#i’ve had horrible headaches for days

[spacelazarwolf]

so the glasses i got at my yearly checkup that the government pays for are like. complete shit and pretty much unusable, so i’m gonna have to buy new glasses. which i don’t have fucking money for. why do i have to pay to use my eyes!!!!!!!!!!

[willowcrowned]

the doctors keep trying to steal my cerebrospinal fluid for its unique flavor profile and scintillating color

[applecherry108]

I’ve been wounded by a tiktok. Well, I’ve had wound reopened but a tiktok.

Basically, a critique of a family prank video in which a husband pretends he’s destroyed his wife’s possessions, but not really. And the critique boils down to “Your panic and distress should never be the punchline to any joke or prank ever.”

When I was in college, my first year, pokemon soul silver came out. And I loved that game. I spent over 100 hours on it the first month alone and was deeply attached to my team.

I found out the following year, that one guy in the friend group had been planning, colluding with my other friends, to get a reset copy of the game and switch it out with my copy so I’d think all my data had been erased.

The entire friend group knew.

And only a single one of them stopped and said “hey, that’s fucked up actually.”

So this guy didn’t go through with it.

And I found out about his plan, while I was dating him my second year. At the dinner table. With the rest of the friend group. Who admitted that yeah, that almost happened and they were just going to go along with it.

I was fucking shocked and devastated just hearing what almost happened. This was over 10 years ago and I’m still traumatized by the thought of it.

What I hate most though, was that even after hearing this fucked up plan that would’ve fully sent me into a meltdown during finals week, I still kept dating that guy for nearly a year. I still kept all those friends who would’ve betrayed me throughout the rest of college.

And maybe part of me wishes they had gone through with it, just so I could’ve cut all those assholes out of my life way sooner, because that guy was still abusive and cruel. He didn’t change. My friends were still heartless and careless with me, and none of them even attempted to keep in touch after graduation.

My distress is not a fucking punchline, and the fact that every single friend I had in college except one was complicit in making it the punchline, is a scar that I don’t think will ever heal.

[numum]

dude your comment on that post abt ignoring medical issues sounds like a brain tumor

yeah <3

[my-wildflwr]

i don’t even know why but there’s been a TON of fires these past two months like too many suspicious fires so obviously the air quality is extremely dangerous SPECIALLY now that a dumpster caught fire so there’s been no school this past week and i want to KILL MYSELF. LET ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE. I NEED TO GET BACK TO MY JIB EVEN IF I HAYE WAKING UP EARLY AND DEALING WITH PEOPLE PLEASE

[sleepymaddy]

starting to think there might actually be something physically wrong with me (as in, might be sick) because this level of exhaustion is….a lot

[prozach27]

.

[thebowieconstricker]

Hello! I saw you wanted requests for Lucifer, and I would love any sort of angst where Lucifer ends up comforting the reader, like maybe something happened to the reader, or the reader is just really stressed and just breaks down

Ease My Mind

(Lucifer Morningstar x reader)

AN: To this request: yes yes yes yes YES I just KNOW that he gives the best hugs and is so ready to comfort the people he loves. For this fic, I decided the angst is a little of everything, job struggles, moral dilemmas, and some self-doubt, so I hope I delivered. This isn’t proofread so please alert me to any errors! Thank you for your request! <333

Summary: You have a bad day at work and it triggers a breakdown. Luckily, your big bad boyfriend is here to help.

Tags: Gender neutral reader, could be read as platonic if you reeeeally squint but it’s implied romantic, heavy on the angst, a dash of fluff, Lucifer is trying his best, you guys are precious.

Warnings: Reader is afraid they’re being used by the people around them and they have lots of thoughts about being useless and others not liking them.

Also, the title is inspired by the song “Ease My Mind” by Ben Platt, go listen to it! Enjoy ya heathens!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been used by others for your entire life.

And now you were stuck in that same cycle in death.

As a young, naive, alive-person, you were desperate for some one to love you. Growing up in an environment where compassion was scare, you decided that the only way to get people to notice you was by offering to help them in some way. A favor, a ride, somewhere to crash, and, for one specific person, a place to hide the bodies. In life, you had gotten so deep into your desire to please others that you had latched onto the first person to give you the time of day. Unfortunately for you, that individual happened to have a thing for serial killing.

Looking back on it now as you miserably walked back to the hotel, tears threatening to fall down your face, you couldn’t think about anything other than how stupid and useless you were. It was your fault that they were found out, your fault that the innocents were dead in the first place, your fault you were stuck in hell and that fucker was still out there.

How much time had passed on Earth? How many more had they killed?

On most days, you could compartmentalize, putting the bad thoughts in a little box and shoving it in the back of your brain, but work had broken you today. You worked for the Vees, specifically Velvette, and it was no secret how they overworked and abused their staff. You were stuck picking up Velvette’s leftover energy drinks for as long as she had control of your soul.

And yet. You thought maybe someday, someday you might make a connection. You might impress her, or surprise her, or something, and maybe she would give you a break.

But no. Today you had been an hour late for the first time and Velvette had screeched at you, calling out all of your flaws and insecurities and bringing all of the horrible memories that you had oh-so-carefully stowed away to light. But you held back tears and did your fucking job, the emotions boiling all day and the hectic office space doing nothing to calm it.

You had needed this cry for a long time, and now there was no stopping it.

Walking along the brimstone pathways, you finally made your way to the rickety Hazbin Hotel. Its incomprehensible height only worsened your now growing headache as you walked up to the doors, grabbing the handles and swinging the heavy iron frame and red-stained glass open.

You immediately started towards your room, but you were blocked by the obnoxiously cheery Princess of Hell herself, Charlie.

Charlie’s not obnoxious, you’re so vile for thinking that.

Shit, the thoughts were getting worse and you could not do this right now.

Charlie, oblivious to your mood, smiled brightly. “There you are! How was work? I’ve got someone here who’s been waiting-“

You shoved past her, bumping her harshly.

“Not in the mood.”

Charlie frowned in confusion behind you.

“But, wait, hey-“ You ignored her pleas and- ah shit, now Angel’s in front of you.

“Hey, babe, you might wanna hang around for a sec-“

You shut your eyes tightly and moved your hands towards his chest, your fight or flight kicking in as you pushed him.

“ANGEL, leave me alone.”

Why would you yell at Angel like that? He’s just being nice.

Shut up shut up SHUT UP

Everything was only getting worse. You bolted to the grand staircase and raced up the steps. As you sped down the seemingly infinite hallways, the tears you had been fighting back for the last millennia finally fell. With a choked sob, you finally spotted your bedroom and lurched for the doorknob, swinging the door open and slamming it behind you as you bursted into your room. You ran to your bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as you loudly cried.

Charlie only keeps you here because she needs the guests, you know. She hates you. They all hate you. They wish you weren’t here. You’re just lying there, crying, why would they want you?

The hateful thoughts were all you could hear in your mind. As you pulled your knees to your arms holding your pillow, you wanted nothing more than to disappear. To just pop out of existence and finally be free of the burden of yourself.

Then, suddenly, three knocks at the door.

“GO AWAY.” You screamed, throat on fire from your sobbing.

A voice came from outside. A smooth, relaxed, kind male voice.

“It’s me, hon.”

You froze, terrified. Quickly you climbed to the floor on the left side of your bed, blocking your body from the view of the door. You took several deep breaths, trying to steady your nerves.

“Come in.” You said shakily.

You heard the door creek open, then footsteps.

“Where ya hiding these days?” He awkwardly chuckled, clearly trying to lighten up the mood you were in.

“Just- stay over there.” You were still holding your pillow, and you gave it an extra squeeze.

“I’m a mess right now.” You sniffled.

He paused, like he was thinking. “Well, if that’s what you want, but I hope you know by now that I’m always happy to see you. Even when you’re a mess.”

You felt the bed shift. He was sitting on the opposite side.

Like a child looking for a secret, you turned around to look at the back of his head. His hat was gone, probably left downstairs, and all you saw was his sweep of blond hair.

He made a ‘hm’ sound. “Bad day?”

You nodded. Then, realizing he couldn’t see you. “Y-yeah.”

You watched him nod. “I’m sorry about that.” He fiddled with his cane, his hands tightening and loosening around it. “Would you… like to talk about it?”

You paused.

Lucifer had been a confidant of yours since you first arrived in Hell. He was the one to tell you what was going on right after you died, calming you down and offering you a place to stay. Sure, you didn’t know that he was literally the Devil, but everything about him made you feel at peace. Like you could deal with the hand you were dealt.

Secretly, though, you were waiting.

Waiting for the moment when he would reveal that he only kept you around because he needed you to do something for him.

No one was that kind, or caring, or wonderful.

He wants something from you. Why else would he keep coming back?

You had yet to answer his question. Lucifer sighed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay?”

The voices were still wringing in your head, you were still crying, and you felt pathetic.

“I- I don’t- fuck, would you please stop acting like you care?” You knew your words were harsh but they were begging to be said.

His posture straightened in surprise.

“I do care! What makes you think I don’t care?” He sounded hurt.

Nice going, you hurt his feelings.

You bent forward, hands covering your face in frustration. A fresh wave of tears rises through your body and you loudly cried out, too scared and angry and sad to hide it anymore.

“Woah, woah, hey, it’s okay, hon.” Lucifer’s voice was nearing your form on the ground, and he was quickly at your side. You could feel his presence beside you.

He sighed in exhaustion. “Listen, I’m not- I’m not the greatest at this, but I’m gonna ask so I don’t upset you. Do you want a hug? Or a hand on your shoulder-“

Your arms were wrapped around him before he could finish his question, clinging to his waist and biting your face in his neck.

“WOAH there- well hey, sweetheart, there you are.” You could hear him smiling as he gently brought his hand to rub your back.

“I’m sorry. I- I’ve just had a shitty day at work and I’m worried about a lot of things and- I don’t want to take it out on you.” You were shaking, but he held you steadily.

“What kinda things are worrying you?” He asked.

And so you told him. In the comfort of his embrace you were able to somewhat coherently explain all the things that had been freaking you out. Velvette’s torture at work, your own moral dilemmas about your life on Earth, and you were just getting into your feelings about others using you when you felt Lucifer’s breath hitch.

He leaned away from you to look you in the eyes and gently put a finger to your chin.

“Honey, I want you to know that I know for a fact that the people here really care about you. Not because you’re an extra pair of hands, but because you’re you. You’re wonderful to be around. People like you.”

He looked at you with a warm smile and leaned towards you, giving you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I like you. I care about you because you’re worth caring about.”

You stared at him in awe, your mind finally at ease after such a chaotic day. Smiling, you leaned back into him to rest your head on his chest.

“Thank you, Luci.” You reached out and took one of his hands, holding it tightly in an effort to show him how grateful you truly were for his words of assurance.

He tightened his fingers around yours and grinned down at you.

“Always, love. Now, let’s get you on the bed, okay?”

You nodded and he gracefully picked you up, gently placing you on the bed. With a snap, you were in comfortable clothing with a warm blanket around you and plenty of soft pillows.

“You want me to hang out for a bit?” He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, clearly sleepy.

“If you don’t have anything else going on…” You offered, already half dozing off.

“Even if I did, I would love nothing more.” With an affectionate grin he curled up beside you, and you immediately went to lay your head back on his chest. As you drifted away, listening to the King of Hell’s heartbeat, you took a deep breath.

He was right. Things were gonna be okay.

You had friends.

You were loved.

[velvetcloxds]

LINGER | E.M.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: nothing really, just an idea I thought might be cute, induced by working from 8 to 8 for weeks now- mutual pining

summary: you've got a little crush on the new guy your dad hired to work with you in the office at his motel, how lucky are you that he's got a little crush on you too

part two: fleeting

You’d been staring at the booking list for far too long, and the room numbers were all starting to look the same which made your job so much harder- every time you allocated a guest to a seemingly open room, you’d find there to already be someone there, it was a grand mess and your Dad was so caught up in freaking out about the multiple double bookings that you and Eddie had been tasked with fixing it all on your own.

“I swear,” he sighed, clipboard in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other. “We’ve put out so many fires this week, they might as well give us fire suits as our uniforms,” he sat down next to you, shoulder against your own, just a little too close in comparison to how he sits next to the rest of the staff members. He smelt of cigarettes, cherry cola and too much deodorant spray, he was sure the smell of smoke would bother you, you weren’t all that sure why it didn’t. “No,” he mumbled, a little bump against your arm as he emptied his hands to be able to cover the list of rooms with his fingers. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

“What look?” you scoffed, and had you been any less exhausted you would’ve absolutely melted when you turned to see him smiling at you, you’d found he had a way of smiling even without noticing, whatever the two of you were doing or saying, he’d be halfway through ranting and the simplest reply from you would have him grinning from ear to ear, in his own little world.

“That one that says the world is ending,” he shook his head, and reached over your arm to hang the keys on the keys board, allowing himself a chance to linger when he had to get even closer to you, pleased when you were looking right into his eyes. “I hate that look; it gives me a headache when I can’t make it go away.”

“You have a headache?” you didn’t notice how your voice dipped, he did, it made him smile again, eyes trying to take in every little reaction on your face, just like he always does, he always finds something else to make him fall a little harder. He nodded, shrugged, and looked down to your list to see if he could help move someone around. “Is that why you’ve been so snappy with me all day?” you teased, being the one to bump his shoulder this time.

“I’ve not been snappy.”

“Please, you’ve been speaking to me with perfect punctuation every time we have to check another room,” you had something for his headache, you had to drink some for your own a few minutes ago, so you didn’t even think about handing him two pills, ever delighted when your fingers touched as he took them, and it didn’t bother you half as much as it should’ve when he motioned to steal a sip from your bottle. “You’re tired, Eddie, you need to take a break, go to your room for a bit, everyone else has,” you yawned, it made your nose scrunch up a little and made Eddie’s heart do a little backflip, how you’d managed to make something so mundane seem so cute he didn't understand. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

“You’re tired too,” he noted and he wasn’t sure if he was crossing a boundary but he reached out to squeeze your hand lightly, dropped it back to the table to make a note of a room he’d found empty, blushed horribly when you looked away to try and fail to hide a tired little smile, he had no idea how giddy it made you feel. “I’d rather be tired with you than have you try and fix this mess. Besides, I only work for your dad, you have to go home with him.”

 Eddie wasn’t one to pretend he didn’t notice the passive-aggressive comments aimed at you when you were doing your best, or the unprofessional remarks when you made a mistake, or how despite your best efforts to calm the chaos it only made it possible for you to get rid of more chaos the next day. He didn’t treat your dad any differently than he would if he didn’t have a major crush on you, but he also couldn’t care much for the man, he considered how a critical man, in general, decided to be even more so with someone who’d yet to give him reason to doubt her.

“You’re right,” you sighed and when you folded your legs and leaned back in the wheeled office chair you appreciated the sight of him, he’d been running about all day, the mess of curls that was usually in the way when he was working was now tucked into a skew knot on his head, the cutest thing, you thought, the perfect view to bring some color into the lifeless office you were in. “Pity me, won’t you, and help me write out those new tags for the lost keys.”

“Only if you don’t insist on sorting them by color this time, it takes so much longer, and you know the guest won’t even notice,” you were sweetening the deal, smiling up at him as you opened your rainbow lunchbox to show off the cinnamon bun that you’d saved at lunch for the two of you to share.

“Yeah, but I notice, and it looks pretty,” he wouldn’t dream of fighting you on that, not really, but he’d fight off sleep for weeks more if it meant he’d get some extra time with you, you were sweeter when you were tired, he wasn’t sure how that was possible, but you didn’t try as hard to hide your crush on him, and he didn’t have to try so hard to hide his.

