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sazc94 · 3 years

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The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts.

Part 2 Here

Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+

Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 5659 its Suburban AU.

Winter 2018

You sat on the window seat, head resting on the cool glass a mug of hot chocolate between your hands. Winter in New York was something else, the way everything sparkled in the blanket of snow. This wasn’t your first December in the “Big Apple” but it was your first after moving here. Like the walking cliché you were you had moved here for a Fresh Start, after being offered a once in a lifetime opportunity of working for Tony Stark. You hadn’t planned on taking the job working as head of advertising for Stark Industries. The idea of moving from your small town in Michigan away from your family, everyone you knew and loved, and most importantly away from your best friend and your on-again-off-again boyfriend Bucky seemed ludicrous. You knew James or Bucky as he was to those who knew and loved him would never leave Michigan not if it meant leaving her.

James and you had been friends since, well as since long as you could remember. You had lived on the same street, gone to the same schools, played in the streets on your bikes when you were 8, played in the local park between the ages of 10 and 12. When you both hit 13 everyone assumed you would both either stop being friends or would fall romantically in love. Neither of those happened at least not right away. You two carried on hanging around each-others houses, playing video games and watching movies. Bucky had always been fiercely protective over you, his blue eyes narrowing at anyone who dared to pick on you when you were younger. His eyes would light up when you walked into the room, he loved Friday nights saved just for the pair of you to watch cheesy horror films, lounge around his sofa and stuff your faces with popcorn.

2008

Everything changed when you were 15, you and Bucky had always been inseparable, when no one asked you to combined Prom in your Freshman year, Bucky had surprised you. Showing up at your house dressed in a suit and tie with a white rose corsage, his long brown hair slicked back. You walked downstairs in your ballet slipper pink chiffon dress, your locks twisted into an intricate bun, this was the first time you’d worn heels and you nearly missed the bottom step when you saw Bucky in his Grey Suit stood in your living room. Bucky had tried out for the football team and obviously to no ones’ surprise had become the Star QB. As a result of that Bucky’s grey suit stretched across his muscular frame. Once you’d saved yourself from falling face-first down the last stair you walked over to Bucky grinning like a fool. “Bucky, what, what are you doing here? I thought you were going with Sam and Pietro and the rest of the football team” you said. “Well, I couldn’t leave my best girl flying solo at our first prom now, could I?” Bucky grinned down to you. “Besides the rest of the guys were meeting dates at the dance, so I told them I’d meet them there with you” you felt yourself blush at Bucky’s term of endearment. You and Bucky posed for photos for your Mum and Dad, your Dad trusted Bucky like his own son so there was no awkward father stare down there, you even had your curfew extended to 2 am.

The prom itself was magical, Bucky introduced you to his teammates and their dates. Sam was there with a cheerleader, Jane Foster she was friends with the cool alternative girl Wanda Maximoff who was Pietro’s twin sister they were Sophomores but made you feel welcome at their table. Complimenting your hair and shoes. Pulling you onto the dancefloor to dance with them and the rest of the cheerleaders and co to the pumped-up pop songs that blasted out. The way the gym had been transformed was nothing short of breath-taking, led fairy lights strung up in waves from the ceiling, silver stars hanging against the velvet blue backdrops made you believe you were spending the night under the stars. When the music changed to a slow song -Tim McGraw by an up-and-coming artist Taylor Swift. The Group of girls surrounding you soon dissipated to slow dance with their respective others. You started to make your way back to the table you’d been sat at, happy to finally take a breather when you felt someone tug on your wrist. You turned around fully prepared to slap whatever creep had felt it suitable to touch someone they didn’t know but your face softened to find the familiar blue-eyed, muscular brunette smirking at you. “Miss Y/N” may I have this dance?”, he asked. “Why certainly, MR James Buchanan Barnes” you replied chuckling to yourself. Bucky cocked an eyebrow at the use of his full name before pulling you tight towards him. He wrapped your arms around his neck before wrapping his around your waist. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, you and Bucky had never been this intimate, sure still hugged and had kissed each other on the cheek when you were like 5, but this felt different. The way Bucky enveloped you, the scent of his aftershave mixed with his mum’s washing powder he smelt like cherry blossom mixed with sandalwood. You rested your head on Bucky’s chest, closing your eyes deciding to take this all in. A small smile tugged on your lips as you felt Bucky stroke your hips. You didn’t know it, but he looked at you with such love and adoration and his heart squeezed watching you rest your head on his chest the smile on your pale pink lips. Bucky moved his right hand from your waist and brought it to your cheek, slightly stroking it before lifting your face to look him in the eyes. His eyes shone with affection; his eyes so blue like the ocean you felt like you were drowning in them. Then his lips were on yours crashing against your slightly chapped lips, you cursed yourself for not wearing Chapstick like the cheerleaders and Wanda did. However, as the kiss deepened, and you felt Bucky’s left-hand grip on you together and you melted into the kiss everything else faded away. Bucky drew back and looked at you. Your smile dazzling him as your eyes shone back at him. Neither of you said a word as he pulled you back to his chest whilst the DJ played another slow song.

2009 - 2010

Bucky and you dated from the end of your Freshman year right up until the summer before your senior year. Bucky and you had been inseparable for most of your High School life, he even convinced you to try out for the cheerleading squad in your Junior year, usually you sat on the Side-lines with Wanda and Carol Danvers, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to be a cheerleader it's just you were comfortable being “Bucky’s Girl” the one everyone knew without being in the spotlight, however after Wanda and Carol egged you on saying that you had the moves you went for it. You surprisingly made the squad. You couldn’t wait to tell Bucky, warmth spreading through your cheeks at the thought of how he’d be so proud. You decided to keep it quiet until you had your uniform. Jane and the girls had also promised to keep their mouths shut until you’d had the chance to surprise him. So, when homecoming rolled around, and you got your uniform for the first time you went along to the locker rooms where the football team would be heading off to change before the big pep rally. You stood against the wall one foot pressed against it, your knee bent whilst you waited. You heard Sam and Pietro before you saw them. They turned the corner roughhousing one another playfully. “Looking good Y/N” Sam shouted as he clocked you in your brand-new uniform. “looks like Bucky’s personal cheerleader now cheers for us all,” he said walking over to you and enveloping you in a hug. You giggled and at that moment Bucky Turned the corner with Peter Parker a freshman. He couldn’t see your uniform from the way that Sam’s body was covering yours, but he saw your face and started running down the hallway to you. As Sam and Pietro headed inside, he finally got to see the big reveal, he stopped in his tracks for a second. His eyes taking in every inch of your body, the skirt shorter than anything you owned, the top hugging your curves. He ran over to you picking you up and spinning you in the air as you squealed. “I knew you could do it Doll,” he said as he peppered kisses over your head, cheek, and lips. You blushed at his praise. Your Junior year with Bucky was a blur, between the football games, classes, parties’ dates with Bucky you felt like time was rushing past. You Even won Prom King and Queen at your Junior Prom. To no one’s surprise. However, that summer everything changed.

Summer 2010

You were on holiday with your family, visiting your grandparents in Miami. Every year you for as long as you could remember you and your family would spend the last 3 weeks of summer break at your grandparents. You had begged Bucky to come with you as he had in the past, however, due to football camp, he had been unable to swing it. “Hey, I’m sorry doll, it’s just coach said if I didn’t go he wouldn’t consider me for team captain,” he said hugging you from behind as you sat on your porch steps, his chin resting on your head. He had sworn to you that you would text every day and would skype at least once a week for the three weeks you were there. However, after the first week, Bucky’s texts had become less and less frequent. He’d only Skyped you once and you’d get texts from Various friends asking where you were as you weren’t at the latest party. On the final night of your holiday, as you walked along the beach by yourself taking in the last of the holiday feel your phone rang, you looked down it, confused when the caller Id said, Jane. “Hey, babe. Look I’m not sure how to say this” but uh we’re at a small party at Wanda and Pietro’s there’s about 15 of us, including this friend of mine Nat and uhm well, Bucky’s pretty wasted and well after I noticed I hadn’t seen him for a while I went looking for him”. Jane’s voice sounded stressed. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears tried to escape, not liking where this was going. “And uh, oh god I’m really sorry girl, but I, I kind of walked in on them fucking” Jane blurted it out, going for the band-aid approach as if saying it quicker would make it the cut sting any less. You didn’t say anything, you just stood there staring out the black ocean, the warm sand between your toes, feeling your heartbreak. You couldn’t believe it. Your sweet protective Bucky who had beaten up Miles Morales in 8th Grade for standing you up for an arcade date and breaking your heart. “I, I, I got to go my flights early tomorrow. My, my family will be wondering where I am” you stumbled over your words trying to get off the phone as quick as possible not wanting anyone to hear you cry.

Senior year was one of the most painful years, Bucky had met you at your house the day you got back, sitting on the wooden steps to your porch. He looked like he had barely slept, much like you. You were an only child, but your older cousin who was transferring to Michigan State University for his second year had come home with you. He took a look at Bucky and then back at you, you nodded telling him it was fine and that you had this. He walked inside but not before muttering punk under his breath. Bucky winced, he looked at you his blue eyes that once shone with nothing but love and adoration for you, now looked blank, empty, and almost unrecognisable. His brown hair which he had cut in his Sophomore year looked a mess. He started towards you, but you held your arm out.

“Don’t,” you said. He looked crestfallen and his heart shattered as you struggled to hold yourself together. “Doll, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please, look at me, ill make it up to you, it will never happen again” he pleaded with you, his ocean blue eyes stared at your red brimmed eyes, cheeks puffy and streaked from all the crying over the last 16 hours. “Just don’t” You warned him. “Look, baby, it was a mistake, it meant nothing to me” he continued to plead despite your warning reaching out for your hand. His words hit you like a knife, you two hadn’t slept together yet and here he was claiming this meant nothing. You wrenched your hand free from him his touch burning you with his betrayal. “It meant nothing. It meant nothing!?! If it meant nothing you wouldn’t have slept with this Natasha James” you whispered. Bucky flinched at the use of his real name. Oh, how you wanted to shout, thrash scream at him and tell him you would forgive him, but you couldn’t. You had looked up the girls Instagram that night when you laid in bed crying and you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her the gorgeous read head with curves in all the right places. You started to walk towards your house. Unable to keep the tears back and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, Bucky called out for you, pleading with you. “I thought you loved me James, but it clearly meant something to you, or else you wouldn’t have thrown away two years of dating and 12 years of dating for sex with someone that wasn’t me, we were meant to be each other’s firsts, but you decided you couldn’t wait to get your dick wet so you went and fucked this chick you’ve known for what 5 minutes?” you cried out in anger, Bucky flinched again as if you’d slapped him. “Actually, I met her last year at one of our away game parties” he mumbled, his feet kicking the dirt around his feet. “I think you should leave” you whispered, choking back a sob before you ran into your house slamming the door behind you.

You and Bucky barely spoke that entire final year of school, you had been voted cheer Captain at the end of the summer semester, much to Jane’s approval, and you loved being a cheerleader, so you threw yourself into that as well as the school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors. You cheered at the games putting on your show face and hyping up the crowds. You wowed in the role of Audrey in the show, avoided parties with the football team and buckled down focusing on your exams and audition for the performing arts programme at the University of Michigan. After Bucky had realised, he was never going to get you to forgive him he had ended up dating Natasha. The news hit you like a sucker punch to begin with but after meeting up with Wanda, Carol, and Jane during the spring break you made your peace with it. You even smiled at Bucky in the hallways when you saw each other. By the time Graduation rolled around you had healed.

November 2011

You ended up getting into the University of Michigan on a partial scholarship thanks to your cheerleading and you were enjoying the performing arts programme, the performing arts programme at the Uni had really blown up after the whole viral “A Very Potter Musical” back in 2009 and you were thrilled to be there. You had settled right in making friends with a young lad from your course Loki Laufeyson right away. He was attractive in an unconventional way, with long black hair, a tall skinny frame but he still had muscles. You two had been cast opposite each other in Romeo and Juliet during your first year and had become good friends. You even ran into Pietro frequently he had gotten a football scholarship and couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you on the sidelines one November game. Pietro didn’t really “do” social media and hadn’t paid any attention to Wanda as you had told her, after Bucky’s betrayal you hadn’t spoken much with Sam or Pietro, after all, they were his friends and were now Uni students. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you after the game, ruffling your hair like you were 5 again. You couldn’t help but wince at the old pet name, everyone in the group had called you it, Sam, Wanda, Carol even Jane but you hadn’t been Bucky’s girl for a year, well longer if you take into consideration the fact he’d been chatting with Natasha on and off for the entire year before they slept together. “It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled. “How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro had always been a cocky confident guy, his silver-blonde hair covering his ice blue eyes, he had always been a hit with the ladies, but he seemed that bit more attractive, slightly leaner, still confident but not arrogant. You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled. “I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room.

True to his charm and word, Pietro called you the next day offering to be your personal guide and show you all the hidden beauty spots of the campus. You accepted; even though you had been here for two months already. You walked around the campus and had a great time, you felt yourself really relaxing and laughing at his corny jokes and the way he wiggled his silver eyebrows at you whenever he made a bad joke. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed, and you meant really laughed, the kind of clutched over struggling to get air into your lung’s laughter that the Silver-haired, blue-eyed cutie gave you. By the time Pietro had finished his tour the sun was beginning to dip, he walked you back to your dorm ever the gentleman. However, this time when your hands brushed against each other he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His hand was cool and smooth, a stark difference to Bucky’s warm calloused hands. The pair of you walked back hand in hand in comfortable silence. When you got to your dorm you leant against your door, your eyes meeting Pietro’s ice blue eyes, the almost sparkled. Pietro positioned himself so that he had one hand above your head, the other to your side trapping you between the door and himself. He leant down and kissed you. It was soft and delicate, his cool lips sucking the air out of your lungs. He pulled away winking at you before he sauntered off to join his teammates at some frat party.

That was the beginning of a three-year relationship with Pietro, you two had been on multiple dates, some official, some were just bumping into each other at the same party and then spending the rest of the evening together all through November and early December of your first year. He even came to support you at your Cheerleading competitions. Neither of you had put a label on it, but he had changed his home screen to a picture of the pair of you, it was one captured by Peter Parker, funnily enough, he was visiting the Uni with his photography club and captured the moment Pietro had picked you up after the Wolverines won their 6th game. He spun you around before dropping you down and kissing your forehead. Pietro didn’t know that you had seen his home screen. However as you were both travelling home for the Holidays you had agreed to travel together, Pietro had offered to drive but you had refused. Telling him that it would be easier for you to drive as you would be running lines late and therefore you could swing by his apartment on the way out of town. It was only a short drive to Dearborn but with the extra holiday traffic, you estimated it would take at least an hour to get to your parents. You connected your iPod to the car via AUX and pulled up your playlist you had made for the drive. You avoided all Christmas songs, and you were sick of them they played everywhere you went. Instead, you opted for Taylor Swift, damn she had blown up since 2008.

After about 30 minutes of driving as you hit the peak of the holiday traffic, you leant over to turn down the volume of your music. Comfortable with the pace of the traffic, you turned your head to Pietro. “So,” you began. “What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone. “Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re obviously going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said, you could feel yourself blush, there was something about Pietro, he made you feel like a high school sophomore all over again. “So you were wondering what we are?” the amusement in Pietro’s voice didn’t escape your notice, you could feel yourself getting embarrassed. Of course, he was a college Sophomore, you two had never had the exclusive talk, how could you be so silly. You stared straight ahead focusing on the slow-moving traffic. Oh god, you wanted to die. Pietro noticed the change in your demeanour and instantly felt bad, he grabbed your right hand from the steering wheel. “Hey Bunny, look at me,” he said softly, you turned your head to face him. “We are exclusive, we are a couple, I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself.

Almost everyone had made it back for the Holidays, excluding a few people, Bucky, Carol, and Jane, they all had their reasons, but you couldn’t help but feel a little sad that Carol and Jane had been unable to make it back. Wanda was elated for you and Pietro, to your surprise she threatened Pietro and not you. Christmas break came and went all too quickly. Pietro even brought you a small gift even though he didn’t celebrate Christmas, what with being Jewish. He was also very touched at your gift a small, framed copy of the photo of his lock screen, only in black and white except for the ribbon in your hair, the number on his Jersey matching his number painted on your cheek. The next year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top of your studies, your rehearsals for the play, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe.

2012

The summer between your 1st year and 2nd year was a small respite, Pietro had decided to stay in his apartment for the summer, he had a summer job and you decided to stick around after trying out for a local theatres summer production of Grease, unsurprisingly you had been cast as Patty Simcox a cheerleader. “How ironic, my little cheerleader playing a cheerleader” Pietro joked. You just rolled your eyes at him, that night Pietro stayed in your dorm, you were going to have to move out for the summer, your roommate for the year had decided she was going to move into her Sorority House next year and was going home for the summer. You and Pietro were cuddled up on the sofa watching Grease, you had your legs over Pietro and the arm of the sofa. To your surprise, Pietro had confessed he’d never seen it and had asked you to watch it with him so he could see who you would be playing. You let out a sigh. “What’s up bunny?” he asked not taking his eyes of the movie, he was rubbing small circles on your legs. “Student housing emailed me today, they said since Sophie is moving out and going home for the summer. I can’t stay in my dorm this summer. I’m trying to figure out where to go as the apartment I want to rent isn’t available until August” you said, blowing your hair out of your face. “Move in with me for the summer,” Pietro said without skipping a beat. “We’re not going to be around much in the daytime, you’ve spent a lot of nights at mine recently and it’s just for the summer, theirs a spare bedroom where you can store your stuff, and Wanda will be visiting in 3 weeks, it’s no big deal,” he said as he continued rubbing circles on your legs. You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. “Okay,” you said nervously biting your lip. “Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said again this time sounding surer of yourself. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD. You and Pietro had been dating for most of the school year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman never pressuring you for more than you were comfortable with, he knew Bucky had hurt you and you still hadn’t had sex yet as a result of it. You stood up a peeled of your jumper, Pietro cocked his head with his cute, puzzled expression. You didn’t say anything, instead, you removed your athletic shorts leaving you in nothing but one of Pietro’s football jerseys and your panties. You walked to your bedroom. Pietro didn’t move. After a few moments of waiting for him to follow you walked to your door frame and coughed, Pietro looked at you. “Well, are you coming or not handsome?” you asked leaning against your frame, so his jersey rid up slightly exposing the skin of your stomach. Pietro chucked his phone on the sofa before throwing you over his shoulder. That night you and Pietro had sex for the first time.

December 2012

Summer came and went in a blur of a heatwave, and lots of sex. You moved into your apartment off-campus, you spent a lot of time hanging out with Loki between classes, throwing ideas back and forth for an original piece you had to work on for the spring showcase. Pietro and you would always ride to games together, with Pietro being in his third year, the team bus rides were no longer compulsory and as the college couldn’t afford for the squad to have a bus you had to make your own way to the away games anyway. You and Pietro had driven home for Winter break, your family had decided to head to Boston this year, that way your cousin could see his family, however as you and Pietro had a game two days after New Years it didn’t make sense for you to fly out for such a short period off time. This was your first Christmas in years where you wouldn’t be seeing your family, or even celebrating really. However, Wanda and her Mum had insisted Pietro bring you home with him for the winter break. So that was how you found yourself sat in Pietro and Wanda’s basement drinking beer and hanging out with the old gang along with some new faces. Carol had brought home her girlfriend Valkyrie, Jane and Sam were there, even Peter Parker who was now a senior was there he’d even brought his girlfriend Gwen with him. Wanda had brought home her Boyfriend James or Vision as he was affectionately known. Wanda was studying Fashion in NYC; Vision was studying IT and was a whiz with technology. You were cuddled up in the corner of the sofa with Pietro, he was playing some game with Sam and Peter and you were scrolling through your IG feed. Taylor Swift’s latest Album Red playing through the speakers. Pietro had groaned but with Sam being a secret Swifty he was quickly outvoted. You kissed Pietro’s cheek getting up to grab another bottle of beer each. You were technically underage for another few months, but Wanda’s mum had said if you were going to drink whilst you were here, she’d rather you did it under her roof in a safe controlled manner.

You heard him before you saw him. Being the gracious guest you are, you had noticed the beer was low in the fridge, so you were restocking it when you heard Bucky’s familiar laugh. You may have made peace with what Bucky had done but other than a quick congratulations and farewell at Graduation you hadn’t spoken since that summer back in 2010.

Bucky walked over to the fridge, you had changed your hair colour since you’d last seen him at Graduation in 2011, your usual hair was now a chocolate brown, you had your head in the fridge still when he coughed. “Hi I’m Bucky,” he said. You took a deep breath, grabbed three bottles of beer and pulled your head out of the fridge, turning around to face him. “I’m well aware who you are, Bucky,” you said handing him a beer. Bucky’s eyes widened as his ocean blue eyes reached yours. “Hey Buck,” you said softly. “Y/N. I didn’t recognise you” he grinned, moving to hug you. You let it happen, standing stiffly in his arms. “Yeah it's been a minute, how’s school, and Natasha, I heard you got into UDM?” you asked shooting him a smile before twisting the lid of your bottle. “Yeah, I did. Schools great kicking my ass a bit and Natasha and I broke up actually” he said avoiding eye contact with you. You and Bucky made polite conversation for a few minutes Pietro finished up his game with Sam and Peter, noticed you hadn’t returned so made his way over to you and Bucky. “Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you. “Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed. “Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro. “Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa.

December 2012 – August 2014

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. By the time, your third year rolled around you and Pietro settled into a routine between school, studying, games and rehearsals you would steal kisses in the hallways, meet one another at classes with hot drinks, coffee for Pietro not that he needed a boost of energy and usually a hot chocolate for you. After football games, Pietro would drive you back to his apartment. If it were a rare free evening, you’d curl up with a movie at yours. Hanging onto the small moments of peace. You both knew Pietro was going to be moving to New York after he graduated. He’d been studying business and was going to start a fashion company with Wanda. You also both knew that long-distance wasn’t going to work, you’d been majoring in performing arts, but you had also been taking extra courses to help with a career in advertising as a backup. Saying your goodbyes to one another sucked ass. You and Pietro had left your annual Miami holiday a week early to spend a week in Florida visiting the Theme Parks, Wanda and Vision were also going to meet you there. Neither of you had grown up exceptionally wealthy, but Wanda and Pietro’s dad Max Eisenhardt had reached out to them a few years back and had insisted on paying for the four of you to have a group vacation. He had tried to convince Wanda and Pietro to book a holiday in Germany where he was living but they had refused. Pietro had already packed up his apartment and moved most of it back to his family home whilst you finished up school for the year. He had been staying with you for the summer before joining you on your vacation so when you headed to the airport it was time to say your goodbyes. “Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried.

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave because I have promised to write a sad Steve one as a way to punnish myself

Part 2

#bucky x reader #pietro x reader #avengers au #marvel #marvel au #avengers fanfiction #𝐦𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬𝟐𝐤 #bucky barnes fluff #pietro maximoff fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfiction #natasha x bucky

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yeojaa · 4 years

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finders keep hers, iii.

read parts one and two! the long awaited conclusion! i’m sorry it turned into a friggin’ novel. i hope it does the first two parts justice, though. these kids are... idiots. i love them and you (and also the best beta reader @hobi-gif)! 💖

pairing. jjk x named f!reader. rating. explicit, ofc. tags. this is... really soft at certain parts. and then really raunchy at others. oops? but fr - mainly fluff with some smut at the end. you might need a filling. wc. 5.4k.

You’re buzzed into the building without a moment’s hesitation, the kind concierge with the gummy smile and greying temples beaming at you as you enter. “Nice to see you, Miss Lee.”

“You too, Mr. Choi.” A grin of your own is offered, gym bag hiked higher over your shoulder as you pause to chat. You’re in no rush. “Is he home?”

“I don’t believe so.” The sudden look of disapproval that colours the older gentleman’s features is almost comical, reminiscent of a disparaging parent. It’s the same expression you’re greeted with nearly every time you visit. “He left in a town car yesterday afternoon and I don’t think he’s been back since. That boy’s going to get himself in trouble one day.” As if Jungkook didn’t already - as if it didn’t follow him around, glued to the bottoms of his Italian leather shoes.

“Tell me about it.”

“You know…” There’s that twinkle in Mr. Choi’s eyes again - the one that tells you he’s about to repeat the same words he always does when he catches you alone. “A nice girl like you could get him to settle down.”

Your response is what it always is - a scoff and a laugh rolled into one. It careens off your tongue, ringing in the spacious lobby. “I don’t think anyone will ever get him to settle down.”

How true that is, you’re not sure. For your sake, you try not to think about it too much.

The old man is undeterred though, shrugging his narrow shoulders beneath the neat uniform he wears. It’s a little loose in the chest but immaculate otherwise, tie knotted in a classic Windsor and collar ironed perfectly. He levels you with that shrewd stare of his but says nothing further, simply engaging you in an unspoken staring contest.

Sometimes, you wonder how much he sees. How much he knows .

You break before he does, tearing your gaze away and blinking rapidly. He laughs, full bellied and deep from the chest. “Get on upstairs, Miss Lee.” You aren’t offended by the dismissal. “It’s always nice chatting with you.”

You remind yourself to bring him chocolates the next time you’re by. The ones with hazelnuts, because those are his favourite. A fact you only know because you’ve helped your best friend pick up a box for him every Christmas, writing the card and having him sign it right before it gets left behind the desk.

Actually, you helped Jungkook with a lot of things. Always had. It was simply the nature of your friendship - passed down by your parents and forged stronger by childhood playdates, your fair share of teenage squabbling, and college hangovers so bad they’d created an unbreakable bond.

Whenever he would need you, you’d be there - whether that meant picking him up at 4 AM from the airport because he wanted “some shitty fast food and to see you” or helping him pick gifts for Mother’s Day. There was no task too small, no moment too inconsequential.

Unconditional love, they called it.

It’s why you have no problem swanning into his apartment with the extra key you’ve had since he moved in, kicking off your trainers and tucking them neatly alongside the rows of black leather and expensive sneakers.

You do so much for him that you take where you can, indulging in all of the luxuries you’ve never been afforded. Unparalleled view, stupidly expensive toiletries, a damn jacuzzi tub .

You pull your sweater over your head - truthfully, one of Jungkook’s from college that you’d never felt inclined to give back - and toss it over the back of a barstool on your way into the guest suite. Your bag follows shortly after, deposited at the foot of the bed that exists as a rotating welcome mat to your and Jungkook’s circle of friends.

The rest of your clothes - sports bra, shorts, thong, socks - are stripped, folded, and tucked into the laundry bag you keep handy. You know you could leave them here and Jungkook’s housekeeper would take care of it, but you’ve never been too comfortable with that. Different upbringings.

The spray is like sweet relief the moment you step beneath the rainforest shower. It’s the perfect temperature and pressure, melting the sweat and tension from your bones.

But it isn't why you’re here, so you make quick work in the glass enclosure, scrubbing your body bare and lathering and conditioning your hair into a squeaky clean mess. Any other time, you’d just spend a good half hour standing beneath the head but you’re feeling particularly indulgent today.

Call it a spa day, courtesy of one Jeon Jungkook.

