the fear of rejection settling in your stomach, but you couldn't.

He leaned against the door frame, and as you turned to thank him for walking you back, he leaned in, enough that his voice could be kept low and discreet.

"Was it true?" He asked, his heel squeaking as he moved closer. "No one ever make you cum before?"

Now that he'd truly registered your feelings, or at the very least, attraction, he was emboldened, and dead-set on digging to the truth. Maybe even showing you what an orgasm truly felt like when he was inside you, if you'd let him.

You'd spoken multiple times, shared jokes, felt comfortable enough to greet each other when passing by- but hearing him ask you such a personal question made heat bubble in your abdomen. The words from his lips hung in the air, repeating in your head like a broken record; it sounded alluring, inviting coming from him.

You looked up at him, eyes empty of everything but lust. Your heartbeat thumped against your uvula, ears ringing as he studied your expression.

"It's true," You nodded.

"Shame," He muttered.

Your eyes were drawn to the thickness of his fingers as they spread out over the frame- wide veins stretching the length of his hand, callouses formed along the crest of his palms. Butterflies tickled the lining of your stomach, your lashes fluttering as you met his eyes again.

"Why's that? Aside from the obvious," You offered a sheepish smile, one of discomfort and awkwardness.

"Can't imagine leavin' you unsatisfied."

He gauged your reaction, waiting for rejection or protest of any kind, though your lips were frozen apart, your voice sealed away by utter disbelief.

"Some people aren't as selfless, I guess," You offered, nearly stuttering over your words.

He sat with your answer for a few moments, before lifting his head to stare at you.

"Y'deserve better than that."

He leaned in, stoic and stealth-like, invading your personal space. His hand reached your waist, warmth radiating through his palm, his fingers barely squeezing down. He inched further down, clasping his hand around the meaty flesh of your hip.

Your mouth was agape, watching the scene unfold in front of you within mere moments. He was so close you could smell the tobacco emanating off his equipment. The whites of his eyes stood out against the charcoal paint across his face, with dark irises reflecting the image of you, flustered and frozen.

"Are you suggesting... you'd do better?" You asked, nearly stuttering as you gathered what little composure you had left.

He paused, tilting his head, "Only if you're interested."

Your hands were fumbling together, your body on fire in his grasp. If he were any closer, surely he'd hear the pulse roaring in your throat.

He stared you down, his eyes flickering between yours, waiting with baited breath as you organized your thoughts; the offer was tempting, nearly impossible to reject, but he was intimidating. Regardless of how long you'd been pining after him- intimacy was a daunting thought.

His hand pulled your body in, "You interested?"

On instinct, your hands landed against his armoured chest. Even through the barrier between you, you could feel the heat emanating from his skin. It only reminded you that beneath the equipment and gear was a man- was Simon.

Without a second thought, without the normal reasoning and judgement you usually filtered through, you blurted out a quiet 'yes'. Whether it was the liquor reinforcing your backbone, or the adrenaline in your veins, you followed his lead as he guided you back into your bunk.

His hand shut the door, hardly turning his attention from you before he lifted his mask in order to kiss you- soft, apprehensive, but his hands had landed on your waist and kept you stuck in place in front of him.

You'd met him on your tip-toes, slinging an arm around his neck when the kiss turned from gentle curiosity to pure need. He was generous with tongue, greedy with his hands as he grabbed every part of you he could reach. His hand stretched across your cheek, fumbling slightly as your knees hit the edge of the bed and you crumpled beneath him.

He hovered over you, lavishing your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses that gave you tingles in your stomach.

"Christ," He groaned, sitting back to lift the vest over his head. His shirt went with it, exposing the carved muscles of his chest and navel that made your thighs squeeze together. "You smell so bloody good," He muttered, returning over you to nuzzle his nose against your jaw. "Always do," He added. "Might just have t' taste you, too."

Your heart leapt at his suggestion, and suddenly you were leaning on your elbows, watching him unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs. His hands guided your thighs over his broad shoulders, sliding calloused palms over the smooth skin of your legs until he was perched right where he wanted to be.

He leaned closer, fleeting kisses against your inner thighs provoking gentle gasps from your chest, and light giggles when he squeezed the fat of your legs. The rough stubble of his jaw rubbed against your thighs as he lifted your panties out of the way, and buried his face against you.

A loud gasp echoed around the room, another following when his tongue slid between your folds, flattening against the silky skin of your pussy. He gave quiet, brief grunts of pleasure, squeezing down harder when his tongue would glide from your hole to your clit.

When his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue lapped against it, your hand reached for his head, steadying him against your warm, wet pussy.

"Oh my-" You groaned, guttural and genuine, likely the first you'd experienced of pleasure from a man devouring you. "Simon," You breathed, fingers gripping the fabric of his mask.

He was gentle and yet firm, a technique you'd not experienced before, and it made your stomach clench.

"You like that, sweetheart?" He asked, lifting his head to find your watery eyes and flushed skin. With an enthusiastic nod, he hid a smug grin. "You like when I fuck you with my mouth?" Another enthusiastic nod.

You bit your lip- saving yourself a bit of humility by refusing to moan to his words. Filthy as they were, they didn't compare to the wetness of his tongue flicking over your clit, or his soft lips gently pulling against it.

He continued down the path of success, until you were on the verge, likely longer than he'd expected but his stamina hadn't been affected.

Your thighs and legs twitched with anticipation, tense muscles preparing you for the full-body contractions and overwhelming pleasure- when he stopped. Your back flattened against the mattress, lifting your head out of curiosity.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, chest heaving as you caught your wind.