“Hmm, well you are the expert on pretty,” he noted, and he was ever smooth with it as he made sure to take a little extra time to take his half of the bun from your hands, always one to linger, to make you swoon so easily.

“I see that headache is gone,” he’d tell you it’s because you weren’t frowning anymore, point out that as soon as you smiled at him he completely forgot he had a headache to begin with, instead he just shrugged, used a stray napkin to wipe the icing from your cheek and took it all in as you hummed, happy despite the mess the two of you had to solve. Your father hired him to help you with the things you couldn’t keep up with, as your mood shifted and your knee brushed against his thigh, he considered that he was very good at his job.

[the--rebel--fae]

Was wondering if I could get a little something with Angel? A bit angst -> fluff maybe he comes back after a rough fight with val and just starts throwing himself on reader until they get him to talk about it and comfort him by reassuring him that they don’t want him for his body like others do.

Angel doesn’t get enough love on here and I’m done with it😭

Thanks Pookie! Much love!

A/N: Of course you can my dear! I totally agree Angel needs more love! I did it slightly differently but I still incorporated as much of your request as possible. Writing Angel is apparently a lot harder than I thought, but I still loved doing this. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Angel Dust x Reader

TW: A little bit of swearing, angst but then comfort, slightly suggestive--It's Angel Dust that's a given, and small references to abuse.

Word Count: 902

A Hazbin Love

“You know Husk, I knew you were good at creating alcoholic drinks, but,” You took a sip of your coffee and rested a hand on your cheek, enjoying the taste of the rich caffeine as it started to work its way into your system. “This coffee is probably the best I’ve ever had.” 

It was generally pretty quiet in the mornings in the hotel, but you’ve been nursing a rather nasty headache after fighting with your best friend and unfortunately for your heart–crush, Angel Dust

You kept seeing how he was treated by that horrible bastard Valentino day after day; and early this morning after hearing he was going to work, you well… snapped.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you continued your frantic descent down the stairs of the hotel, almost accidentally knocking over Sir Penitous in the process.

“Angel,” you panted, trying to bring breath back into your lungs. “You need to somehow get out of this. I know he owns your soul, but maybe there’s a way–”

Angel Dust whirled on you. A mix of pain and anger on his face. “What? A way out? Hah, Dollface don’t make me laugh. You think if there was a way I wouldn’t have tried?” He ran a hand through his hair, an action you’ve seen him do many times when he was upset and didn’t know how to process his emotions properly. 

You tried to put a comforting hand on Angel Dust’s arm only to have him bat it away. “Look. (Y/n) You’re looking out for me, I get it. Charlie tried this before and it only made it worse. So back off.” Angel Dust sighs and turns to leave but then pauses and glances back at your hurt expression. “Why do you even give a damn anyway? You’ve always stuck your nose up at my work every time I tried to talk ‘bout it.”

You clicked your teeth and balled your hands into fists. “Hah. You know why I cringe every time you talk about your work? Because I see how it destroys you. Every. Time. I’m not some prude like you want to believe Angel. But I’m your best friend and I care about you dammit!”

“Then stop caring!”

“I can’t! You’re my best friend and–and I’m in love with you!”  

You ran your hands through your hair remembering when you yelled that. The second that was out of your mouth you froze and Angel Dust just walked out the door and didn’t say a word.

“Well, I made it strong just for you kid, after that conversation a few hours ago I can tell you needed it.”

You cringe slightly at the reminder of what happened between you and Angel. “Thanks Husk. I-I just hope he doesn’t hate me. I–” you cringed. “I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.”

“You really think I’d hate ya toots?” A familiar voice that makes your heart twist sounds out just mere feet from you.

You go and glance at Husk, only to see he already made himself scarce. Sneaky bastard, he probably knew Angel was coming over you think. 

Turning in your seat you let out a small gasp seeing the state that Angel Dust is once again in. A light bruise over his left eye, his fur ruffled in various places, but even still, to you, he looks as handsome as ever.

“I-I just thought with the sudden confession,” You trail off, your voice getting caught in your throat.

Angel Dust walks forward and gently wraps you in a hug. “Yea, that surprised the hell outta me but,” Angel Dust chuckled. “To be honest toots, that confession of yours is the only thing that kept me goin’ today.”

Angel Dust picked you up so you had to wrap your legs around his waist. “Now I’m gonna show you how much that actually meant to me.”

You bit your lip, as much as you really wanted to see where that takes the two of you, you knew that it was Angel’s way of evading and avoiding any real feelings. You pushed off of him gently and shook your head.

“Angel, I don’t want you to just throw yourself at me and think that I just want a physical relationship. If we are to be in a relationship, I want all of you, not just the physical aspect. I want dates, inside jokes, nights of just cuddling together.”

Angel Dust gave a confused look but then his eyes started watering and he plunked down into a nearby chair and put his face in his hands and his shoulders started to shake. The tears flowed freely now. “I-I want that, I truly do but I just…I don’t know how. Thanks to Val all I know is the physical part. I’m just…broken that way.”

At his words, you felt tears prick in your eyes. You walked around to the front of the chair and rested your head in his lap. “Angel, I’m so sorry you have to go through that. It’s not right. That’s why I was so upset this morning. But you’re not broken. No matter what you think. And I’m here for you. Forever and always.”

Angel whipped away his tears and put a hand on your cheek making you look up at him. “You sure (Y/n)?”

You found yourself leaning into his touch. “Positive.”

Hope you enjoyed love! I always love getting the chance to write for Angel Dust, the man needs more love. So feel free to request for more of him anytime!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 10 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 13.1k

contains: there are some serious mental health moments and topics discussed in this chapter (and not all of them handled well 😵‍💫) - this includes mentions of anxiety and su1c1dal ideation, reader experiencing a panic attack, and there's just like.... quite a lot of self-loathing, emotional constipation, and horrible choices being made all around. would also maybe say some hints at gaslighting if you squint. please take care of yourselves for this one 💜 and yes..... no smut warnings for this one 😬 sorry 😬

A/N: besties...... hold my hand and trust the process, mkay?

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for betaing and for doing extra hand holding on this one because 😵‍💫 omg it's a lot and it was a lot to write lmao

read on AO3!

chapter nine | masterlist

~*~

The headache hits before you even open your eyes, like an ice pick driven straight through your skull.

You roll over with a soft groan of despair, burying your face between the pillows, reaching one arm out as far you can, as if in search of something. Your splayed fingertips only find the down comforter; it’s cool to the touch.

With the kind of deep inhale that can only be conjured by an early wake-up with a terrible hangover, you blink your eyes open, immediately squinting at the harsh morning light.

The bed is empty on the other side. You sit up slowly, shivering a little. The room feels unsteady around you.

You press your face into your hands, trying to wake up enough to think through your headache. Last night… Last night. It feels like a dream you’ll soon lose the details of. The Grammys, the afterparty, K-town. It doesn’t feel real.

Yoongi said he loves you.

Your stomach churns.

So where the fuck is he?

The sound of a drawer opening makes your head snap up, and you quickly kick the bedsheets off, trying to ignore the way the world tilts as you get to your feet and pad out into the living room.

Yoongi is kneeling beside his open suitcase, folding up the clothes he wore earlier in the weekend and carefully placing them inside. He reaches for his toiletries bag, zipped up on the couch next to him, and sets it atop the last stack of clothing.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, rubbing sleep from the corners of your eyes. The words slide together, almost gibberish. You think you might still be drunk.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Yoongi mutters, taking a final once-over of the contents of his suitcase before zipping it shut. He gets to his feet, then stoops down to turn it upright and extend the handle. “I’ve got a car to the airport about to pull up downstairs.”

“I— what?” You shake your head, confused. You’re barely alive, let alone packed or ready to go. “It’s so early. Our flight’s not til this afternoon.”

He’s already crossing the room, grabbing his laptop off the desk to slide into his shoulder bag, then reaching for his watch. “I had a change of plans.”

“You what?” You don’t understand how you’re so far behind on this, especially given that you’re the one who’s supposed to have the schedule committed to memory.

Yoongi sighs as he turns to face you, still fiddling with his watch, clearly exasperated. It's only now that he’s held still long enough for you to realize he’s wearing his glasses. “I’m going to Tokyo for a few days to work with some talent. There’s a whole thread in your inbox about it. Feel free to read it at your leisure.”

The dry tone of his voice stings like a slap to the face, enough to make you recoil. You take an unsure step back. “Okay, when did this happen?”

He slow-blinks, and you can’t help feeling like you’ve somehow gone back in time, like you’re standing in front of him on your first day of work. Like he’s your enemy all over again.

“I’ve been up for a while,” Yoongi answers flatly. “Any more questions?”

Your back teeth stick together, tense. The room is too bright, Yoongi’s voice too loud, all of this happening too fast.

“Uh,” you start, less than eloquent. “Can we— talk?” Yoongi stares at you pointedly until you feel forced to continue. “About last night?”

“Let’s see.” He pretends to mull it over, and dread creeps up your spine.

“I lost at the Grammys, almost got in a fight, drank my body weight in alcohol. The last thing I remember is… barking.” You’d smile at the memory, but your lips are pulled too tight at the sour taste of his words. “I assume you dragged my drunk ass back here and I passed out, then I stumbled out of bed around four this morning and promptly became very well acquainted with the bathroom floor. Did I miss anything?”

The question punches an ache behind your ribs.

“Don’t fuck with me, Min Yoongi.” Your voice comes out weaker than you would’ve liked, but it’s getting hard to breathe.

“What else?” he asks, still going faster than you can keep up with. “I was an asshole? Gave you embarrassing intel you’ll be using as blackmail when we go back to work? I didn’t barf on your shoes, did I?”

Why is he asking you?

You bring a hand to your temple, trying to rub out your splitting headache so you can process his words. “Are you… telling me you don’t remember?”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, and though he drops his gaze, he doesn’t quite manage to hide the way his face twists. “If I said anything, let’s just say I didn’t mean it.”

No. No, no, no. Your world goes spinning. He can’t do this.

There’s a lump in your throat, so thick you can scarcely breathe. You try to swallow around it. “Yoongi, what the fuck is happening right now?”

You swear you can see it in his eyes, the wall going back up. It’s infuriating: he’s right fucking there, yet suddenly somehow unreachable. Impenetrable.

“I am going to Tokyo,” he says simply. “You are… doing whatever you want.” You stare at him, overwhelmed and so fucking confused. He stares right back. “I can still upgrade your seat to first class. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Some final thread snaps inside you, and your delayed anger finally kicks in. “You think that’s what I care about right now? I’m not your fucking charity case.”

He outright rolls his eyes. “Jesus. Forget I asked.”

As if to signal that the conversation is over, he slings his bag across his shoulder and heads for the door, suitcase in tow.

“Yoongi.” You hate the way your voice shakes when you say his name. He turns back to face you in the threshold, his expression unreadable.

You don’t know how to say it. You can’t say it.

“So what, then?” you try instead. “I’m just supposed to… forget it?”

That you said you love me? That I might have been ready to say it back?

His mouth pulls into a flat line, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all. Each second of silence that passes feels like another twist of the knife lodged in your heart.

“Guess so.”

And just like that, the door is slamming shut behind him.

In your head, you chase after him. Yank open the hotel door, sprint down the hallway, call his name loud enough to stop him. You tell him everything that’s been building up inside of you, let all the ugly truths out for him to see, said aloud for the first time, undeniably real. He drops his bag in the hallway, grabs you, kisses you breathless. He stays.

But you can’t make yourself move. Can’t bear the thought of unzipping yourself right up the middle, standing in front of him with every last wall torn down, defenseless and asking for the worst hurt you can imagine. Life has taught you better than that.

Your knees hit the hotel carpet as the tears start to fall. In your head you might be brave, but here in the real world, you’re scared. Too scared to do anything but watch him leave.

~*~

“I’m so fucking confused, Mochi.”

You’re curled up on the couch in your living room with your face pressed into Jimin’s shoulder and his arms wrapped tight around you. Delirious from a thirteen hour flight and the time change, your suitcase still lying in the hallway by the front door where you dropped it. True to his word, your best friend showed up within the hour, a bottle of rosé and a pint of ice cream in tow.

There’s no room left to keep lying, to pretend you don’t care about Yoongi, that it doesn’t mean anything. Not when it hurts this bad, bad enough that it feels like you can’t fucking breathe. At least the tears have finally stopped, now that you’ve soaked a wet spot into the collar of Jimin’s sweatshirt.

To his credit, Jimin seems to find no joy in your meltdown, and you’re grateful for it. The last thing you need on top of all the pain is him gloating about being right. You both know he is, always has been. The things you spent so long trying to deny seem obvious now, in the harsh light of day, at the bottom of this emotional hangover.

Funny how that works.

When you pull away with a sniff, Jimin sighs a little and gently untangles himself from you to get to his feet. You bring a hand up to swipe at some of the wetness still stuck to your cheeks, then reach for the bottle of wine while he slips into the kitchen.

“How did you know I’d need this?” you ask as you twist open the screw top. Your throat is rubbed raw from exhaustion, and from so much fucking crying. “You had that little faith in shit working out?”

Jimin returns with two wine glasses and two spoons just as you ask the question, and he pauses in the threshold. The unsure look on his face makes your stomach twist. Your best friend never looks at you like that.

“I have to tell you something, babygirl.”

You can feel your chest starting to tighten again as he sinks back down onto the cushion next to you, gingerly taking the bottle from your hands to pour a little in each glass. It’s like he’s biding his time, trying to delay some sort of inevitable reality.

“Please just say it.” Your voice comes out in a thick whisper.

He thuds the bottle back onto the coffee table with another soft sigh. “I’m leaving Seoul.”

The words sweep over you like a tidal wave, heavy enough you drag you under to drown. “You’re… leaving?”

“Not forever,” Jimin says quickly, but the look on his face as he takes a sip from his glass is telling. “You remember the group I did the concert with?” His gaze flits over to catch your nod, and he continues.

“They booked a whole international tour. Asia, Europe, North and South America. It didn’t look like they were going to scout any new dancers, but then someone got injured last-minute and they personally called me to ask if I could cover. And it’s so short-notice but…”

There’s a fire in his eyes when he looks up at you again, all determined passion. “I just feel like this could be the opportunity I’ve been working so hard for. And Wonho has been so supportive and understanding about it. He helped talk me through it, reminded me how much I want this. So I said yes. And I’m going.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and you can only nod, trying to wrap your mind around it all. “For how long?”

He grimaces. “Six months, at least? Could be more if they decide to extend it.”

A fresh tear slides down your cheek before you can stop it. “Fuck, okay. Wow. When do you go?”

Jimin downs the rest of his wine, then finally answers. “I’ll be honest, the timing is bad. I really thought you’d be coming home with good news, so it would soften the blow a little.”

“Mochi,” you press him, more tears already threatening your waterline. You can feel your heart on the precipice of shattering into a million pieces— you just need him to fucking say it.

“Tonight’s my last night,” he admits.

There is a voice in your head that knows how you should respond. You should be enthusiastically happy for Jimin, and proud of him, and you are; you know deep down that you are. And you should be reacting to this unquestionably good news the way a best friend would: excited, screaming, hugging him, pouring another glass so you can toast to his success, telling him how great he’ll be.

But you’re sunk so deep in your own pain, you can’t help feeling… betrayed. Abandoned by your best friend, just when you need him most.

You set your wine glass down and press your face into your palms, trying to breathe, trying to stop the ache of a suppressed sob that squeezes tight in your throat.