You don’t bother to dry off, water splashing across the floor as you step from the shower and sink into the spacious tub that overlooks the heart of Seoul. Diptyque bath oil encapsulates the room in a bubble of sweet almond, similarly branded candle burning on the ledge. The jets release a steady stream against your tired back and legs, massaging your limbs into jelly.

You can’t help the sigh of utter relaxation that rolls off your tongue, sinking into water in the same instance your shoulders do.

This is what dreams are made of. Anyone who says differently is an idiot and a liar.

“When are you going to tell her?”

You’re not expecting the voice and it breaks the silence like a thousand pound weight, shattering the calm and nearly startling you enough for you to knock your head on the edge of the tub.

There’s no reason for you to be surprised. Not really. This isn’t your home, after all. You aren’t entitled to any sort of privacy.

It doesn’t matter, though. The discomfort in your chest is unfolding regardless, lodging rocks in your throat.

Because it’s a female voice. Lilting, soft, draped in familiarity. Not someone brand new.

Your heart stutters at the realisation. The rush of blood against your eardrums is so loud you momentarily wonder whether they can hear it all the way in the living room. They must be able to - it’s practically deafening. You can’t even hear the rest of their conversation.

Their conversation .

Which seems to have ended, leaving only silence.

You suddenly remember your shoes, your sweater. Traces of you littered throughout the apartment that isn’t yours. God, you’re an idiot. He was going to kill you - or she was. You’re not sure which is worse.

You’re reaching for the fluffy white towel on the rack when you’re scared near half to death yet again. This time, by your best friend who cuts an imposing figure in the doorway, broad form resting casually against the frame. He looks surprisingly unbothered, curls pushed back from his forehead by a pair of sunglasses and arms folded over his chest.

“Jesus!” The shriek comes four octaves higher than it normally would, pitching into the open so loudly you wince. “You scared me!”

You can’t help the way you peek past his shoulder for a sign of the girl he’d brought home.

“Enjoying yourself?” There’s something amused dancing in the darks of his eyes, his mouth curving around the same emotion as he steps into the bathroom. You’d be bothered if he were anyone else, unnecessarily long legs carrying him to you in three strides.

“I didn’t know you were home.” You can’t quite meet his stare, still far too distracted by the mystery woman. Had he left her on the couch? Maybe his bedroom as he snuck you out? What excuse could he come up with?

“Didn’t know you were home either.”

He’s made himself comfortable right on the ledge of the tub, marked fingers dragging lazily through the still-scalding water. He doesn’t seem terribly in a rush. That puts you on edge.

Was he going to hide you in here?

“I wanted to relax after my run.” You don’t owe him an explanation - not really - but you offer it anyway. You figure you need to, when you might’ve ruined his Sunday morning romp session. You can’t bring yourself to address it, though. The words just won’t come, sitting on the tip of your tongue like thorns. It hurts to swallow.

Jungkook doesn’t further the conversation - a first for him. He’s normally a chatterbox.

The silence stretches on. Suffocating.

You force yourself to speak, staring down at your hands that are slowly pruning beneath the water. “Should I… go?” The way it comes is feeble, soft, uncertain. You hate it.

By the look of surprise on his face, he does, too. He cackles suddenly, like a goddamn witch. “Why?”

Heat floods across your cheeks. You wish you could blame it on the bath or the steam that still collects on the mirrors. It pulls high over your ears, colouring them tomato red and embarrassed. Surely, he knows why.

When he repeats himself, it’s harder, without any of the laughter from before.

Rather than answer, you wave a hand through the air, fingers wiggling. The universal sign for you know . It should be enough - you hope it’s enough. Your ego won’t let you verbalise it.

“Suddenly mute, baby?”

It isn’t quite mocking - teasing, maybe - but it stokes the fire that burns in the pit of your stomach and licks uncomfortably at the organ in your chest. You don’t even look at him as you nearly spit the words, petulant and far more bothered than you should be. “You’ve got a girl here.”

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, swathed in velvet and coloured blue. The effort you make to not shoot him a glare is herculean.

He’s still snickering when he speaks. “You mean my sister?”

“Your sister?” It’s more surprise at yourself that has you whipping to look at him, bewilderment tossing all other emotion out the window. Because his sister was practically your sister. How had you not recognised her voice? You feel silly all at once, the embarrassment from earlier fading into reticence.

“Yeah. I spent the night babysitting the twins.”

You sometimes forget how much Jungkook loves children - especially his sisters’. It’s hard to reconcile the family man he effortlessly transforms into when he spends most of his waking hours playing the perfect part of unaffected bachelor.

“How are they?” You ask because you care - you adore Minseo and Minhyuk - but also so you can move the conversation along. The last thing you want to do is dwell on your mistake.

“They’re good. Getting big.” He’s got that smile on his face - the one that’s softer than any other, with deep lines at the corners of his eyes. Reserved especially for the people he cares about most. Your favourite sight. “You can come with me next time. Minnie asked about you, anyway.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest.

Being liked by peers? Great. Being respected by your superiors? Rewarding. But being loved by children? It was in a league all its own - better than ice cream on a hot day.

“Sure.” You can’t keep the grin away.

That is, until he speaks again, circling the conversation back. “So, were you jealous?” His ability to piss you off is uncanny. It’s like it’s written into his genetic code, each molecule of his body tasked with ruining your day.

“No.” It’s meant to be a scoff. It’s not very believable.

“You sure, princess?” The fingers on your chin are wholly unnecessary - he’s got you caught in his stare, locked in place with nowhere to go.

“Yes, Bunny .” You know how much he hates the nickname, only tolerating it because it’s you. You can’t deny the pleasure that comes at the sight of his jaw tensing, muscle jumping in agitation. Just as he’s your weakness, you’re his, too. “Now let me finish—”

He cuts you off, sharp and unrelenting: “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get out of the tub or I’m pulling you out myself.” Risen to his full height, he’s an imposing figure. Even worse, there’s something you can’t read in his expression - something that has your nerves firing wildly. Your heart rattles around in your chest, uncertain.

He leaves you without another word.

You scramble out of the bath as quickly as your confused limbs allow you, knotting the towel beneath your arms. You’re not quite sure what to do next, caught between pulling your clean clothes out of your workout bag and demanding an answer from your sphinx of a best friend.

What the hell was his problem?

Your impatience wins out as you’re tugging a brush through your hair, fumbling uncharacteristically through knots until you’re too frustrated to continue. You’re ready to tear into him when you storm out of the guestroom; you’ve got a barrage of insults on your tongue, proverbial gun cocked and ready to unload.

They melt away when you spy him on the couch, neatly wrapped bouquet laid across the coffee table.

“Come here.” It’s not a request so much as a demand - commanding and soft all at once. A small part of you wants to fire off a rebuttal; that part dies when he repeats himself, louder this time.

The seat you take beside him is begrudging, a good foot of space held between your bodies. You fiddle with the hem of your towel, turning a loose thread over and over your index finger.

“What?” It’s snippy, discontent - kerosene on the fire that burns beneath Jungkook’s skin.

“Watch it,” he retorts, though there’s no acid to his words. Frankly, he sounds more frustrated than angry, more exasperated than pissed off.

That makes one of you.

Only he can bring out this side of you - brusque and biting. “ You watch it, Bunny.”

Fingers find the bridge of his nose, a gesture you don’t see very often. Guilt blooms behind your ribcage as he rubs at the tension between his eyes. For someone who has it all, he looks like he’s a moment away from losing it.

“You’re a brat, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you retort, not unkindly.

“You’re making this really hard,” he snaps in the same instant he all but throws the overwhelming bunch of flowers at you.

You nearly drop them you’re so surprised.

“What are these for?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Did I stutter?”

If you weren’t so busy studying the arrangement of florals, you’d have some witty comeback. As it stands, you’re preoccupied by the pretty bunch of peonies and tulips. You wonder what he’s done wrong - why he’s found it necessary to soften the blow with your favourite flowers.

Your thoughts drift back to his sister’s words: when are you going to tell her?

All at once, you want nothing more than to leave. You don’t want whatever heartbreak is about to come. You’re not ready for it.

“Listen—”

He cuts you off, again. “I love you.”

You’re not sure how your face looks. You imagine you could look up flabbergasted in the dictionary and you’d find a photo of your expression right now. “What?”

Jungkook won’t quite look at you, intently focused on an indiscernible point against the far wall. When he speaks the words again, they’re full of uncertainty - but not in the way you expect. The confession is as believable as any you’ve ever heard - he really does sound like he loves you - but somehow, it’s draped in dread and held aloft by hummingbird wings. “I love you.”

He’s nervous, you realise in amazement.

“Come again?”

He meets your stare then, brow knitting with unease. He doesn’t say it again, though.

“Are you messing around with me?” You don’t mean it how it comes - a little accusatory.

“I’m not an asshole.” Except both of you know he certainly can be. You don’t call him on it, though, opting instead to peer curiously at him, hands fisted around the bouquet in your lap. “I talked to my sister. She…” He shrugs once, an almost helpless roll of his shoulders. “She told me I was an idiot.”

You’re not surprised by that. Lina had always been the one to give it to him straight.

“She said I would lose you if I didn’t get my shit together.” There’s a bit of childish petulance that works its way into each syllable - he hates being told what to do. “Said I needed to tell you or I’d regret it. Which is stupid, because we’ve been best friends forever and she’s younger than me so what does she know—” He must realise he’s rambling, something he never does. “But—”

“But?” Quiet, hopeful, coaxing.

There’s a warmth in your chest - illuminating and golden and so bright it hurts to think about. It grows with each moment that passes, spurred on by the look in his eyes and how they find yours.

Hesitation pulls the silence a beat too long. The light wanes. You wonder if the moment has passed.

And then he continues, a little more earnestly. “Was she right? Am I going to lose you?”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s asking. You don’t think he even knows what he’s asking. You try to answer anyway, as honest as you can without pinning your heart directly on your sleeve. “You’ll never lose me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Did you? “You’ll never lose me.” You’re the one repeating yourself this time, just that bit harder.

“Then say it.” Again, not a request. A prayer, perhaps. Ardent and needy - a world away from the Jeon Jungkook you know.

You don’t hesitate. “I love you.”

He doesn’t either - upon you so quickly you don’t have time to blink or think.

How he kisses you now feels different. More . It’s like being consumed entirely - changed from the inside out in ways you never thought possible. Where he touches, sparks fly, filling you like stars in the night sky. Lava rolls over every inch, dragging heat and want and need from the soles of your feet to the tip of your nose. You’re gasping rather than breathing, clawing against the front of his shirt and twining your fingers into the strands that curl over his nape.

“You never told me you could kiss like that.” It’s lacking coherence, made by a partial inhale and wild, wondrous eyes.

His response is a laugh and another kiss, forceful and adoring and utterly devastating. “Shut up,” he mouths against your lips, tongue licking over your teeth and gums like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you. Hands follow in the same amorous motions, tugging and pulling and aching for you closer; the tips of his fingers sear white hot heat over your hips, the small of your waist, the delicate bones of your ribcage.

“I’m serious...” You really are - far more than you should be. You’d been missing out on this ? It’s incomprehensible.

The sound he makes is more of a growl, playful and resounding in the cavern of his chest. It rattles your own, sending your heart on a downward spiral into the pit of your stomach. His nose traces the column of your throat, soft lips guiding him further until he’s mouthing hotly over the bare skin of your shoulder. Tongue teases, delves ever so gently into the dip of your collarbone, and swipes back up, laving over the maroon that peeks around the edge of his teeth. You can’t help but keen, holding him so closely you wonder if you’re suffocating him.

“So am I.” Each syllable is punctuated by another nip, another nibble. It seems like his goal is to bloom roses across your skin - a wreath to welcome him home, made by his own touch.

You don’t mind.

“Say it again,” he demands, hopeful and unashamed from his place against your neck.

The admission comes easily, as if it’s always lived on the tip of your tongue. “I love you.”

“Again.” You’re not ready for the way he stares at you - like he’s never done before. Like he’s seeing you for the first time and he’s awestruck. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Hands find the familiar contours of his face, thumbs brushing over the hollows of his eyes, over the beauty mark that sits front and centre beneath his lip. Each graze follows a repetition of the confession, as if you might burn the three simple words beneath his skin - write it into his DNA like he’s written into yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Bunny .”

He holds you close - so tightly it feels almost as if he’ll crush you - and captures your mouth again. It’s more gentle but just as lovesick. A thousand unspoken words spill from his tongue to yours, swallowed whole with greed you don’t bother to hide.

“I need you.” It’s whiny, framed by a pout that could end wars and paired with doe eyes so wide and innocent you almost want to roll your own.

“You have me.”

“Do I?” There’s a very deliberate roll of his hips, denim of his jeans rough against the exposed softness of your inner thighs, hands manoeuvring over the partially covered swell of your hips. The press of his fingers is purposeful, digging tension into every inch. As if he might transfer some of the unadulterated need that thrums through his veins, turning his heart to jelly and brain to mush.

“Since when do you ask?” You have a point.

“You’re right,” his grin is almost lazy, drawing over his mouth in a measured crawl. “Good girls just do what they’re told, right?” His grips tightens almost imperceptibly, holding you to him almost effortlessly. You’ve been in this position a hundred times before but it’s never been this easy - like breathing.

The gasp you offer is all mock affront, hand laid palm-down across your chest. You don’t miss the way his gaze follows it before ticking lower, unabashed in its admiration. “Are you saying I’m not?”

“Don’t know, baby.” The war on your neck has resumed, teeth traded seamlessly for the softer promise of his tongue, the dry brush of his lips. It’s almost sinful, garnering sighs of affection and need from somewhere low in your throat. “Want to be a good girl for me?”

You’re not quite used to this version of him - playful and needy and not nearly as demanding as usual. A part of you wants to draw out the side of him you know is there, hidden just beneath the surface; the other wants to bask in this, all feather soft and cotton candy sweet.

“Always,” you return, with a coquettish smile and fluttering lashes.

“Always,” he murmurs, tasting it for the first time. He sounds almost giddy when he repeats it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. You think it’ll come again, laughter rolling off your tongue as you stare into the eyes of the boy you love. Instead, he speaks in a voice full of gravel and grit, all traces of your sunshine boy suddenly swallowed whole by the darks of his pupils. “Fuck - I can’t wait to have you.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?” You don’t need to push him. You like to do it anyway. It feels right .

“You’re the worst.” What Jungkook means is you’re the best and I love you and I’m going to fuck you six ways into next week . What he means is this is the scariest thing he’s ever done but it’s all right because he has you. What he means is thank you - and how he shows it is through worship.

On the way to the bedroom, he crowds every inch of you, holding you so closely you wonder if he’s trying to carve himself into your bones. He’s firm and unrelenting, balancing you against his chest as he smothers every available inch of your shoulders in sweet, sloppy kisses. He revels in the way you cling to him like you’ve never needed anything else.

In his bed, he lays you out and strips you bare. He offers devotion with every pass of his fingers, every trail of his tongue. He wants you so badly it’s hard to focus on giving you everything you deserve, but he tries anyway. He sucks love into your neck and over your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers until you’re panting and he’s aching for the same treatment.

On his knees, he prays at the altar of your body, taking his time to map the constellations on your skin, the memories written into each scar and dot. His tongue follows the raised flesh that sits across your hip - an unfortunate mishap from a schoolyard dare. You whine and he nearly cries, soothing over the sensitive spot with hands and lips and tenderness. He lays kisses on each freckle, each irregular mark. From your navel to your knee and everywhere in between, he caresses and comforts, turning those blemishes into stars.

He also teases - subtly, quietly, with wandering hands and focused breaths. You don’t realise it until it’s too late, your insides molten, your pulse a thunderclap in your ears.

“Jungkook.” It sounds more like begging than anything. Exactly what he wants.

“What’s up, princess?” Spoken so casually, as if he isn’t between your legs, long fingers tracing through the slick that coats your thighs. He gazes up from behind too long strands, all wide-eyed and terribly sweet - until he pops a digit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the taste of you. “Something wrong?”

“Stop teasing.” You hear yourself whine but it doesn’t quite sound like you, higher pitched and needier than you’ve ever been.

“I thought you were going to be good for me,” he returns with a tut and a push of that same finger deep into your cunt. He flexes it experimentally, beaming up at you when you clench around the intrusion that’s too much and not even close to being enough all at once. “You’re so wet, baby. I just slide right in.”

As if to drive his point home, he drives another finger in, scissoring them languidly to stretch you open. It’s such a pretty sight, messy and inviting. He can’t resist a taste, dragging the flat of his tongue over and around the fingers that continue to fuck into you at a faster pace.

“ Jungkook! ” You’re shrieking, bucking against the onslaught of sensations. A shapely arm immediately cages you against the bed, palm splayed across your hips.

“Stay still.” It’s a growl, teeth bared against the sensitive pearl between your legs. Words are punctuated with the softest pressure - a silent threat that goes no further. You wonder what he’ll do if he has to repeat himself. “Good girls listen, remember?”

You’re fumbling across his shoulders, nails digging crescents everywhere you can reach. You need him so badly it hurts . “Please.”

“Please what?” That patented, stupid smirk cradles his mouth, tongue peeking out as he stares at you expectantly. “If you’re going to be so demanding, at least use your words.” He watches the way your eyes roll back into your head when he slots another finger in with the others and curls them against that particular spot that has you seeing stars. The bastard has the audacity to coo at you. “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t speak?”

You’re near wailing, gasping and whining around words that sound like his name. Angry red lines sprout across his shoulders, his arms - demands carved into flesh.

He makes a sound, wistful and resigned. You think - try to think, beyond the pleasure that’s building steadily in the pit of your stomach - that he’s finally going to give you what you need. You’re almost crying for it, moisture crowding your lashes and threatening to spill over.

Then he withdraws, all at once.

You could scream. In fact, you do, red in the face and chest heaving. “I hate you!”

“No.” He’s upon you in an instant, insistent and terribly smug. There’s a playground in his smile, childish laughter spilling into the spaces between you. “You actually love me.” He noses at your neck, the heat of his palm searing against your side as he sighs almost dreamily. “Say it again.”

You answer him with something more than love - frustration and annoyance and so much devotion you can’t keep it out no matter how hard you try. “No.”

It’s a challenge more than anything. He knows it; you know it.

He accepts it readily, just as you expect him to.

“Say it.” Enamel presses steady, heavy, into the sensitive spot right beneath your ear. He mouths over the skin that blows out red and inviting beneath his ministrations, the firm press of his fingers gripping you without hesitation. You can feel the entire weight of him against you, length nestled comfortably against your core. He repeats himself as he rocks against you, dragging the swollen, leaking head of his cock through your folds with an agonising slowness that has you clenching around nothing. “Come on, baby.”

You’re keening, adjusting your hips and grinding against him. You still won’t say it, hoping to find a rhythm in the quiet that’s punctuated by your laboured breaths and his occasional laughter.

“Just say it and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything. Promise, sweetheart.”

Framed against the late morning sun, hair spilling across his forehead in curls of india ink, he’s so handsome your heart leaps into your throat. “I love you.” It’s a wet confession, carried by a wave of emotion you don’t expect.

“I love you,” he echoes, sinking into you so gradually you feel like you’re caught in slow motion, all of your focus balanced on the tip of a needle.

It’s never been like this before. Each inch is a delicious stretch, filling you and claiming you. The drag is incredible, your walls fluttering around the intrusion and aching for more. You bite back a sob, digging into the wide expanse of his back with your nails as your mouth seeks purchase anywhere it can - over his jaw, up his neck, across his shoulders. He soothes you as he presses deeper, reassurances whispered against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let me make you feel good.” When he bottoms out, you demand more - somehow, somehow - locking your ankles against the small of his waist. He doesn’t miss the way you clench, so tight around him it almost hurts , when he says those three words once again. “I love you.”

His lips find yours and he brushes them over and over - a salve for the burn he ignites beneath your skin. It doesn’t matter that he’s both the calm and the chaos. Jungkook’s always been everything to you.

The rhythm he sets is unhurried and perfect. Each snap of his hips has his cock dragging against your walls, filling and stretching you so well; everywhere his skin brushes yours, you’re alive. There are a million nerve endings going haywire beneath your skin, flashing bright as holiday lights.

That’s what it’s like - Christmas morning . Picture perfect and filled with wonder.

He’s completely smitten when he draws back just enough to see the entirety of you - your fucked-out expression, the rose-wreath he’s wrought around your neck, the sweat that beads between your tits and tempts him to duck his head. “I love you.” It’s almost hypnotising - watching you take him, pussy dripping and needy around his cock.

“I love you,” you parrot back - or try to. It’s not very coherent, driven to a point of nonsense when his hips begin to stutter and he makes up for the loss of rhythm by slipping his fingers over your clit in circle eights.

You’re at your breaking point. He knows - can read you like the back of his hand - and holds you there, back bowing to kiss you breathless, pressure unrelenting against the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, princess. Right there.”

The coil snaps at the third pass and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks, his name spilling off your tongue in tandem with the erratic thudding of your heart. White spots your vision, entire body electrified as you crash headlong into an abyss of bliss. You hear him join you with a hoarse whine, a mix of your cum slipping out of you as he rides out his own high with shallow thrusts, mouth open and panting against your shoulder.

The comedown is hazy, dusted in exhaustion and a thin sheen of sweat. When he slips from you, he doesn’t go far, tugging you comfortably against his side like you’re not both a little gross. It’s not the first time you’ve fucked but it feels different.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Bunny.”

You realise - it feels exactly like that. Making love.

614 notes · View notes

lcnelyinthesky · 4 years

Text

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed.

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out.

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight.

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested.

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything.

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi.

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises.

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least.

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light.

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe.

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed.

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge.

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling.

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height.

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet.

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain.

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief.

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him.

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were.

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know.

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration.

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Heaven is in Your Arms

(Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: Steve Rogers has a secret.

Warnings: beat up Steve, slight nudity (but like not really), nothing “bad” really happens here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Steve Rogers had a secret.

No one noticed at first. He kept it well hidden. But everyone noticed the changes in the captain.

On days when he didn’t have any responsibilities – just a day to himself – he would’ve normally been spotted in the compound’s gym or in his quarters, tidying it up. He’d await the next mission, preparing his body and his mind for the next fight. Then it changed. On days when he’d have no Captain America duties, he was out the compound and he’d always return with a smile.

“I went and took a jog,” he’d say.

“For the whole day?” Sam would ask. Steve just nod.

“Missed you in training, cap,” Natasha teased once. “Where were you?”

“Drawing in the park,” Steve shrugged. She’d scoff. What a grandpa.

It didn’t stop there.

Everyone assumed Steve’s life revolved around the compound – around the Avengers. It sure seemed like it. He put blood, sweat, and tears into training recruits. His body bruised, scratched, bloodied after missions. He never ventured out. His friends started and ended with the team. He was the Avenger – the first one at that.

So, imagine everyone’s surprise when Steve Rogers announced, “I’m moving out.” Though he was – technically – one of the oldest men in the room, aside from Bucky, everyone reacted he was a defiant teenager. “I found a place in Brooklyn.”

“But isn’t this your life?” Tony asked him, gesturing to the team, the compound. Steve bit his tongue but never answered.

“This about a girl?” Bucky frowned. Everyone stayed silent. If there was a girl involved, they would’ve wanted to meet her. They would’ve wanted to ensure that whoever is taking Captain America away from them was worth it.

“No, Buck,” Steve’s reply was short, sweet. “I just… I just want a life outside of all this.”

And everyone left it at that. Who were they to keep the man who threw his whole life into the ice bound to the compound? “Let him live,” Sam defended.

(“Ten bucks there’s a girl,” Bucky whispered to him after the team watched Steve drive away on his motorcycle).

The changes continued.

During meetings, there was clearly something on Steve’s mind. He was there, but he wasn’t there. The perfect soldier’s leg bounced anxiously when he used to sit perfectly still. He used to be able to recall nearly every details from meeting – even the way Tony would switch pointers from one hand to the other. Now, he’d have his head cradled in his hand as he feigned interest as Tony nagged. He’d pay attention, of course (he wasn’t being rude), but he wasn’t actively listening. He knew the important details.

Not to mention that damned cellphone. Steve used to have that thing silenced and stashed away in a pocket especially during meetings with the team. Suddenly, Steve had the phone faced down on the table. It buzzed. He ignored it (truthfully, he didn’t realize it buzzed). It buzzed again a minute later. Then again a second after. Steve pulled his phone under the table and crack a small smile. He’d type a response and put the phone back, face down.

He also used to be the last one to leave. Now, as soon as the meeting reaches its end, Steve would shoot right up and go.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” Tony called out once. “Hot date?”

“Sure,” Steve couldn’t help but smirk and gave the door frame a pat. “Sure.”

But the small changes in the super soldier’s behavior didn’t affect his command on the field. He was still as deadly, fearsome, and intimidating. He was still Captain America.

Although he may be enhanced – thanks to the serum that ran through his veins – he still got hurt. He’d still take a beating sometimes. Maybe a jab too hard in the ribs that left a few broken. Or a deep cut that needed stitching. He bruised, he bled. He was still human after all.

-=+=-

The sun had already set by the time the quinjet landed. Everyone had various injuries, and all were eager to get a good night’s rest after this long, hard mission. It had taken longer than expected. “Five days, doll. I’ll be back in five days,” Steve’s promise was fresh on his brain as everyone began to file out of the jet.

It had not been five days. It had been a week and a half. And Steve was just as eager to go home.

“Hey, Steve, your room is still empty. Bed still there. Call it a night,” Sam suggested, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure Brooklyn can wait.”

“No,” Steve forced a smile, his face bruised but there were still a few bloody cuts. “It can’t.”

The ride to his place in Brooklyn felt longer than it used to. Perhaps, he was just tired. The moon was hidden behind the clouds as he finally arrived and parked in the parking garage of the apartment complex. His gear had been left behind at the compound.

He made it a point to leave Captain America in the Compound and come home as just Steve.

He quietly walked up the steps of the apartment complex, trying not to make much noise. Although the neighbors were very kind, he knew that interfering with others’ sleep wouldn’t end well for him. As he reached his apartment door, he fumbled with the keys a bit. His hands were tired and ached.

“Oh, you’re home,” his neighbor, an elderly woman named Margaret – of all things – smiled. With her aging eyesight, she didn’t see the state he was in.

Steve smiled at her. “You should be asleep ma’am.”

Margaret didn’t respond. She just cracked a smile. She always liked Steve’s manners. She was watering the plant that she kept by her door. “Your girl’s been worried sick, you know. Kept going on about how you told her five days. Not even a phone call? You should have one hell of an apology ready.”

“Trust me, I do,” Steve chuckled lightly. “You have a goodnight.”

“You, too, Steve,” Margaret responded.

Steve managed to fumble the right key into the lock and twisted. The apartment was dark but just as clean as the day he left. The knickknacks were reorganized. The shelves were dusted. He smiled to himself. Of course, she’d keep herself busy with cleaning.

He quietly took a shower and rubbed off all the grime that collected in his skin in the past week. The water that drained beneath him was tinted red as he cleaned his cuts. He dried himself and walked into the bedroom.

And there you were.

You were huddled on your side of the bed. There was an indentation in the sheets where he would’ve been. You were wearing a modern baby doll nightie. He remembered that specific negligée for you’d take photos in them and send it to him when he was in meetings. Come home soon, the message teased. The black mesh draped over the curve of your torso. You were situated in a way that made your bum stand out in those matching black panties.