He loosened the buckle of his belt, dropping his jeans low enough that his cock- hard and throbbing- sprung against his stomach.

"Nothin's wrong," He answered, climbing over you, sliding a hand beneath your head as he situated himself between your thighs. "Just rather feel you cum on my cock," He said.

Your eyes widened as he breached your entrance, his girth stretching your pussy, feeling the plush muscles inside you with closed eyes and a low groan. He exhaled harshly in your ear, a deep shudder that sent shivers down your body.

"Fuckin' hell," He breathed out.

His other hand yanked your thigh to his side, holding you firmly until he could trust you'd keep it there. His first thrust was deep and long, bottoming out inside you, before changing the angle and driving even deeper than before.

His lips, situated beside your ear, released strained exhales and short moans, unable to hide the grunts of exertion and expression of pure pleasure. He had you straddling his body, limbs wrapped around his in an effort to keep you close, plunge his cock deep inside you, where no one had reached before.

Your back had arched against the mattress, and he suddenly sat back to watch you take him. Your half-shut eyes and awe-struck expression only drove him to please you, to see exactly how you looked.

His hands lifted your shirt over your head, large fingers yanking your bra off your chest before he cupped your breasts with calloused hands. Squeezing and teasing, running his hands down your sides as he memorized every curve of your body.

You'd been repeating his name from swollen lips and breathless lungs, gasping and panting while he rutted into you. Your gaze dropped to his hands, and you watched with anticipation as he lifted his thumb to you lips, urging you to take it in your mouth.

"D'you want me to play with you while I fuck you?" He asked. You nodded. "Then get it nice and wet, sweetheart."

You sucked softly, your tongue wetting the pad of his thumb, in turn pulling a low groan from Simon who wanted nothing more than to watch your lips tighten around his finger. He pulled away, a string of saliva following as he dropped his thumb to your clit, rubbing back and forth softly across the sensitive bud.

You gasped softly; your eyes widening at the sensation of his cock gliding in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit. His other hand had found its place on your hip, holding you steady against his side as he rocked his hips, slamming them into the flesh of your thighs.

"Please," You whispered, searching for a coherent sentence, anything to enjoy the relief of your orgasm. "Need to cum," You said.

He grinned, "Go on- squeeze my fuckin' cock, sweetheart," He leaned closer, his eyes poring into yours when your lips parted, your body froze.

The sensation was new, no longer fluttering around nothing, now he was deep inside you, your pussy pulsating around the hard flesh of his cock. It felt better- so much better- than your own fingers.

He didn't relent while you writhed on his cock, not even when your pussy squeezed him so hard he nearly came inside you without a second thought. Instead, he leaned closer to spit on your pussy, rubbing your clit thoroughly while your legs struggled to remain clamped against him.

"Fuck," You choked out, your entire body trapped in a tense, frozen position as your orgasm overtook you. "Shit, Simon."

"You feel so fuckin' good," He grunted, a flash of a grin over his face. "One more- for good measure," He ordered.

Your body was limp, though Simon meant it; he watched you gasp for air, push at his chest when it was all too much. He himself was near his climax, but he could push it to the back of his mind if he focused entirely on you, especially as you cried out his name. He owed it to you.

Simon leaned in closer, his gaze glued to you as he thrusted inside you, wrapping his free hand around the circumference of your thigh. Your entire body rocked with his weight, feeling his fingers rub back and forth while his cock massaged your walls.

Another orgasm quickly approached- Simon was entirely invested and particularly good at learning new things- especially where your pleasure was involved. He watched you unfold, slowly at first, before your head fell back against the pillow and you cried out.

He could feel you shake, feel the sweat dripping down your thighs, the slick liquid leaking from inside you and drenching his cock and pelvis. Thick, coarse hair now covered in your arousal, his cock soaked with the creamy evidence of how hard you'd climaxed on him.

"'M close," He grunted, eyes flashing from the view of his cock sliding in and out of you to meet your gaze. "Fuck, I'm close," He breathed.

Your hands reached his shoulders, pulling his sweat-covered body against yours, your own skin slick with perspiration.

"Cum in me," You whispered in his ear, still catching your breath.

Without hesitation, and with your permission- he climaxed, every muscle tensing, his testes tightening as his pelvis slammed against you and he released every drop of his cum deep inside you.

It was still for a moment, still feeling his cock twitch as he exhaled, catching his breath.

"You alright?" He asked, staring at you from his position.

"Yeah- you?"

"Fine," He replied. "Any better?" He rolled to the side.

You pursed your lips, turning to meet his eyes. "I faked it," You hid a growing grin.

"'Nother go, then?" He tucked his arm behind his head, cocking it ever so slightly as he eyed you down.

"I could give it another try," You feigned disinterest, smiling softly.

"Come 'ere," He nodded, helping you over his hips. "Make yourself cum this time."

[kevinsdsy]

The Olympics posts are my fav. I keep thinking about the so-called “anti-intimacy beds.” Shawn would def be texting stuff about testing them out ahaha

LMAOO I’VE SEEN SO MANY TIKTOKS ABOUT THE BED AND ITS SO FUNNY TO ME??? ((i love olympictok so much and i’m so so glad we live in a time where we can see the athletes be silly on the internet))

anyways i did make a few texts for the inbox but for some context hehe i’m assuming guests do not get the olympian treatment (i wouldnt know tho) so in my mind the trojans and foxes have booked their own rooms but are grabted access to the olympics etc (idek) so yeah they’re not sleeping on cardboard beds LMAOOO but its okay because shawn has found a way to test one out (at the expense of kevin’s name?)