“It’s not forever,” Jimin reiterates, and you know he’s trying to be kind, but you whip your head to look at him, suddenly aggravated. You can only imagine what he must see staring back at him: your glassy eyes gone red from crying, inset with deep shadows from exhaustion, tear tracks staining your cheeks.

“A little more notice would’ve been nice,” you respond as you pick your drink up again. The words come out harsh, jagged at the edges.

Jimin’s brows raise in clear surprise. “I’m sorry?”

The sweet wine goes bitter on your tongue, and you swallow it with a grimace. “I just think it’s interesting that you had all this fucking time to talk to your boyfriend about it, but not two seconds for the person who is supposedly your best friend.”

You can see a muscle tighten in his jaw. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Are you?”

“Do I really have to remind you what happened the last time we actually spent an evening together?” Jimin asks, and the razor-sharp tone to his voice already tells you that you’ve made a huge mistake, that you should’ve just choked all your bitter feelings down with your drink.

“Because in case you need help putting the pieces together, I believe you left me, alone, at some shitty dive that you specifically begged to go to. And maybe it hasn’t fucking occurred to you yet, but I was actually planning to ask what you thought that night, whether or not I should take the opportunity. Because I love my boyfriend, but you’re right, he’s not my best friend of a fucking decade. You are.”

Fuck. The weight of his words hits you like a truck. You drain the rest of your wine as he continues, relentless.

“And yet that was the night my best friend of a decade decided to ditch me to go hook up with a man she has consistently called an asshole since day one, and it made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I deserved a little bit more in life. So I went home and told Wonho I wanted to take the job, and he supported me wholeheartedly. Even cooked me dinner to fucking celebrate. And now here we are.”

Jimin spreads his hands in front of him, palms up, as if to set the stage. “You are somehow shocked that the asshole you got yourself involved with turned around and acted… like an asshole. And I am off to go live the dreams that I have worked so hard for so long to finally achieve. Because as it turns out, we are a product of our own fucking choices. So tell me this, bestie: when are you going to take some fucking responsibility for yours?”

It’s only as you move to set your empty glass down that you realize your hands are shaking. It takes a concentrated effort to complete the motion, especially considering the way your eyes have started to blur with tears. You can feel deep, overwhelming shame stretching up from the pit of your stomach, like a black hole that threatens to suck you in entirely.

The sudden warmth of Jimin’s touch makes you flinch, and then you realize his hands are closing over yours, squeezing tight.

“Look at me,” he says hoarsely, and tears spill down your face as you do. You don’t know if you can take any more of his brutal honesty, but you figure you deserve it, so you brace yourself.

“I fucking love you,” Jimin says. The words are so unexpected and voiced in a tone so fierce that a sob wracks your chest before you can hold it back. He squeezes your hands tighter, and you try to return it. “You’re not just my best friend, you know that, right? You are my family. That will never, ever change. You could fucking kill someone, and I’d show up with bleach, two shovels, and a plan, okay?”

You laugh a little despite yourself, and you can feel Jimin’s thumbs brush gently over the backs of your hands. His voice is softer when he speaks again.

“I know shit has been really, really hard for you. For the last few years, and especially lately. But if I’m honest, it’s like you move through the world as if everything is just… happening to you, through no fault of your own. It makes it so fucking hard to root for you sometimes.”

You do your best to breathe through the sting of his words, and you nod, because you know he’s right.

“And that’s all I want to do,” Jimin stresses with another squeeze of your hands in his. “I want to be your personal fucking cheerleader, always, and not just because my ass would look great in the skirt. I know you are more than capable of getting your shit together, but it’s not going to happen if you don’t start taking some accountability for your own actions. And to be crystal clear, I am not a bad person for not wanting to sideline my own life while I wait for you to figure yours out.”

“You’re not,” you agree with a sniff and a small smile. “And I’m sorry for trying to make it about me.” You shake your head as you blink back a few more tears. “You deserve everything, Mochi, seriously. I don’t think there’s another person on the planet who would’ve put up with my shit for as long as you have.”

He rolls his eyes, despite the smile pulling up the corners of his mouth to match yours. “You make it sound like fucking charity work, come on. Have some self-respect! I don’t waste time on people who aren’t worth it.”

“I just thought you kept me around because I was the only person who could keep up with your drinking,” you admit, chasing the words with a giggle, and Jimin makes a face like you’re not wrong.

As if in response, he finally releases your hands, grabbing the wine bottle to top up your glasses.

“I really do wish I had better advice for you and your situation,” Jimin concludes on a heavy sigh as you both pick up your drinks. “But my already limited knowledge on Min Yoongi is also like fifteen years out of date, so all I can say is this: You got yourself into this mess, and I have full confidence that you can get yourself out. Even if it means cornering him and forcing him into a vulnerable conversation. It sounds like it will be great practice for both of you.”

You huff against the rim of your glass. “I have to figure out what the fuck to even say.”

“You will,” Jimin murmurs, his free hand alighting over yours for a final squeeze. “Just start with the truth.”

When your eyes find his again, you can feel your lower lip beginning to tremble. “God, I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”

Clearly done with the dramatics, Jimin rolls his eyes. “I’m not dying, bitch! If anything it just means I’m going to text and call and FaceTime you more than I already do. Prepare to be sick of me.”

“I could never,” you tease, and he grabs a spoon off the coffee table, gently nudging it against your side.

“Come on, eat your sad girl ice cream before it melts.”

~*~

Even with Yoongi still in Tokyo, the thought of going back to the office and feigning normalcy feels impossible. You end up texting your boss to take a sick day, blaming it on the travel, and he responds quickly, telling you to rest up well and come in the day after.

But between the emotional overwhelm and the jet lag, sleep is hard to come by. You toss and turn, unable to doze off for more than a few minutes at a time, until you kick the blankets off in the early hours of the morning, sick of staring at the walls.

Your body moves as if on autopilot, and you pull your winter coat out of the closet to zip up over your sweats. You grab your phone and your house keys, then slip your feet into a pair of boots by the front door and step outside.

It’s cold, with the barest amount of dawn sun starting to bleed light and color across the horizon, but the fresh air feels good, like it’s easier to breathe in.

Hands shoved in your pockets, you make your way down the stairs to the entrance of your complex and begin to walk, aimless. You’re too fixated on everything whirling around in your mind to pay attention to where you’re headed, and it isn’t until you hear barking that you realize you’ve wandered your way to a neighborhood park down the street from your place, with a fenced-in area for owners to let their dogs run off leash.

It’s a nice place, even now in the dead of winter. You can’t help but wonder why you don’t come here more.

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink slowly, your sleep-deprived brain taking several seconds to piece together why it sounds so familiar.

“Bam, Bam! Come here!”

A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest as you take in the scene in front of you: it’s none other than your baby-faced coworker Jeon Jungkook, giggling high and sweet as a large brown Doberman jumps up on its hind legs to playfully tackle him. You recognize the dog as one he’s shown you pictures of, along with the two Italian greyhounds sprinting the length of the fenced-in area, clearly just as energetic as their owner, even at this ungodly hour.

You lean against the fence to watch them, and your heart sinks a little when the memory of your last conversation with Jungkook comes back. It occurs to you that this is probably what Jimin was talking about when he told you to start taking some accountability. But fuck, it’s certainly easier said than done.

You can see your breath in the cold air as you inhale deep and let it out again. Maybe you should just leave him alone, you determine. Turn around and walk home before he sees you.

But then, like the very thought is enough to trigger his awareness, Jungkook’s gaze flits up to meet yours. You wish his Baby Star Candy eyes weren’t so damn expressive— even several yards away, you can see a dozen different emotions flash over his face in the span of a few seconds.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you wave a hand in what you hope reads as a peaceful greeting. You’re surprised to see him begin to jog towards you, but even more surprised when someone else beats him to it.

“Can I help you?”

The person standing in front of you looks to be about Jungkook’s age, but immediately hits you with an aura so intimidating that you take a cautious step backwards. He has a black beanie pulled low over his dark hair, and his hands are shoved in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh, sorry, I just, uh— Jungkook is… my coworker,” you offer dumbly, gesturing in Jungkook’s direction. Clearly thinking that they’re still playing, Bam keeps crossing in front of his owner, nearly tripping him up, and you can’t help smiling, watching him stop every few paces to redirect the dog.

“Yeah, I know who you are,” the guy in the hoodie retorts, and your gaze snaps back to him. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?”

The question makes your jaw drop. “What?”

“I mean, seriously, what’s your plan here? Gonna lead him on some more and then tell him he’s not your boyfriend again?”

Your eyes threaten to pop out of your head just as Jungkook makes it over to the fence, Bam still nipping at his heels.

“Chan,” he quickly interjects, breathless. “It’s cool. Let me talk to her, okay?”

Chan eyes you up and down, disapproving, then takes a few steps back, his mouth pulled into an obvious scowl. “Yeah, alright. I’ll get the dogs.” You watch as he manages to divert Bam’s attention away with a well-timed ball throw.

Your mind still reeling from the interaction, you try to keep it together as Jungkook laughs, clearly slightly embarrassed. There’s an ache in your chest when you finally bring yourself to look him in the face.

“Sorry if he said anything to you,” he offers, looking back towards Chan, who is now entertaining all three of Jungkook’s dogs, plus a spaniel that must be his own. “Chan is a really good friend of mine, and he can be… protective.”

You huff a soft noise that comes out in a little cloud of steam. “It’s alright. I deserve it, honestly.”

“You don’t,” Jungkook says firmly, and you open your mouth to argue, but he speaks first. “Do you have a second? To talk?”

Uneasiness twists in the pit of your stomach. “I can talk,” you say, tentative. “But don’t let me interrupt. I think your friend already hates me enough.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s cool. Chan and I always take the dogs for a run in the mornings. We’re just trying to get all their energy out, but we’re about to head back after this.” A smile spreads across your face before you can bite it back, and he quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re telling me you go on a run every morning before your six AM boxing class?”

A pink flush blooms in his cheeks that you can’t quite believe is from the cold. “Well, I guess I also have a lot of energy.”

“You’re superhuman,” you laugh, and Jungkook glances down as he smiles, like he’s suddenly gone shy. It’s enough to crack your heart right down the middle, and you can’t keep the words in any longer. “Jungkook, I am so fucking sorry. For what happened before.”

The smile drops off his face as he looks up again. “Don’t be. I was way out of line.”

You tear your gaze away from Jungkook, choosing instead to stare at the thin layer of frost beneath your boots as it all plays back in your head. As much as you wish you could just patch everything up and be friends again, you can’t ignore the truth of his feelings for you, and the way it complicates everything else.

But you can certainly relate to wanting to live in denial. To avoid an inconvenient truth.

“You were just trying to keep me from getting hurt,” you murmur. You wonder if he can tell that he was right, that it happened anyway.

“Yeah,” Jungkook admits, and you glance up to see him pause, considering. “But, you know,” he adds. “My own stuff was mixed in there too.”

“Yeah,” you echo, unsure of what else to say.

“I should’ve listened to you,” he continues with a sigh. “I should’ve been more honest. About how I was feeling. Am feeling. I don’t know.”

“It’s okay.” You do your best to shoot him a sympathetic look. “Trust me, I really do get it. And I shouldn’t have been so harsh. I was just– I’m in a really weird place right now. But it’s not an excuse.”

Jungkook nods slowly. “I appreciate that. It definitely… snapped me out of it.”

You can’t help grimacing. “I was a bitch, you can say it.”

“No, no!” he exclaims, but his mouth is already pulling into a smile. “I needed to hear it. Seriously.”

There’s a moment where neither of you speak, and you both gaze across the park, watching Chan as he does his best to tire the dogs out.

“Your sons are even cuter in person,” you finally say, and you hear Jungkook exhale a soft laugh.

“You can meet them if you want,” he offers.

You scrunch your nose up slightly as you turn back to him. “If your bodyguard will let me?”

He shrugs. “Nah, Chan’s fine.” You raise an eyebrow in disbelief, and he waves one hand dismissively, the other already working to fumble open the lock of the fence gate. “All bark and no bite.”

Your eyes roll back at the terrible joke, but you can’t help laughing, too. You really fucking missed this kid.

~*~

Not wanting to worsen your jet lag further, you force yourself to stay awake once you make it back to your apartment, determined to take the day to properly unpack from Los Angeles. The routine of putting your things away and dumping your clothes into the washer is enough to keep your hands busy, and your mind takes the opportunity to retrace back over everything that’s happened in the last few days. It’s all come at you so fast, you feel like you’ve barely had a second to breathe, let alone process everything.

Things with Jungkook feel okay again, but your heart weighs heavy with the understanding that your friendship won’t ever go back to the way it was before, not entirely. That dose of reality stings a little, but you know it’s for the best, for both of you.

The loss just makes you miss Jimin that much more, but you know he’s currently on a plane to Bangkok to go live his dreams: he’d texted you a picture of his airport fashion while you were at the park, and you’d sent back a father/son candid of Jungkook playing with Bam. You don’t think Jimin’s bark bark bark response had anything to do with the dog.

You’re grateful for the conversation you had with your best friend before he left, even though it was hard to hear. The thought of sorting this mess out on your own still fills you with dread, but you tell yourself that if Jimin believes you can do it, then maybe he’s right. He’s certainly been right about everything else.

And that thought just brings you right back to Yoongi. A heavy sigh washes over you when you carefully unpack the rented Grammys dress from your suitcase, and the memories of the weekend flood your mind in waves as you brush your hand down the velvet fabric.

For a split second you swore the two of you had figured it out, that there wasn’t just sex and hatred between you, but something more. But as soon as the idea had come into focus, that one sweet night where it all felt possible, you’d watched it slip right out of your fingers again, with Yoongi acting cold enough to make you question if maybe you’d made the whole thing up after all.

You can’t help wondering how the morning could’ve gone in another universe: one where he’d stayed a little longer, one where you’d been a little braver. If you could’ve maybe met in the middle, somehow.

He told you he loved you. The words repeat in your head, again and again, as you stare down at your borrowed dress. Drunk as you might have been, you know you didn’t imagine that part. You just wish you knew what you were supposed to do now.

With a thoughtful hum, you reach for the garment bag slung over your closet door, unzipping it so you can hang the dress back up inside. You guess this is what Jimin was talking about. A vulnerable conversation. At this point, it feels like the only thing you haven’t tried with Min Yoongi.

“No time like the present,” you murmur to yourself as you tug the zipper up.

~*~

Going back to the office the next day feels like jumping straight into the deep end. There’s plenty to get caught up on from the aftermath of the Grammys and the work days you missed while traveling. It takes you most of the day just to get through your inbox in the brief moments of downtime not spent running between conference rooms.

Your one beacon of hope is the reassurance that Yoongi is scheduled to be in Tokyo for the rest of the week. It gives you time to calm down, to focus on work undisturbed without anticipating him around every corner. You’ve got the weekend to plan out what you want to say, to prepare yourself to push past the fear and actually say it, all of it, out in the open.

The very thought makes your chest constrict, but you try to breathe through it. You’ve got time to figure it out, you tell yourself.

And then you glance up to see Min Yoongi pushing the glass office doors open, and you swear your heart stops beating.

“Yoongi.”

His name leaves your lips automatically while you attempt to try and process this as really happening. Your voice comes out soft, as if in fear that speaking too loud will make it all dissolve in front of you, or make him turn around and walk right back out again.

He doesn’t respond; his stride doesn’t even falter as he walks past your desk and rounds the corner, heading for his own office. Acting on sheer impulse, you get to your feet to follow after, catching up to him as he’s keying the code into his door lock.

“What are you doing back?” is all you can think to say. You can’t read any emotion on his face, save maybe exhaustion.