You were fast asleep with the covers only covering your feet. You were shivering. He assumed that you may have kicked the covers off like you often did. Steve quickly got dressed and got into bed.

You woke up as you felt the dip in the mattress. With sleepy eyes, your head shot up and blinked in surprise. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” his familiar voice cooed. “Just me.”

You let out a shaky sigh. You had been angry that it had been past the five days that he promised. But that anger quickly turned into concern. Why hadn’t he called? Not even a text? Was he okay? The apartment felt so lonely without him. And you feared the day he doesn’t come back from a mission. Were you to find out like everyone else? (Were you to find out through the news that your boyfriend was dead?) And now that worry – that fear – all washed away into a sense of relief.

He was right next to you and even in the darkness of the night, you saw the concern in his blue eyes. You relaxed into his touch, putting your head back on the pillow. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you to him. He let out a sigh. He missed you. So, so much.

You both laid there in silence as he spooned your backside. His grip on your body was tight as if he was afraid that you’d slip through his grasp. You shuffled your body, making yourself face towards him.

You frowned then got up. Something was off. You leaned over him to the nightstand and turned on the lamp. You let out a gasp when you saw his face. He had a swollen eye and a bruised lip with crusted blood forming at the side. He had a bruise on his temple – the discoloration was an angry purple.

Tears began to form in your eyes as you pulled up his shirt to find his body in an identical state. “Darling,” Steve sighed, pulling you towards him as you cried. You shuddered as the tears rolled down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I’ll heal. Please stop crying.”

“You’re not hurting?” You asked him. “Oh, my god, you need ice?” Steve chuckled, shaking his head no.

“I’m just tired,” Steve smiled. “Let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

You leaned over and gave him a soft peck, careful not to press too hard on his injuries. “I’m glad you’re home,” you whispered.

“Me, too, doll.”

He reached over and turned off the lamp. The two of you settled into bed once again. He pulled the covers over your bodies. The bed had felt so big without him to take up the other half. Steve reached down and grabbed the back of your thigh and hooked it over his waist. Your arm instinctively wrapped around his broad chest.

Steve let out another sigh as he finally fell asleep.

Steve Rogers had always fought to make the world a better place. He fought the battles, won the wars, so that everyone could have somewhere safe to be. And he finally found his safe place.

This was heaven for Steve Rogers. The home that you built together. The life that you were building. You are heaven for Steve Rogers.

(And yes, in truth… Sam owed Bucky ten bucks. Not that he knew right now.)

Read Part 2 (Secret’s Out) but you don’t really need to.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #steve rogers fic #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader

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kuroos-moon · 4 years

Text

S/o Loves Their Best Friend

pairing: Kenma x reader, Iwaizumi x reader

scenario: they realize how you’ve fallen for their best friend

warning/s: angst, mentions of sex (Iwaizumi)

wc: 1.9 k

Kenma

He may love games, but your relationship to him is anything but. You’ve had deep and honest conversations and talks about life— about your barest and truest selves— he knows that there’s no one out there who understood him and knew him as much as you did.

The same goes for you too, he knew you like the back of his hand, like the skill combination of his favorite character and the buttons he had to press on his console without even glancing down. He knows how your eyebrows would form a slight crease when you’re confused, how you would always hum your favorite song when you were happy, but most importantly, he knows how you are when you’re in love.

“Oy, Kuroo-san you’re disgusting get away,” he hears you laugh as you bicker with his best friend, not bothering to look up from his game to know that your eyes were probably alight and looking at him like he was your life’s joy.

It had been months since you’ve met Kuroo, he never missed how your interest peaked at the mention of his name and how you always wanted to come see them practice only to exchange banters with the said captain.

Kenma was never the type to lie to himself, so the moment he realized how you must feel about Kuroo, he had simply been waiting for you to realize it yourself too, holding on to what he knew was a lost cause— your relationship; your love.

“Ken, c’mon, let’s walk home together,” you call out to him, and just like a banished child who was told he was welcomed back home, he looks up at you, eyes filled with hope— only to be replaced by a bitter and cold helplessness as he saw you were at the gym’s doorway beside him.

How long were you going to drag this on? he thought, as he walks off ahead of the both of you, heart heavy in his chest.

“Goodbye asshole,” you stick your tongue out at Kuroo as he pats both your heads before he enters his house with a grin. Hooking an arm around Kenma’s as he continued to play, the both of you quietly continue down the road. For some reason you can’t quite point out, you were feeling so content and happy, as if something extremely good happened to you today, like you could take on whatever life throws at you. Was it because you were with Kenma, the love of your life?

“Y/n,” he says in a low voice, making you look at him in question. “For how much longer are you gonna keep me?” He asks you, his face blank of any emotion in contrast to what he was really feeling deep inside. “Wh-what?” You ask in pure shock, unable to register such a serious question he put out in the open so bluntly.

He sighs, finally looking at your eyes as the both of you come to a halt. “Are you deceiving yourself or do you really not know it yet?” He asks, forcing himself to swallow down all the harsh but truthful words that wanted to slip out. “What are you saying Kenma?” You ask him, ah, there it is, he thought, the slight crease between your brows— you’re confused.

“If I’m only stopping you from being free of who to love y/n, by all means, you could simply end it and get rid of me,” he nonchalantly tells you and he can’t help but feel slightly annoyed because you still looked so confused, why were you so oblivious about your own feelings? Why does he have to be the one to make you realize it when you’ve been hurting him enough?

“Fine,” he sighs, shoulders slumping slightly as if he was so tired— because he was— “Quick question, Kuroo or me?” He deadpans and you meet his emotionless look with wide eyes. “Kenma of course it’s you! What do you even-”

“This is tiring,” he cuts you off, another sigh escaping his slightly parted lips as he looks up at the sky in thought, trying to calm himself and keep his tears at bay. So this is what it had come to? He never said anything nor has he acted any different, patiently waiting for you to find yourself back to him.

But you didn’t, there’s nothing but distance between you two, a distance you made grow, all the while he patiently stood still, blindly trusting you to choose him; to stay. Or was it somehow his fault too? Should he have chased you as you got farther away? Should he have changed into someone more like Kuroo— would you have loved him again then?

“Kenma, look at me,” you say in irritation, not having a single clue as to why he was acting that way. Cupping his cheek in your hand, you guide his face to look down at you, but all you saw was a face you wish you’d never seen, a look you wished Kenma would never have to wear.

“Kenma,” you whisper, the sound of your voice breaking his heart even more. The tears that glossed his golden cat eyes finally rolled down his cheek, wet against your skin as you don’t take away your gentle hold. He offers you a small smile, “If you’re not ditching me then I will, for your own good that is,” he says in defeat, taking your hand off him as he looks sideways and away from you.

“Y/n, let’s break up,” he says, yet again, in a calm voice devoid of emotion as he turns and walks away from you; and you stare at his back, unable to grasp how your separation was decided in an instant but would be permanent for eternity. You knew for certain that those words, accompanied by the beautiful smile he only showed you, and the tears you’ve only seen once before when you had a huge fight— it was him telling you that he had finally let go.

Iwaizumi

“Baka,” he curses at you lightheartedly, a subtle curve at the side of his lips as he looks down at you— his pillar and his favorite dimwit. “But Iwaaa! it was cute! You moaned-” You were cut off by his palm pressing against your mouth, and you can’t help but laugh at his silly and embarrassed reaction.

“Shut up or I’ll make you regret it tonight,” he scowls, taking his hand off when you lick his palm. “Get to class and try to make do with that brain of yours,” he says with half a smile, kissing your forehead momentarily before pulling away.

You guys were happy, you’ve been dating for quite a while and had just recently moved in together in his new apartment. Never had he thought that he would meet his greatest love in college, but much more than that, your personalities were polar opposites so he never expected for you to be his; to have you cradled in his arms every night as you sleep or to have you beneath him as you moaned his name in pleasure, keeping you up ‘til sunrise.

He knows how much he loves you, he was fully aware that it was simply beyond measure— there was just nothing to compare it to. On his way to your usual spot to the cafe across your school, he can’t help but look forward to seeing you again as if he didn’t just drop you by your classroom this morning.

Upon his enter, “Iwa-san, y/n’s not dating him is she?” Asks a girl he recognized was from his class. He bites back a scowl, did she just ask him if his girlfriend was dating someone else? Following her gaze, he looks to the booth you always occupied and his heart deflates, he suddenly grows anxious.

“Iwa-san?” The girl asks again, wondering why Iwaizumi was frozen from where he stood. Clearing his throat, he continues to make his way over to you. “Oh, y/n’s my girlfriend if it wasn’t obvious,” he mutters at the girl.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa brightly greets his best friend, sipping down on his lemonade. Lemonade, he had just recalled that you both had the same favorite drink, “Surprise!” Toru dramatically says, arms wide open making you chuckle. Not again, he thought. There’s that look in your eyes, the loving look that only his best friend could draw out from you, the look he wished to see when you were staring back at him.

“Babe, come sit down,” you smile up at him. The three of you catch up, his mood getting more and more brought down as you smile when he smiles, laughs when he laughs, and when you unconsciously brought your hand down to hold Toru’s when he told you about his struggles, he knew that the way you felt about Toru before, it was still there now; unchanging.

You guys met each other before he went to Brazil, would he really have been your boyfriend if Oikawa stayed in Japan? “Toru, let’s see each other tomorrow again, yeah?” you pout at him after pulling away from your hug. “Missing me already, y/n-chan?” He teases, ruffling your hair a bit. “Iwa-chan take good care of our y/n okay?” Oikawa bids with a smile, patting his best friend’s shoulder before walking out the cafe. Our y/n?

The whole time, his eyes don’t leave you, there’s that fucking look again, he thought, as you stare at Toru’s back while he walks away. You don’t even notice his down mood as you both make it back to your apartment. You were seated on your bed, looking at your phone with a small smile and he can’t help but just stand there as he watches you type away at your phone, oblivious to the fact that his insecurities once again resurfaced.

“Iwa-” he cuts you off with a hungry kiss, tossing your phone away as he gently pushes you down from your sitting position, hovering on top of you as his hands gripped your waist. “Ah, Iwa,” you let out a soft moan as you tilted your head to the side, allowing him to suck on your sensitive skin.

Your breaths were ragged and you were nearing your third orgasm for the night. “Iwa,” you moan his name, as he continues to pound inside of you, “I’m close.” Your nails dug themselves to his back, clawing at it as extreme bliss filled your head. “You love me?” He asks in a raspy voice, his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with his as he continues to thrust in and out of you without slowing down.

When you don’t answer, he angles his hips and enters more aggressively inside of you as you whimper beneath him. “Y-yes, ah, yes I love you so much Iwa, so much,” you manage to say, earning a groan from him as your nails painfully dug deeper on his back.

You both cum together, your heavy pants filling the air as he pulled out of you. “I love you,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead before he pulls away and looks at your face. “I love you too Iwa,” you respond, looking back at him as you caress his cheek with your thumb.

His heart felt heavy; of course he will never doubt your love for him, but when you were made to choose, would he still be the one? The one to hear your steady breaths as you sleep, the name you call out when you moan, the person you’d share your life with— was he all that?

If Oikawa could stay by your side, if he was available for you, he just knows that it would be him with you instead.

You run your fingers through his hair as he settles his face at the crook of your neck, one thought running through his mind: could you ever look at him the way you looked at his best friend?

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skarsgard-daydreams · 4 years

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Fell in Love with a Girl

Description: Axel helps his girl overcome her biggest fear, gaining a new favorite canvas.

Warnings: Needles, body image issues, sexual content (you must be 18+ to ride this roller coaster), references to spanking

Note: This is technically a continuation of this imagine, but you can read it as a standalone and it will make sense. The title is a reference to the song by The White Stripes.

Usually the tattoo parlor buzzed with activity on afternoons like this, “Back in Black” pounding over the speakers as the artists rolled up their sleeves and leaned over their human canvases, executing the visions of their clients better than they could articulate them. But on this particular day, Axel had closed the shop early so he and his girl could have the place to themselves. He told her to pick something to listen to, knowing she was more of a Fleetwood Mac kind of girl than an AC/DC fan. She was tense as she took her seat in the chair, watching him arrange everything he would need on the cart beside him. She swallowed nervously, picking at the soft leather on the arm of the chair with her fingernails and trying not to think of the needle.

She had done everything he told her: she’d moisturized her skin and kept herself hydrated and had forced herself to eat a substantial lunch even though her stomach had been sick with nerves for days. “I don’t want you to pass out in my chair,” Axel had warned. It was the last thing she wanted to happen. She had seen how pale he was after she fainted trying to get her flu shot at Walgreens that one time, and it would be so much worse if it happened here, in a situation where he would surely blame himself.

Even though she was terrified, she kept thinking how much she needed this—for him to use her as a canvas the same way he did those other girls who came into the shop, already tatted up and each of them so bold and excited for him to get to work. Only this time it would be his lover, and every time either one of them looked at the black lines on her skin, they would be reminded that she was his girl—his only girl—and she had trusted him with her biggest fear.

“I don’t want you to do this just because you know I think it’s hot,” Axel said the morning after she first brought up the idea of her getting a tattoo. He was standing in front of the fridge wearing a grey tank and his boxer shorts, drinking orange juice out of the carton.

“I’m not.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and pushed it into his hands. He blinked at the glass as though he had never understood its purpose, then poured some juice into it.

“Then what made you change your mind?”

She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Each of his tattoos told a story about who he was, even the crudest ones. She loved the way they turned his body into something more than flesh—into something on which to hang those stories, like paintings in a gallery. She loved the way they distinguished his body from every other man, how she could follow the map of signifiers with her tongue and find the various little spots that made him moan.

The girl in the locker room at the gym had caught her eye immediately. She had watched her towel off and rifle through her backpack, completely unhurried and unashamed of her own nakedness, a wild spray of flowers blossoming all along the curve of her hip and trailing over her lean thigh. She wasn’t sure if she was jealous of the girl or infatuated with her. On her way home, she had imagined Axel working on a tattoo like that, sitting for hours as he seared his artwork into the girl’s skin, listening to her chatter about this piece she wanted to get under the curve of her breast, or that piece she had on the back of her neck. As the endorphins from her workout wore out, she felt so frustrated that her own phobia kept her from sharing that kind of moment with Axel.

She wanted to look in the mirror and admire her lover’s artwork stretched across a part of her body that had always made her feel self-conscious. She would never be as lithe as the girl at the gym. She had more curves than she liked—plenty of soft parts that Axel loved to grasp and squeeze but which never matched the ideal body she pictured in her mind. She had started to think that a tattoo would help her look at her body the way her lover did, as something to be admired.

Axel stared at her quietly as he leaned back against the fridge, holding the glass of orange juice like it was two fingers of whisky. She didn’t know how to answer his question.

“It’s as much for me as it is for you,” she finally said. “I promise.”

But now she sat in that chair feeling like she was waiting at the office of a very strange dentist, imagining every needle that had ever pricked her skin and listening to her heart pounding in her ears over the sound of Stevie Nicks’ vocals. Axel’s hand closed over her own.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, but reassuring. “I got you, okay?”

She looked at him and tried to put on a brave face, swallowing hard. “Okay,” she said.

Axel studied her for a long moment and leaned over, cupping her chin in his hand as he kissed her. “We don’t have to do this,” he murmured against her lips. Her heart beat even faster.

“I want to.”

Even though her voice sounded small, Axel could tell she was sincere. He nodded and straightened up. “I gotta grab a few more things,” he said, then gently tugged on one of the belt loops of her jeans. “These are gonna have to come off.”

Her throat felt dry even though she had been drinking nothing but water for two days. She watched Axel disappear into the back of the tattoo parlor. It was the simplest, most obvious request, but it made her feel like a teenage girl about to lose her virginity to her boyfriend. She kicked off her sneakers and shimmied out of her jeans. It felt so wrong, sitting there in the shop wearing nothing but a t-shirt and her cotton panties covered in pastel polka dots. By the time Axel returned, her cheeks were flushed pink even though the rest of her face was pale and she looked as though she was going to be sick.

Axel sat down on a stool and tried to keep his own misgivings from showing on his face. He’d had plenty of squeamish clients before, but they were just clients. Usually they brought someone else along to hold their hand and talk them through the process while he focused on getting the tattoo done, preferably quickly, if they could tolerate it. This time it would be his girl sitting there, scared shitless, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to comfort her and work at the same time. He needed to give her something else to focus on.

“You okay, kitten?” he asked.

She nodded a little, chewing on her lower lip. Axel wanted to say to hell with the whole thing and capture that lip between his own teeth instead, but he didn’t let on.

“Let me show you what it’s gonna look like,” he said. They had talked about the design for weeks, compiling a list of her favorite kinds of flowers and debating on what colors she might like if she ever decided to have the tattoo filled in later. He showed her the design, holding it over her soft skin and pointing out the one dahlia blossom she had agreed to start with on the part of her thigh that would be the least painful. She smoothed her hand over the design and looked at Axel.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her gaze darting toward the tattoo gun on the cart beside the chair.

Axel had an idea. He smoothed his big hands over her thighs and gave her hips a squeeze, enjoying the give of her curves under his palms and the way her body became so responsive to his touch. He pushed her panties out of the way and leaned down, kissing her along her pelvis and stopping just above her center.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and tell me if you need a break, right?” he asked, pulling her panties off completely and tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans.

For a moment, she couldn’t make a sound. She stared at him with wide eyes, nodding.

“Hm?” he asked as he nipped at her skin, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You’ll tell me to stop?” He wanted to make sure she understood, that she wouldn’t push herself too far in an effort to be brave for him.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to squeak out a response. “Yes, I will.”

Axel kissed her skin one more time, sending a shiver down her spine. “Good girl,” he murmured. He sat up and put on a pair of gloves, then started prepping the area on her thigh with alcohol.

It felt cold on her skin, but all she could think about was how the lower half of her body was completely naked, how the stubble on his face had tickled her skin as he kissed her. She had watched other girls get thigh tattoos. They usually pushed their jeans down just far enough for him to work, keeping themselves as covered up as possible—even the ones who looked at Axel as though they secretly hoped he would suddenly whip out his cock and tell them to get on their knees. She felt the leather seat below her bare ass and tried to concentrate on something other than her own arousal that had gathered between her legs when he had kissed her. She felt so exposed, sitting like that in the tattoo shop, where there would usually be half a dozen people sitting around. It was only her and her lover now, but it still seemed so dirty.

“You’re the prettiest canvas I’ve ever seen,” Axel said as he traced the design onto her skin. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe the sweet things that came out of his normally filthy mouth. It made her heart flutter. He finished transferring the design and had her look it over for approval. Even though it was only a single flower, she couldn’t believe how beautiful it was—the way its delicate petals looked like they were opening, shining with dewdrops and framed by leaves.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered in admiration.

Axel winked at her. “That’s because it’s you,” he said. She thought she would melt into the chair right then as he turned to prep the tattoo machine. “Lay back and try to relax, sweet girl.”

She leaned back in the chair and did as he instructed, squeezing her eyes shut so she wasn’t tempted to glance over at what he was doing. If she saw the needle, she felt certain she would call the whole thing off. She thought instead of how she would trace her fingers over the design later, a tangible reminder that she belonged to him, that he loved her so tenderly. His smooth voice interrupted her reverie.

“Take a deep breath for me,” he said. “Here we go.”

She inhaled sharply and tried to relax as she felt the sting of the needle on her skin. It wasn’t as bad as she imagined, but her heart began to race and she forgot to exhale.

“That’s my girl,” Axel purred. “Keep breathing for me, okay?”

She exhaled then, and forced herself to take slow, steady breaths. The pain began to subside after a few minutes and was replaced by a strange numbness. Her skin still smarted, but it felt manageable, and as Axel continued to talk her through it, she began to relax. She thought about how he sometimes slapped her ass during sex—how she would yelp, but always pushed her ass into his hands afterward, wiggling her hips and hoping for more. Once he had given her such an intense spanking that her ass was red for days. She couldn’t sit at her desk at work without it smarting and reminding her of him, of how he could turn pain into pleasure. She felt her face growing hot as she thought about it now, a gentle throb of desire drawing her attention to the place where he kissed her.

“Talk to me, kitten,” Axel said, glancing up at her. Her brows were furrowed together and her eyes were shut tight as she took slow, ragged breaths.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled.

“I’ll be done before you know it.”

He finished the outline and began shading the design, speaking soft words of praise and encouragement as he did so. He wanted to get it over with quickly for her, but he also wanted to get it absolutely perfect. Though the design was small and relatively simple, he did some of his best work that day. Sometimes when he finished a tattoo, he felt it was nothing more than a picture. But this one was a work of art. He added a few final touches and looked up at her. She didn’t seem to realize he was finished.

“All done,” Axel said, setting his gear aside and taking off his gloves with a snap.

She opened her eyes, blinking as though coming out of a trance, not unlike those times when he had fucked her out of her senses. “Already?” she asked.

Axel held back a grin and nodded. “You did so good,” he said, pushing the cart aside. He splayed his hand over her stomach, caressing her there before slipping his fingers down between her legs, dipping them into her arousal. A soft gasp escaped her lips, as beautiful and sweet as she was. As much as he wanted to fuck her, he didn’t want to irritate the area he had just tattooed. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her something lovely to think about whenever she remembered her first time. He stroked her with his long fingers, watching her body arc in response to her touch.

“Relax, baby,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

That became their ritual from then on. Axel would close the tattoo shop early on a weekday afternoon and paint the canvas of his lover while she lay naked in that chair, content to let him do whatever he wanted. The blossoms spread out along her thigh and arched over her hips, coming to an elegant frame over her most delicate parts. They bloomed over her ass and flooded with color, deep shades of purple and pink that stood in perfect contrast to her flesh. When she’d had enough for the day, he’d cover the area with a bandage and make love to her. Those times were sacred, and he never felt closer to her than he did after she let him tattoo her skin, because no matter how many times they did it, she was always afraid. But she trusted him enough to let him do it anyway, and he loved her for it.

@stevesharrlngtons @skrsgardspam @loomiz @ladadada-da @jj-lynn21 @flowers-in-your-hayr @emmyrosee @walkxthexmoon @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @scuba-seamus @grandpa-sweaters @lihikainanea @gustafsnightangel

#axel #axel cluney #axel cluney fanfiction #tw: needles #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #I have never wanted a tattoo #until today #this boy can FUCK ME UP

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reading-hub · 4 years

Text

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI // 18+ only

Rave Party :: IZUKU MIDORIYA ●’◡’●

[ kinktober | day 2 ] ●’◡’●

🖊 synopsis: Midoriya is invited to a rave party. He usually never goes to college parties or events like this, unless it benefited his education. However, Kaminari said he owed him one, so here he was...

[⚠️The Following is Mature Content]

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

College is rough, Midoriya can attest to that.

A rave party was not something he was prepared for.

But Denki was insistent on inviting him, not taking no for an answer, saying Midoriya owned him one. And that if he goes to this one party, he won’t ever bombard him with crazy college events like this ever again.

Midoriya was hesitant but he agreed with this promphision in mind. All he had to do was go to this one party and not be bothered by Kaminari’s invitations for the whole year? Sounds simple.

Or so broccoli boy thought at first.

Midoriya didn’t know what the heck a rave party even was. Denki’s response to this was to just wear any bright neon.

Skip to nighttime and there he stood, middle of the open campus, wearing a bright green neon shirt that seemed a little too wide and loose for his liking, complimented with bright white gym shorts and his signature red sneakers.

His nerves got the better of him, parties like this just weren’t his scene.

Even his friends, Tenya and Ururaka, were confused as to why he was going. They could only tell him to not go for so long. Midoriya promised them that this was a one time thing and that he’ll be careful.

But, here he was. While he was at the entrance of the building, he was still contemplating on actually going, he could always turn back.

He wondered if he was at the right place. His mind wandering to Kaminari, who told him all about the party. Saying how crazy things get, something, girls coming up to you as they desperately grind onto your body with their own, something along those words.

Midoriya tensed up at the idea of girls pushing themselves onto men (or other women) into drying humping into one another. It just seemed so wrong, yet alluring ....

Boldly, Midoriya pushed the door wide open to quite the sight.

The whole room was booming with bass blasting music, pounding against his ear drums. A totally black light room, with deep purple lights swaying around the room, other bright sources coming from what everybody is wearing. Colorful bright neon skimpy clothing filling the room, almost in a rainbow like state.

He then took a look at himself, noticing his green t-shirt brightened ten times from normal.

It was so mesmerizing...

He’s finally made it inside. Guess he’ll try and find Kaminari, he supposed. He knew it wasn’t gonna be easy considering the pitch blackness of the whole building...

Maybe he’ll text him that he’s here and to meet him by the entrance...

Five minutes have past, and the zap boy hasn’t responded to his text. But he also wasn’t left on read either. Crap, he must have his phone on silent probably....

Midoriya shifted his feet, anxiously, leaning his back on the wall. Eyes looking around. He didn’t want to venture to find Kaminari himself, afraid he might get lost in a pitch black building he knew nothing about.

Way to party the night away. Who am I kidding, this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here...

“You lost?” A muffled voice perked up, putting his self-deprecating thoughts on a hold.

His eyes looked up from the floor, only land on...a girl, standing right in front of him!!!

“I-erm! Just got here.” His eyes could help but look at what you were wearing from head to toe.

A simple white plastic mask that hid the entirety of your face, neon booty shorts that showed the curve of your thighs and ass, a very thin white t-shirt that your green neon sports bra shine right through! You put on quite the outfit.

Although he was a little bummed out he couldn’t see your face, not to mention the blacklight and purple hue all around the party also made it impossible to know your skin tone. So you were pretty much anonymous to him.

But, he also couldn’t take his eyes off you regardless.

Suddenly, his eyes wandered around the setting. Almost everyone at the party was already dry humping and sucking each other’s faces. Midoriya couldn’t help but feel nervous at what he was witnessing right now! He felt like he was doing something wrong by even watching!

Oh gosh! He forgot you were still right in front of him!

“So, um...” it was impossible to break the ice with you, when there’s people literally wall fucking each other just mere inches away!

He wondered why you wanted to engage with him of all people at this rave. Although with a mask covering the majority of your face, he knew you were definitely a pretty college girl and could probably get with any guy at this party if you wanted to. Yet, you’re still here....openly flirting with someone like him.

Did you mistake him for someone else? Nope, you would’ve left by now by his voice and wild hair color. We’re you drunk? No, the words to you spoke were pretty coherent for him to understand (even through bass dropping music) and your body wasn’t flailing around every which way, not a single stumble.

Well, he did remember Kaminari telling him that girls at these parties tended to.....oh..

“A-are you trying to seduce me..?” He cringed at what he asked you! What guy his age says a sentence so weirdly like that without trying to sound ironic??

In response, you moved your hands to his shoulders, squeezing softly. Your lips moved near his ear to whisper,

“Maybe a little...” the lust in your voice was undeniable. Midoriya gulped, he couldn’t believe this was happening! A cute girl walking up to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, verbally confirming to him that:

Yes, she is very much attracted to him as well.

Yes, she does want to fuck him.

This felt like a wet dream come to life!!

Midoriya jolted up a little at the sudden feeling of you cupping the bulge that was sticking out his loose shorts. Midoriya couldn’t believe this was happening.