“The sessions went well,” he answers, not sounding particularly glad for it. “We finished ahead of schedule.”

“Oh,” you answer dumbly, and he pushes down the handle and steps into his lab. You catch the door before it swings shut again, taking a deep breath to steel yourself as you step inside. “Can we talk?”

With a grunt, Yoongi drops into his desk chair, tapping at his keyboard to wake his computer and log in. “Sure. I was going to ask you the same thing.”

His response surprises you enough that all you can manage is another, “Oh.” You cautiously close the distance between you until you’re standing beside his desk, your gaze sweeping over his unblinking profile. It strikes you that you haven’t actually planned out what you want to say to him. You thought you had more time.

“Uh, I guess you can go first, then.”

Yoongi’s eyes don’t move from his screen. “I think you were right. This was a bad idea.”

“I— what?” It takes you several seconds to piece together what he means. The night at the company happy hour, when he’d proposed that the two of you establish some kind of arrangement, you had said it was a bad idea. And then you’d followed him into the bathroom to say yes to it anyway.

But now he’s… changing his mind? Just like that?

“I think we should both just focus on work,” he says, as if it’s that easy. “And stop being so distracted.”

Distracted? Your gut twists. It’s suddenly hard to inhale, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. “So what, then?” you ask, hating that you can’t quite keep the emotion out of your voice. “It’s over? All of it?”

Yoongi’s gaze alights on you for a split second, then flits back to his screen. The realization makes you want to scream: he can’t even fucking look at you. His adam’s apple jumps in his throat as he swallows.

“Look,” he finally sighs. “Whatever it is you think I can give you, I promise you, I can’t.”

A flush of heat creeps up your neck. “What I think?!” you retort, still in disbelief. “You started this, Yoongi, all of this was your idea. And you’re the one who fucking said you l—” He winces as you cut yourself off, your throat constricting too tight to get the words out.

“I was drunk,” he murmurs, unconvincing.

You stare at him for a moment, stunned.

“You know what I think you were?” His gaze finds yours, and you spit the word at him. “Honest.” There’s a flicker of recognition in his face, and it spurs you on. “I think you told the truth for once in your life, without this weird ‘I don’t care about anything’ veneer, and it fucking terrified you.”

Yoongi shakes his head. His voice is soft when he speaks again, and a little uneven. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you snap.

“Don’t act like you know me.”

You scoff, too angry to stop yourself, unable to bite back the urge to press him until he says something real. “You think I don’t? Really? I guess you just tell everyone you fuck about the time you almost jumped off a bridge?”

He flinches as he glances up at you again, and your heart drops like a lead weight at the look on his face. You immediately clap a hand to your mouth, as if in a too-late attempt to shove the words back in.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe. “I-I didn’t mean that, I’m just—”

All at once, he’s on his feet, moving towards you until you have no choice but to start walking backwards, in the direction of his office door.

“Here’s what I know.” Yoongi’s voice is firm and oddly calm as he speaks over your fumbled apologies. “I’m an asshole. I’m a workaholic. I’m way too hard on myself. I push people too far, and then I shut them all out. I’m never satisfied. I get bored easily.” He pauses for a moment. “And yes, sometimes I get so fucking sick of myself that I want to jump off a bridge. To put it bluntly, I am not somebody you want to be with. At all.”

Your breath hitches as your back finds purchase against the door, and Yoongi stops, still several paces apart from you. His dark eyes feel like they’re burning into you, glassy with emotion in a way you’ve only seen once before.

“We hooked up a few times,” he says, as if there’s no room for debate. “That’s all. It didn’t mean anything. And it’s over now.”

As his words crash into you, it occurs to you what this feeling is, itching like fire under your skin and squeezing tight at the muscles of your throat: you’re embarrassed.

It’s fucking embarrassing, standing here in an office you’ve been in dozens of times before, trying to beg a man you’re supposed to hate into a single honest conversation, into loving you when he already fucking said he did. Yoongi said he’s in love with you, and now he’s just… standing here, blinking at you like you’re somehow the unreasonable one for thinking that it meant anything at all.

“I guess you’re right,” you barely manage to choke out as your hand brushes over the door handle behind you. Your skin is flushed so hot that it feels cool against your palm. “You are a fucking asshole.”

You don’t wait around to see the look on his face at your remark. You just push the handle down and stumble out into the hallway.

When the Genius Lab door closes behind you, you slam back against it with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. You press your palms to the wood grain and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but that choked up feeling refuses to dissipate. The world feels like it’s closing in around you, white noise roaring so loudly in your ears you can scarcely think.

It takes you several seconds to realize that someone is speaking to you, and your eyes snap open again to find Jungkook standing in the hallway, his brow furrowed like he’s concerned. It’s hard to focus on him, like you can’t quite open your eyes wide enough. Black spots have started to dance in your vision, and you blink a few times, hoping to clear them out.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

You attempt to take in enough air to answer him, but all you can manage are shallow gasps: it’s like everything is stuck. You’re not even crying, you just can’t fucking breathe. The only response to his question that you can give is a slow shake of your head, and then your knees buckle.

Your brain must lose the ability to keep up with the pace of everything that’s happening, because suddenly you register that your palms are pressed flat to the office carpet. Jungkook is kneeling beside you, one hand smoothing circles against the back of your dress. You’re still heaving, trying to breathe, but your chest is squeezed so tight that it’s like it won’t take. You can feel your heartbeat behind your ribs, slamming so fast that it makes your whole body shake, and there’s a buzzing sensation in your fingertips, like TV static.

“Hey, hey.” You shut your eyes again and try to focus on Jungkook’s voice. “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

“I—” you gasp, but the words are stuck, too. I can’t breathe. I don’t know what’s happening. I think I’m dying.

“It’s okay,” he answers quickly, and you nod, as if it might force your mind to believe his words. “You’re okay. Just— I’m gonna breathe with you, okay?” You immediately shake your head, and Jungkook shifts a little closer. “I know it feels like you can’t right now. But look. We’re gonna go slow. In for four.”

I can’t fucking do this, you want to scream, but you dig your numb fingers into the carpet and try to follow his lead. You can hear him take a deep inhale through his nose, and you do your best to match it. One, two, three, four.

Jungkook’s voice comes back, stilted this time. “Hold it for seven.”

You nod, trying to focus on the feeling of the floor beneath you, his hand against your back. Your chest is spasming with a desperate need to keep hyperventilating, but you force the little air you’ve taken in to stay in your lungs, and you count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“And out for eight.” You can hear Jungkook push a stream of air out of his mouth, and you echo it, though your own airflow feels pathetic in comparison. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

“Can we do that again?” he asks gently, and after a moment, you nod.

You go through the process again and again, and each time it gets a little easier, until you’re finally able to pull yourself up to sit back on your heels. Your head is spinning, your heart still hammering in your chest, but you try to focus on Jungkook, seated cross-legged next to you like he has all the time in the world.

“I think—” you start, and you have to take another breath in before you can get the rest of the words out. A dull ache is beginning to bloom in your temples. Your throat feels like sandpaper. But at least you can breathe. “I think I’m okay now.”

“There’s no rush. Just give it a second,” he says with a nod, and you do, flexing your hands in your lap to try and bring some feeling back.

“Where did you learn to do that?” you ask softly, and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a half-smile.

“My therapist taught me. I used to have really bad panic attacks. Still do, sometimes.”

You blink at him, trying to process the information. It never occurred to you that Baby Star Candy would be the kind of person to have a therapist, or any kind of mental health issues at all. Not when he seems so… well-adjusted.

“Do you need anything?” he offers. “Water?”

You shake your head, not quite ready to be left alone. “I just need this day to be over so I don’t have to fucking be here anymore,” you sigh.

Jungkook makes a face, as if in thought, then shrugs. “How about I drive you home?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I— I’m the keyholder, JK. It’s literally my first day back, I can’t just leave.”

“Where’s the key?” he asks, pulling himself up to standing in one smooth motion. Your legs feel shaky beneath you, and you gladly accept the hand he extends for support as you slowly right yourself next to him.

“It’s, uh—” you have to think for a second before it comes back to you, your brain still a little scrambled. You’d taken it back from your cover earlier this morning, and now it’s… “In my purse. On my desk.”

With that, Jungkook heads down the hallway towards your desk, and you follow after, slightly unsteady in your high heels. He stands to the side when he gets there first, like he doesn’t want to just dig through your things, and you reach for your purse to fish the key out of the bottom.

“Can I borrow that?” Jungkook asks, extending his palm. You pause for a second, then nervously drop the key into his hand.

Before you can even ask any follow-up questions, he’s disappearing back down the hallway. Your gaze lingers over your desk as you let another cautious breath out, and it feels like you’re moving in slow motion when you grab your laptop and slide it into your purse.

It seems like less than a minute before Jungkook returns again, rapping his knuckles against your desk. “You’re off the hook for tonight.”

“Really?” you ask, incredulous. “What did you do?”

He just shrugs. “Talked to your boss. Told him you weren’t feeling well and wanted to leave early. He said he’d lock up. It’s not a big deal to ask for help sometimes, you know.”

You blink, attempting to keep up, your reaction time slowed enough that it’s like you’re on a five second delay. “Thanks, Jungkook. I guess your therapist taught you that too, huh?”

Jungkook nods without a trace of shame. “Sure did. Now let’s get out of here.”

Nothing about the world around you feels real as you follow Jungkook into the elevator and down to the parking garage. It’s like floating through some strange dream, everything fuzzy and far away. You slip wordlessly into his passenger seat, and it’s only as he pulls out onto the city streets that a creeping sense of dread starts to dot up your spine.

This scene is too familiar, and that thought alone makes your mouth go dry. When you try to swallow, you can feel your throat threatening to constrict again.

“Jungkook,” you manage to choke out, and his eyes flit from the road to your face and back again.

“Everything okay?”

The silence in the car is suddenly deafening. “Can we, uh— put on some music? Just, anything?”

Jungkook looks a little cautious, like he doesn’t want to do too much too fast. “Are you sure?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering closed as you try to remember his stupid breathing pattern. “Please. I… need a distraction.”

“Okay. Sure,” he answers quickly, and you let out a ragged sigh of relief when he leans over to press a button and the car fills with upbeat pop. It takes you a second to place it, and then you blink your eyes open again as a laugh of surprise rips through you.

“Hype Boy, really?”

“What? This is a great song!” Jungkook’s already tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the beat. “I just learned the dance, too.”

You tip your head back against the seat with another soft giggle. “Sounds like somebody’s about to go viral on TikTok again.”

The two of you settle into silence, and you let yourself be distracted by the music, your brain still cotton-fuzz numb. You’re grateful that Jungkook doesn’t force conversation or babble on the way he normally does, instead choosing to hum along in a way that’s oddly comforting. You count your breaths and watch the city pass by in a blur, until all at once the car is coming to a stop at your apartment complex. The building seems to loom over you as you blink up through the windshield, one hand fumbling for the car door.

Up those stairs is the safety of your apartment. But now that you’re here, it doesn’t feel so reassuring. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for you on the other side of your front door. No best friend to come over. It occurs to you now that you’re not ready to be alone just yet, but that’s exactly what you’ll be the minute you step out of Jungkook’s car.

The words leave your mouth before you have time to reconsider. “JK, do you want to come up for a bit?”

“Oh.” Jungkook is wide-eyed and blinking when you glance at him, like he wasn’t expecting the invitation. “Uh, yeah. Okay. For a bit.”

It’s a little funny, stepping inside your front door with Jungkook following after, the two of you slipping your shoes off in the hallway, then padding further in. You never pictured this happening, not even when he came to pick you up for Jimin’s concert.

Jungkook cautiously perches on the edge of the couch, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself, while you continue into the kitchen, calling back over your shoulder. “Do you want something to drink? Water, tea?”

There’s a shuffling sound, like Jungkook is peeling out of his jacket. “Just, uh. Whatever you’re having, I guess.”

“Wine, then,” you answer.

You make short work of cracking open a bottle of red, then grab two glasses before returning to the living room and dropping down on the cushion next to Jungkook. His jacket is slung over the arm of the couch now, leaving him in his usual business casual uniform, a button-down and slacks.

“What a fucking day,” you sigh as you pour Jungkook a glass of wine, then one for yourself. “Thank you again, for… you know. Reminding me how to breathe.”

Jungkook still seems a little nervous as he reaches for his drink. “Yeah, of course.” There’s a moment of silence as you both take a sip, and then he speaks first. “Can I ask—“ he interrupts himself, as if making a correction. “I mean, I don’t want to pry. I know it’s not my business. At all.”

“You want to know why I had a panic attack in the middle of the office?” you offer, and he nods.

“Outside of Yoongi’s lab,” Jungkook finishes quietly, and your heart briefly stalls out at the mere mention of his name.

“It’s a good question,” you murmur as you stare at the liquid swirling in your glass. Jimin’s words suddenly come back to you in a whole new light. Start with the truth.

You glance up at Jungkook again. “Yoongi and I were…” You trail off, unsure what to even call it. Involved? Hooking up? Enemies with benefits? Nothing feels right. “We were something.”

“But not anymore?” Jungkook’s response is immediate. You shake your head.

“No, I guess not.” There’s a dull ache in your chest, like pressing on a fresh bruise, and you try to breathe through it, your gaze flitting down to the hem of your dress. “When we were in LA, he said he loved me. And now he says it didn’t mean anything. That it’s over.”

“Wow,” Jungkook huffs, sounding dazed and a little pissed off. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you sigh as you sink back against the couch cushion. “Me too.”

It all feels more real, now that you’ve said it out loud. Hurts just as fucking bad. Maybe worse. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I should’ve just told you, but. I don’t know. I think I wanted to believe I had it all under control.” A sad laugh flutters out of your lungs. “Clearly, I do not.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, and he pauses for a moment, placing his wine glass on the coffee table before he continues. “Were you— I mean, was it… the whole time?”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you shrug. “Not the whole time, but. Most of it, I guess. It was like a weird slow burn thing.”

“Got it.”

When you glance over at Jungkook, there’s a distant look in his eyes, like he’s still processing everything. You suppose it’s probably a lot to hear all at once. It feels good to be honest with him after so much time spent keeping secrets. A heat starts to bloom in your face as you take another sip of wine, then set the glass down.

There must still be a lingering post-panic disconnect between your brain and your body, because all of a sudden you’re moving on sheer instinct, without giving it any thought at all. You drop back against the couch cushion again, then tilt yourself to the side until your head is pressed gently into Jungkook’s shoulder.

You wonder if you’re imagining the way he tenses slightly at the contact. You glance up at him through your lashes, but he’s not looking at you, and the expression on his face is hard to judge. There’s a faint scar on his cheek that you’ve never noticed before.

It could be so easy, you realize now. All he’d have to do is turn a little and close the distance. He could cup your jaw in his hand, tilt your chin up towards him, brush his lips against yours. Soft and sweet.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. At least you wouldn’t be alone.

“It should have been you, Baby Goth,” you hear yourself say.

Silence weighs heavy in the air between you, and then Jungkook speaks.

“That’s not fair.”

It’s like the words snap you out of a trance. You jump back like you’ve just been burned, purposefully sliding over to put as much distance as you can between your bodies on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively, but Jungkook is still staring at the floor. His leg has begun to bounce, like a nervous tick.

“I don’t—” Jungkook starts, and then he pauses, taking a deep breath in before he begins the sentence again. “I don’t want… this. Not if… if it’s not real. Or just a rebound, or whatever.”