You were so bold at what you were doing, he honestly found it kind of hot the way you took control.

“Psst, can I try something weird?” You giggled in between your words. He gulped at your daring question, and was honestly curious as to where it would lead to.

“Uh, sure, let’s get weird....” Midoriya smiles sheepishly, his face feeling warmer by each second.

You hummed in delight, pushing your mask up, exposing only your mouth.

On your knees, you teased a little by pushing your fingers around the waistband of his shorts. His breath hitched a little, nerves crawled and filled his stomach, almost forgetting you two were still at a party! And you were about to give him a blowie right here in front of others??!

Well, to be fair, other guests seemed distracted by also having relations with each other. So, It wouldn’t be that weird if you two did the same.

Pushing down his shorts and boxers halfway to see your true prize right in front of your very eyes. His cock sprang to life in your hands, it was average in size but mostly thick. You couldn’t help but lick your lips a little.

Midoriya on the other hand, still couldn’t believe this was happening! He wanted to panic in excitement but he was also afraid of scaring you off by his nervous giddiness. Just play it cool... Midoriya told himself.

You started off by licking the tip, just to see his reaction. You smirked up as you felt his thighs shudder a little, and his eyes squinting tightly. You savored his reactions. You wondered if this was his first time getting a blowjob.

Midoriya praised you by combing your hair back through his fingers, it was hard for him speak words at the moment without sounding like a cute mewling mess.

Without hesitation, you tried to engulfed his whole member quickly before letting go as it hit the back of your throat. Midoriya jolted in surprise, cause he certainly didn’t expect that from you!

Midoriya threw his head back on the wall, as he felt the slick warmth of your mouth slobbering all over his cock. Anything you couldn’t put between your lips, your hands stroked the rest.

Your wet velvety tongue swirling around the tip made him feel like he was on cloud 9!!

Midoriya looked down at you with those half-litted eyes of his, as he lowly groaned by just your mouth!

He truly was at your mercy.

“A-ah! Hnng....yes—!” Midoriya tried containing any moans by biting his lips, but it was proving to get progressively more challenging to do so. Thank goodness for the loud ear drumming music, otherwise someone nearby would’ve heard what you two were doing by now....

You then took the chance by pushing your mouth further, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat, trying your best to breathe through your nose if you wanted to keep this going.

You then felt his hands tightening his grip on your hair, he must be getting close.

“S-sorry-! I...ah-!” Awe, he tried desperately apologizing but his pure bliss of ecstasy got in the way. You couldn’t help but smirk your lips to the side a little with a cock in your mouth. You knew you picked the right cutie to rock tonight.

Without warning, you swiftly pulled your mouth away from his shaft, hearing a small whine escape his lips in return. But you had other plans for him other than a simple blowjob. And besides, he seemed like a cutie who deserved it, honestly.

You took off your thin white shirt, revealing your neon green sports bra to him.

You innocently smiled a little as Midoriya looked down at you with pure lust in his eyes. Looks like you two are on the same page with what you two really want now.

You sat up your knees a little higher, so that your chest aligned with his bare cock on the same level.

You grabbed his shaft, slapping it a little onto your chest to signal what you had in mind for him, while also teasing him.

Midoriya stroked the back of your hair gently in response for you to continue.

Midoriya couldn’t believe the sight he saw. A cute girl on her knees, her cleavage on display as she had his cock rub up against her neck and chest. Not only did he experience a blowjob, but a titjob afterwards!?! This must be heaven he’s experiencing first hand!

You had his cock in between your tits. Your bra helping the shaft to secure it in place. You drooled spit downwards to your cleavage, using it as lube.

He thrusts his cock, slick with saliva and pre-cum, easily sliding up and down between your breasts as your hands squeezed your tits together in place.

You lowered your neck down to lick the tip. Midoriya hissed in delight, gripping his fingers at nothing but the flat wall behind him.

To feel the warmth of your mouth on his cock once more, plus the valley of your breasts engulfing his shaft felt like another experience entirely! The blowjob a few minutes prior was nothing compared to this.

Midoriya felt like he might break from you continuously licking off his never-ending pre cum that was just oozing out of him.

He then laid his hand onto your shoulders, tightening his grip. You took notice and without any hesitation, you engulfed as much as you could of him in your mouth.

“Ha—HNg~!”

Soon his white fluid coated the inside of your mouth, you tried to swollow as much as you could without leaving a mess.

You opened your mouth free, thinking you drank up all of his silky fluids, only for the last of it to squirt on your cheek and chest.

“O-oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean—“ You heard him apologize profusely. Even when he just nutted on your chest, he still has the time to try and be a gentleman.

But you stopped his guilt by scooping the white remenats from her cheek and chest with your fingers, and licking away any sinful evidence, all while staring up at him.

Midoriya was at a lost of words as you stood up, face to face with the person who sucked all his white essence from him, like some kind of sexy witch.

He immediately pulled up his shorts, scared of people seeing his junk after what conspired between you two. While you put your thin shirt back on.

“That was...really g-great. U-um, thank you..!” He honestly never been in this type of situation. The whole after sex talk thing never came to his mind, but he would hate to seem disrespectful towards you after what you did for him.

Your response was a simple side smirk and a kiss on his cheek. But before Midoriya could say more, you swiftly ran off to the sea of people who were dancing and roughly grinding with each other.

Midoriya wanted to follow you behind, but you blended in easily from the crowd. And it also just didn’t seem right to him to just stalk you around the party, so he didn’t think it was worth making you uncomfortable.

But he was intrigued as to who exactly were you behind that plastic mask and luminous neon....

After a blowjob and titfuck from a cute mysterious party minx, Midoriya felt as though that was enough partying for him tonight.

Maybe he should just head back to the dorms and talk with Kaminari tomorrow morning....

He’s obviously not gonna tell charge boy his experience at the party in full detail, but maybe he can ask Kaminari about that girl he ‘bumped into’ last night...

♡´･ᴗ･`♡ [ T H E - E N D ] ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ • 🖤 divider •

#midoriya izuku x reader #bnha kinktober #college au #smut #izuku/reader #hubbywritings

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jamkookies · 4 years

Text

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐚. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤. ♡

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒅. 𝑬𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑱𝒐𝒋𝒐. 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆, 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒌𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆? 𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚.

Pairing: OC X Barista!Jungkook

Contains: humor, mutual pining, fluff, cuddles, vine references, hurt and comfort, sexual tension.

Warnings: swear words, angst, dark themes, anorexia, mentions of self-harm, starvation, binge eating.

Word count: 30k+ (don’t ask)

A/N: I spent almost a year working on this, during which time I went on and off from writing. It’s finally here and my excitement is through the roof. Special thanks to @keopitae for sharing her thoughts on the fic and for her continuous support. Eli out.

____________________________

"My name is Jojo and I suffer from an eating disorder."

The words echo across the small bathroom walls, crashing against the mirror I so passionately detested. Punching the mirror as hard as I can, blossoming cracks scatter in every direction. The pain in my right knuckle screams, blood already oozing out of the peeled skin.

Fucking cringe. What was all this for? Was there a camera up my ass for acting all dramatic and shit?

"Good job, Jojo, you just ruined another one." I sigh and let the running water wash the blood off my hand. This was the third time this month and honestly, I think I deserved a slap across the face for the amount of money I was spending on fucking mirrors.

Heh.

That made it sound like mirror prostitution.

I grab a bandage from the stack I kept on the drawers and wrap it around my injury. Talking to your reflection first thing in the morning wasn't exactly the best way to start off the day, but it had been a mere attempt at self-therapy. Well, since I can't go to a real one, anyway. Too bad it didn't work.

I sigh one more time for good measure and pull a hoodie over my head.

Ah yes, a hoodie. The ultimate piece of clothing.

Feeling cold? Wear a hoodie. Your bra is cutting your blood circulation and you can't keep it on anymore? Wear a hoodie. You feel self-conscious of your body and try to hide every curve and shape? Hoodie is your best friend.

I put on a pair of sweats to complete the look because let's be real; everyone loves a baggy outfit. Not even sparing a glance at the mirror anymore, I unplug the charger from my phone's ass and sit down for a second to scroll through some memes.

Yup.

That's exactly what a person does after losing their job.But come on, I mean who fires someone just because they went to take a piss? Yes, it took fifteen minutes and yes, I was in the middle of working, but my dude, I drink three bottles of water a day. I need to let it out somewhere.

I take a deep breath as if to clear the disarrayed thoughts in my head. As much as I tried to make it sound funny, it wouldn't work because, at the end of the month, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Living on your own had its pros and cons and up till now, if I was completely honest, I had only seen the bad side of it.

Supporting my hands on the sofa, I try to stand on my feet but almost flop back down. Every time I get up, black spots dance across my vision. I can even see whole galaxies and not in the pretty sense of the word. One time I think I witnessed the glory of the Milky Way itself.

The pills that are strewn across the floor remind me of the impulsive decision I'd decided to make last night so I collect them one by one and put them back in the bottle.

Maybe some other time, I think to myself. Another day.

I'm perfectly fine, after all. I did lose my job yesterday and now I'm hanging on a thread for dear life but it's fine. I can make this work. A small green apple on the counter is the only promise of a so-called decent breakfast.

"Well hello there, little guy," I say before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh of the innocent fruit.The apple doesn't respond.I take my phone out of my pocket and tap on the Notes app.

52 calories are way too fucking much for an apple, I think to myself as I aggressively type the number down.This was about the only positive side of this disease. I was more educated on the nutritional values of food than a real dietitian.

This was how it all had started in the first place — from wanting to make healthier choices to cutting on particular groups of food. Just a slight change. Nothing too alarming. But then, I had to know what I was eating, right? So I start counting.

And that's how it all went to shit.

After I finish eating the apple and throw its core into the almost empty trash can, I wash it down with a tall glass of water. At last, my animalistic hunger was sedated and I could finally move on with my life. Indeed.

I grab my keys and shut the door behind me, wanting to go out for a while, maybe clear my head a little bit. It's not like I had to feed my kids or anything. There was nothing holding me back. So, I exit the apartment building, my keys clinking in my right pocket, and I hop on my beloved bike, parked right on the corner of the street. Did I have any idea where I was going? No. Was that going to stop me from strolling around like I didn't have a pile of shit waiting to be dealt with? Hell no.

I start pedaling like crazy from the moment I put some distance between my apartment and the main street. Maybe it was because I needed to let off some steam, maybe the amount of calories I would burn excited me. Either way, that doesn't justify the high pitched scream coming from a girl that I almost run over.

I skid to a stop, the hands on the brakes stopping me from a fatal mistake. The girl's face has gone pale and one of her hands is clutching at her chest, terrified.I notice the way her flawless make-up matches her porcelain foundation, the fitted jeans hugging her slim legs like a second skin, and I feel sick.Sick for the fact that I'd almost killed this girl and all I could think about was how skinnier than me she actually was.

"Watch where you're going, fatass!"

Scratch that.

The Regina George flashback turns it all around.This bitch was going down.

I throw the bike aside in the middle of heavy traffic and shoot daggers from my eyes at her ridiculously perfect form. Any shred of remorse I'd felt up till now dissipates like a wisp of smoke on the wind."The fuck did you just say?"

She flinches from the humorless tone of my voice and I can see from the way her eyes widen that she's starting to regret her poor choice of words.

"I–"

Before I can blink, she's out of my sight, scurrying away like a frightened little mouse and I can't help but huff an incredulous laugh right there in the middle of the street. A car honks loudly behind my back and I don't hesitate to flip the guy off, the hint of a smile still lingering on my lips.

I wasn't taking any shits from people today.

So I hop on the bike once more and round a corner in search of a place to cool down a little bit. My eyes roam over the long line of stores and shops decorating both sides of the road in a flourished aesthetic and pause on the frame of a particular coffee shop, the strong flavorful smell inviting to my senses. I don't have to think twice before leaving my bike on the sidewalk and entering the shop with curious steps, scanning the interiors in a quick once-over. I sit by the window since it faces the street and make myself comfortable enough to attract a few pair of judging eyes.

A woman seated on a table close-by looks at me disapprovingly, staring at my clothes for a little longer than needed. She was probably wondering why was a tomboy wannabe man-spreading with an arm thrown across the chair like she owned the place.

Look, ma'am. It's the twenty-first century. No one gives a shit about girl mannerisms anymore.

"Didn't anyone tell you staring is rude?" I say, not bothering to make myself look somewhat presentable. She looks appalled by the bluntness of my words, probably not used to being called out so straight-forwardly but it seemed to have worked as she just turns her head on the other side, pretending to not have heard anything.

That's what I thought.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and scroll down mindlessly. A distraction more than anything. But I don't even get the luxury of having a moment's peace when a pair of black stomper shoes slow down to a stop down my line of vision. I raise my eyes deliberately, following the two long legs protruding from them that connect with a bulky chest till I finally reach the top.

A boy.

No, a man.

Well, a mix of both.

His well-built figure screams "I've never skipped a day at the gym", the veiny muscles tight against the black shirt he's wearing. A swirling black tattoo makes an appearance on the side of his neck, disappearing inside the collar of his shirt, peeking again at his biceps and then snaking its way down his arm. There are multiple piercings on both of his ears, the silvery dangling pieces curtained by a mass of black messy hair reaching past his cheekbones and falling in front of his eyes carelessly.

Those eyes...

His whole physique resembled that of a fully grown man but his eyes were the ones who gave him away. Big and round and boyish.

I wasn't sure why I had spent more than a minute ogling at a stranger coming up to my table. Maybe it was the dark, mysterious aura radiating off of him or the way he was looking at me expectantly. Still, this motherfucker was too handsome for his own good. And he still stays right in front of me, unmoving, waiting for something.

"Are you lost, child?" I ask, looking at him dead in the eye.

He scoffs, clearly offended. "Child?"

"Your fly's down." I deadpan.

Unfortunately for him, his eyes slightly dip down to the front of his pants.

"Ha! I made you look!" I proclaim, a spark of amusement making the corners of my lips upturn.

He, on the other hand, doesn't look so happy, his curled up fists shaking by his sides, trying to keep himself in control."Can I take your order?" he grits the polite words through his teeth, even though he looks like he's about to strangle me from any second now.

"You're the waiter? Where's your uniform?"

"I don't have it with me." The boy's expression has turned angry, irritated even by the consistency of my questions.I decide to take it down a notch or two for the sake of the bulging vein on his throat, threatening to pop off. "Kay, chill. I was just asking."I lean closer and put my elbow on the table. " Soo...You come here often?"

It's his turn to deadpan. "I work here."

"Whoops. Silly me, I forgot."

"Are you gonna order or not?" He can't help the slight raise of his voice, more than enough proof that his patience was wearing thin.

Uh oh. Hoe's mad.

I throw a leg across my knee in the most arrogant way possible and lean back on the chair. "Aren't you gonna write it down somewhere?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

"I can remember it." he simply answers.

Fine then, pretty boy. Let's see how you remember this.

"I'll have a quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla."

Oh, I've definitely made him mad now.

With a look of pure hatred on his face, he clenches his jaws together and stomps off in the opposite direction with God knows how much memory of the order in his head but before he can go further, I shout for him to stop. I was starting to feel bad for the boy with the long hair flying behind him dramatically. Not to mention, there was no way in hell I'd let that much sugar enter my body.

"Wait!"

He pauses and slowly turns around."I changed my mind. Just a cup of dark coffee will do. No sugar."

Surprisingly, a subtle smirk creeps its way on his lips, throwing a whole new light to his features. "Aren't you gonna tell me to make sure it's darker than your soul?"

Hmph. The little puppy can bite back, after all.

"Nah, that's overused," I say. His eyes scan me from head to toe and then he pivots on his heel, disappearing behind the multiple tools of the counter, probably communicating the order to someone else. It doesn't take long for him to come back once again, his long elegant hand gently picking up the cup of coffee from the tray and putting it on the table.

In that fleeting moment I can make out a messy layout of tattoos; a smiley emoji on his middle finger, four small crosses in the spaces between and a bunch of other symbols I don't recognize. All that, gracefully completed by a gorgeous black flower and a bunch of other patterns wrapped around his forearm.

How contrasting it was, the way his appearance clashed with his personality. Did I actually know him? I think so.The guy was obviously kind enough not to spill the thing all over my clothes in an act of rebellion and I had to say it was an admirable thing to do considering how far I was pushing his limits. I am almost ready to hold out the olive branch to him.

Almost.

"I thought I said no sugar," I say, noticing the small white pack by the side of the cup."I guessed you would probably change your mind again." he teases, but the displeasure is still quite evident on his face.

Interesting.

"Next time, just make sure to do what I say." I retort, very much aware that I was prolonging the situation more than needed, but I just couldn't help it. I was really enjoying the reactions I got from him every time I pushed his buttons.

He's practically fuming with anger but still doesn't fall prey to my relentless attacks, instead choosing to walk away like a civilian.

Pity. I wish he'd stayed a little longer.

The coffee is absolutely disgusting. Its bitter aftertaste almost makes me gag.

This is what happens when you refuse to add sugar to any kind of drink, Jojo. It basically tastes like shit.

I forcefully down the last gulps and rise from my table, leaving a tip for the emo kid even though I'm running low on money. He deserved it after putting up with my bullshit for that long.

The woman staring at me earlier goes wide-eyed when I lift two fingers to the side of my brow, offering her a salute before making my way out of the coffee shop.

I don't eat lunch that day. Not even dinner. I just stare at the black screen of the turned-off TV, sipping water from my mug like it's the most flavorful thing in the universe and not having the energy to even cry myself to sleep anymore. I do that every night. Cry and cry and cry like there's no tomorrow. It feels relieving somehow— like I've let something off my chest, even though momentarily.

I grab my phone and type down the stupid number anyway.

2 calories. I write 2 calories for a fucking cup of coffee like it's gonna make a shit ton of difference.

Fucking ridiculous.

I want to sink deeper into this misery, let it consume me whole till there's nothing left, but like a beacon of light, the image of that boy's face emerges into the surface.

"That guy was cute." I voice the words that have been on my mind all day before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

There she was. That girl again.

In all my three years of working here, I'd never encountered someone so rude, shameless and utterly irritating. She's sitting on the same spot from yesterday, looking out the window and throwing casual glances at her phone. She also has the same baggy hoodie and sweats, probably too lazy to even bother change into something else.

However, what attracts my attention is the bandage wrapped around her hand, a pink hue visible where her knuckles should be. I'd noticed it the first day too, wondering where in the world would she get that kind of wound. She did seem like the type of girl who would get into fights actually, judging from her boyish clothes and brash personality but I wasn't sure if–

Whatever.

It was none of my business and I had work to do, anyway. I couldn't be bothered with the antics of a rebellious teenage girl. The glass I'm wiping almost slips out of my hands. Bold of her to call me a child when she couldn't be more than five feet tall. I wondered if her feet even reached the pedals of her bike.

"Hey Jungkook, you got a customer." Kwan's voice shakes me out of my thoughtful state as he flicks his chin towards the girl.

"Can't you get this one for me?" I grimace."Why? Are you afraid she's gonna bite?"

"Seems like it."

His eyes narrow into slits as he glares at me suspiciously.

"Come on man, just do what I say for once," I insist, not really wanting to deal with her shit for a second time. Kwan raises his palms up in surrender and goes to take the girl's order, but not without mumbling a "kids these days" on his way out.

The girl looks up from her phone upon Kwan's arrival but then her eyes quickly roam around as if searching for something. They exchange a few words too quietly for me to hear amid the general bustle of the shop, and then my coworker is by my side before I can blink.

"Nothing to be scared of, Jeon. She just asked for a green tea," Kwan says and grabs a number of items from the counter.

"So, she didn't say anything rude?"

"Nope."

"Not even an insult?"

Kwan tsks with his tongue.

Hmph.

Maybe she just hadn't been in the mood yesterday because there's definitely something different about the way she's just sitting there–

Barbecue sauce on her ti—

A snort accidentally escapes from my lips and I lower my head further to hide the embarrassment of the uninvited thought.

"Something funny?" Kwan asks, looking up from the tea he was brewing. I click my tongue just as he'd done.

It takes about a minute or so until the order's ready and I note the way the girl's face contorts with each sip of her tea as if someone had actually put a gun to her head to drink that horrendous beverage. She still drains the cup to its dregs, though.

Gets up.

Sways a little.

The hand wrapped in bandages holds onto the table for support and she finally pushes herself up to her feet. A little light-headed, if you ask me.

That confident image I'd created of her yesterday, crumbles into pieces when I observe the vulnerable state she's currently in. I wasn't sure why I was paying much attention to a complete stranger who I would probably never meet again, but I just couldn't stop myself. It was like being pulled into a black hole and finding yourself secretly enjoying it even though your gut tells you that it's wrong.

It was weird but true.I'd experienced it before.

The brief moment of realization had been enough to make me get lost in my thoughts so I snap my eyes back to the girl's table only to notice that the seat was empty.

She'd left.

~JOJO ~

Discipline. I need to practice discip–

Fuck. Is that a hamburger?

The delicious treat from the glass showcase of a fast-food restaurant winks at me and my mouth waters just by looking at it. When was the last time I ate anything decent? I rack my brains out, calculating the number of calories I'd consumed for the last two days and the only results are an apple, a cup of black coffee, green tea and maybe a tank of water.

Wait!

I did lick that spoon of peanut butter this morning, so in total, 144 calories. Might as well call it a fast for all I care.

My breath quickens with every push of the pedal, thighs burning with the strain. It's been almost three hours since I left the coffee shop and I'm pretty sure the tires of my bike must be deflated from going through every damn corner of the city.

Why would I do that? Because I'm a stupid ass bitch who likes to push herself to her limits and who doesn't know what rest means.

I know I'm going too far. I know it won't be long before all of this comes crashing down on me, sending my progress back to the starting point, but I can't seem to stop. Not when the ecstasy is so overwhelming, filling me up with a fake sense of achievement. This was probably the reason why this disorder was addicting. It made you feel like you had the reins in your hands, not it.

Not her.

Oh, Ana. How much I wanna fucking kill you right now.

It was all her fault, after all.

No. It wasn't her fault. It was the people's fault.They were the ones that said things. Things that hurt me. And their words didn't affect me directly but they fed my insecurities.

It was confusing, actually.They said I was fat. I tried and built some muscle by working out.They said I looked too manly with my muscles now. It didn't suit me.I dropped ten pounds starving myself.

What did they want?

What was the right body?

I didn't know anymore.There would always be something not right, not good enough.

I grip the handlebar tighter when the flood of old memories engulfs me without warning, making its appearance like an uninvited guest. I'm not even sure how it all started in the first place because believe it or not, I was the biggest body-positivity enthusiast.

And then suddenly I wasn't.

And then I find out that there's a whole community out there with people just like me but so radical, so different from anything I'd ever seen before. At first, I was outraged, disgusted even, by the naive statements of young girls saying they wanted the thinnest body possible, fantasizing about skin and bones, but as time went by and as I delved deeper and deeper into the swirling vortex of these intoxicating thoughts, I started succumbing to them. They suddenly seemed appealing.

I let out a sigh between heavy breaths.

Did it matter now? Besides, that guy didn't even show up today. Maybe it's his day off or something.

The brilliant rays of the afternoon sun make the glass panes of the cars passing by gleam like a swarm of fireflies.It would've looked pretty if it weren't for the way it made me shield my eyes. I was already having a hard time trying to keep them open as my strength started to run out, the view in front of me doing half–circles and then turning back to its optimal position. My legs feel like lead and I stop pedaling altogether, letting my bike guide me instead.

Tired.

So, so...tired.

A familiar face swims into my line of vision. It's the emo kid.

And he's....falling?

The handlebar spirals out of my control and my knee hits hard concrete. That face is the last thing I see before a black cloak of darkness swallows me whole

~JUNGKOOK~

Never in a million years would I have thought I'd have to carry a random person to the nearest hospital on my way home. Yet here I am, sitting on a chair for the past hour, staring at the girl's chest rise and fall with slow, rhythmic breaths.

There are fresh bandages wrapped around her scraped knee and multiple bruises all over her body. I'd seen the slightest look of surprise cross her face before her eyes rolled up in her head and she fell off the bike, hitting her head in the process. It had been a chaotic situation, that one. People had kept gathering around, trying to sneak a peek at the accident but still not doing anything to actually help. So I'd taken things to my own hands, done my duty as a normal person would.

Then why are you still here, Jungkook? my logic reasons with me. The doctor said she would be fine so why are you still sitting over here, waiting for her to wake up?

That's right. I should be going.I lean my palms on my knees but before I can fully rise from the chair, the girl's eyes crack open. She takes a look around the room, analyzing her surroundings, and then her eyes stop on my face.

"Who the fuck are you?" she croaks.

Here we go again... I internally sigh."We met at the coffee shop. Or don't you remember?" I answer, praying for her life not to get my anger rise so fast.

"Right," she says, even though something tells me she had known exactly who I was in the first place. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I saved your life."

"Why bother?"

"You should be grateful, you know."

"Did I ever ask for your fucking help?"

I had to admit I was slightly taken aback. The girl swore and cursed worse than a sailor. As if on cue, a jumble of profanities spill from her lips as she struggles to sit up, suddenly finding herself tangled in tubes and needles trickling colorless liquid into her veins.

"Get this shit off of me, " she says and rips the said piece from the inside of her forearm.

"You should keep that for a little longer." I protest, hands already reaching for the needle laying on the sheets but she flinches from my touch and throws a leg across the bed, attempting to get up.

"Sit down!" I say a little harsher than I intended but it was impossible not to.

Unbelievable.

Her nonchalance and irresponsible behavior made me want to punch her in the face, regardless of her being a girl. At last, she has the dignity to actually do what she's told. "Someone's cranky, " she mumbles as she leans back on the pillow.

This girl must have a split personality disorder because only two seconds later her legs are crossed comfortably despite the nasty injury on her knee and she's leaning forward with her cheek on her palm, staring intently at me with a curious smile hanging on her lips.

"You never told me your name, " she says.

"You never asked, " I reply.

She scowls. "Stop trying to play the smartass with me, child and just tell me your fucking name."

"It's Jungkook."

Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

"I know, it rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" I tease.

"Actually, it sounds like a chicken dying, but okay."

My lips twitch in amusement, trying to suppress the silly smile demanding to make an appearance.

"To be honest, I'm kinda disappointed, " she continues. "I was expecting something more special, like Sebastian or Gabriel or something." She scratches her chin while her eyes still stay rooted on my face. "You know what, imma call you Juan. Yeah, Juan's better. Got that Latino vibe to it."

Her never-ending shenanigans were pure torture so I decide to turn the tables for a change. "And what is your name?" I ask.

For once, she doesn't try to make fun of me. "Jojo."

Cute.

"It fits you."

Her eyebrows scrunch themselves together as she carefully observes me. "Hmmm....Anyway–" She crawls to the side of the bed and grimaces when her left foot leans on the floor. "Thanks for spending your precious time with me, Juan but now I gotta blast."

"Miss, I'm gonna have to ask you to sit down, please," another voice is heard and the doctor I'd talked to earlier steps into the room. He stares the girl, Jojo I remind myself, down but she doesn't relent, staring right back with the same intensity.