Shame rushes up in your chest, makes you hot all over. You can’t exactly say that he’s wrong, but the thought of a brief distraction from the pain was so promising. Now it’s only served to dig you in that much deeper.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you repeat dumbly. You can feel your heartbeat hammering behind your ribs. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… Fuck, I’m such a mess right now. I keep fucking everything up.”

His gaze finally drifts up to meet yours, and you’ve never seen him look more serious. “You know, Chan said something that stuck with me. When I told him about what happened. He said, ‘if she really wanted to be with you, she already would be.’”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you recoil at the impact. You try to blink away the impending tears as you slowly nod. “Chan’s right,” you whisper, and Jungkook’s mouth pulls into a sad, flat grimace.

“Yeah,” he answers, his voice gone raw. “I thought so too.”

All at once, he’s on his feet and tugging his jacket back on, and you can only sit motionless and watch him. You press a finger to your waterline, trying to catch the tears before they start to spill down your face.

“I’m sorry you had a hard day,” Jungkook says, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I really do want to be your friend. But I think I just need a little time.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, turning over his shoulder to look at you, then quickly averting his gaze again. “We both do.”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “I want to be friends too. But, yeah. You’re right.”

Jungkook keeps his head down as he heads for the entryway. He slips his feet into his shoes, then swings the door open, pausing in the threshold for a final glance back towards you.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs. You nod. And then the door clicks shut behind him.

~*~

Despite your best attempts and the rest of the bottle of wine, sleep doesn’t come. You stare up at the black of your bedroom ceiling, and it feels like staring at the rubble of every bridge you’ve burned. All from your own choices. The things you said that you shouldn’t have, the things you didn’t do that you should have. All your mess, and all your fault.

You keep your eyes open, because closing them is worse. Closing them is when it all comes back, a looping film strip in your head of everything that’s haunted you, played out in technicolor on the backs of your eyelids.

Extending a mug of coffee to Yoongi on your first day. Stealing food off Jimin’s plate at dinner. Splitting red bean buns with Jungkook.

And then it speeds up.

A locked office door, a stolen set of keys. A four digit code and a smirk. Your fingers gripping the edge of Yoongi’s desk. Dancing close with a dark-haired stranger in a packed club. Yoongi’s hands slipping up your thighs, closing over your throat. The flashing lights and noise of a concert. A full glass of whiskey. Standing outside of a bar in the cold night air. Rain on a windshield. A maple pastry and a paper coffee cup. Seoul lit up at night, cut through by the river. A hotel bed. Yoongi’s hands on the zipper of your dress. Yoongi’s hands on piano keys. Yoongi’s mouth on yours in a conference room, in his shower, in a K-town noraebang. His face pressed into your shoulder on the cab ride home.

And you see yourself, too. Running away. Saying the wrong thing. Fucking everything up, irreparably. Over and over, the movie replays.

Tears slip across the bridge of your nose as you turn onto your side, cheek pressed to the pillow, and wait for morning.

~*~

“There she is!”

Your boss’ greeting rings loud in your ears, and you wince as you duck your head through his office door. He gestures for you to have a seat in the chair across from his desk, and you comply. You can see him taking you in as you sit down, and when his smile falters slightly, you know why: there weren’t enough ice rollers in the world to completely de-puff your face after a sleepless night spent crying yourself dry.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, a little more gently.

You fold your hands in your lap and take a deep breath, willing the words not to get stuck in your throat. You can feel the tension in the room, your knife’s edge poised at the final cord to cut.

“I want you to know that I’ve really enjoyed my time working here,” you begin, doing your best to keep your voice even, squeezing your laced fingers tight to give your mind something to focus on. “But for personal reasons, I think I need to tender my resignation.”

Your boss sits back in his chair, clearly stunned. It takes him a second to recover. “I— wow. Can’t say I saw this coming.” He leans forward again. “It wasn’t something that happened here, was it? Because if we need to report an issue to HR, you should know I take that kind of thing very seriously. I’d hate to see you leave over something we could take care of.”

Another breath in, another squeeze of your hands in your lap. “No, it wasn’t,” you say firmly. “It’s just me. My own stuff. I think… I think maybe I need to leave Seoul for a bit.”

He pauses, considering your words, and you consider them, too. It isn’t a thought you were ever cognizant of having until this moment, but it doesn’t feel like a lie, either. It makes sense. You’ve snapped every tie that once might have kept you tethered to this city. There doesn’t feel like much point in staying, or like there’s anything still here for you.

“Well, good for you,” your boss finally says, his tone serious. “For knowing your own limits. Gotta be a human first, right?” You offer him a half-smile and a nod, and he leans forward to grab a pen off his desk, fiddling absentmindedly with it. “Thinking of going anywhere in particular?”

You shake your head, your smile turning self-conscious. “Hadn’t gotten that far.”

“If I’m overstepping, just tell me to shut up,” he starts, and you can’t help breathing out a laugh. “But you got some rave reviews from the Los Angeles team. Seriously, you blew them away. They asked if it was possible to clone you. Apparently they’ve been looking for an admin for a while, but can’t seem to find anyone who can walk the walk.”

Your eyes go wide as you begin to put the pieces together, and your boss just keeps going.

“I mean, it’s probably a bigger move than what you were looking for. Unless you’re really trying to get away. But you’re such a great asset, I’d love to keep you in the family, if we can.”

He looks at you pointedly, and you swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. “You… can do that?”

Your boss shrugs. “We’d have to get you a visa, but that’s easy enough with a specialty occupation lined up. And we can cover the fees for premium processing so it doesn’t take half a year. But only if it’s something you’re genuinely interested in. If you’re just trying to cut and run, I get it. No hard feelings.”

Your head goes spinning. Los Angeles. It’s about as far away from your mess of a life as you could possibly get. It feels too good to be true, and you drop your gaze to the floor as a tidal wave of guilt surges over you.

You hadn’t planned on this admission, but all at once, the words are coming out of your mouth.

“I lied,” you say, your voice soft, your eyes fixed firmly on the carpet. There’s no way you can look your boss in the face as the truth spills out of you. “On my job application. I don’t have any experience as an administrative assistant. I made it all up, and my reference was fake. I was actually a waitress before this.”

You finally manage a glance up. Your boss’ eyebrows are nearly at his hairline, but he’s quiet.

“It just… doesn’t seem fair to send me off to the Los Angeles team. Not when I don’t even know what I’m doing,” you conclude with an embarrassed grimace.

“You really feel like you don’t?”

His question makes you blink. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. You’re not sure how to respond.

He drops the pen in his hands to press his palms flat to the surface of his desk, as if he means business. “Look, obviously I can’t condone what you did. But I’ll be honest, if anything, that just makes me all the more impressed with your performance. I thought you adjusted quickly even for someone with past experience. To know you were flying blind…” He huffs a laugh of disbelief. “I mean, that’s a fucking crazy thing to do. But you did do it. I’ve seen you working your ass off to keep this office together. And that’s the thing: you have. You’ve met every deadline, kept up with every deliverable. You’ve taken everything we’ve thrown at you and handled it.”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, willing it to stop trembling. Fuck, you’d really thought you were done crying.

Your boss shakes his head as he continues. “Maybe if you’d just started, I’d feel differently about this. But I gotta be honest. When I look at your performance the past few months… I don’t give a fuck what your last job was. Because in this job, you’re killing it. And I know you’d do the same in Los Angeles, if you made the decision to go. They want you out there because they’ve already seen what you can do. They know it, and I know it. And I hope that some part of you knows it, too.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek, and you quickly reach up to swipe it away. “Thank you,” you choke out, your voice thick as you try to keep it together. “I seriously can’t tell you how much it means to hear that right now.”

He doesn’t respond right away, like he’s waiting for you to say more, and you take a shaky breath in as the decision solidifies in your head. “I really enjoyed my time with the Los Angeles team. And I would love to transfer there, if they’ll have me.”

Your boss’ mouth pulls into a smug smirk. “Please,” he says dryly. “As soon as they get wind of this, they’re going to beg me to ship you overnight.” You laugh as you dab at your eyes with the edge of your sleeve, and his face softens slightly. “I can’t do overnight. But do you think you can hang on for just a couple more weeks?”

You chase your nod with a gentle sniff. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”

~*~

Time passes quicker than you would’ve expected, split mostly between preparing for your transfer at work and trying to pack your life up into cardboard boxes at home. Apart from those two things, the days feel aimless, and a little unreal. It’s like you’re living in a liminal space, halfway between your old life and the promise of a new one. Your boss offers to hang onto the office key of his own accord, to give you more time to get your things in order, and you gratefully accept the help.

It’s a weird change, no longer having to worry about being the first one at the office and the last one out. No meeting Jungkook at the doors each morning. No fighting with Yoongi to get him to leave at the end of the day. You see relatively little of either of them, save for the occasional meeting or brush of shoulders in the hallway. You’d think losing both of them in one go might be unbearable if you didn’t already have your eyes on the horizon.

Your boss announces your upcoming transfer in the next team meeting, though Yoongi is naturally nowhere to be found. Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you’ve ever seen them at the news, but he still slips out of the conference room immediately after the meeting wraps, rather than hanging back to talk to you.

You try not to take it personally; you can’t exactly blame him.

Life goes on. Your boss swings by your desk to excitedly share the news that your visa was approved, and you set a final transition date. You sort out the travel, the logistics of shipping your stuff, and lock down a place to sublet in Los Angeles to get you started. It’s admittedly shocking how easy it is to take your old life apart, piece by piece. To draft your escape plan, to run away from it all one final time. To make a clean break.

It’s nearly the end of your last workday in Seoul before you’re able to put a name to the feeling that’s begun to blossom in the pit of your stomach: it’s hope.

“Hey.” Your boss’ voice cuts through your concentration, and you glance up from your laptop to see him leaned up against your desk. “Can you walk to the break room with me for a second? Got a few last-minute questions for you.”

Your eyes go wide, your mind instantly racing, trying to think of what it is you might have forgotten.

“You’re not in trouble,” he says with a laugh, and you nod as you get to your feet, not quite able to believe it. “Just, uh, follow me and put on a happy face. Alright?”

You have no idea what he could possibly mean until you round the corner and a cheer rises up. The rest of your coworkers are standing around the break room in groups, like they’ve been waiting for you, though that doesn’t seem to have stopped them from already partaking in the assortment of food and drinks that’s been set up beside the vending machines. There’s a farewell banner pinned to the wall, signed with well-wishes from what looks to be everyone at the Seoul office, and someone’s turned on a playlist that you realize upon closer listen exclusively features songs about California.

There’s even a cake.

For a moment, you can’t do anything except stand there in the threshold, dumbfounded, as your coworkers clap and laugh.

“I— wow,” is all you can think to say, and you shoot your boss an incredulous look. “Thank you.”

He makes a face. “Hey, I didn’t do this. Thank JK.” Your boss nods across the room. “That kid loves any excuse to throw a party.”

Your heart immediately sinks at the mention, at all this kindness shown to you by the person you’ve arguably treated the worst.

It takes a while to get to him, with nearly every person wanting to stop you for a chat, but you finally manage to make your way over to where Jungkook is loading up a paper plate with so much food that it’s threatening to cave in.

“Make sure you get something to eat before it’s all gone,” he says by way of greeting, gesturing to the catering dishes with an elbow so he can keep both hands on his plate. “It’s really good.”

“Jungkook,” you say softly, and his gaze alights on you for a second before returning back to his food. You don’t think you’re imagining that he looks somewhat nervous. “I really can’t thank you enough. You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He shrugs, taking a few steps over to a nearby table, and you cautiously trail after him. “I didn’t,” he admits as he sets his plate down, then scoots a chair out. “But you deserve a good send-off. It takes a lot of guts to do what you’re doing.”

You shift nervously where you stand. “It’s either that or cowardice. I’ll let you know when I figure out which.”

A small smile tugs at his lips as he digs into his food, and you suddenly feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. But then he glances up again, speaking through a mouthful. “Well, whatever it is. I hope it works out for you.”

“Thanks, JK.” You do your best to return his smile. “I hope so, too.”

By the time you grab your own plate, you’ve been swept into another group to answer an endless litany of questions about your move. You tell yourself it’s probably for the best to leave Jungkook alone anyway, so you try to stand there and smile, to assure your nosier coworkers that nothing happened; you just needed a change of scenery.

Eventually the conversation shifts, and you find yourself on the outskirts of it, more than a little relieved to no longer be in the hot seat. You sip politely at your drink and nod along, not really paying attention to whatever’s being said, until a tap on your shoulder makes you start, and you turn around.

You nearly drop your cup when you find Min Yoongi staring back at you.

Your eyes had scanned the crowd for his face when you got here, like they do in every room you walk into, but he wasn’t here. He wasn’t, you’re sure of it, and you honestly hadn’t expected him to show at all. Why would he?

But now here he is, standing in front of you, his dark eyes searching yours. And you have no idea what to say to him.

You might be face-to-face in a crowded break room, but he still feels unreachable, like he’s a thousand miles away from you. It occurs to you that after today he’ll be much, much further.

Your lips part, but you can’t get the words out. You don’t even know where to begin. But then he speaks first.

“I just want you to be happy,” he murmurs, and as he says it, his hand brushes yours for less than a second. It’s a touch so brief, so imperceptible, that anyone else would think it was an accident. But you know better.

Yoongi pauses, as if to take one final look at you, and then he slips between two groups of your chatting coworkers, and you lose sight of him again. As if he was never there at all. It’s like you can feel your heart drop to your feet and shatter against the linoleum floor.

It hurts just as much as it did before— watching him walk away, not having the guts to stop him. Even if you did, you know you’d find a way to fuck it up, the way you always do. So you say nothing. Do nothing. The party turns to white noise in your ears as you stare down at the liquid in your cheap plastic cup. And then it hits you all at once: you need to get out of here.

You’re able to slip out of the break room unnoticed, dropping your drink in a trashcan on the way out. You move down the hallway on unsteady legs, and you don’t stop until your hands are pressed flat to the bathroom door to push it open. Shouldering into a stall, you can barely fumble the lock closed behind you before the tears start to spill over.

You don’t try to hold them in. You just slump against the door and let it all pour out of you. You cry until your throat goes thick, until a muted thud blooms at the back of your skull, until you find yourself distantly wondering if you’ll ever stop crying. You’re so fucking sick of crying.

Occasional groups of coworkers drift into the bathroom, and you stifle your sounds each time to avoid detection, your cheek pressed to the stall door as you wait to hear them trickle out again. The interruptions get further and further apart until there’s a long stretch of silence, and your hands shake slightly as you slip the lock open to make your way out to the sink.

The face looking back at you in the mirror is not a pretty sight, all puffy and tear-stained, your makeup a disaster. You reach for a paper towel to try and clean yourself up, and then the bathroom door creaks open a few inches, just enough for Jungkook to stick his head through the gap.

You can’t help smiling a little at his unexpected presence, though it’s more of a grimace, considering you know full well how awful you look right now. “Hey, JK.”

He blinks, eyes widening as he takes in your current state. “I know I’m not supposed to be in here, but… are you okay?”

The laugh you manage is all self-pity. “Kind of a loaded question.”

Jungkook nudges the door open with his foot, and you realize his hands are preoccupied with two paper plates. “Everyone’s gone; I was just cleaning up,” he explains. “I brought cake.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, watching his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he steps inside.

After a moment of internal debate, you turn to press your back to the sink, flattening your palms against the counter and hopping up to sit on it. Jungkook sets the plates between you before following suit, his long legs dangling over the edge of the marble surface. He reaches into his shirt pocket to retrieve two plastic forks, performing the motion with just enough flourish to make you really laugh as he hands you one with a shy smile.

The two of you take your first bites in silence, save for your own sniffling.