"I'm perfectly fine—"

"Your blood sugar levels are at their lowest point, that wound on your knee needs to be changed continuously or else you'll get an infection and you might have a concussion from the way you hit your head. I'm surprised you're still even talking."

There's a slight tremor in her pupils, which I 'm pretty sure is caused by the panicked state she's trying to hide. She plasters a smile on her face. "Come on now, Doc. I'm sure you can let me off this one time. The fact that I'm still talking proves I'm better, right?"

"Miss—"

"I'll accompany her, " I blurt without thinking and both of them snap their heads in my direction. No turning back now. "I'll make sure she gets home safely," I assure him.

"I don't need your—" Jojo starts, but her words falter when she meets the doctor's glare. "I mean... sure, why not?"

The doctor seems satisfied enough as he turns on his heel without a moment's hesitation. However, he hasn't even made it past the threshold when he pauses, turns halfway around and looks at her dead in the eye. "And by the way, miss. You should eat something. Your heart's gonna fail at this rate."

I could have sworn I saw something flash behind her eyes but she doesn't show it, choosing to keep that sad smile on her face like an anchor linking her to sanity.

"Son of a bitch." I hear her mumble under her breath.

~JOJO~

Son of a bitch I repeat in my head over and over again till the words start to sound foreign to my ears, suddenly losing their meaning.

That damn doctor just had to point out the fact that I hadn't eaten anything for the last couple of days. He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from mentally sending a series of curses his way.

I have never felt so shitty in my life. Both physically and mentally. My head feels like it's going to split in half, the stinging of the wound on my knee is crying like a bitch and there's not an ounce of strength left in me.

Powerless.

And if that wasn't enough, Juan's endless questions only add to my misery.

"For the last time, no, I don't live with my parents," I say for what felt like the gazillionth time, still refusing the hand he kept offering my way. I might be on the verge of collapsing but under no circumstances was I to let myself be held like a damsel in distress.

Nuh-uh.That's a line you can't cross, mister.

"That sounds kinda hard to believe," Juan says and sticks his rejected hand back in his pocket, probably to get rid of the awkwardness.

"Bitch, I don't need your approval to say something. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Suit yourself. "

His shiny black hair glints in the darkness, catching the beams of moonlight as he flicks it away from his face. "How can I be a bitch? I'm a male." he retorts.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Man whore." I reply, putting a clear emphasis on the last syllable.

He scowls, seeming genuinely offended by my words, especially when he says " Swearing is rude, you know."

"You know what else is rude? Asking people too many questions."

"But can you blame me, though? I mean you pretty much look like a high-schooler who ran away from home."

I stop dead in my tracks. "You have a strong sense of guessing."

He blinks. "Wait. You're really a high-schooler who ran away from home?"

I resume my walking, using the concrete wall on the side of the road for support. "For your information, I did finish high-school so suck on that."

"But you still ran away from home, right?" he insists.

"Oh for fuck's sake— yes, I did run away from home. Are you happy now?"

The blank look on his face, combined with the slight shrug of his shoulders almost causes me to snort. "Cool, " he says, unbothered."Aren't you gonna ask why I did it?"

"Not interested, " he states and looks straight ahead, completely ignoring my presence."Liar. I can see that you're one of those assholes who are dead-curious about everything."

"Am not!" he whirls on me.

I scrunch my nose and sniff the air around me like a wild dog hunting on its prey. "You smell that?" I ask him.

"What?"

"Smells like bullshit to me."

Even in the darkness, I can see the dramatic roll of his eyes, causing their whites to stand out. He had pretty big eyes, this guy. They softened that edgy aura he gave off, all muscles, tattoos, and black clothes. And the fact that he tolerated my irritating behavior, which I was deeply aware of, made him look even more appealing to my eyes.

"Why did you volunteer to take me home, Juan?" I quietly ask, glancing at him through the corner of my vision.

He seems to mull the question over in his head for a moment, eyes staring his shoes down. "I don't know. You seemed like you needed some help." He throws a look at me. "Which by the way, is still valid. You look like hell."

For some reason, that makes me retract my hands from the wall and I try to keep myself stable on my own two feet, limping heavily on the process.

"What exactly happened with your bike?" he continues, unaware of my recent action.

"I was busy stalking hot guys all day, so my bike got tired. Guess she just couldn't handle it anymore."

The boy doesn't seem to fall for any of my lies, narrowing his eyes till their nothing but slits. "Do you tend to not eat when you stalk hot guys?"

This little shit...

"Nah, it's just that I'm so fucking forgetful." I immediately reply. "I forget to eat all the time.

"He doesn't relent, still boring holes into my eyes.

"Hey, what's with all the questions, anyway? I thought you said you were not interested?" I repeat his own words.

"Right, " he admits.

My apartment building comes into view, the looming structure now as familiar as the back of my hand. "We're here, " I announce. My eyebrows raise in wonder as his legs keep heading for the entrance of the building instead of pausing.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To your apartment, obviously."

"What the fuck makes you think you can come to my apartment, boy?" I did not want him to see anything personal of mine, yet for some strange reason, I found myself hoping he would stick around a little longer. A little controversial, considering the fact that my words proved otherwise, but I couldn't just say that to him, could I? Like, hey, kid you're nice. Let's have a little chat before you go.

Ridiculous.

"I'll just escort you to the door, " he assures.

"No need for that."

"But what if you fall down the stairs?" he insists.

"You got me there." I punch in the code at the main entrance and hurry up the stairs as much as my limp would let me, Jungkook's eyes never leaving me for a second. After what felt like an eternity, I grunt heavily and lean on the doorstep of my humble apartment. "Okay, you've done your service, soldier. You're free to go now."

Jungkook throws a quick glance at my mustard-colored door, probably weirded out by it but then his eyes flick to my empty hands. "Where's your keys?" he wonders.

My mouth gapes open and my eyes go the size of tennis balls as I frantically pat my pockets. When I notice the way Jungkook's lips part slightly, I burst into hysterical laughter, jiggling the retrieved keys in front of his face. "You should've seen your face!" I laugh. "Hilarious."

He exhales, relieved. "I thought you'd lost them."

"Nah, Juan. I forget a lot of things but not my keys. Besides, these bitches stick up my ass like fucking glue."

The door's lock clicks with a flick of my wrist but I resist the usual temptation of kicking it wide open, in fear of letting emo-kid sneak a peek. It's not like I was embarrassed of the mess in my apartment or anything like that but it felt weirdly intimate to let someone else get a glimpse of my domestic life. In fact, I hadn't invited anyone over since...

Yes, it had been that long.

Jungkook notices my reluctance and clears his throat. "So...um...you're all good now, so I better leave. You should–you should take care of your wound."

How weird to see an overgrown, muscular dude stutter and not know what to do with his hands. I usually didn't have the tendency of stereotyping but this definitely struck me as odd.

I smirk. "Getting shy, Juan?"

He almost flinches at my words. " What? No!"

"Are you waiting for a thanks then?"

A stray hair falls in front of his eyes but he doesn't move it away from his face. "That's not something you ask from people."

I bite my tongue and try not to let the pain on my leg get to me as I squeeze into the room through a thin sliver of space. Still, his words bring a smile to my face and as much as I try to suppress it, it just keeps floating on the surface again. "I'm not an asshole, Juan. So thanks."

"Actually, you refused to say thanks from the start—"

"Okay, now you ruined it," I interrupt. "Get outta here."

He slowly starts to back off and his lips stretch into a barely contained smile. "Good night, Jojo." And then just like that, he's climbing down the stairs with his long legs taking two or three steps at a time.

I shut the door and lean on it for a moment, sighing deeply through my nose.

"Little shit, " I whisper.

Rise and shine.

That's exactly what my alarm tune doesn't say. Even after so much time hearing it pierce my ears every single morning with its shrill screech, I can never stop myself from wanting to smash the damn thing into pieces. However, that's the only thing that can actually get my ass up from the bed. All the other gentle-sounding melodies had proven to be absolute failures, dragging me even further into the sweet crevices of sleep.

The numerous late arrivals to work had made me suffer more shouts and scoldings than I could remember from my boss. The guy was a total dick. Good thing I don't work there anymore.

My room is still coated in patches of darkness here and there, the bright rays of the morning sun nowhere to be seen. It is about 5:30, an unholy time to wake up, but since I was now unemployed, I had made an oath to force myself every day into going for a run outside.

There was no overwhelming hustle and bustle, no moving crowds of people. The city had yet to rise from its slumber and the only activity on sight included slow, quiet movements of passers-by.

I finally kick the blanket off and swing my legs over the bed. The cold surface of the floor awakens my senses as I prepare to go over the usual ritual: Stretch, pee, step on the scale.

The number has slightly changed from yesterday but not to the point where I want it to. A wave of disappointment washes over me. It happens every day yet I can never get used to it.

I decide to go easy on the breakfast. A cold glass of water, an apple, and a boiled egg.

I probably should've thought about putting some pants on first, I say to myself as a crumb of egg yolk smears my bare thigh. I use the pad of my finger to wipe it off and cringe intensely. These thick bitches turned three sizes wider when sitting down and it only spurred on my body dysmorphia.

Disgusting.

Not forgetting about my daily dose of green tea, I hurry up before the sun rises and put some sports clothes on, which wasn't really that hard since they were the only thing in my closet. I shut the door behind me but it feels like something is nagging the back of my mind, demanding my attention.

Did I forget anything?

I rack my brains out in search of a clue but nothing makes it into the surface.

This stupid obsession...

Making sure my shoelaces are tightly secured and my earphones plugged in, I climb down the stairs and burst out of the entrance of the building. I welcome the sharp sting of fresh air that fills my lungs with a deep breath and waste no time to sprint into a run, the loud music already blasting my ears in full force.The wound on my knee does not approve of this but I don't give two shits. It can cry like a bitch for all I care.

It's easy at first, obviously. Your body is rested and unspent so you relish those twenty minutes with pure adrenaline flowing through your veins. But then, the run takes its toll on you. It's unavoidable.

The sky switches from dark blue to a pastel pink, announcing the official start of the day and reminding me of my tiresome condition. I'm panting like an asthmatic by now and my clothes stick uncomfortably with sweat so I slow into a light jog. The sting on my knee grows stronger and stronger til I can barely stand it. The clean sidewalk grows hard under my feet and it's all I can do not to faint from exhaustion. Running tires you out? Try running with not enough food in your system.

I scan my surroundings in an attempt to distract myself from the fatigue. A few trees lining up the street, a grey car hurrying to God knows where, hair—

Wait, what?

I redirect my eyes to the spot I was staring at and notice a mop of dark hair swinging wildly. The body they belong to is in fast-motion, arms shifting from side to side as the legs make long, speeding strides.

No fucking way. I guess it's not such a bad day after all.

I smirk as I gain speed, now heading straight towards the boy with newfound strength. As I maneuver from side to side with a few random strangers, I can't help but stare at the way his sweatpants hug every curve of his butt. He had a nice butt, this guy. I'm kinda jealous. And as if that wasn't enough, the material of his loose T-shirt turns darker from the collar down to his back, marking a trail of sweat. He'd ran just as hard from what I could see.

The music in my earphones dies out as I quickly catch up to him and slip by his side, matching his constant rhythm. He doesn't notice at first, but after the numerous glances I throw from the corner of my eye, he finally flinches and stops abruptly. "Jojo?"

His hair is completely drenched in sweat. The dark strands form wet tendrils on his forehead and numerous trails that drip from his temples and down to his chin. He almost rips his earbuds off and I have to say I feel slightly endeared. As a person who preferred not to be disturbed while listening to music, I could appreciate the fact that he removed them in the blink of an eye. If a person does that, he respects you. Simple as that.

He gives me a look of mild curiosity, which for a surprise makes him look ten times hotter. I also slow down to a stop as a smile tugs at the edges of my lips. "Oh, hey Juan! Didn't see you there."

He looks behind his back for good measure and turns to stare at me. "Are you stalking me?"

I scoff in feigned annoyance. "What the fuck? Am I not allowed to go for a run now? Do you own these streets or something?"

"No, but—"

"Hey, hey, " I quickly interrupt him. "Less chatting, more running."

I will my feet to start moving again and he immediately catches up. "So...how are you feeling?"

"Tired, " I reply.

"I meant from last night."

Well that's a surprise. I didn't think he would remember it, let alone be worried about my condition. "Oh. I'm fine. It's nothing, really, " I wave a dismissive hand.

He stares at me for a moment too long before turning his head straight. "That's good."

After that, neither me nor him try to elaborate on the topic. For some moments, the only thing heard is our combined panting and heavy breathing and it doesn't do much to tame my wild brain from going places. I push the dirty thoughts aside for later reference and give my head a slight tilt to peek at him."Tell me more about yourself, Juan."

"What do you wanna know?" he asks without looking.

"Everything."

He laughs delightedly. "Ok but you're gonna have to ask me questions, though. I don't know where to start."

"Perfect. Where do you live?"

His neck does a ninety-degree turn with such a lightning speed that I'm scared he broke a bone or two. "I knew you were stalking me!" he exclaims as if he had made a scientific discovery.

I smack my lips impatiently. "Just answer the damn question!"

"Two blocks from here."

"That means the coffee shop is close to your house, right?"

"I live in an apartment, " he adds and gives a curt nod before his attention is back to me. "Okay, my turn now. Did you ever go to college?"

Not this shit again. If I hadn't been attracted to his ridiculously good looks, he would be rubbing at a sore spot in between his eyeballs. "Goodness, child. You really are stubborn."

"Hey, it's only fair if you keep asking me questions, " he protests and instead of angering me, the harmless expression turns my insides into jelly. I was finding it hard to keep up with the constant appearances of his duality. It was weird. I barely knew this guy and I still told him things so strictly personal that I'd never thought I'd say out loud.

" I dropped out of college after the first year. Couldn't afford it."

And just like that, the jolly, playful countenance disappears to be replaced by a darker one. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I dropped too, " he continues. " Guess studies weren't exactly my thing."

"Oh wow. We have so much in common."

A pause.

"Where's your family?"

I was starting to think this kid was more interested in my personal life than me as a person. "Back home."

He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to explain further and unfortunately, I fall prey to his puppy eyes staring at me intently. An uncomfortable ball of imaginary yarn settles at the base of my throat. I try to gulp it down while fighting to keep the slight tremble in my voice from showing. " They...did some things to me. Bad things. I'm never going back."

He notices my discomfort, bless his soul, and decides to drop it. "My parents live far from here and I don't visit them as much. So yeah, that sucks."

His poor attempt at sympathizing with me makes my lips crack into a subtle grin. "Are all parents bad or are we just awful teenagers?"

"Both, I guess, " he chuckles.

Just when I assume the twenty-one question game has finally come to an end, he proves me wrong for the bazillionth time. "Is there anyone you hang out, at least?"

"You, " I answer.

His eyes widen twice their original size and I laugh through my nose. "Just kidding. I have a friend called Anna. Such a nice, caring and sweet girl." My lips twitch on the side to impersonate a somber smile but I had the feeling it looked like I was having a nervous tick. "She's to die for."

Time is cruel to us, swallowing up each patch of daylight until the sky has turned into the purest baby blue and let the rays of sunlight fall astray into our poor backs. The heat and the exhaustion makes us slow our pace. Then, suddenly a sharp pain stabs me across my knee and I wince discreetly.

"Do you go to work?" Juan asks, oblivious to my current torture.

"No, I quit, " I say, refusing to admit that the reason for that hadn't really been my choice. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, it's just that—" He abruptly stops and his eyes shift their attention to my legs, staring hard at them.

"What?"

"You're bleeding, " he states, matter of factly.

I snap my head down and take note of the way my knee is soaked in a dark red stain, slowly webbing its tendrils along the fabric."Aw shit, " I curse under my breath.

"You need to go to the hospital, " Jungkook quickly intervenes before a long string of profanities can spill over my lips.

"No. No more hospitals. I'll just go home and put some fresh bandages on it."

"Okay, well let me come with you."

I take a step back and shake my head from side to side. "For the last time, I don't need your help, Juan. Here are my key—" I frantically fish my pockets but they're completely empty, save for that stupid paper towel that I had somehow forgotten there. "Fuck no! Fuck no!"

Juan's brow bunches up in distress as his judging eyes give me a hard stare. "You already made that joke once."

"I'm not joking around, you idiot!" I snap, probably a bit too harsh but the panic seems to have gotten under my skin for me to care at this point. "I forgot my keys!"

So, that's what kept nagging me in the morning. I mentally slap myself for being such a careless mess and vow to not make the same mistake again.

"Let's go to the hospital, " Juan calmly repeats, seemingly unaffected by my sudden burst of anger. I wonder if he was hiding his hurt on the inside. If that was true, I'd have to give him a round of applause because he was sure doing a hell of a good job.

"No."

"Do you want to bleed to death?" This time he can't help the hint of anger from seeping into his voice.

I say nothing.

"If you don't want to go to the hospital then come with me back at my place. I have some bandages too."

"Absolutely not!" I protest, outraged. If this kept going on, we would end up at each other's throats.

"Look, it's either that or the hospital. You pick."

Shit. He had me cornered. Well, what was I to say? I liked hanging out with him but I also didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state and make me feel indebted to him. It had already happened once and I hadn't liked it not even one bit. "I can't just come at your place, " I say with a lilt of playfulness in my voice. My figure was already frayed at the edges and he was quick to catch sight of it. "What if you're a murdering psychopath in disguise?"

He smiles in earnest, as if I'd just told him he was the nicest guy on the planet. "Then you can always stab me with a kitchen knife."

This was wrong. This was so wrong. I couldn't just go to his house, dammit. I was letting my guard down way too much. No way I was doing this.

"Fine, " I finally surrender and wish I'd bitten my tongue in time before the word made it past my lips.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

By the time we get to my apartment, the sun has already reached its highest peak in the horizon and the powerfully bright rays start to make me feel a bit wobbly.

I had offered Jojo to at least hold on to me but she seemed hellbent on making it by herself. I could see how much the wound was hurting her, yet she refused to let any emotion whatsoever show on her face.

I open the door unceremoniously and pause to let her in first. She carefully shuffles her steps with a heavy limp weighing her down but I could see that she was still having second thoughts on whether to enter a complete stranger's apartment or not. As soon as she passes the threshold, I release a sigh I didn't realize I'd been holding.

Her head starts turning from side to side, scanning the interiors of the living room. I suddenly feel self-conscious. Is the place messy? Did I forget to put my socks on the laundry basket? I was worried she would shy away and leave altogether.

"Nice place you got here, " Jojo says with a whistle.

I unconsciously smile but it fades away the moment she plops down onto the couch, ignoring the still-fresh wound on her knee. She even has the audacity to swing her leg over the edge and let it dangle there. So much for shying away.

"I'll go get the bandages, " I announce and retreat into the bathroom, keeping an eye on her from the way back. She gives me a salute before going back to studying the walls with curious eyes.

I hurry up and lock myself up in the bathroom and immediately, the sight of my disheveled look greets me in the mirror. My hair is wild, some strands clinging with sweat onto my temples and some flailing in the air like unmowed grass. My skin glistens with a fine sheen of wetness that makes me itch with discomfort and there's a pink blush settled on my nose and cheekbones. Did I really look like this all morning?

I let the water of the faucet run under my hands and give my face a quick splash. Why am I so nervous, dammit? It's just a girl. I really need to get a hold of myself. The image of her face reminds me of the reason I came here in the first place. I hurriedly grab the bandages from the counter along with some alcohol, cotton pads and a towel.

I take a deep breath and return to the living room with a forced air of nonchalance. "I got the—" I announce but the words falter when I see the empty couch. Where the hell did she go?

"You have very good-looking parents. No wonder where you got the genes, " her voice is heard from the other side of the room and I see her standing by one of the shelves, examining the tiny picture of my mom and dad, smiling at each other while my older brother cuddles my dog's white fur.

"Uh..thanks, " I manage as I scratch my neck.

At this, she turns around and finally looks at me. "Nothing to be shy about, Juan. You're handsome. You don't need glasses to see that."

"I—"

"Alright, are you gonna give me those or not?" she questions with a sly smile, pointing her chin towards the items in my hands and I internally curse from the distraction. Oh, she really did enjoy toying around with me.

I prevent myself from stuttering another word and slowly approach her. She grabs the things from my hands and sits on the couch yet again. Her condition was no better than mine. A single drop of sweat slides from the side of her cheek and travels down her neck in an excruciating slow motion. Her complexion had turned ruddy and her hair stuck to her edges with perspiration. How she had managed to run so hard in that state was beyond me.

I silently hand her the towel first. "Dab your neck with this before you catch a cold."

She looks at me with a slight tilt of her head but accepts it nonetheless, mumbling a "dab on them haters" under her breath.

"What about you?" she asks aloud. "You're literally dripping." As if summoned, another drop of sweat free-falls from my chin and onto the floor.

"It's okay. I'll be fine, " I quickly reply.

"Well aren't you a tough cookie?" she giggles. "Get it? Tough? Kookie? Jungkookie?"

I almost snort. And as if that wasn't enough, the nickname she used made this weird sensation creep onto my stomach.

After she's done drying her skin, she crouches down to take a look at the wound that still kept trickling blood. Her careful fingers roll the dirtied bandage around her knee to reveal such a nasty sight, I almost gasp in surprise. The blood had smeared the skin around the edges and on its center there's a blackish liquid that looks like anything but blood.

"Oh shit, " she whispers, obviously not expecting the wound to be in such a degree. I move forward with worry in my trembling form but she's quick to stop me."No, it's okay. I got it."

"But it looks really ba-"

"Thanks Juan, but I said I can handle it."

I silently get back and let her do the work herself. She seemed so used to this process, as if she had done it countless of times before. Her hands are quick and agile, snatching the alcohol and cotton pads and then proceeding to wrap brand new bandages around her knee. Not a single hiss or whine falls from her lips. After she successfully finishes, she lifts her head to gift me a charming innocent smile. As if she hadn't just split her knee open. This girl...

After that, the room falls into an awkward silence so I keep looking everywhere else but her. "Do you want something to drink?" I offer.

"Once a waiter, always a waiter, " she sighs while scratching her forehead.

"Okay, what do you have?"

"Let me check," I announce and head to the fridge without another word. I examine the contents within and yell from across the room. "Um... coke?" "I don't do drugs, " she yells back.

"As in the drink, Jojo."

"Oh. What kind?"

"The regular one."

"No diet coke?"

"No. Sorry."

"Okay, just get me a glass of water."

I come back with the glass and hesitate a split second before handing it to her.

"I really like your place, Juan," she says after a tiny sip. "Its so....you."

A discouraged laugh escapes from me. "You don't even know me."

"Says who? I'm excellent at knowing people's personalities on first sight, " she continues after another sip.

"What about you then?" I suddenly ask.

"My place or my personality?"

"Both."

She considers it a moment before answering. "Well, both suck compared to you. Especially my apartment, Juan. You wouldn't believe the fucking mess I make all the time."

She sounded nonchalant about the matter but I could sense the discomfort behind the words. She was having it harder than she let on.

"What are you gonna do from now on?" I ask, careful not to sound intrusive. "You lost your job right? How are you gonna pay your rent?

She plasters a smile on her face. "I'll figure something out."

Before I can push it further with my vast myriad of questions, she rises from the couch and sets the glass on the table. " Well, I better go now. Thanks for the help, Juan. I'll see you around."

I watch with frozen limbs as she makes her way towards the door with that tilt on her step and wonder if I really was crazy after the next words I hear coming out of my mouth.

"Wait!"

She slowly turns around and gives me a curious look.

"I have a proposal, " I say before I can regret it.

She grins in response. "Thanks but I'm too young to get married."

"No, not that. I was wondering... I mean if you want to...." I've never felt more nervous in my life. My words keep stumbling into one another and I can barely keep the the inexplicable stutter out of my voice. "You can—you can work at the coffee shop with me. I can convince my boss to get you the job."

She smiles and pivots on her heel. " Yeah, right."

"Hey, I'm serious."

"Forget it, " she says without turning around.

"Why forget it? Aren't you struggling?"

For a moment it seems like I've caught her attention. She pauses in her steps and slowly turns around until she's completely facing me. There are no more hints of smiles or amusement. Just a blank expression that for some reason looks sadder than anything else. "I don't want your pity."

"Its not pity, " I protest. "We've been short of staff anyway and you need a job. It's a win-win for both of us."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out just as harshly. "Why are you doing this, Juan? The hospital and the bandages and everything... Why are you helping me?"

"I like helping people, " I simply reply.

"Some people don't like to be helped."

"Well, if you think that, you're an idiot!" I snap as a pinch of anger sneaks into my voice.

She raises an eyebrow.

"Look, " I continue. "I don't know if I've done something wrong or if you just don't like people in general. I was just trying to help. If you don't want it, the door's right there."

Okay, now I really fucked up. I'd never been so straight-forward to someone before but it was like her sharp jabs had forced the harsh words right out of my mouth. Sometimes, the frustration overwhelmed me to the point I couldn't tell right from wrong.

She's frozen in her spot, wide eyes staring at me in a mix of shock and wonder. But then, her eyes slowly drag along my body, giving me a once-over before setting on my face. Her lips crack into a lopsided grin that was anything but innocent. "I like you, Juan, " she says and heads for the door before pausing on the threshold. "And I'll think about your offer."

The door closes shut behind her and just like that, she's gone.

~ JOJO ~

There's no way I'm doing this, I say to myself as I take a hot shower. No fucking way, I repeat as I get dressed and tighten my shoelaces. I felt like a mere sheep heading to meet the butcher's axe. But the sheep was making this choice herself. She was willing.

I was afraid the boy had put a spell on me. I'd never been so weak-hearted and obedient to someone's requests. Here I was, going to that cursed coffee shop even after all the fights with Anna last night. She kept persuading me to stay inside, lock myself up in my room and not talk to anyone for the next week or so. She'd never been the social type, the bitch.

Most people said it was like a voice in your head urging you to do whatever it wanted, but that was not the case at all. If the concept of Ana was that unrealistic it wouldn't be so hard to label it as just another link into the shackles of mental disturbances but the thing was, there was that doubt that made you hesitate on whether these were actually your thoughts that made you behave this way or something actually real and tangible. The feeling of something not claiming its existence but still lingering like a shadow on your every step.Is it me or her?Who said that?

I shake my head violently to clear my thoughts as I find myself in front of the shop's entrance.The floor seems to wobble beneath my feet and I doubted whether it was just because of the fact that my stomach had crumpled in itself like a sheet of paper.

I clear my throat loudly to capture the attention of the man hunched on the counter.He slowly lifts his head as an automatic smile appears on his face. “Yes?"

I steady my posture. "I'm looking for someone named Jungkook. He works here."

His eyebrows almost touch his hairline but he's quick to recollect himself. "Oh, sure. He's in the back fixing some stuff. I'll go get him for you."

He disappears behind a door and comes back two seconds later with the reason of my sleepless nights by his side.

"You're here!" Jungkook exclaims, a little too loud for my liking. He seemed slightly surprised, as if he hadn't thought I would actually come. Couldn't blame the guy. There were times when traces of bipolarism would make it hard for people to understand what I actually meant.

Jungkook's open-lipped smile is almost contagious. He tramples his way forward and stops just an inch further, towering over me.The all-black outfit was present even today but this time an apron adorns his slim waist.

"I am, " I simply add.