“This cake is really good,” you murmur as you chew.

A longer pause settles between you, and you find yourself relieved for the quiet. You figure Jungkook doesn’t need to ask the obvious question, that he’s perfectly capable of putting the pieces together as to what might’ve led you to lock yourself in the bathroom and cry all your makeup off. And any words of comfort he could’ve once offered would only make you feel like even more of a monster right now.

Jungkook has already finished his slice of cake by the time he speaks again. “Did you… hate the party?”

“No, JK,” you respond immediately, the corner of your mouth pulling up in a sad half-smile. “It was wonderful.” Guilt gnaws at the edges of your conscience, and you can’t help but question what you ever did to be worthy of this friendship. Of Jungkook’s kindness, given freely, even when you didn’t deserve it. “Seriously, thank you. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers. You look down just in time to see him extend a leg so he can gently tap his foot against yours. His voice is quieter when it comes back. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you echo, glancing up at him as you return his foot tap with one of your own. “But you’ll be alright.”

Jungkook’s gaze drifts down to the floor, and he nods as you take another bite of cake, his jaw set firm. “Yeah. I will be.”

~*~

As you pack up the last of your things, there’s a lingering feeling in your gut that you can’t quite manage to shake, and you’re not sure why. Maybe Jimin got in your head with all the TV show drama talk. Or maybe it’s your stupid heart, foolishly holding out hope that things could still change, even at the eleventh hour. That it all can’t just… end like this.

But none of the scenarios you’ve dreamed up come true. Yoongi isn’t standing at your apartment door when you swing it open with your suitcase in hand. He doesn’t step out of the cab that pulls up to your complex to take you to the airport. He doesn’t run through the terminal to catch you right before you make it to security.

Yoongi doesn’t stop you. So you go.

chapter nine | masterlist

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 5

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Part 4

Sooyoung realized it immediately when she walked in.

“Oh wow, someone’s in preheat.”

You sighed. “Is it that noticeable?”

She dropped her bag on the counter. “Honey, it smells like you took a shower in unicorn pee.”

“Unicorn pee?”

“I can’t imagine anything else smelling so good and yet so overwhelmingly bad,” she said with a shrug, turning to rummage around the cabinets. “You going to take the day off when your heat hits?”

“Oh, um.” You shrunk down in your seat on the couch. “Not exactly.”

The alpha paused, turning around slowly with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Look, hear me out,” You started. “It’s only Monday. My heat will probably hit on Thursday, and then I’ll have to call in sick for two days.”

“Wow, two days off work. How tragic,” Sooyoung said sarcastically, still standing with her arms crossed.

You gave her a look. “However, if I can hold off my heat until after work on Friday, I can ride my heat out during the weekend. No need to call in sick at all!”

“Right. And go back to work immediately after your heat?”

You could tell that her alpha wasn’t pleased with the idea of you working after such a harsh experience. Most omegas took at least a few days off after their heat to recover, but it wasn’t impossible for you to function the day after.

Betas wouldn’t need a day off to recover.

“It’s only my second week at this job, Youngie. I can’t afford to be using up my sick days so soon!”

“And yet I know for a fact that you’ll use some other excuse the next time your heat comes up.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she realized something. “Wait. The only way you’ll manage to delay your heat is with suppressants.”

You looked down.

“You know how badly those affect you!”

“It’s only two days!”

Sooyoung threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, you know what? Do what you like. You’re a grown adult capable of making her own stupid decisions. But don’t come crying to me at the end of the day when those symptoms wreak havoc on you.”

You watched through silent fury as your roommate practically stomped to her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, and you were tempted to comment on it just to get the last word in, but you held your tongue.

In reality, you knew she had every right to be worried. Heat suppressants were normally only used for emergencies, not because they had any negative consequences on the body itself, but because the symptoms were so horrible that no normal person would willingly subject themselves to them unless they absolutely had to.

Headaches, fatigue, heightened senses, heat flashes, brain fog, stomach cramps. Heat suppressants forced the production of pre-heat hormones and suppressed the actual heat from happening for a short period of time, but, as an unfortunate side effect, it enhanced all the pre-heat symptoms and dialed them up to a 100.

Compared to the milder heat symptoms (slick production and high libido) it seemed odd to want to endure two days of all that. But your heat would make your scent so strong, to the point that your scent blockers wouldn’t work anymore, so it was a necessity.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what to expect from the Alpha you were bringing home. The entire ride in his car, besides giving out directions, nothing was said between the both of you. Even now, awkwardly standing in your kitchen, he looked like he was losing the motivation he originally had, and you wondered if you would end up being left high and dry.

“Do you want some water? Or something else to drink?” You leaned against your counter, hoping that a simple conversation would help him relax.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like your seconds away from bolting.”

“Ah, am I that obvious?” He let out a chuckle, reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

He didn’t say anything at first, instead choosing to move forward until he was leaning against the other side of the counter. The two of you were close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, but part of you was curious to see if he would make the first move.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You sure it’s not my charmingly good looks?” You said it jokingly, but he rested his chin against his hand.

“No, it’s something else. Something … special.”

You felt your omega perk up at the compliment, and you could smell your scent begin to grow. You pulled back from the counter to stand up straight. If things were going to progress any further, you needed to take this back to your room. You didn’t want Sooyoung to have to deal with the scent of arousal lingering in the communal areas.

“Well then, mr. charmer. How about we take this to my room?” You held out your hand, and he took it.

His hand was warm and heavy in yours.

You opened up your bedroom door, and you found yourself staring at his ass as he passed. “What’s your real name anyways?”

“My real name?” The alpha looked around your room with a thoughtful look. “It’s not that important.”

You raised your eyebrows” What do I call you, then?”

“Hmmm.” You couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the way he gazed at you made you feel like you were being stripped apart to your bare bones, and you could imagine the curl of his lips. “You can call me Alpha.”

His scent began to come out stronger, like a breeze on a hot day, and you found yourself hoping it would linger long after he was gone.

You shut the door.

“Well, alpha,” You said, deliberately drawing the word out. “You going to wear that mask all night?”

He seemed to grow almost … shy. “I- actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it on.”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, not wanting him to feel insecure.

“I mean, I do want to kiss you,” He started, taking a step towards you. You could see the moment he hesitated to reach out to you, his hand dropping down to his side in a clenched fist. “If you want, that is.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Oh sweetie, I’m pretty sure inviting you over was an invitation for much more than just a little kiss.”

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, his hands lingering on your waist as his eyes flittered across your space. You reached up for his mask, the idea of kissing him the only thing you can think of. You wanted to know what he looked like. How soft his lips would be.

He grabbed your wrist. “I can’t let you see my face.” He sounded almost regretful.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him once more. “I can close my eyes.”

And you did. You stood there, eyes closed, and let your smile grow as he dropped your wrist, the sound of fabric shifting in front of you. For a second, he left you waiting. You didn’t open your eyes, but you did reach out to place your hand against his bare jaw.

His lips were as soft as you hoped they would be.

Your hands roamed down from his face to his neck, using your grip on his to pull him closer. It felt like he was inhaling your very essence, His scent covered you, and you moaned against his lips as his body pressed against yours. He smiled, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, but immediately pushed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from the temptation of opening your eyes.

“You good?”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to remember to keep my eyes close if you keep kissing me dumb like that.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, grip on your waist tightening. “Sorry?”

“Hmmm, it’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” You pulled out of his hold completely, waving your hand in his direction. “Turn around for a second.”

You didn’t wait to see if he did as you asked, moving towards your closet with a goal in mind. It took a little bit of rummaging in the farthest corner of one of your drawers, but eventually you managed to find what you were looking for. You pulled it out with a shout of triumph.

“Is that a blindfold?”

“Yup!” You slapped a hand over your eyes and turned around, wiggling the cloth out in front of you. “Genius, right?”

“You just happened to have that lying around?”

The cloth was pulled out of your hands, and you turned around. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

Warm arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body was hot against your back, and as his hands began to trace up and down your sides, you felt something in you shifting. You shuddered, body responding by releasing a wave of your scent, and he responded with his own scent of arousal that made your body feel almost pliant.

“So you are.” The blindfold was pulled over your eyes, and you shut them instinctively. The cloth brushed over your eyelids as he began to form a knot at the base of your head. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Your mind began to grow heavy as your omega pushed forward, the smell of alpha heavy on your tongue. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

You grabbed his hands, using your newfound sight to reach out wrap your hands around his neck. This time, you were the one to initiate the kiss, eyes falling closed not out of necessity but on instinct.

“You okay?” He asked you again when your knees suddenly buckled.

“Like I said. Those kisses of yours are dangerous,” you breathed out.

He decided to take it as an invitation to pull you back in for another kiss, although this one was quicker and sweeter.

It almost felt like love.

His lips pressed against yours once, twice, and then a third time before he trailed them down to your jaw, sliding them slowly down to your neck. When he began to suck against the skin there, you pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

He moved his hands under your shirt and began to pull it up. You could only barely see his figure as he leaned down, his lips reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

He pulled your shirt off completely, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began to lead you towards the bed. Even without your sight, the mattress was familiar under your body, and you instinctively relaxed into the sheets.

You made grabby hands at him. He laughed, kneeling on the bed next to you and allowing your hands to roam across his skin. He still had on his boxers, and when you moved to pull them down, he grabbed your hands and pressed them gently down against the bed.

“Patience,” He told you, his voice rumbling.

You pouted, and he kissed your lips with another laugh. He continued where he had left off, his mouth on your breasts as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart so he could slot himself in between them. The motion pressed his clothed cock against your center, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Please,” you found yourself breathing out.

His mouth trailed kisses down your body, hands swiftly pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. “Got to get you ready first, sweetheart.”

“Awfully confident in yourself, huh?” You joked.

“Hmm, something like that,” He drawled.

You expected him to get straight to it, but he took his sweet time. Laying kisses along your inner thigh, caressing your legs up to your hips. You wiggled your hips impatiently, but he just smiled against your skin.

“You’re doing a really good job at getting under my skin,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair. “If you don’t hurry up, I might just have to get myself off.”

He nosed your center, and your body flared up with want. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Alpha, please.”

“That’s it.” He rewarded you by finally mouthing at your core, licking a stripe up to your clit where he sucked gently.

You were already wet with slick from all the teasing and foreplay, but his mouth on you made you gush, your core clenching around nothing, When he pressed a finger into you, you bucked your hips, and he laid a hand across your stomach to keep you from moving.

You let out a moan, fingers gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out. He added another finger, and the sound was filled with wet squelching sounds as he fingered you gently, softly crooking his fingers to press against your spongey insides as he sucked against your clit.

Your orgasm built up slowly, but it hit you quicker than you expected, your body writhing under him as you whined. He pulled away, his other hand reaching up towards his face, and you could only imagine the sight he made.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he said, finger rubbing small circles against your clit. “Could stay here forever.”

“Please, alpha,” You whined.

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

He moved up your body. “Need me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” You said impatiently.

He grabbed your body and flipped you over so quickly that it made your head spin, and you pressed you forehead to your pillow with a gasp, “Ask and you shall receive,” He told you, and you could feel him moving around behind you.

You lifted your hips and presented for the alpha, your omega instincts taking over. His scent intoxicated you, filling your senses and making you feel dizzy, wanting nothing more than to submit to him in every way possible.

He took his sweet time once again, rubbing his member through your folds before he slowly pressed into you. He was right to have prepared you because he was thick, stretching you and filling you up completely. You couldn’t even moan, like your breath had been stolen. Your fingers dug into your blankets, eyes shutting behind the blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The alpha gave you a second to adjust once he had bottomed out, rubbing against your sides gently. “You good, omega?”

“So good,” You mumbled.

When he started to move, it made you whine. He thrust into you slowly at first, but his hips began to speed up slowly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You let out a moan as his fingers gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks. You pressed your knees against the mattress and moved to sit up, hands reaching behind you in an attempt to feel his skin against yours. He pressed himself to your back without having to be asked.

His warm breath against your shoulder, mouth teasingly close to your scent gland, had you reaching your release quickly.

You let out a whine.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered into your ear. His hands roamed from your thighs up your chest and towards your neck, fingers gently pressing against your throat. “God, you’re so tight.”

You whined. “Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

You woke up with a start, your mind still heavy with lust and sleep. It took you a moment to realize that you had been dreaming, and then you were falling back to your bed with a groan, swiping a hand down your face.

It was your memories from that night with Chan.

It seemed like your pre-heat sex dreams were making their appearance. Usually they were some random fantasies, but you supposed it made sense that you would be hit with a memory this time around.

Your thoughts wandered to the shirt still in your drawer. It almost seemed to be calling for you.

You let out another groan.

This was going to be a long week.

-0-0-

You were convinced that heat suppressants had to have been created as a form of torture.

The headache made every noise feel like a punch to the brain, not helped by the fact that your hearing was so sensitive that everything above a cough sounded like an airhorn to your brain. Even the painkillers you took that morning were doing little to dull the hammering in your head.

And yet, you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, made ever difficult from having to deal with the managers.

You had been thrown for a loop when you found out on Tuesday morning that Felix had gone into heat. It was all the staff members were talking about. You hoped that the idol’s heat and rut cycles weren’t normally a topic of interest for the company, but you understood why this time they all were freaking out about it.

Stray Kids’ comeback was scheduled for next week.

It would be hard for you to have to go back to work the day after your heat ended, but finding out that Felix was expected to be on stage and promoting less than a week after his almost made you feral.

“What do you mean the comeback will continue as planned?”

Jeonhui gave you a hard look. You knew that as a new employee, and only a translator who was in the meeting to be kept up to date with the upcoming schedule, the idea of speaking out was unheard of. But when the news that the comeback would still be happening on the expected date, your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.

The head manager, Soojin, gave you a puzzled look. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

The entire room was looking at you, but you forced yourself to focus only on the manager. “Felix finished his heat less than a day ago.”

“Yes?”

“Even for a normal person, a comeback is stressful. Long nights, early mornings, practices and schedules and stage performances and interviews … do you really think that’s the best thing for an omega who just had their heat to deal with?”

There was a moment where Soojin looked almost understanding, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. You thought that you might have actually gotten through to him. You thought for a second that maybe you could make an impact on this company, give them some knowledge of the artists they were supposed to be managing and caring for, and that you could actually change the way the industry worked.

But it shattered with his next words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you our omega’s can handle the load just fine. We’ve had both omegas and alphas going back to work right after heats and ruts, and there’s never been a complaint in the past.” The other staff managers nodded along as if what he was saying was common knowledge. “If they needed more time to recover, they would have said something.”

You thought about the pressure building in your head, the way your skin felt like it was crawling, the constant cramped pain your stomach was enduring, all so that you wouldn’t go into heat. All so you could keep pretending to a room full of betas.

All so that those same betas could make decisions about omega’s and alphas they knew nothing about.

It made you want to scream.

“Maybe,” You managed through clenched teeth. “They never say anything because they know that if they do, the company would use it as proof that omegas are more trouble than their worth.”

Soojin and the other managers gave you a surprised look. From the corner of the room, Maya was given you a proud smile, but the other stylists around her looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why do you care so much about this anyways? What are you, an omega expert?” One of them said.

And his words felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over your slightly overheated body. You immediately bowed your head, realizing that you had brought more attention on your head than was necessary, and it was obvious you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m just … worried. Just seems like those boys could use some rest,” You mumbled in excuse.

Stupid. How could you be so stupid.

Now everyone would know you as that one translator who argued about an omegas needs. At best they would think you were out of line, but at worst …

“It’s quite alright,” Soojin assured you, although the look Jeonhui gave you told you that the two of you would be talking later. “But like you said, comeback is stressful for all of us, including the staff. This is why we put in all the hard work! I want to take a moment to thank all of the staff for helping make this a possibility-“

And just like that, your little outburst seemed to be forgotten.

It didn’t make you feel any better to know that your words were so easily dismissed. As Thursday turned into Friday, you made the conscious decision to not take your heat suppressants that morning, knowing you would need your heat to start either than night or early Saturday morning if you wanted your heat to end by Sunday night.

You ignored the looks Sooyoung gave you as you left for work.

Just as promised, you had been avoiding her all week. When the cramps hit you late at night and you cried out, you muffled the sound with your pillow to avoid waking her. She didn’t mention the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication (you reminded yourself to pick some up after work).

It made a part of you ache to know you had disappointed your friend. But it also made you feel proud to know that you were still doing what you had dreamed of doing for so long.

You just had to keep moving forward.

Friday went by normally, and almost easier than the past three days. The suppressants started to flush out of your system around noon, and the symptoms you had been dealing with started to fade, making it easier for you to work. The heat symptoms would come around soon, but you weren’t too worried about it hitting you fully until you were back home.

You were just finishing up your last assignment of the day when you caught the scent of a familiar smell.

“Oh no.”

Minho appeared at your doorway within seconds, and you secretly cursed the enhanced sense of smell that had yet to wear off, because the strong scent of alpha had your omega perking her metaphorical ears up instantly.

He had probably just finished dance practice judging by the sweat covered shirt he had yet to change out of.

You forced your eyes away from him and back to your screen. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your typing, risking a glance to look at his face. He looked straight faced, almost bored at first, but you could smell the shame that was hidden beneath the rest of his scent, and you turned to face him completely.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked him.

He looked away. “I yelled at you when we first met. It was … inappropriate.”

“You were protecting your pack,” You corrected him, turning back to your work. “You did what you thought was right.”

Minho continued to stare at you from the doorway, not saying anything. You finished what you were working on and began to wrap everything up so you could leave. In the few minutes it took you to do that, he didn’t say anything.

You grabbed the files you had to drop off to your manager before you left. “I’m serious, Minho. It’s fine.”

When you stood up, a few papers that had been caught under your files fluttered to the ground. Before you could move to grab them, Minho was there, picking up the papers and tapping them on the ground so that they would be stacked up together, lifting his head up to look at you.

And you immediately felt something in your stomach twist, and your head spun.

He stood back up, unaware of your internal freak out, and handed you the papers. You took them with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” You breathed out.

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, you wanted to scream at him. I’m going into heat and a stupidly handsome alpha was on his knees looking up at me and now I’m losing my goddamn mind.

But instead, you forced a smile on your face. “Fine.” It came out squeaky, and you winced. “I, uh. Gotta go!”

You rushed out of there as quickly as you could.

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you completely missed an equally sweaty and tired looking Chan as he was walking out of the elevator, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you from running him over. His scent, equally as strong, only made your chest ache more.

Chan smiled. “Ah, just who I was looking for!”

You eyed him curiously. “Wow, I’m really popular these days, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you need?” You asked him as you walked into the elevator. He followed you in.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Felix.”

“Oh, how is he, by the way? I heard about what happened.”

Chan gave you a soft smile. “Ah, he’s fine. He …. He wants to meet with you.”

The elevator opened, and someone stepped in. It was a random staff member you didn’t recognize, probably not even a stray kid’s staff member, but both you and Chan remained silent until she left. You turned to Chan as the elevator made its way up to your manager’s floor.

“I think we should wait until after your comeback,” You told him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Chan sighed. “We’ll have enough on our shoulders this week.”

You scowled. “Ugh, don’t even remind me.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, I heard about what you did yesterday.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as the elevator door opened. “Uh, I’m just going to go before I say anything even worse.”

Chan was still laughing as you left, but he called out for you before the doors closed. His smile was one of the last things you saw as his words reached you.

“Thank you.”

[svngiem-remade]

Hii i really love your writing and I’ve been wanting to request for a while but I’ve been a little shy 😅. Finally worked up the courage though! Can I request a fic where Hyunjin had a bad week during comeback and you’re frustrated from school work or something and he comes home needing you but you accidentally say something insensitive or raise your voice and he walks away saying “it’s fine” but you find him crying and realize that you messed up and try to make it up to him.

Sorry if this is too long?? But yeah I’ve been thinking about it! Also can I be “💞” anon? Thanks I really hope you consider writing it !

KISS AND MAKE UP | hhj

🧸 pairing. hwang hyunjin + gn!reader

synopsis. after lashing out at your boyfriend, saying things you did not actually mean when he begged you for some of your attention after a long week, will he accept your apology?

🌙 wc. 1.4k | au. established relationship, hyune cries :(, angsty, fluffy ending, hurt/comfort

!! note. sorry for taking this long but I just couldn't manage to make it flow as good as I wanted it to, or make the reader not seem that mean, but I did it!! really hope you'll like this! also, if you don't mind, I've added you on the anon list of my new account, thank you for loving my work, ily ❤️

Hyunjin had barely made it into the company car when thunder struck into the sky and a heavy downpour started; the bad weather plus the headache that had been tormenting him for the past three days coronating the horrible week that had just ended. 

He loved comebacks; he truly did—performing in front of an audience with his best friends, doing interviews, and meeting idols and fans during stages—but they took such a toll on his body and mind that it always took him incredibly long before he was able to go back to his previous mental and physical state. All that dancing, singing, and even talking made him so exhausted and worn-out that the only thing that was able to soothe him and his aching muscles, give him comfort and love for at least a few hours was you. 

So he couldn't contain his smile when your apartment condo came into his sight, your kitchen window being tinted by that comfortable yellow color given by the warm light of your ceiling lamp being turned on, letting him know you were still awake even if it was about 3 in the morning, probably still working on that one important work project you wouldn't stop talking about—not that he minded in any way; he loved the sound of your voice.

“Thank you for dropping me off; see you on Monday! Sleep well!” Hyunjin bid goodnight to his manager and dorm mates before hopping off of the vehicle and running inside your building, barely containing a squeal of excitement when it finally tinged—knowing that he was only a few meters away from you, from your welcoming presence and support, caused his stomach to fill with butterflies and a rosey blush to tint his cheeks. 

Hyunjin quietly unlocked the front door, not wanting to startle you as he took off his shoes and damp coat in the hallway, the fruity, sweet perfume constantly lingering in your apartment already doing wonders for his headache. “Hi, love.” he whispered as he walked towards the kitchen, leaning down to peck your cheek softly. 

“Hi, Jinnie.” you replied, turning your head to kiss his puckered lips, making him let out a soft, satisfied sigh and place a hand on the back of your head to deepen the kiss, to which you complied. A guilty expression washed over your face, though, when he caressed your thighs and tried pulling you up to your feet, clearly wanting to take things further, or at the very least cuddle with you—which was something you could not afford to do at that moment. Reluctantly, you pulled away from the kiss, your hand resting on his cheek as you caressed it with your thumb, staring into his bright, though tired, eyes. “I've got to finish this real quick; how about you go take a shower first? I should wrap this up in about 15 minutes.” you said, mouthing a ‘sorry’ when he pouted, but eventually agreed.

Hyunjin knew how important this project was to you, how hard you’d worked on it for weeks, and how the due date approaching put you on edge, so he’d been as supportive of a boyfriend as possible—reminding you to eat and drink everyday, bringing you some leftovers when he happened to dine with the boys of the other dorm, or showering you with affection whenever he had the chance, and knew you needed it. And he was doing everything right—even though he was very much on the clingy side, he’d definitely given you enough space to focus on yourself and your career these past weeks, even if he’d missed like crazy the feeling of you falling asleep between his arms, or vice versa, as you chit-chatted about your day.

Or at least, he thought he was doing a good job. 

Your typing got rougher and your jaw clenched in frustration when, after his shower, all your boyfriend did was constantly walk around the apartment, spending most of his time in the kitchen even if he’d turned on a movie for him to watch in the living room. 

Be it chips, popcorn, a glass of water, or juice, or just brushing your cheek or shoulder as he passed by you, or staring at you with his puppy eyes for minutes on end—he just couldn’t seem to stay still, and annoyance quickly bubbled up inside you. “F*cking hell, Hyunjin! Will you please just let me finish this in peace?! I have to turn this in soon, and I’m so f*cking stressed I can’t even think properly, and you walking around and being so whiny is really—” you angrily rambled when he walked once more inside the kitchen, his relaxed expression falling into pieces with every word you spat out. 

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he gulped, chewing at his bottom lip nervously as he fidgeted with the hem of his oversized shirt. What made you finally stop your frustrated ramble, though, was the sight of a single tear escaping his eyes and staining his cheek. You immediately rose to your feet and rushed towards him, your heart breaking in pieces when he took a step back. Tears filled your eyes in seconds, “I—I didn't mean to lash out— I'm so sorry, I really did not—” you begged him for forgiveness. He clearly needed to be held and comforted after spending the whole week doing promotions non-stop, practicing without rest, and running around all day and night for schedules, and you’d failed to give him that; prioritizing something you still had a week to finalize and had basically already completed, instead of spending time with your boyfriend.

He wet his lips and sniffled, wiping a tear away from his cheek with his hand. “It's fine. I'll go—I'll wait for you in your bedroom. Take yo—your time. Goodnight.” Hyunjin hiccuped, lowering his head and backing out of the kitchen as quickly as possible before rushing into your room and throwing himself on your bed, hugging the pillow you always slept on and burying his face in it as he sobbed and cried, completely dampening it in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, you were completely speechless at your behavior, at your carelessness, at your insensitivity, at the way you turned what was supposed to be a night full of love and comfort into a night of heartache and sorrow. 

Needless to say, you immediately turned off your laptop (not without saving your progress first), and stood outside your bedroom door for what felt like hours, contemplating if he was even willing to accept your apology, if he was just going to break up with you and ignore you forever, if he’d stopped loving you after your lashing out—but you had to at the very least try to fix your mistake.

You quietly cracked the door open, sobbing harder when you heard him do the same as he hugged your pillow, his big body trembling with every hiccup and his sniffles filling your dark, unlit bedroom. You took hesitant steps towards the bed, feeling small and guilty under his tired, tearful eyes looking up at you from your messy sheets. 

With a gulp and shut eyes, you fell to your knees in front of him, not noticing his eyes widen at your action. You clasped your hands together, now looking up at him with a trembling bottom lip and big, puppy eyes. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you, I’m so sorry; I wish I could take everything I said to you back, I’m terr—” you whimpered with a broken voice, and from the genuinely regretful glint Hyunjin saw into your eyes, the fear that you actually thought everything you’d said to him washed away. He smiled.

“I forgive you, my love. Just… promise me it won’t happen again, please?” he whispered, placing a hand on your head and petting it softly, his trembling hand then reaching for your wet cheeks and drying them, you doing the same in an attempt to comfort him back.

“Can I… Can I hug you?” you hesitantly asked, mentally preparing yourself to be rejected. “Please.” he said, widening his arms so you could throw yourself on top of him, which you did with a relieved smile and repeated sorry’s as you covered his face in kisses and hugged him tight, cradling, giggling, and chatting until sleeplessness washed over the both of you, a lazy peck on each other’s lips as the both of you fell asleep under your warm duvet sealing the start of a new, brighter, happier day ahead of you.

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

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taglist : @strayingawayy | @shinsosmatcha | @zoe8stay | @sensitiveandhungry | @baby-photos0325 | @tinkerbell460 | @mingitheskzstan

— pink = unable to tag!

© SVNGIEM, 2023.

[cricket-reader]

Sick Day

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: Matt isn’t very happy when he comes home and discovers that his girlfriend had kept her sickness from him. He makes sure she is well taken care of before they go to bed.

Warnings: language, sickness, pet names, Matt being an overprotective simp, fluffy

Word Count: 960

Prompt: Sickfic, headache, cold/fever, blankets, hot drink (except I changed it to hot soup)

A/N: day 5 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump

Today had been horrible. She awoke to see that Matt had left early to go to work. On top of that, she felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she was burning up. Her nose felt stuffy, and her muscles ached.

She got up and took her temperature to see that she had a fever of 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit. She called into work and made her way over to the couch, not wanting to get the bed all disgusting from her sickness. Matt would still sleep there, after all. He didn’t need to come home to a bed that smelled like sweat and sickness. Whatever the hell “sickness” smelled like.

Matt frowned as he entered his apartment. He could hear the coughing as soon as he entered the complex. He could hear shifting on the couch, telling him his girlfriend was camped out in the living room with some blankets.

“Sweetheart?” Matt questioned, setting down his cane. He heard a groan as he walked over to the couch. “Why didn’t you call me to tell you that you were sick?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” she mumbled, sniffling a bit. “I know you’ve been busy lately.”

“I’m never too busy for you, love. I would have come home earlier if you called.”

She sighed. “I know, and that’s why I didn’t.”

“Well you should have,” he admonished her. She always did this. Her needs were never one of her priorities. She put everyone before her, and it bothered the ever-loving shit out of him. Because Matt knew she deserved the world. No, she deserved more than that. The universe, maybe.

She just huffed in irritation, knowing that there was absolutely no way she was going to win this argument.

“Have you eaten today?” Matt questioned as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. She cursed how well he knew her.

“No, I didn’t wanna get up.”

Matt just shook his head as he got up to make some soup. He glared in her direction when he heard her shift, knowing that she was trying to get up to help him. “Don’t you even try, young lady.” He put a pot on the stove.

“I just wanna help. You’ve been at work all day while I’ve just been sitting on my ass!”

Matt turned his head in her direction and gave her an incredulous look. “You’ve been sick!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“What if I was the one that was sick?”

“That’s different,” she pouted, crossing her arms as she watched him pour a pre-made homemade soup into the warm pot. She blew her nose with a tissue, her nose already red and raw from blowing it so much.

“And how, pray tell, is that different?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s you!”

“Your logic is lacking, hun.”

She just groaned and flopped back onto the couch dramatically. A cold spell made her shiver. She grabbed one of the blankets and furrowed into it. She had been having hot and cold flashes off and on all day. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Turning off the stove when the soup was finished, he put it in a bowl before moving over to the couch. Setting it on the coffee table, he noted that her breathing had slowed; she must have been asleep.

“Sweetheart?” Matt gently shook her awake. He felt horrible for disrupting her, but she needed to get food in her system if she wanted to get better. She groaned, turning to bury herself further into the couch. “Baby, you need to get some food in your body. Then we can cuddle and get some sleep, okay?”

She blinked awake, groggily lifting her hands to rub at her eyes. “Cuddles?”

Matt’s heart melted hearing her soft little voice. It’s moments like that when he falls impossibly deeper in love with his precious girlfriend. He never thinks it’s possible to love her even more, but somehow he does manage. “Anything you want, baby.”

She smiled and took the soup from him. Matt scooted closer to her body and she snuggled against him as she began to blow on the soup.

The soup was hot in her mouth, but it felt good, warming her insides. “Thanks, Matty. You’re the best boyfriend.”

“It helps to have such a great girlfriend,” he flirted with her, loving the skip of her heart whenever he would. She blushed as she lifted another spoonful of soup to her mouth.

When she finished the soup, Matt made her drink some more water. She just huffed in exasperation. “I thought you said after soup I’d get cuddles.”

“Sorry, hun, can’t I just take care of you?”

She shrugged, taking a sip from the glass. “I’m just not really used to it.”

“Which is exactly why I’m making sure you get the best treatment now,” he stated.

“You’re too good for me, Matthew,” she sighed, leaning her head against his torso.