"Oh, I almost forgot. This is Kwan, " he says as he gestures toward the smiley man. "We've been working together since I can remember."

I flick my eyes to the latter and nod a salute at him. "You should've called this place 'Juan and Kwan'. Quite catchy, if you ask me."

The man named Kwan chuckles. "She's funny. Where did you find her, Jungkook?"

"Oh, I'm the one who found him, " I intervene. "Besides, we've met before. I'm the green tea girl."

His eyes slightly widen with a sense of realization as he nods along. Ironically enough, my stomach whines so loudly to the point where even Jungkook hears it. He points a finger at it. "You really need to shut that thing up."

I look down to my stomach and talk to it as if it were a real person. "Hey thing, shut up. Juan doesn't like the way you sound."

"Did you even eat anything on the way here? There are some cupcakes if you want, " Jungkook insists with the tone of a concerned mother.

"I'm not hungry, Juan. Must be uhh... my seven month-old baby."

Jungkook shakes his head in surrender and asks for me to follow him behind the same room he came from. My nervousness raises tenfold as a bunch of unpleasant thoughts immediately rush into my brain. If I didn't get this job, I could say goodbye to normalcy. I would fall down the hole dug by my own hands and never come back out. All the hard work of these past months out in the trash.

"Don't worry, " Jungkook reassures. "You'll do great."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

She was bursting with joy. It was like her face had been washed in the late afternoon sunlight, illuminating its every corner. She wasn't ridiculously beautiful or anything like that but there was something so captivating about watching that smile brighten up her features like a glorious sunrise, I could barely keep myself from staring.

However, one thing I learned about her was that she really knew how to celebrate. Her hands are struggling to hold all the groceries she'd gotten at the supermarket. Well...if you could call them groceries. All I could see were tons of candies and deserts and all sorts of sugary stuff able to furnish a dozen sweet-toothed five year-olds.

But the thing that baffled me the most is that she'd invited me at her place to thank me for the new job. I thought after all the fights she'd put up to keep me far and away she wouldn't give in so easily. Guess I'd been wrong.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry. " I watch her chew on a chocolate-covered donut that gave me diabetes just by looking at it.

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, Juan, is that I change my mind way too often, " she mumbles in between mouthfuls.

"Yeah I can see that, " I add.

"Hey, shut up now, will you? We need to celebrate!"

"By eating trash?"

"They say you are what you eat, " she replies.

I angrily grab the grocery bags from her hands and let her lead the way to her apartment. "Don't call yourself that. "

The jokes she constantly jabbed could be hilarious to someone else but they just did not sit well with me. I only found them as extremely self-deprecating and dark. It was the go-to type of thing for the depressed and people were so used to normalizing them, it was hard to point it out from time to time.

Her mouth pauses chewing as she gives me a hard but harmless stare. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

"Do what?"

The deep sigh she lets out through her nose tickles my eyelashes. She stops in front of the door and leans her back on it. "You keep being nice even when I annoy you."

"You don't annoy me, " I say quietly.

"Yes I do. I annoy everyone." Another sigh. "You know, Juan, all my life I've been treated like a joke. Yeah, I joke around a lot so I'll get joked at. Understandable. But like, no one has treated me the way you do before. You listen to what I have to say and give me honest answers and most importantly, you are serious when you need to be."

"Isn't that how everyone is supposed to be?"

"No. If I told someone I'm feeling sad they'll laugh at my face 'cause they think I don't have the right to feel anything."

"Well, fuck them, " I snap.

Her jaw almost drops to the floor. "Woah! I've never heard you swear before. That was low-key hot. Do it again."

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and fumble with the edge of my T-shirt. Out of all the things she could've said..."Um...shit?"

The disappointment washes over her face as she scoffs and shakes her head disapprovingly. "Fucking rookie".

It is quiet for a few moments, save for the slight creak of the yellow door opening wide enough to finally offer me a front seat view of her apartment. I'd been strangely curious about what it would look like, eager to get to know more about where she lived, where she slept, what things the was interested in and no matter the weird turn my thoughts had taken I couldn't help but crave for more.

She lets me pass the threshold and takes the grocery bags from me to put them on the kitchen counter. The place reeked of lemons, their acrid stench filling the air to the point where it made my nose itch. I spot a few loose skins and other remnants by the table.Except for that, everything looked pretty much normal. Plain and bare of excessive decorations but I could see that she'd made efforts into putting her own preferences out in the open, littering the walls and ceiling. She liked minimalism, I could see.

"Did you throw a lemonade party last night?" I ask with the tiniest bit of chuckle tumbling from my mouth.

Her eyes flick to the evidence and I sense something I'd never witnessed so boldly in them before. Panic. "Oh, t-that..." she nervously stutters but it's gone in a blink as she quickly gains her composure. "Just an experiment. I love science." I hum in agreement and eye the couch on my right. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Make yourself at home. But I have to warn you there's nothing on the fridge so you're left with these, " she says, giving the sweet goodies a single heave.

"Oreos, please." I stretch my hand across and a huge grin pulls at the edges of her lips.

We spend the next few minutes sitting in silence, munching cavities away like they were our last meal. It was surprising to say that it did not for a moment feel weird nor awkward. We barely knew each other and yet we seemed like two old pals seeking comfort into each other's presence.

"My place sucks, doesn't it?" she suddenly asks.

"Not really, " I reply. "I think it's pretty."

A confused frown appears on her face as she keeps munching on a chocolate bar. "How come?"

"Well, beauty is subjective, Jojo. What looks pretty in my eyes may not be the same for you."

"Deep words for a teenager, " she mumbles.

"Look who's talking."

"Yeah, yeah..." She waves her hand dismissively but I don't miss the tiny smirk hidden in her cheeks.

The grocery bags start to slowly empty. I was worried she was gonna make herself sick with all the sugar already flowing in her body.

She suddenly gets up and stretches, reaching with the tips of her fingertips up to the ceiling. Her hoodie rides up and I almost gasp in surprise. There are several marks littering the thin stripe of exposed skin, some dark, some purple and some turning yellowish. They made such a stark contrast with the pale white complexion that didn't exactly match the tone of her face. She'd obviously never worn anything too revealing, the sun rays far from tanning the skin. Before I can gawk my eyes out, it's gone in an instant when the hoodie falls back in place.

"This shit's addicting, " she says pointing at the leftovers on the table.

I could only wonder if she really had more problems than she let on. From what I'd gathered, she'd subtly admitted to being a victim of domestic abuse but that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Why were there still fresh scars on her body? As if to add on to my assumption I take notice of her bandaged hand.

"Where's that friend you mentioned?" I ask. "Was it Annie...Ann?"

Her eyes flick back to mine. "You mean Anna? She's always here for some reason. I consider more like family, to be honest. Never leaves my side. Just not today."

There was something fishy about the way Jojo's eyes turned glassy and distant every time she mentioned her friend. It kept rubbing me the wrong way.

I ask her to use the restroom and she shows me the way in a few curt gestures. As soon as I get inside, I am met with my distorted reflection on the mirror. A huge web blossomed into the side. Someone had cracked it, that part was fairly obvious.

What the hell was wrong this girl?

I wash my hands mindlessly and return to the living room. Jojo sits on the couch, man-spreading like a fourty-year old man on his second divorce. She winces once or twice and exhales through her nose. " I think I ate too much, " she whines.

"You think?"

"It's all your fault. You're the one who convinced me to eat, " she accuses.

"Well, I certainly didn't tell you to eat junk." I join her on the couch from a fair distance as she sulks away the nausea.

"What happened to your mirror?" I softly ask.

"I punched it, " she answers without looking.

"Why?"

"There was a fly on it and it kept buzzing while I was taking a shit."

I didn't believe that for a second but I nod my head nonetheless. From that moment on, she only adds to the dark jokes and I pretend to fall for them. All until the moment I require permission to leave with the excuse of having to work again tomorrow.

I can't deny the sick, empty feeling at the pit of my stomach when I watch her follow me with her sad stare as I leave the apartment .

~ JUNGKOOK ~

The days go by smoothly. It took a while for Jojo to get the hand of it, but soon enough, the orders look like mere tools in her hands, bending to her will. Thank goodness, she had the conscience not to lash out at rude customers even though I could see how hard she strained the muscles of her forearms by her sides. She was the first to arrive and the last to leave the coffee shop. All that and she still kept to her strict schedule, running every day at the crack of dawn. Every single day. Even I didn't work out that much.

I had to admit that my interest for her kept increasing more and more with every new detail I noticed. I was intrigued to find out more about her and I strangely found myself being pulled to her presence like a magnet. We'd continued our shared runs and conversations on each other's apartments more often than I remembered but there was still no progress on our status. Well, I once called her my friend and she didn't object to it so that must be a start.

"Well, someone's got a new crush."

I rip my eyes off Jojo's figure and come face to face with Kwan's amused stare. "What?"

"You like her, don't you?" Kwan teases further.

I sigh deeply and put my apron on the counter, ready for my lunch break. "I don't know, honestly, " I admit. "I'm not sure what it is, exactly."

"Listen, I know a crush when I see one and yours definitely is . Why don't you ask her out?"

"It's complicated."

Before Kwan can torture me with his long string of questions, Jojo stomps her way toward us with closed fists. "I swear to God if that bitch asks for a menu one more time..."

"Hey, hey we talked about this, " Kwan interferes. "Deep breaths. In and out."

She does what she's told a couple of turns and then rests her hand on her hip. "Nope. I'm still angry. I have to punch something."

"No violence in our workplace, Jojo."

She pouts in distaste and then suddenly her eyes land on mine. Her hand reaches out and points at my chin. "You got a little something.."

I dip my vision down only to be met with her index and middle finger giving my head a hard flick. She erupts in teasing giggles, soon joined by Kwan's booming laughter.

"Gotcha! Bro, I feel better already, " she says and gives Kwan a manly fist bump. I shake my head in surrender, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips and head for the room on the back. I hear the swish of Jojo's apron on the counter as she soon falls into my steps. We had a ten minute break everyday and Jojo was never one to miss it, always deciding to share that precious time with me. She kinda ruined it with the jokes sometimes but I didn't really mind.

She offers me a slice of cucumber trapped on the sharp edge of her knife and I politely decline. She always did that, sharing food left and right even though most of the times it wasn't even that much to begin with.

"Wanna hangout after work?" I suddenly ask. I hadn't planned this at the slightest. It was like the words jumped right out of my throat. Sure, we'd hung out before but only on days off and certainly not on evenings.

She hesitates for a moment before chewing on the cucumbers. "Sure, why not? It's Sunday tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, " I admit.

"Cool."

I try not to let the excitement show on my face as I finish the last bits of my lunch. The late afternoon takes longer than usual to arrive. By the end of the shift, I'd been itching to get the apron off. Jojo, on the other hand seems unbothered. For her it was probably just another day with the bane of her existence. She nudges her elbow into my side as we exit the doors together, throwing a glance at the bike by the side of the road. She would ride that thing here everyday even though the memories of the accident were still fresh. "I'll just leave it here tonight, " she says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't wanna make your sorry ass struggle to keep up with me."

I give her a teasing light push and pull at a string on her hair. "Fuck off."

We go for a series of playful kicks and thrashes that turn milder and milder with every inch we come closer to my apartment. By the point we've reached the door, my poor hair is being twisted like a rope in her cruel hands. She really liked touching my hair. She kept saying she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail at least once before she died. Me on the other hand had scolded her for mentioning death in the first place.

"Ok, but you have to let me style it for you, " she insists, never dropping the issue.

"No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is, " I reply in feigned smugness.

"Asshole, " she mumbles under her breath.

"What?"

"I said Casserole. I'm craving some."

My eye creases soften on their own. "I can make it for you if you want."

"You know how?"

"No, but I can look it up online."

At that, a shy smile brushes her features. "Nah, it's alright. I think about all sorts of food all the time. I'd probably change my mind after five minutes."

She plops down on the couch comfortably and groans when the bones of her back click to let her unwind. The way she'd grown more and more comfortable around me gave me this weird sense of satisfaction, as if I'd been seeking for that validation from the start. In fact, our whole situation was weird. I enjoyed her company and hopefully the feeling was mutual but there was still something missing. I didn't know exactly what but I certainly knew that deep down she was hiding a whole different personality.

My apartment had become so familiar to her, she doesn't hesitate to let me know without much further ado that she'd be using the restroom. But just before fully rising, she types something down on her phone with the utmost concentration. The only reason why it attracted my attention was the excessive amount of times she'd done that for today. And yesterday. And days before that. It would take one bite of her food and she'd immediately reach for her phone.

Did she use a calorie tracker?

I curse myself enough to damn my soul to hell for the rest of eternity but it still doesn't stop my hand from shakily grasping the phone lying on the couch. I draw the pattern I'd memorized from watching her unlock it all those times and just like that, the Notes app lights back into life. My eyes widen with every single line I read.

Day 35 I fucked up today. I had three donuts for breakfast and pizza for dinner. The cravings are fucking horrible. Total : 1560 cals

I scroll down to some days back.

Day 34 I wouldn't say it's bad. I went for a run and had an apple afterwards. Take that Anna, you whiny bitch! Total: 78 cals

There's a visible pattern in the notes; wins, losses,relapses. My eyes scan the screen speedily, fleeting through each letter and word.

Guess what? I fucked up again—

I hate myself—

I did not eat anything today! Nothing, I tell you! Haven't felt this empty since—

I so wanna die right now—

Please make it stop—

Day 71 No comment

Day 72 No comment

No comment

No comment—

"That's my phone, you know."

I raise my head to level my blown-out pupils with her calm ones. Unperturbed. Smooth like waves in a gentle breeze. She doesn't look angry to witness my shameless snooping, just disappointed. She knows that I know. It all makes sense now. The scars, the small meals, the excessive workouts...I feel a pang in my chest for being such a fool all this time.

I muster whatever courage left within me and rasp out the words. "Who exactly is Anna?"

~ JOJO ~

"She's a bitch."

"An imaginary bitch, " Jungkook emphasizes.

"Doesn't make her less of a bitch, " I mumble.

He has been giving me a cold yet sympathizing stare for the last five minutes but I knew that deep inside he was bashing himself for not knowing.

"It's short for Anorexia, " I clarify.

"How long has this been going on?" Jungkook continues. He didn't seem like giving up on the detective role anytime soon. Little did I know that he would fully embrace the title.

"Three years."

His head drops in his hands. He gives his pretty face a hard rub before turning it back towards me, eyes now laced with something similar to compassion.

"Why aren't you looking at me like that?" I ask him.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm some sort of freak."

"You're not a freak, " he grits between his teeth.

"But that's what everyone would say if I told them. I know they'll look at me differently."

"I'm not everyone."

He was right. He wasn't everyone. That's why I kept dropping hints on him with every chance I could get. I wanted him to know but then again I didn't want him to know. It was hard to explain.

Jungkook keeps his piercing stare on me, hoping to get a reaction. Then he pats the spot next to him on the couch as a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It made him look so adorable, I decided right there and then I would do whatever he said. Just asking would be enough.

"What's it like?" he asks as soon as I make myself comfortable.

"My disorder?"

He nods.

I think for a few moments before answering. How was I supposed to to explain it? It had been by my side for such a long time, I didn't know how to tell my disease and myself apart.

"Well, to begin with, I'm fat."

Come on. Say it. Come on.

His eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. "No, you're not."

There you go.

"You look pretty normal to me, " he continues.

"Normal is just another word for "you're fat but I don't wanna say it in your face, " I spit and it only makes him look more confused. "Oh, come on. I bet the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about anorexia was a skinny pale girl looking at a mirror. See? I knew it. In people's eyes anorexia and non-skinny people do not correlate."

Jungkook looks embarrassed to say the least. I know he's trying his best to find a gentle way around me but the deep crimson of his cheeks doesn't make it any easier for him. "I—"

"Look, Juan. I don't wanna overwhelm you with my bullshit. I'm sick in the head, okay? The things I do are not cool and I don't want you to be part of it."

"I thought we were friends..." he whispers in a low voice.

"We are but—"

"Just explain it to me, please. I'll help you get rid of it."

He really had no idea. His gullible self couldn't understand that this was not just a disorder. It was a lifestyle and the only way I knew how to survive. I release a sigh of defeat and try to muster the most joyful tone. "Fine. You wanna know what it's like? I'll tell you what it's like. Every day, I get up from that bed with the sole purpose of starving. I don't want to eat. It's that simple. Now you're probably thinking: ' why the fuck aren't you dead yet?' That's because I can't starve correctly, Juan. I can't do shit."

Jungkook keeps his unwavering stare directed towards my face and hands that passionately make weird gestures from time to time. I notice something sparking within me, a small flare of anger and pent up frustration finally getting some release. Saying the words out loud was unnerving. I'd never imagined them anywhere but on the interiors of my head.

"Numbers are important. I can't tell the difference even if I lost some weight. That's why I use the scale everyday."

"What do you usually eat?" Jungkook carefully asks.

"Anything that has low calories in it. But it doesn't last long and I'll immediately eat junk food three times the amount. Starve. Binge. Starve. Binge. It's a vicious cycle."

"Why don't you try a healthy diet?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "Wow, you're richer than I thought."

He blinks. "What? Why?"

"Healthy diets are expensive, dumbass. Ever wondered how rich people have those avocado diets and that type of shit? But that's just an excuse. The real reason is that I lack will."

"If you lacked will, you'd be dead by now."

"That's where I'm heading."

His head falls in his hands again and those pretty smooth lips mumble under his fingers. "You're not satisfied with your body?"

"Not satisfied is an understatement. I hate my body. It's hard to explain actually. I don't want to be sick to the point where I can't even stand but I don't want to be curvy either , you know what I mean? Its like I want a thin body but then I see a muscular one and I'm like ooh I want that one too and I don't know..."

Jungkook's eyes seem to sparkle on that. "So, you want a lean muscular body?

"Yes."

"That's not so hard to achieve."

I put up my best fake surprised-expression. "No shit, sherlock. Why didn't you just say so? You would've saved me from a lot of trouble."

"Fuck you, " he grumbles.

"I'm already fucked for life my man."

His deep sigh tickles my face. "You're impossible. How can you joke about this?"

"Then what am I supposed to do? Cry about it? Trust me, I've tried that a lot of times. It won't do shit. If I laugh about it, it won't be as shitty, " I add. "But jokes aside, it's not just about being thin. Its also about being in control, being aware of your own body. I feel so angry and frustrated every time I lose my streak."

To my surprise, he smirks in such an inappropriate way, it paints his face in a whole new canvas . "Don't worry. There are some situations where control just isn't needed."

I almost choke on my spit. Jungkook, being audacious? Well that was new. "Feeling bold, Juan?" I tease.

"Maybe, " he admits but now it had turned into what seemed like a shy smile. I try to latch onto that glimpse of humor and normalcy in hopes of taming the wild turns and takes of our conversation. But just when I thought I'd taken hold of it, Jungkook jumps into a new question. "What else can you tell me?"

I highly doubted I would be able to spill the contents of my soul in such a short time but if he was so hellbent on knowing more, knowing he would get." I can tell you a lot of things but I can also guarantee they're not pleasant."

He doesn't even blink.

"Fine. You asked for it." I pause. " I've been like this for three years now and it has only gotten worse as time passed. I already know what you've seen online and what you think eating disorders are. Trust me, it's bullshit. Don't believe the shit they give you. Do you know how many overweight people are anorexic? A whole bunch of them but if they tell anyone about it they'll get laughed at 'cause apparently anorexia exist only for skinny white girls. A lot of guys have it too. But they call it cutting back some pounds when they hit the gym. No way that's unhealthy, right? Totally justified. It's all just a big pile of shit. There's nothing cute or romantic about it. You know what's funny? I can go for days without taking a shit but I'll pee every two hours. I drink so much water to the point where it makes me sick. I never get warm. I take every single bite counting numbers in my head and wondering how I'll burn it off later, I spin in circles to make myself sick just so I won't be able to eat, I measure my waist three times a day and I feel like fainting every time I get up. I hurt myself 'cause I don't like what I see."

I feel that familiar ball of imaginary yarn settle to the base of my throat but I push it back down just as fast. Not now. Anytime but now.

Jungkook's eyes glint with sadness. He gulps once before lowering his vision and choosing to stare at the hands resting on his lap. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, " I reply. " It's not your fau—"

His hand shoots out to capture my own. A thousand tiny electric sparkles tingle up my arm. Maybe it's the lack of contact or just the knowledge that it's him but the way his warm palm fits into mine feels so right and I can't move it away for the life of me. His thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles. "I'm not pitying you, okay?" he says in a gentle voice. "I would never pity you. I just don't want to see you like this."

I lift my eyes to his own and stare at him like he was a glass statue, pouring some of his brightness on me. I didn't understand why he hadn't kicked me off yet. And to think that I was enjoying it...

Jungkook observes the slight tremor of my hand in his, which I'm desperately trying to hide and a subtle smile graces his lips. "You're touch starved, " he murmurs. Not in a malicious way. Not mocking me for it. Just stating things out in the open. It was the quality I liked the most about him.

"Physical contact is a luxury to me," I admit.

"It shouldn't be. You're human."

"I'm not even sure about that anymore."

The smile stretches wider as his nimble fingers intertwine with my trembling ones in a gentle, yet firm grip.

"Is this okay?" he questions, eyes set on the motion.

"No, but carry on."

It all felt like a guilty pleasure, like those sweet candies your mother keeps hiding from you and when you do find them, the taste is but absolute bliss. A forbidden fruit. I knew I shouldn't be leading him anywhere and spoil his peaceful life with my problems but I couldn't make myself pull back either. I was all of a sudden caught up between two fires that would scorch me and themselves in the end. Pushing people away or letting them in the confines of my chaos. I would lose either way.

I put on my best unperturbed mask to make it known I wasn't affected at the very least but just like that, his other hand slides up to my elbow and locks it in place. His deep look burns with something I can't quite decipher. "Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asks.

I freeze for a split second but try to shake it off with an intentional raise of my eyebrow. "Why?"

"I want to, " he breathes.

I was torn between slapping some sense into him and laughing my ass off but I do neither. My posture stays unmoving, waiting. "Do you really want to?" I ask again.

"Yeah, " he confesses and I catch his eyes glancing down to my lips.

I shrug. "Okay."

I've barely gotten the word out when he closes the small distance in a matter of seconds. A hand latches onto my jaw to angle it better and that's where I feel the soft, plushy texture of his lips come into contact with mine. They're so delicate and move so gently, I feel like I've ascended into time and space. I let his bangs tickle my cheekbones because it obscured his eyes from view and I didn't want to witness the reality of it.

Before I can dwell longer on them, he pulls back, forming the smallest of distances. His pupils are blown out, dark eyes staring with something more than just interest. I take notice of my fist bunching up the T-shirt he's wearing. Apparently, I hadn't been able to block out all my reactions. I release the material immediately and rise to my feet. A quick glance at the window showed that it was already dark.

"Good night, " I chirp and grab my phone resting on the table, heading speedily for the door.

Jungkook panicks and stands up just as fast. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Home," I reply.

His eyebrows bunch up in confusion yet again. "You can't just go like that after I kissed you."

"Watch me."

In less than four strides I've crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me with a thump. People were right when they said you couldn't see yourself blush but you could feel it. My whole face felt like it was on fire, an uncomfortable warmth spreading equally up to the tips of my ears. Who the fuck even blushes anymore?

I smack my lips in annoyance as I make my way down the stairs in a newfound rush. I cant deny it. I liked the kiss. Maybe a little too much. In fact I wanna go back there and steal the breath out of his lips. But I can't. It was a one time thing. And it will remain that way. Or at least I hoped so.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

Anorexia nervosa, often referred to simply as anorexia, is an eating disorder characterized by low weight, food restriction, fear of gaining weight, and a strong desire to be thin. Many people with anorexia see themselves as overweight even though they are, in fact, underweight.

Sleep is far from reach as I keep scrolling down page after page of the same generic description. Countless of pics of young girls with ribs and bones sticking out of their pale skin had been more than enough to make my own skin crawl, the after-images blazed forever behind my eyelids. She was right— they all said the same thing but I'd always known that no matter what what was said, you couldn't really understand something without experiencing it yourself first hand.

I put my laptop aside and lay down on the warm comfort of my bed. Even though I'd willed my eyes shut, sleep just wouldn't come. She kept busying my head with all kinds of thoughts— thoughts of her disorder, thoughts of what she was doing right now and the memory of her soft lips on mine. I keep replaying that exact moment like a loop, feeding off my imagination like a middle-schooler. She'd acted like she barely gave a shit but there was no mistakening the furious blush that had fallen across her nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. It looked surprisingly adorable on her, different from any type of reaction I'd gotten in exchange.

I roll over the other side of the bed and smash the back of my head on the pillow. I'm such an asshole. And she's no better either. How can you just leave after someone kisses you?

I leave my mind pondering to these thoughts as my eyelids slowly start to weigh down on me. But just when I'm about to pass out cold, a dark figure intrudes the corner of my eye, causing my body to turn upright.

Jojo's standing by the threshold, dressed up in what looked like loose see-through sleeping clothes. The material fell in graceful waves from the hems and pooled around her ankles. It felt weird not seeing her dressed up in her usual tomboy look but I was enjoying the view nonetheless. Her hair drapes over her shoulder and hides a part of her face, the rest of it, illuminated by the moonlight seeping from the drawn-back curtains. It looked like she'd just awoken, eyes mussed up with sleep but still focused on my form. She stares deeply at me, as if waiting for something.

All traces of exhaustion now wiped clean, I push myself up on my elbows and return the stare. How had she gotten here this late? Did she know my password?

She saunters over to the bed in such a seductively delicate manner but yet it was so subtle, I doubted whether she did it on purpose or not. Her left knee touches the duvet first, making the bed dip slightly under her weight. Then she leans her palm facing down and proceeds to come closer and closer on all fours like a predator targeting its prey. I was like a deer caught in the headlights in the most cliché sense of the word. I kept observing her movements with silent adoration and the more I tried to look away, the harder my eyes seemed to fixate on her approaching form. At some point she's sitting so close to me that I can feel her soft breath fluttering my eyelashes. She slowly tilts her head and gives me a look of mild curiosity, as if puzzled by my existence there altogether.

"Can I touch you?" she softly asks. Her dark orbs bore into mine, waiting for my answer. Such a sheer persuasion is held inside of them that I find myself gulping audibly before nodding without a moment's notice. She comes impossibly closer, almost attaching her body into mine and then raises a hand up to my hair, the small fingers playfully twirling the dark locks. I then notice her own hair falling in curtains in front of her face, slightly obscuring her eyes from view. It makes her look even more mysterious and alluring, I can barely resist the urge to tuck a string back behind her ear.

"Can I do more than just touch you?" she asks again and this time the movement of her hand slows into a halt. The edges of her lips pull slightly in a teasing manner and seem to merge into a coy smile.

My heart starts beating like crazy. I can feel it accelerate into a manic pace as it pulses with an unfaltering heat underneath my fingertips. I muster whatever air left in my lungs and whisper the words in a breeze. "Whatever you'd like."

That's all the approval she needs. She tilts her head on the side and lets the tip of her nose brush my earlobe. The breath she lets go draws from me an involuntary shudder that washes over my body; from the top of my head and down to my toes.

I fist the sheets to the point where it hurts. I wanted to touch her too, to feel her and to breathe her in. But I don't. I decide to let her be the one in control, to let her know that just a word tumbling from her lips would be enough to give her all of me. All that I had.

She drags those sinful lips along the side of my neck painfully slow and then puts her legs on each side of my hips, straddling them. And then she kisses me. Even though barely a peck, it burns scolding hot and causes my lips to burst into a heap of tingles.

My hands find their way into her waist, digging through the material but she stops me with her own and gives my chest a light push. I try to relax and let my back lower till it finally makes contact with the sheets. She hovers above me, graceful strings of hair tickling my neck as she attacks my lips again with bruising strength.

That's when I feel it. My shirt being lifted. Her cold fingertips, in stark contrast with my ridiculously hot skin, leave goosebumps in their wake. I try to reach with my hands and help her get it off but she grabs them and puts them back down. "Don't. I'll do it for you."

She resumes her previous action and sweeps my shirt completely off but not before making sure those nimble fingers slide along my skin with an added pressure. I let her. I let her do whatever she wants with me. She can have me.

I pray silently with my eyes for her to kiss me again and surprisingly, she understands. But this time I can't help the small whine coming deep from the back of my throat as she dips her head down and lets her tongue swipe a sensitive stripe on my neck. I'm scared the sheets will rip into shreds from how hard I'm twisting them.

She doesn't stop. Only goes lower and lower with open-mouthed kisses, down my chest, through the ridges of my abs, all the way to my navel. She stops there and the hard muscle of her tongue moves in a way that makes me gasp out loud. I shut my eyes tight.

When I open them again, the pressure on my tummy slowly dissipates. I drag my eyes to my front but there's no one there. Just the open window swaying the curtains and the entirety of my room swallowed by semi-darkness.

She's not here. It was just a dream.

I sit up on my bed and drag a hand to my face, rubbing it hard to pull myself together. What the hell just happened? I hate myself even more for the fact that I wish it wasn't a dream. I let my head fall back with a thump into the pillows and notice the uncomfortable heat at the bottom of my stomach. "Holy shit, " I whisper.

~ JOJO ~

Sometimes even the most colorful butterflies in your stomach cannot stop the tears from falling. Me, like the miserable human being I was, had cried myself to sleep last night instead of hopping cheerfully around my room. Jungkook's shut eyes and the serene expression on his face when he'd put his lips on mine had only made me wallow into self-doubt even more than usual. Did he actually mean it or had it just been a reflex, something to pass the time? I felt as if I didn't deserve any of the things he offered me, regardless of his intentions. But fuck, did I want to have him. Fuck. I'd never met a more perfect person with all of those tiny imperfections that actually made him real and whole.

That perfect smile that puts all of his pearly white teeth on display shines bright even know as he notices me entering the shop but I don't fail to detect the eyes that shy away in embarrassment. How cute.

"Hey, " he tries to hold the grin from spreading across his face as he scratches his neck awkwardly.

"Hey yourself, " I reply with forced nonchalance. It doesn't work. I fall under the scrutiny of his eyes as he can tell something's off.

"Your eyes are red, " he states matter of factly.

"Last time I checked they were brown."

His face falls. "Don't give me that shit."

Wow. That kiss had definitely given him some confidence. As far as I remembered, swearing was something he found hard to do unless absolutely necessary. Was I getting to him already?

Preparing to start the work, I click my tongue and move into an arc around his back. I let the silence fill the empty slots, too tired to come up with some lame excuse when suddenly, the presence of warm fingers greets the skin of my elbow. I look down to see Jungkook's hand on it, eyes brimmed with genuine worry, something I hadn't seen in a long time. "Is everything alright?" he questions and the words alone make the butterflies in my stomach almost turn into pigeons. "You left all of a sudden last night."

The angle on which he bends his neck to level his eyes with mine makes them stand out so adorably, so bright and full of life, I can barely hold a squeal from ripping out of my throat. He was just standing there in all his glory and looking at me like I was the thing he cared about the most. Maybe I was. Did it sound too far-fetched?

I slowly reach up and twirl one of his dark locks on my forefinger, letting it drag to the side of his cheek as I give it a small poke. I hear the breath that hitches on his throat and it only spurs me on even more. "Why? Did you miss me?"

He doesn't back down, eyes boring into mine with an intensity that deserved some recognition. They occasionally flicker down to my lips and I already know what passes through his mind at this moment.

Someone clears their throat.

I immediately put some distance, eyes dragging to the new intruder only to find Kwan staring at us both with a shit-eating grin. He was gonna use this to blackmail us, I was sure about that but I couldn't care less. Not when Jungkook's eyes follow me without failing as I backtrack a few steps.

"He had something in his hair, " I explain with a faint gesture. Kwan's grin grows impossibly larger but he doesn't say anything, deciding instead to grab one of the glasses and wipe it raw, a habit more than out of intention.

I ignore his teasing remarks for the rest of the day and watch Jungkook's prying eyes from the corner of my vision. He'd throw a glance my way with every chance he got and without even being subtle about it. When it's time for our lunch break, his stare becomes so bashful, I can't help but stare back with an offended glare.

"You're doing it again, " he says before I can part my lips.

"Doing what? " I ask.

"Putting a mask on your face. It's funny but it's bullshit."

More swearing. Was it really possible to change someone for the worst with a few words? The last thing I wanted was for him to follow into my steps.

"There's no need to act cool all the time. If you're not okay, you can just say so." His hands fumble with the edges of his lunch box, fingers scraping at it out of nervousness. "You can say it to me, " he adds more softly. " I'll listen."

"Hey, its not that big of a deal, " I wave him off.

"Not that big of a deal?" he mimicks. "You can die."

"So? What's it to you?"

Jungkook sighs deeply. "Jojo—"

"Are you gonna feed me the classic love yourself bullshit?" I interrupt him before he has the chance to say the words I've heard being trumpeted so many times. "Cause there's no need for that. I already love myself. I mean, sure I would jump off a cliff if I could but I love living. I love life to death."

I'm pretty sure that so called mask he mentioned was glowing with pride right now. Even though deep down I knew it felt wrong, I still—

"You do this on purpose, don't you?" I turn my eyes to him only to see a smug expression that looked so foreign and uncharacteristic on his face. "I know what you're doing. You act rude and sassy and uncaring to fend people off so they won't get attached to you because you think your presence alone harms them." He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and his face floats mere inches from mine. "Isn't that right?"

When I don't answer back, his hands cup my knees as he leans so impossibly close that I can count all the dark brown flecks in his eyes. "Hate to break it to you but you can try as much as you want. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

His husky voice brings a smile on my face and I still make no move to put his hands away. "Oh, I can get rid of you. I just don't want to."

~ JUNGKOOK ~

"What do you mean you don't want to? I thought you liked hanging around with me?"

"It's late, Juan."

Jojo grabs the handles of her bike and turns it around in a semi-circle but before she can hop on the seat, I give her hoodie a pull and take over. From the moment I start pedaling, she sighs in exasperation. "Dude, come on, give it back."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, " I quickly reply. "I'm making chicken breasts tonight. Low calorie. You have to come over."

Jojo slowly catches up and we move like that for a while; her walking and me on the bike. It felt strangely relieving to have a moment of peace after a long and exhausting workday. I close my eyes and let the sun rays bask on my face with their warm texture. From the silence that follows, I suppose she's left with no other choice but to give in.

"Watcha thinking about?" I hear her ask after a few moments.

I open my eyes and turn my head towards her. "You."

She snorts. "You've stepped up your game, my man. Glad to see some progress."

"I learned from the best."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you were already popular with the ladies way before you met me."

The soles of my feet touch the concrete and I force the bike into a halt. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, " Jojo grins, "there's a girl behind us staring at your asscheeks–"

I choke on my spit.

"–and I mean like I can't exactly blame her because your ass is really looking pretty puffed up in that seat–"

"Anywaaaays, " I drag the word long enough to make her stop and proceed to flick my chin on the side. "Let me give you a ride."

Jojo's whole face dismorphs as her lips twist into a barely contained smile. It takes me a while to get the dirty reference. "Oh come on, " I yell out of frustration. "A ride. On a bike. Here on the street. Out in the ope–"

"Yeah, yeah. Just scoot over."

I do as I'm told and not a moment longer, Jojo tries to get comfortable on the back seat. However, I had a better idea. "Hey, why don't you pass to the front?"

Jojo peeks over my shoulder. "No. We'll fall if I do that."

"No, we won't, " I insist. "Just trust me. I'll keep you safe."

I don't know if those words struck a cord within her because she looks genuinely caught off guard with those big sparkly eyes staring at me in earnest. That's where I understood.

Words have power.

I could help her turn things around for the better. I could help her get back to normal. I could do all of these things and more if only she would crack the door of her soul open just an inch to let me in.

"Okay, " she finally answers in a tone much softer than usual. I scoot back and let her sit on the bike's supporting rod.

"Ugh, my ass is gonna be bruised like hell by the time we get there, " Jojo whines and squirms in discomfort.

Chuckling, I give the pedals a push and soon fall into a constant rhythm. Unfortunately for Jojo, it is hard to keep the balance so she is forced to hold onto my shirt. She barely touches it though. "Oh God."

"What?"

"Don't tell me this is one of those cliché supposedly romantic moments where the girl almost falls and they look into each other's eyes and shit like that."

I keep my eyes on the road. "I mean, it's not so dramatic to begin with. We're just chilling. And for the record, we did kiss so I don't see how just looking at each other can be such a big deal."

"Can't believe you pulled that card on me."

"You deserved it, " I reply in a smug tone.

After another moment of comfortable silence, Jojo's arms snake around my waist and the side of her head leans back on my chest. It feels like holding a baby, warming my body up with the presence of blood and life flowing underneath the skin.

For fear of scaring her away, I decide not to add any teasing remarks on why she changed her attitude in a matter of seconds, despite how tempting it was. If that loneliness she constantly felt was reduced even by a fraction, my job was done.

"Are you sleepy?" I carefully ask.

Her arms squeeze me even tighter. When she rubs her cheek affectionately on the front of my shirt, I fight the urge to erupt into giggles. "No, " she answers. "Just tired."

It would only take some time. Just a little bit more time and all her exhaustion would ripple away with no traces in her body or mind. This was my job from now on.

~ JOJO ~

It wasn't exactly his job to nurture me like a newborn baby but I couldn't deny the fact that I liked this new attention. I'd always tried not to feed my narcisstic side too much but it was a pleasant surprise to find out that someone other than Ana acknowledged my existence. These are the thoughts spinning round my head as I stare at the tiny bow of Jungkook's apron tied up at the small of his back. Or at least that's what I was supposed to be looking at because for the past fifteen minutes, my eyes had been trying not to drag down on the voluptuous planes of his ass that stuck painfully tight to the black jeans he was wearing. It's like the sucker was doing it on purpose, keeping his back to me the whole time.

"I really can't blame that girl for staring at you earlier, " I wonder out loud after the uncomfortable silence becomes unbearable. "With jeans that tight, you're asking for it, my man."

Upon hearing the words, Jungkook turns around with a spatula on one hand and a look of confusion on his face. "Isn't that what men usually say to women?"

"Exactly. But there are way less chances for a man to be sexually harassed by a woman, now isn't there? So don't come at me with that equality bullshit."

A small, understanding smile creeps up on the side of Jungkook's lips and in contrast to my words, it really seems genuine. "True. But that still doesn't make it okay." He turns back to flipping the chicken breasts on the pan.

I sigh. "Yeah, alright. Sorry for complimenting your ridiculously gorgeous butt—"

A snort.

"— but I won't hesitate to slap that shit if you piss me off, Juan. And I won't do it in a kinky way."

At that, Jungkook fully turns around, places the fresh meal onto the table and hurriedly takes a seat. "You're into that sort of thing?"

"Nah, man. I like being normal."

"Normal? You?" Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the emphasis on the word clearly intentional. I understood that something like that was to be expected from people but it didn't mean it didn't secretly hurt my feelings. Being always ousted as the weird one took a mental toll on you and if you ever tried to blend in, it would only make you stand out more.

I let out a noise of impatience. "Listen, here Juan. I might be sick as fuck but my life doesn't revolve around my disorder. I have favorite hobbies and colors and that kind of shit."

"Is it black?" Jungkook jumps in, suddenly curious.

"Navy blue, but that's not the point."

"I know it isn't." He sighs wistfully. "Sorry, Jojo. The only reason I said that is because every five seconds you try to assert your dominance so I assumed your preferences on that particular side were a bit...freakish." His expression is halfway between apologetic and entertained and he seems torn between the two.

Curse my dumbass brain for ever acting on impulse.

I scratch the back of my head in discomfort and avert his eyes. "Okay. Okay, I get it. I jumped too fast to conclusions–" I lean my elbow on the table, "–but that's because I'm very athletic."

Jungkook deadpans.

After another uncomfortable silence settles in and after Jungkook realizes he's not getting another word from me, he absentmindedly taps the table with his fingertips. " By the way, same for me, " he mumbles.

"Huh? " I logically reply.

"I have the same preferences as you." He raises his head and looks at me dead in the eye. "Normal."

At this point, I had no idea why we'd decided to reveal our sexual preferences for absolutely no reason but it had come to that. Crazy, right? Me and emo-boy pouring our hearts out to each other...

"So, " Jungkook interrupts my train of thought as he starts chewing on the fresh chicken pieces. "You seem like a competitive person."

"I guess you could say that, " I hum in agreement.

"Well, I have another proposal."

"Like I said, it's too early for me to get married."

The expression he makes as he tries to keep the food from spilling almost causes me to burst out laughing. Even after he's successfully managed to breathe in some air, the faint traces of a phantom smile are still visible.

"I meant a challenge. For you. A bet, to be more exact. Do you like bets?"

"I do, actually."

"Well then. We'll play a game of tic-tac-toe. The rules are simple. If you win, I'll do everything you want for the rest of the day. Now....if I win....." A devilish grin stretches on one side of his face. "You'll practically do whatever I ask you to. It's the same for both cases."

"What's the catch?"

Jungkook leans back in his chair and links his hands on the back of his head. " There's no catch. I like games, that's all."

The satisfied, confident expression he was wearing made it clear that this was not just a simple game. I was sure as hell he had something up his sleeve but that didn't turn me off nor made me back down. Why not let the guy have his own fair share of fun? However, that didn't mean I couldn't at least give things a little twist.

"Okay, then. Take your shirt off."

This time Jungkook really can't help but choke on his chicken breasts, sputtering pieces of food everywhere. One of them barely misses my face.

"What the fuck! Why?" he screeches, hands wildly attempting to clean the mess.

I slowly drift into a smile. "Relax, pretty boy. We're playing the game on your abs.

~ JOJO ~

"This is stupid."

"You're stupid. Now shut up."

Jungkook gives me one last incredulous look before pulling the shirt completely over his head. In all honesty, the sight was to drool for. That swirling tattoo I'd always caught a glimpse of, is now clearly displayed on one part of his chest and on his left side, reaching up to his neck and down to his hipbone. I try to keep my composure as best as I can but some of my facial expressions must have been on point because Jungkook seems to start feeling uneasy. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and scratches the back of his head. I almost feel bad for lightly snorting but then I think better of it. After all, I was allowed to have some harmless fun, right? No biggie.

The ridges of Jungkook's magnificent abdominal muscles come into view as he slowly approaches. His posture is a bit stiff, however. The guy was trying his best to suck his stomach in, in hopes of flaunting his slim waist in the most perfect angle.

"Stop flexing, Juan." I say in a monotonous voice. "I already know you're ripped. "

Caught in the act, he shyly smiles and lowers his eyes. "Sorry."

The smile only grows further when I use a marker to draw the lines for the game on his stomach. He squirms and twitches with every flick of my wrist. Apparently, ticklish was another adjective to add onto the dictionary of my names for him.

After a rough sketch is drawn on his tummy, Jungkook gestures for me to make the first move. "Ladies first, " he says with a grin that almost looked pained. His eyes follow my hand that had been finishing the last touches.

I draw an X.

He draws an O.

We move back and forth, exchanging the marker every time, until I realize.

I'm fucked.

He had me cornered in both rows. Wherever I put my next mark, I would still lose. It was an old technique that everyone had used at some point but my dumb ass had fallen right into the trap. But was I really to blame with him looking at me like that?

Jungkook chuckles. "I win."

Fuck. I'm screwed.

"Looks like you're gonna be my servant for the rest of the day. " He throws a careless glance at the windows, pitch dark background already behind them. "Or should I say, night?"

I sit back down on the chair and man-spread in defeat. "Fine. You won. Congratulations. Now what do you want me to do?"

He doesn't even hesitate, his voice as clear as glass. "Kiss me."

I stare at him in disbelief but it didn't seem like there had been a slip of the tongue. He was dead serious with those hooded eyes and the fact that he hadn't even put his shirt back on was for some reason unnerving.

A scoff escapes from me. "Out of all the things you could've asked.... I thought you were gonna make me clean your kitchen or something."

"Oh ,we have plenty of time for that, " Jungkook replies with a newfound smugness.

I mull it over in my head for a second before slowly rising from the chair. He leans forward in anticipation and it's as if his every fiber feels ready to pounce in action.

I honestly found it hard to comprehend the concept behind all of this. Out of all the nice looking girls out there, he found a dirty looking rag called me? Me?!

I give my head a slight shake and reach up with the tips of my toes. I listen to Jungkook's breathing stagger for a moment, only to be released with disappointment when I touch my lips to the side of his cheek, furthest from his two plumps of pink rosy flesh. Jungkook's expression looks slightly annoyed as I pull back, observing the ruins left in my wake.

"That's not exactly what I was thinking, " he laughs to himself, half out of disappointment half out of disbelief.

"You never specified where to kiss you, " I explain.

There had been nothing forcing me to act the way I did. Absolutely no one but myself yet I still felt like something was missing. Like I wasn't enough for him or any other person. My mind kept lying to itself, in the hopes that if I could avoid being too touchy, he probably would forget about me altogether.

Jungkook, bless his soul, gets rid of the awkwardness in a moments's notice, his cheeks puffed up in what resembled a pout. "You played me good, huh?" he huffs and I hold the urge to laugh like a little girl. It felt weirdly cute to see him so worked up over a small rejection when he could make any girl fall in his arms with just a snap of his fingers.

I lower my voice in a mockingly deep baritone. "What are your next orders, my lord?"

Jungkook smiles.

* * *

After that, it's hell hours for me.

It's like he had been waiting for this chance all this time and now that the flood gates were open, he couldn't afford to waste any buckets of water. From cleaning to organizing to heaps and heaps of orders, Jungkook had been vastly generous. And the worst part was that I had to eat my next meal with him and not even dare think about counting calories. He would purposefully mess up the portions and make it impossible for me to calculate. As if I didn't already have a hard time doing that on the daily...

At one point I was even scolded for counting in my head because apparently, the genius had noticed my eyes moving upwards in circular motions as the food lay down in front of me.

In other words I was utterly fucked. The anxiety of not knowing what I was putting inside my body, of having no perception of numbers or weight scared the shit out of me and if it hadn't been for Jungkook's appreciative glances or encouraging words, I would've said goodbye a long time ago. With him it felt a little less guilty, less of a sacrilege.

"Just don't think about it, " he'd said to me and even though it was one of the most conventional phrases you could think of, coming from him felt different. As if there was an actual purpose behind the words.

"What's next?" I ask in a dead-sounding voice after finishing the rest of the dishes. " A hand-job?"

Jungkook raises his eyebrows in sudden amusement, his expression shamelessly entertained. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll settle for a massage for now."

I drag my eyes to his still bare torso and motion for him to lay down on the couch. "Good. 'Cause I wouldn't give you a hand-job even if you threatened to throw me off the balcony."

Jungkook's laugh is muffled by the pillows as he turns his sculpted back to me. "I like how you have no shame."

"Shame is for the weak, " I add.

My fingers work tirelessly on the smooth planes of his skin, pushing and pressing on specific points which I knew would grant him relief. The way he tries to hide satisfied grunts makes me feel light-headed but I bite my tongue and will my creative mind to take it down a notch, focusing on the task at hand. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't had so much physical contact in a long time. Who knew? It was still an enjoyable sight, what with all the tattoos gracing his beautiful bronze skin in long shapes and lines.

"You're really good at this, " Jungkook grunts after a particularly hard press of my hands on the small of his back, even though to me it sounded more like a moan. He folds his arms at his front and leans his head sideways.

"I am?" I question as a smile already pulls at the corners of my lips.

"Yeah, " he agrees.

"Well, to return the compliment, I really like your tattoos."

Jungkook turns around and lays on his back, staring at me under his long eyelashes. He doesn't utter a single word, just keeps looking at me like he would a statue in a museum, his fringe falling between his eyes but leaving enough space for him to see. My hand is left to linger on the velvety skin of his stomach.

"Most people say they look scary, " he says in a low, raspy voice.

"They're not, " I add and trace a curved black line with the tips of my fingers in reassurance.

Jungkook gently grabs the said hand, still not losing eye contact. "Are you scared of me, Jojo?"

"No. I'm not."

A silence falls in the room, its echo almost deafening but this time there's no discomfort, no weird looks, just the consoling presence of each other that hangs in the air like a halo of light. Then–

"Juan, I think I'm starting to catch feelings for you."

He stops himself from smiling, but it's useless. The smug grin had already made it past his lips. "Yeah, me too."

"Hmmm, " I mutter. "How do we make it stop?"

Jungkook slowly rises in a sitting position, that damned expression still visible on his face. "I don't– I don't think it's something you can stop."

" Aw shit man, " I scoff.

"Yeah, you just gotta go with the flow."

I'm positive there's a subtle irritated look on my face, which to Jungkook apparently looked hilarious. This had never happened before and I didn't know what exactly to expect. Was it normal? Was I going to be hurt again? What the fuck was I supposed to do?

"You're overthinking it. There's no need to put a name on your feelings." Jungkook cuts like a knife through my jumbled thoughts. "Besides, I thought we were talking about my tattoos."

"Right, " I confirm. " Is there a meaning behind them?"

"No. They're just for aesthetic purposes." The hooded eyes and dark expression is back on his face. "But–" he takes one of my hands and guides it on the side of his torso, "– this one does." He slides it a little further, on the underside of his forearm, tracing what I recognized as a tiger lily. "This one too. I'll tell you about it someday."

His stance is crouched. Even though he's a good feet taller than me, I somehow look towering over him. This position is suggestive enough in itself but it becomes even more so when Jungkook's knees cage around mine. Our eyes now levelling, I drag the line of my vision upwards, refusing to break the eye contact. And then, my eyes focus onto his lips and specifically the tiny little mole under them. It had caught my eye dozens of times before but for some strange reason, right now it looks like it's inviting me. By impulse, I gently meet his lips with mine and surprisingly he doesn't pull back, peppering me back with pouty kisses that are interrupted only by quick pauses for breath. I take the chance and discreetly lick that very mole with the flat of my tongue, feeling his lips' softness with a quick swiping motion.

It's like his gears are put into action. The sweet, gentle Jungkook is utterly forgotten from the moment he slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, wrestling his own tongue in full force. But then his hands reach up and slip under my sweater to feel the skin underneath and that's all it takes for me to flinch and push him off.

He immediately stops himself from going further and lowers his hands down by his sides. His hooded eyes turn back to alertness as he tries to comprehend what just happened. I feel bad for a moment.

"J—Jojo?" His eyebrows raise in concern. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, I just—" A deep sigh leaves my lips as I try to keep myself from panicking.

He was about to touch my tummy. My fat, squishy tummy. Just the idea of him touching me there gives me chills.

"I remembered something I have to deal with."

I rip myself off from the couch and drag a hand through my hair in distress, about to turn on my heel and get the hell out of here.

"Wait!" Jungkook yells after me and he grabs my forearm. Not harshly, just strong enough not to let me go. "Did I upset you?"

"No. I–"

Calm down. Deep breaths. One, two. One, two.

"I just have to–" I rush with my words, but Jungkook's hands are made of steel, such a stark contrast with his pleading eyes.

"Stay. I'll take care of you. " He's begging me now. " Please."

I give in–

~ JUNGKOOK ~

–but at what cost? She's been acting distant ever since the panicky incident and I don't know what else to do to get her back the way she was. She barely touches me, barely comes close and I wonder if it's a shame to admit that I miss her kisses too. However, the jokester in her has never left. She'll crack dark jokes from time to time, acting like nothing ever happened and I'll pretend to play along for fear of not making her leave.

It pained me to see her like this, to see her crumbling apart day by day while my hands were frozen in place. A soldier stuck on quicksand. Someone had to tell her this was toxic, that she was poisoning herself and was fully conscious of it.

Weeks and weeks under her presence had trained me to notice all the changes, all the little shifts in her demeanor. Today was no exception. At least not with the incident that had made me do things I'd never imagine doing.

It had all started when a new employee had joined us on the coffee shop, courtesy of my boss, whose relationship with him was rather close. It was one of those cases where you had to make favors for the sake of family relations, et cetera, et cetera. So far, so good. But was one really to imagine that the guy had the audacity to act like he owned the place? I tried to ignore his antics up until the moment he fucked with the wrong girl. My girl.

Despite my disapproving glances, Jojo had been making comments on her weight, constantly seeking Kwan's opinions on the matter.

"But I'm fat!" she had exclaimed, exasperated. In Kwan's eyes, this was just another one of her lame jokes but I knew the sting behind the words.

Then, completely out of line, the new employee had chirped. "You're not fat, you're just thick."

I'd whipped my head in his direction and jumped off the table I'd been sitting, my hands suddenly itching but Jojo had been quick to secretly wave me off. "Well then, you're not stupid, you're just dumb, " she 'd snarked, earning a whole-hearted guffaw from Kwan. The joke had been let at that, or at least that's what Jojo thought. My fists hadn't stopped til the itching sensation was satisfied.

"You okay, Jo?" I'd asked at lunch break, the new nickname making her lips barely twitch. She was upset. I could tell.

"Yeah, why?" she'd replied, eyes trained on my face. For once, she'd given me that warm, old look that went beyond friendship. I'd tried to cherish it for a few seconds before adding, "That asshole was rude to you."

I'd unconsciously rubbed my knuckles and that hadn't skipped past Jojo's eyes. "Nah, he's just– wait a second! Did you do something to him?"

I'd adverted her eyes and cleared my throat awkwardly. "I kinda beat the shit out of him." The image of the guy's swollen face and broken nose flashes into my memory.

She'd gasped but there'd been a mix of amazement and incredulousness in the tone of her voice. "That's my job!"

I'd smiled. "No one messes with my Jo."

She'd smiled back but her eyes had still been sad.

Now I ring the bell on her door, impatiently carding my fingers through my hair as it remains shut. Where the fuck is she? She hasn't been answering my calls for a while and I'm worried sick.

I torture the bell button again and slam my palms on the door. "Jojo, are you there? Come on, it's me! Open up!"

What if something had happened to her? What if– I slam my shoulder repeatedly on it and the lock busts open with a loud clang. Rubbing the sore spot, I quickly scan the room and finally, my eyes find her crouched form on the floor.

There's a pile of junk around her, chocolate wrappers, plastic bags, food splayed apart chaotically and vomit on the floor as well as traces of it on the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are fixed in space, staring at nothing. Dried tears have left moist streaks on her cheeks. She looks lifeless until the moment she takes notice of me and does a double take.

"Jungkook? What– what are you doing here?"

I fall down on my knees next to her, worry written all over my face, but she immediately closes in on herself, her body language radiating fear and protectiveness. "No! Go away, please!"

I don't listen, scooting further till my hands are on her arms, trying to find a way in but she only keeps resisting. "No! Please, don't look at me! Not like this!" Her body shakes with convulsions and quiet sobs rip through her throat.

This was the first time I'd seen her cry.

I grab a towel from the kitchen and dip it in the streaming water. Jojo tries to keep me at bay but I set my mouth on a straight line and force it to her lips. Cleaning her eyes, her face as if I wanted to exfoliate her from any traces of sadness. "Please, " she's begging me now. "Please, go."

I keep my hands on a steady pace, gently rubbing the towel where needed. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just some spilled food. You're okay."

She quiets down at the words and it only goades me further. "Shhhh. You're my baby. My baby, " I lift her up and clean the rest of her, whispering other sweet nothings in her ear until at last the storm passes.

~ JOJO ~

There were two options left when someone made comments on my weight. I either starved myself for two full days or binged on everything I could see like a fucking cow because hey, I'm still gonna be fat, right?

Unfortunately for me , I'd picked the easier way out and emptied the contents of my kitchen in the blink of an eye. It was one of the things I hated the most; stuffing myself till I couldn't breathe. However, what I hated even more was people seeing me in my own misery. Even if that person was none other than the dreamy-eyed boy who had cared for me more than anyone ever had.

I stay silent as Jungkook cleans me thoroughly, making sure to also get rid of the mess on the ground and give me enough privacy to slip out of my nasty clothes and brush my teeth. I just keep staring at him and wonder to myself if I had done any good deeds in this life to deserve him. It pissed me off.

"Do you need another pillow?" Jungkook asks under his dark curly fringe, his back crouched as he stands on the side of my bed.

"No, I'm good, " I rasp, my voice strained from bawling for a good couple of hours. I avert his eyes once more. The guilt and the anger keeps bubbling up on the surface.

Jungkook abandons his chair and sits on the bed, his outer thigh barely touching my forearm. The springs creak and whine under his weight. He takes my hand in his, rubbing comforting circles with the tip of his thumb. "You okay, baby?"

I lash out in a second, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt and pulling it inches from my face. "Call me baby one more time and I'll rip your throat out."

To my surprise, he's not even fazed. A dark chuckle falls under his lips as he grins widely for me to see. Then, as if it couldn't get any more intense than this, he lets himself fall backwards on the bed, taking me along with him. My legs escape the cover of the sheets and straddle his waist, trying not to fall over and crush him. In that particular order. What a typical movie-like moment. I'm wearing pajama shorts and the pale skin of my thighs is completely exposed. As if on cue, Jungkook's eyes flick towards them, drinking in the view. Had he ever seen this much of my body?

"Do it, " he says in a low voice.

I slide one of my hands upward and gently wrap it around his throat. "You really want me to choke you, Juan?"

The bastard doesn't even say anything. He raises the hands laying by his sides and traces the outline of my thighs higher and higher till they settle on each side of my hips. Goosebumps chill my skin like flowers after rain. I'm torn between punching him and kissing him senseless.

"Who knows, I might actually like it, " he says. He hasn't even tried to wriggle out of my caging body, going as far as even baring his throat at me.

I smirk. "Are you always this submissive?"

Uh oh. Wrong move.

In a matter of seconds, I'm pushed backwards, the soft texture of the sheets smoothing the land on my back. Just like that, the positions are completely switched. Jungkook's grin never leaves his face as he's on top of me, his curly locks swinging like a crown on his head. He takes both of my curled fists and pins them on each side of my head.

"I was actually letting you in charge but now that I think about it ; I also deserve to have some fun right?" he states with a smug expression.

For a moment, I'm left speechless. My limbs too, have nothing to say. At least not with the way they're frozen in place, too caught on the spot to dare move.

Jungkook takes the chance and nuzzles his nose on the gap between my neck and jawline. On another situation I would have felt ticklish but not right now. A heavy weight on the pit of my stomach is proof enough for that. He starts leaving small pecks on the skin of my throat, making a beeline for the collarbones.

I honestly don't know what to do with myself. We've been playing around for a long time now but things have never gotten so serious. Not at this point. Only recently had I pushed him off and now here I was, the one turned into full submission.

"Do you plan on ruining yourself every time someone upsets you?" he mumbles, smooth lips barely grazing against my skin.

The image of that new guy flashes behind my eyes and my face sours, all those butterflies in my stomach crushed to dust, just like that. "Can we talk about something else?"

Jungkook pauses his administrations and pulls back just an inch, his eyes staring at mine in full concentration. "No."

I huff in frustration. "You're on top of me."

"So?" he raises one eyebrow.

"So, get the hell off!"

My wrists are suddenly pinned harder against the sheets, Jungkook's hands forcing them further down until they form little dips.

"No, " he repeats, almost mechanically.

I'm about to protest again when his tongue swipes at the vulnerable skin of my throat and that's all it takes to throw all caution to the wind. My back arches off the bed without my permission and I think I must've let out a sound because Jungkook is laughing that quiet laugh of his that makes his shoulders shake.

His lips are on mine, silencing whatever literate thought that tries to make it out. My hips are now straddled by his own knees and oh- my wrists are free because he lets them go gently and puts his hands on my cheeks, kissing me even more deeply, threading them through my hair and its suddenly too much, too much for me to handle.

I feel like I'm floating ten thousand feet off the ground and buried under layers and layers of earth at the same time. My breath shudders violently when his lips drag across the side of my face and nudge the sweet spot below my ear.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper but it comes out so broken, so desperate. I'm practically begging at this point and I don't even know why.

Jungkook's hands settle on my clothed waist. His fingertips twitch in hesitation as he bunches the fabric and just like that–

"I'm sorry, "

–and lets go.

I feel relieved and disappointed.

His body peels off my own with reluctance that rips me apart in a million different ways and I feel my skin grow cold from his absence. He leans back on the heels of his hands, staring me down with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, " he repeats and rises from the bed, disappearing into the living room.

* * *

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. My body has not even moved an inch, too shocked, too frozen. My legs feel like lead, two slabs of heavy stone that pin me into place.

If it weren't for Jungkook's presence snapping me out of my empty reverie, I would've probably stood there like a dead body for days. He comes back (from the bathroom, apparently) his wet hair still trickling droplets of water on his shirt, eyebrows shining, and stands on the middle of the room.

"It's midnight, " he says, as if in a trance.

My eyes flick to the window. Pitch black. Indeed.

"Can I stay here tonight?" he continues, and I can swear the tips of his ears go spicy red. My heart melts into a hot buttery mass. He's blushing like crazy. I can see it! A guy, blushing in front of me. I suddenly can't contain my smile, all things forgotten in a blur.

"Yeah. I would like that, " I breathe.

He locks eyes with me and breaks the contact almost immediately, looking anywhere but in my direction. "I can take the couch–"

"No. Sleep here, " I say and my eyes close of their own accord. "With me, " I slowly add.

"Are you sur–"

My eyes fly open. "We just made out five seconds ago. Why is that such a problem now?" I lift my neck just an inch, to glare at him but there's no real malice in it.

His lips crack into a smile and I'm glad for the tension that dissipates like cigarette smoke. "I sleep without a shirt on, " he confesses.

"Okay."

He slips it off his torso in a swift motion but it's too dark me for me to make out any details expect for his dark silhouette and the wide planes of his shoulders.

"You can take off anything you want. I won't touch you, " I say and roll over on my side of the bed.

"I wouldn't mind it, " I hear him mumble but he complies, the sound of his belt unbuckling echoing against the room.

The bed dips under his weight as he occupies its other side and I feel more than hear the fall and rise of his chest, the labored breathing coming to a steady rhythm.

Two strong hands clasp around my waist and I'm pulled backwards into his chest. I don't push him off. I let him hold me to himself, caged by his body, by the feeling of him; his bare chest, his bare legs, his long hair tickling the back of my neck.

Everything is going to be okay.

I'm okay.

"Jojo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you care about me?"

I smile. " More than I'd like to admit."

He kisses the nape of my neck and pulls me harder against himself. It's not long before sweet, calm sleep sneaks its way into into our bodies.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

It's not the sun the one that wakes me up, despite it having been up for a while, not even the sound of the cars honking in the distance. It's the gentle caress of skin on skin, making goosebumps rise and my eyelids flutter.

I slowly crack one eye open and the smile that blooms on my face is automatic. Jojo's cuddled up on her side right next to me, her head laying between my chest and shoulder, arms splayed out to hug my torso like a teddy bear. But what really does it for me is her left leg thrown across my side. She keeps moving in her sleep and it's doing things to me. I can't breathe.

I suddenly realize that I'm only wearing my boxers. Nothing else.

Oh God.

I lift a shaky hand and try to detach her leg but my fingers linger for too long and she suddenly stirs. Her lips nudge my chest and unconsciously give the latter a tender kiss. Her eyes slowly open. For a moment it looks like she doesn't know where she is but then the realization dawns on her.

"Good morning."

Shit.

Her raspy voice only makes it harder for me to keep myself collected.

"Morning, " I manage.

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair, frustrated. "Why is your nice body the first thing I see? I'm jealous, " she huffs.

I open and close my mouth like a fish, caught on the spot. I'd never thought of my body as particularly nice. "It does its job so yeah, I guess, " I admit aloud.

At that her eyes drag down to a very unholy spot in between my legs. She smirks. " Oh, it does its job, alright. I think you have some problems with morning wood, my boy."

I grab the sheets on the side and swing them over my legs, embarrassment setting my face aflame.

She bursts out laughing. "Relax. It's not like I've never seen a guy with no pants before. Though, I'm kinda disappointed. I was expecting for you to have Lighting Mcqueen patterns on your underwear. " She shakes her head mockingly. "They're so plain."

I uncover my legs once again and this time I don't care. Let her see whatever she wants.

She stops laughing. Gives another glance to the crime scene. Gulps. "Yeah, like I said. Plain."

This whole exchange is so entertaining, I feel my insides flutter with joy. Last night's episode is forgotten in a ditch with no problem. We're back to the old times.

I get up and pace around the room, in search of a glass of water. My throat is parched.

"You know what? Go take a cold shower. All that–" she gestures toward my middle with a wave of her hand, "– is distracting me."

I stop pacing. "You know what? I'll put some pants on if you put some food on your stomach. That's a fair deal."

The color completely drains from her face, replaced by a dark expression that seeps the life out of it. Regret weighs me down.

"I'm never eating again, " she says, while her eyes bore holes into the floor. " Not until I reach my goal weight."

I drag a hand across my face and rub it. Hard. My sanity is on the brink of falling apart. "Then what are you gonna do?" I ask, frustration finally creeping on my voice. "When you get to your goal weight."

She shrugs. "I'm just gonna keep being unhappy, I guess."

It's the way she puts the words out there so easily that draws the line for me. So carelessly, like I mean nothing to her. Like she means nothing to herself.

"This is ridiculous. You know you're harming yourself and you still keep doing it. You know you're not gonna change anything in the end and you still keep doing it. I don't get it."

"Oh yeah?" she spits, her own voice full of poisonous venom. "Why do you keep living if you know you're gonna die one day? Huh, Juan? Why do you do it?"

"This is killing you!"

"I don't care!"

I flinch. It takes me a while to gather myself before I muster the strength to spell out the next few words. "I don't even know why I care about you when you don't even care about yourself."

Her lips curl into a half smile but it doesn't exactly reach her eyes.

"You're right, " she says. "I don't."

Silence.

"Maybe you should go now."

I look up into her face but she's not looking at me, too focused on a spot on the wall. She's telling me to leave. To get the hell out of here. I'm suddenly realizing the absurdity of all this —me shirtless and half nude, boxers stuck to my body like gauze, having a fight with the girl I love with all my heart. I realize the enormity of it. Of how much I love her, of how much I'm hurt by seeing her hurt and I choose to leave.

I pick up my pants from where they lay carelessly on the floor and put them on in excruciating slow movements. I grab the belt and the T-shirt and make my way out of the apartment. Her eyes never leave that spot.

I shut the door behind me and lean my head on its cool ugly surface.

What an ugly mustard -yellow door.

" Jojo, don't do this, " I say, loud enough for her to hear. "Come on, please."

No answer.

The anger falls off me in waves I can't control, swallowing me whole until my eyes see black. I kick the door so hard, my leg grows limp. Another punch and I think I've cracked the wood but I don't care. I don't give a shit. I scream and slam my fists and palms like a madman throwing a tantrum.

"Dammit! Why do you keep doing this?! Stop it, damn you! You're hurting yourself for fuck's sake!"

"You're hurting me, " I add in nothing more than a whisper, my voice already hoarse.

The door never opens.

~ JOJO ~

The door opens easily with just a push of my fingertips. I try to look uninterested but my restless eyeballs betray me in an instant, scanning the coffee shop in all four directions within seconds. I'd spent the whole night spacing out while sitting at the foot of my bed on the floor. I'd never felt so much regret, so much of it that it had felt like I was drowning–

"He's not here." A voice startles me out of my thoughts and I turn around to find Kwan looking at me with something that looks similar to pity.

I blink. "What?"

"Jungkook, " he explains. " He's gone."

My heart falls into the bottom of my feet and I suddenly can't keep the panic from tainting my voice. I grip Kwan's shoulders. "Where?"

"Woah, calm down! I think he's gone to his parents or something. Boss already gave him permission."

My grip loosens. "Oh."

Kwan blanches but soon a look of genuine concern flashes behind his eyes. "What's the matter? Did you two get into a fight?"

"No, " I deny.

I can faintly make out Kwan's rambling but it sounds so, so far away because soon my ears are thundering.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

"Jojo."

I'm shook awake, courtesy of my man-handler. He looks truly worried but I just can't seem to care. All I know is that I need to get out, distract myself, do something–

The indecisive old bitch lady steps foot into the shop and I curse her existence and mine altogether. This is so not the time to be arguing over extra menus.

She takes her usual seat with an excessive amount of unnecessary grace and looks at me pointedly, waiting to be tended to.

I smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Park."

* * *

Everything feels empty, blurred around the edges.

Meaningless.

I finally realize how important purpose is and how everything we do is driven by it.

Lately I've been walking in circles, wandering like a fly trapped inside a jar, not knowing where I am or what I'm doing.

I'm just there.

I never eat anymore. I never drink. I savor my body like an untouched temple and hope against hope that I'll get better.

It's okay if I'm not. I can't make the difference anymore, anyway. I've spiraled into the bottomless pit of oblivion and the process is slow. It makes me feel numb.

I stare at the rumpled apron laying on the floor along with the rest of the garbage and Ms. Park comes into mind. She hadn't really appreciated my spilling hot tea right onto her chest. The dumb bitch had gotten me fired but it doesn't really feel like a great loss. I'd only worked there because of him, anyway. Him and only him. I never cared about anyone else. But he's not here. He'll never be here anymore.

I fish my phone out of my pocket and make use of the sudden memory to type down his number. I have it memorized by now. The line beeps.

"Hey."

My heartbeat spikes in excitement. "Hey yourself," I reply hastily but my voice cords haven't been used for days, so it sounds more like a rasp. I clear my throat.

"How's it going?" he asks. Casually. Like he would a friend. I missed hearing his voice.

"Good. You?"

"Same."

I bite my lower lip anxiously. I don't like his answers. I don't like how short and clipped they are. Clipped. Nipped. Chipped. Ripped. Zipped–

"So, the guys have been wondering when you'll be back, " I lie.

I hear him release a subtle sigh. "Oh. I don't really know, honestly. I've been hanging out with my parents and they plan on keeping me here for a while longer."

I nod my head slowly then remind myself he can't see me. "Right. Right, you must've missed them."

White noise.

Hmmm.

What else rhymes with noise?

Choice.

Boys

Toys

Turqoise–

"Well, have fun."

"Thanks......um, are you oka–"

I end the call.

he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone–

i told you he doesn't give a shit

"I never said I did, " I reply without looking.

you hoped, though

"Shut up."

laughter

you do realize you're pathetic, right?

I turn my head to the mirror. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch! Shut it!"

I spit and throw whatever I can get my hands on it but there's a smile there that I just can't see.

what rhymes with smile?

aisle

bile

rile

guile

worthwhile–

I scream and yell. I rip the sheets of the bed, swipe off the contents of my desk, punch and punch the mirror till my hands are raw and bleeding a waterfall. I kick and thrash with every ounce of strength left in me but there's no use.

She's still smiling at me.

* * *

I'm sitting down on the floor, surrounded by a pool of my own insanity. I can't tell how many days have passed and my cheeks feel surprisingly moist. Have I been crying?

There's no one else around here.

It doesn't matter. I like being alone.

It feels nice to just be with your own thoughts, not having to fear being overheard when you scream ideas and screenplays in your room. You can just be yourself and enjoy doing the things you like the most. But still, sometimes it gets really lonely and not just in the literal sense. I'll always check the dark corners to see if someone's there, I'll always feel like someone's whispering, saying bad things about me, that coat hanged on the rack will always look like a person and then I'll even start getting scared of my own shadow, my head will always shake uncontrollably when I'm crying because there won't be anyone to hold it for me, anyone to assure me that things are gonna be okay.

I don't like being alone. It's not nice.

I glance at the broken mirror, bloody cracks and lines making up the whole of it. There's only one spot in the corner that remains clean and untouched. A smile attached to it.

I realize now. Why she wouldn't go away. The reason why I could never win this war was because the enemy I was fighting against was none other than myself. She was no stranger. She was me. No matter how much we tried, me and my own resemblance would still be standing at the end of the day. If i was alive, she was alive. It was like a symbiotic relationship, a Yin to the Yang. We kept each other afloat and neither could exist without the other.

he's happy.

"I know, "

without you

"I know, " I repeat.

is that enough proof for you?

"It is."

then do it

"yes."

I rise from the floor and blindly look for my phone in the midst of all the trash. It's nowhere to be found. I then turn around and grab hold of the old telephone hanging on the wall. It stands out, an ancient relic hard to be found these days. I roll the numbers by memory. The line crackles for a couple of seconds before a familiar voice breathes into it. My chest constricts as I let out a pathetic whimper. "J– Jungkook... I'm sorry."

I don't give him time to answer, slamming the phone down with a loud ring.

it's over it's over it's over it's over i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

Big, fat tears trickle down my cheeks and chin and I do nothing to stop them. I whimper and whine as I head for the bathroom, reaching up with my toes to get the pills I'd hidden all these weeks. They're still here.

Waiting for me.

~ JUNGKOOK ~

I'm running as hard as my legs can take me but it's not really me doing it. It's my impulses being triggered with full force, struggling for survival. I'm completely detached from my body, my mind going through only one simple rule : I have to make it on time.

I don't even notice the heavy torrents of rain blurring my vision, making my feet trudge with difficulty. I don't even notice the people I push harshly out of my way or the red stoplights blinking past me. My eyes are focused inwardly like a camera, set on breaking through the sea of umbrellas.

please please please please

I repeat the word like a mantra in my head, praying against whatever odds that she will be okay when I get there, that she won't do what I think she intends to do.

please please please just not that anything but that please make her be alright

If only I could've hurried earlier, she wouldn't have had the chance to say those things. To say my name.

It was the first time she'd said my name. My actual name. Those few seconds hearing the syllables tumbling from her lips had been pure bliss to my ears, only to be ripped apart with the realization that she was pleading.

She doesn't answer the phone. I curse myself to hell and back. I should've told her I was coming today. I should've told her I was only two blocks away from her apartment and that all this time far from her had been nothing but torture. There hadn't been a moment when I didn't feel her absence or when I didn't wonder what she was doing. I should've told her I regretted every single word I'd sa-

Something slams against my arm. I fall onto the rough asphalt but I'm on my feet in seconds. The man I'd run into stares at me in anger but I can't deal with his shit right now, so I push him blindly, my feet already finding their footing. "Out of my fucking way!" I yell at him without looking.

I run and run and run until I can't feel my calves and my jacket is soaked through.

Drip

please don't die

drip

Her apartment building zooms into view. I punch buttons and take the stairs by four.

please

stay alive

please

Mustard yellow door.

I don't wait to check if it's open, kicking the lock open immediately.

Things happen in a blur, straight out of a dream. I kneel to the ground, forcing her mouth open. Her tear-stained face spits the pills reluctantly and then she tries to push me off as hard as she can. I knew she'd do this. I just knew it. I had seen the pills standing on the drawer for days, weeks. I knew how she gave those bruises to her body, how she tortured herself by her own will.

"NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" I hold her hands down and bend them behind her back but she keeps screaming and it's like all hell has broken loose. "FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"

I squeeze her hands tighter and I can suddenly hear myself crying, fully sobbing my heart out and then she's crying too and we're both sitting on the floor like two poor beggars with our limbs awkwardly splayed out.

"That's my decision, Jungkook. You can't take that away from me, " her muffled whimpers are heard as I lean her head on the crook of my neck.

I release her hands, which soon find their way around my neck, hugging my body till we fit perfectly together.

"Jojo."

I pull back just a few inches, capture her face with my palms and kiss her like there's no tomorrow.

~ JOJO ~

Do you know that feeling of finally getting home after a long trip, of how your body relaxes upon finding its lost familiarity? That's exactly what courses through my body right now, except that it's multiplied tenfold, to the point of numbness. I'd missed sensing his body beside mine. I'd missed his dark locks tickling my neck, his soft lips, but more than everything, I'd missed having him here. With me.

It's hard to believe the number of things that have happened today. It feels like I'm watching the scene unfold in front of me like a spectator and wonder if it's just a figment of my imagination. And the way he is kissing me..... It feels brand new. Desperate in more ways than one. He morphs our lips together as if they are made of clay and his hands start feeling around my body, begging for some purchase.

I don't realize the fact that I have started crying. Silent tears tumble down my cheeks, wetting his own face with their saltiness. I can't control them. I can't stop them. And Jungkook understands that. He pulls roughly at my bottom lip and suddenly lets go, creating a gap between our bodies. I can't help but feel that I must look like a little child in his eyes right now; grubby, disheveled, teary-eyed...

And then he's looking at me dead in the eye, beyond my appearance, beyond my outer core, cutting through weeds and vines growing inside my soul. "I know none of the things I say will ever convince you. So, I won't be using any words."

He slips my left sleeve from my shoulder, exposing the skin underneath. His head lowers down to it and gives it a feather-light kiss.

I stare at him in confusion but he chooses to keep silent. His eyes never leave my face, even when he starts repeating the action with my other sleeve, rolling my whole shirt up and off my body. He discards each piece with surprising gentleness and that's what makes my tears fall even more violently. He's so kind.

So good to me.

And he's taking off my pants.

I instinctively tense and Jungkook makes an obvious pause, letting me make my choice. The rigidity dwindles away and a flash of relief passes behind his eyes. I close my eyes and then he moves on with his graceful touches. I'm lain down into the bed, my hair fanned out behind me like a halo, and he slowly crawls on top, observing his work of art with a look of genuine satisfaction. His clothes are gone before I can blink and he slowly dives in for the sensitive part of my neck, breathing it in.

"Beautiful," he mumbles against my throat. My body convulses with whimpers. He nuzzles his way up until his lips are meshed against mine. "Touch me, " he whispers.

My breath hitches but I raise my hands that had so far lain on my sides and put them on each side of his face. "Jungkook."

He smiles and my heart bursts into a million fireflies. "I like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I repeat.

He drags those sinful lips down through valleys and crevices, leaving soft kisses in their wake, tracing every inch of my skin, tracing every bruise, every wound, every trace of self-harm. I am nothing more than a hot pool of lava. I do not own a body anymore. Or rather, I feel each sensation being magnified into infinity and I can no longer tell where my body starts nor where it ends. I feel too much. I feel everything. And I am not ashamed of this mundane mass of flesh and bones and blood.

I kiss back.

That's all it takes for him to finally let himself go freely. No obstacles. No barriers. I am free of the voices in my head, free of my fears and judgment. It's like we want to devour each other, drain every single drop until it is the only thing our tongues can taste. I don't really care about anything else right now. I wanna forget about it all and just focus on the soft texture of his lips ghosting the skin on my neck and then going stronger and wilder and swallowing it up till I can feel the delicious sting of pain. We fight. We love. We pour our hearts out like a warm waterfall. And as our bodies tangle restlessly with each other, sticky with sweat, I go through an indescribable ecstasy. Something I've never experienced before.

Acceptance.

_____________________

EPILOGUE

I'd never imagine the storm would go on all night but it somehow did. As I lay in my bed, feet tangled up with someone else's, I hear the distant rumble of faraway clouds first thing in the morning. If it weren't for my daily habit of waking up early, I wouldn't have even bothered cracking my eyes open. The sun remains hidden in some corner as the dark gray sky salutes me instead.

I like it. This mood. It's cozy and warm and safe .

I turn my head on the side and almost melt. He's sleeping like a baby. Eyelids relaxed, lips slightly open, an angelic expression on his face. Pretty.

"That's bold, coming from you, " his lips spell.

I lightly gasp as I realize I've said the word out loud. "I thought you were asleep." As if by instinct, my hand slides up into his face, gently caressing it.

Jungkook grabs my whole arm and pulls me towards him, giving the edge of my jaw a kiss. "I was kinda faking it."

I kick his butt with the sole of my foot. "You prick! Stop playing!"

The whole bed shakes from his laughter as he massages his poor backside. "Did you sleep well?" he asks.

I smile. "Mhmm."

Jungkook mirrors my expression, but it somehow looks more devilish on him. "I'm sure you did."

"Shut up, Jungkook."

He smiles again, genuinely this time and turns, facing the ceiling with his eyes closed. "I really like it when you say my name."

"Jungkook," I whisper. A pause. "Jeon Jungkook."

His eyes open. "Yes?"

"You know, the night before I met you, I was about to kill myself."

His body goes rigid, but I continue. " I don't know why I didn't do it. Then, the next day I met you and it was like it just slipped my mind. The thought was no longer there. So I came at that coffee shop every day, hoping I could see you. You weren't some kind of prince charming or anything. It's not like I looked at you and knew we were meant for each other or that kind of bullshit. I just liked looking at you. One glimpse was enough. It made me feel better somehow. It felt.... nice. But the moment we stopped looking at each other it all came flooding back. That longing to die. I turned back to my starting point."

Jungkook's arms envelop me and I feel my bones shatter. "I'm sorry," I whisper, barely a breath.

He caresses my bare shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's okay now. I'm here. It's over."

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

We stay like that for a while, holding each other in our arms and relishing the sweet silence of early morning. Until-

"Hey Jungkook, you know how you're hot and cute at the same time?"

"Don't do it, Jojo. I'm telling you, don't-"

"Hute."

My obnoxious laughter annoys the hell out of him, but he eventually joins me. I smile to myself.

The old back me is me but more different than ever. I want to go through a deep cleansing. I want to throw away all the trash that has been accumulating in my house and my very soul.

A new person.

A new life.

A new me.

I can't promise I' ll make it in the end but I can promise I'll try.

"You know, " Jungkook says, "you turned out to be much more different than I thought you'd be."

I turn his face to him. "Did I meet your expectations?"

He smiles. "No. You exceeded them."

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