He just chuckled, “I’m pretty sure you got that sentence twisted.”

“Let me win for once, please,” she pouted. Matt sighed and agreed to let her have that one. It was the least he could do after she had asked him so sweetly, after all.

When she finished the tall glass, she set it on the table, making sure to exaggerate the sound of it being empty. “Snuggle time!”

He laughed as he was ambushed by her. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up to bring her to bed. She protested, hating being picked up, but Matt just shushed her as he lied her down. He undressed and crawls in next to her. She burrowed closer to her boyfriend, and he could hear her sigh contentedly, smiling against his warm skin.

She really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

[myseungsunglove]

When darkness comes, you’re always there | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: angsty feelings with fluffy comfort

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: It's been one of those days where your demons win every argument. Beat you down and remind you how worthless you are. There’s only one person who offers any solace when you get this lost and that's Kim Seungmin.

A/N: I had a really rough day on the day I wrote this. Like colossally shitty. I spent the better half of it crying alone in bed wishing I had something like this. So, as my own form of therapy, I wrote.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© August 1, 2023 by myseungsungheart」

Some days you lose yourself and can’t remember how to get back to the light. The darkness consumes you, swallows you whole, and you’re certain you’ll be lost forever.

Today is one of those days. Seungmin has been home late every night this week, and today your brain decided it was the perfect time to wage war on you. It’s a full on assault and you find yourself defenseless and spiraling before you even know what hit you. Every horrible and self deprecating thought you’ve ever had seems to be joining the party. You’re sure you must be a nuisance to everyone around you. The boys, even Seungmin. You convince yourself that that’s why he has been coming home at three in the morning, so he doesn’t have to deal with you. Your polluted mind is certain this must be the truth and the reality that Seungmin is busy preparing numerous events for STAY can’t break through the dark lies that your brain is weaving so intricately.

You haven’t crawled out of the bed, drank water, or eaten a thing today. It’s nearing 10 pm at this point. The rational side of you knows the lack of food and water only compounds the problem and the intense feelings you’re experiencing, but rational you is not in charge today. You curl up into yourself, blankets wrapped tightly around your shoulders and up over your head, seeking solace in puppy m and sob. You’ve sobbed for hours without relenting at this point, and you wonder briefly just how much more liquid could come out of a person who is as dehydrated as you currently must be.

At some point you fall asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day.

Something wakes you around 1, but you don’t really register it in your sleepy haze. You're hit with an enormous headache from the lack of any kind of nutrients for the better part of 24 hours and you realize that you’re still alone in bed. No Seungmin. The tears are flowing once more and you’re sure you’ve turned into a never ending water fountain at this point.

Your sobs are pathetic, racking your entire exhausted body. They aren’t loud, but they are mournful. You hadn’t fallen into a hole like this in a while. Seungmin kept you grounded in reality, but he’d been gone so much lately you had nothing to grab onto.

You feel the bed dip, the blanket lifting from your back as a body slides in behind you, arms sliding around your waist. Seungmin. He pulls you back firmly against his chest, his knees slotted in behind yours, his face burying in your neck.

“Shhh baby, I’m here,” he whispers. The pain and worry in his voice are evident. “How long have you been like this?” he asks, brushing your hair to the side and kissing you softly behind the ear. When you don’t respond, only sob harder, he squeezes you tight. “Did something happen?” he questions.

“No,” you choke out. “I’m just worthless is all,” you manage between sobs. “So annoying you don’t even want to come home,” you cry, curling more into yourself.

“What? Why would you ever think that?” Seungmin asks, genuine hurt in his voice.

You roll over then, and his hand moves to your chin, lifting your eyes to his.

“Baby, you know I’m direct. If I ever felt those things, the words would come out of my mouth. And they haven’t. Ever. Not once. Because they’re not true,” he pleads, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. “I know I’ve been working so late because of all the preparations for STAY, and I've managed to miss the signs that the most important person in my life is spiraling,” he says, clearly beating himself up. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, his lips pressing gently against yours as if he’s afraid he might break you with his touch.

The kiss sends a warmth through you that you haven’t felt all week, your arms moving to embrace him, snaking around his waist and onto his back to press him as close to you as possible. You want to melt into him because that feels like a safer place than your own toxic brain and body at the moment. He pulls away after several minutes of being glued to you, realizing how dry your lips are. He takes in your appearance, seeing the sheen of clammy sweat on your skin and pale color.

“Y/n, have you eaten or drank anything today?” he asks, his worry renewing as he looks into your eyes.

All you can manage is a broken sob and a small shake of your head as you hide from him and burrow into his chest.

“Shit, baby,” he curses, kissing your temple. He unwraps himself from you. When you whimper at the loss of his warmth he reassures you. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and turning to leave the room.

He’s back quicker than you can fully register his absence, a water bottle filled with filtered water in hand. He puts out his hand, asking for yours, and you reluctantly take it and allow him to pull you into a sitting position. He sits beside you, handing you the bottle, his hand resting on your thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Drink,” he commands, leaving no room for discussion. You tentatively suck on the straw, the cool liquid hitting your throat and you groan a little at the relief it provides. Suddenly you realize the desert your body has become, and you're guzzling the water down. “Don’t make yourself sick,” he warns, noticing your reaction.

You slow down and pull away from the water bottle reluctantly, a small sigh emitting from you as you pull oxygen into your tired lungs.

“God I’m hungry,” you realize, your stomach now growling after the water intake. Your head is pounding from the abuse you’d put it through over the last 24 hours. You hated these spirals and what they did to you. You hated more that it made you feel like you had no control over anything.

“I’d imagine so. When’s the last time you ate jagiya?” Seungmin asks, no accusation in his voice, just concern.

“I honestly don’t remember,” you admit. “With you maybe,” you rack your brain. Yes, you had eaten breakfast with Seungmin yesterday morning. It had been at least 40 hours since you ate, you suddenly realized which immediately made the headache make sense.

“Goddamit,” Seungmin cursed, grabbing his phone from the night stand. “I can’t believe I let this happen. Fucking…” he trailed off as he typed furiously in his phone. You could see him beating himself up for the decisions you had made over the last two days.

“Seung, you didn’t let anything happen. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself,” you said, your fingers on his chin pulling his gaze up to yours and momentarily away from his phone.

“I know that, but I needed to be here for you, and I wasn’t,” he growls, finishing whatever he was doing on his phone. “But that ends now. I just told Chan I needed a few days off. I need to be with you right now,” he says, his voice softening again.

“You don’t have to…” you stammered.

“I want to,” he says firmly, his hand reaching for yours and squeezing it. “Foods on its way too,” he adds, standing up, and pulling you along with him. “Let’s get you a shower before it gets here,” he encourages and you groan because you’re exhausted from the day’s emotions and also disgusting. “I’ll help,” he assures you, guiding you to the bathroom.

Seungmin is a perfect gentleman as he steps into the shower with you, taking care to wash your hair and body, no other agenda in mind tonight than to make sure you’re okay.

When he is finished and you’re rinsed and clean once more, he steps out of the shower, draping a towel around his hips, and grabbing yours. You take it from him and wrap it around you, tucking it under your arms. He leans in then and kisses you softly, his lips moving reverently against yours. His phone dings on the counter, signaling the arrival of your food.

“Ah, dinner. Finally,” he smiles down at his phone. “Get comfy and I’ll grab the food off the stoop,” he says as you walk out of the bathroom together. You throw on one of Seungmin’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers and shuffle down the hall into the living room. Seungmin is setting out a shit ton of food when you pad in, looking up at you with a beaming smile on his face, and you momentarily wonder who delivers this late in the night.

“Babe, I’ll never eat all that,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I haven’t eaten since, hell, I can’t remember. I’m starving,” he chuckles.

You realize then just how busy he’s been if he hasn’t stuck to his pretty rigid schedule he keeps for himself and reality hits you as you allow yourself to understand it fully. The thoughts that consumed you earlier in the day and night are slowly losing their grip on you. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Go put on some clothes, Seung,” you say, bumping your hip against his and shooing him down the hall. “I’ll get us plates and chopsticks and something to drink,” you assure him, and he scurries down the hall, towel hanging from his hips and droplets of water still clinging to his broad back as his feet shuffle along the hardwood quickly. He’s gone no time at all, before he returns in a pair of black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Your tip toeing to get the plates and bowls down, and you feel him press against your back and reach up for them. He kisses your neck and moves to head back toward the living room.

“Let’s eat,” he says, smacking your ass gently and you playfully slap his hand away, your mood already much improved from Seungmin’s presence, the water, and the shower. It’s amazing how the simple act of taking care of your basic needs can shift your mentality. You grab a couple drinks from the fridge, chopsticks and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You both retreat into the living room, sitting on the floor by the table by the couch. Seungmin plates your food for you, knowing all the things you like and hands it to you before loading up his own. He smiles happily at you as he digs in.

“Now, I’m all yours for the next three days baby,” he smiles before taking a bite. “Let’s sort that pretty little head of yours out, and I promise I won’t miss something like this again,” he vows, chastising himself.

“Seung,” you start, but he shakes his head.

“Let me do this, okay y/n?” he practically pleads. He needs to take care of you. It’s like it’s coded into his dna or something.

“Of course, jagiya,” you smile, leaning across the table and kissing him quickly.

You're so thankful you have Kim Seungmin in your life. He’s grounded you back to reality many times before and you’ve done the same for him in his times of doubt. You weren’t sure how you got so damn lucky, but you’d thank whatever god you needed to over and over again to keep your Seungmin.

Tags: @krishastumblernow @ohish

[bluesylveon2]

omg, can I request number 13 with sebek please?????

I did it anon! I wrote this! The ending could be better but I think this turned out good. This prompt really fit Sebek too lol

Prompt: 13. We make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

Note: Modern au and aged up characters

Word Count: 1691

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters (Sebek is an asshole at first), and an attempt at writing subways (I based it off NYC)

500 Follower Event

Yuu was having a not-so-good, horrible, very bad day.

It had all started when she had slept past her alarm and woke up to Grim, the recent cat she adopted, making her sofa a scratching post. Then, after running out of her house with a white blouse, a skirt, heels, and a cup of coffee in her hand, she magically ran into someone, spilling coffee on her clothes. 

The person apologized, but Yuu wanted to scream. She only had 5 minutes left until her shift at the office started, and she did not want her boss or coworkers to get on her about it. 

(There was a redhead in the IT department who was strict and infamous for lecturing a coworker who was late by two seconds). 

It was a stroke of luck that Yuu made it on time. Everyone was too busy to notice her arrival except for Vil, who gasped at Yuu's current state. Luckily for her, he had a blouse and a skirt that he lent her (but not before giving her a lecture about her appearance). 

The rest of her shift was boring after that. Yuu quietly sat in her cubicle while the chaos happened around her. It was a typical day, to say the least, until her boss, Dire Crowley, showed up with a mountain of paperwork and wanted it done by the end of the day because he was oh-so kind. It reminded her of the infamous trio in Accounting and Finance, who she was 100% certain were in the mafia. And so, Yuu left her job with a massive headache, a plastic bag with the company label of her soiled clothes, and a list of how to get revenge on her boss. The poor girl was working like Cinderella, and she only wanted to sleep while cuddling Grim.

Yuu made her way toward the train station and mindlessly went to her stop. Yuu could not hold back her yawn as the subway appeared. She tiredly followed behind the crowd into the train, letting her feet guide her inside. It was partially full, and luckily, only a few people entered with her. Her eyes landed on the spot near the door, perfect for her to sit and decompress. 

Yuu only took two steps towards the seat when suddenly, a man with slicked back light green hair, yellow-green eyes, and the strangest green and black outfit she had seen sat down in HER seat. Now slightly awake but more annoyed, Yuu marched toward him. 

"Excuse me, sir. That is my seat."

The man looked her up and down at her appearance, and his lips curled up in disgust like she offended him. "It is clear that I saw this seat and sat down first. Therefore, it is my seat."

Yuu huffed and wanted to say some not-so-nice words to him, but some children were around her. She chose to look down at his stupid-colored eyes with determination. "Look, mister. Don't you know the saying 'ladies first?'"

The man scoffed, "Of course I do. Do you think I was raised like a barbarian?" He said and eyed the plastic bag in her hands. "Unlike some people. Besides, I must be in top shape after spending all day protecting my Master."

Yuu stared at him like he was a crazy person. "You- jjsndgondvisjdf" She could not form words and chose to say sounds instead. One parent covered her child's ears. 

"Do you not know who I am?"

Yuu stopped her rambling and looked at him. "I don't know and I don't care. If you don't move, then I have no choice."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, "What are you? HEY!" He yelled, causing some people nearby to silence him. Meanwhile, the girl on his lap made herself comfortable. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," She said like it was obvious. She turned her head to look into his eyes; a frown etched on her face. "Look, I had a tiring day today too, but I need to sit down after a long day at work."

The man blushed at the close proximity and looked away. His face was slightly red, and a pang of guilt filled his chest. "I'm sorry for being rude to you. I was unaware."

Yuu waved him off, "It's alright. You didn't know." She suddenly yawned and rested her head against his chest. She could feel how fast his heartbeat was going but was too exhausted to ask why. She felt like she was covered in a blanket. "You can just chill until it’s your stop. I'll get up when it is my stop."

The man looked at her curiously, "Where is your stop?"

Yuu yawned again. Her eyes felt heavy. "Ramshackle Street," she replied, her eyes getting starting to close. "You are so warm and comfortable," she said absentmindedly, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

"Hey! What are you?" Sebek stopped talking and stared at Yuu's sleeping face. He moved his arm to shake her awake but stopped. He could see how exhausted she was by looking at the eye bags under her eyes and how she managed to sleep so quickly. It reminded him of Silver, but slower by two seconds.

Speaking of, Sebek's suddenly rang, and his friend's name was on the caller ID. 

"Hello?"

"Ah! Sebek! There you are! We were looking for you. Where are you right now?" His other Master and Silver's adoptive father, Lilia's voice, replied. "My phone died, so I must use Silver's khee hee."

"Father, that's because you misplaced your charger." Silver's voice called out. 

Lilia laughed. “Silly me!”

Sebek rolled his eyes, “Is the Young Master safe?” 

Lilia huffed. “Malleus is next to me, eating some ice cream. You know how he is, but we have a more important matter to discuss. Where are you now? The city must be so big for you to accidentally wander off."

Sebek sighed. He should have been more diligent and kept sight of Malleus (the tallest person he knew) or Lilia, but he didn’t. And now he was stuck on a train with a random girl sleeping on his lap. 

It was like the girl knew he was thinking about her because she mumbled something about 'that damn Crowley' and was loud enough to be heard by Lilia.

"What was that?"

Sebek scrambled to say something, "I apologize, Master Lilia! I am taking a train that will stop in the Diasomnia area, but I might be delayed. You see, there is this girl-"

"A GIRL?!?" Lilia exclaimed, "Why didn't you say that earlier? Is she your girlfriend? Did you meet online and finally get to meet in person? Am I finally getting grandchildren???"

Sebek could tell that Silver was rolling his eyes at the last part. "No, Master Lilia. She was exhausted from her work and ran into me on the subway. She is taking a nap right now."

"Oh, crumbs," Lilia sighed dramatically. "I thought I would finally experience what it is like being a grandpa. You know I am not getting any younger."

"We know." Silver and Sebek said at the same time. 

"Well, make sure that the girl gets home safely, Sebek. Do you know where her stop is?"

"Ramshackle Street."

"Perfect!" Lilia exclaimed. "It is actually nearby Diasomnia, so we can meet you there. Malleus has always wanted to explore it anyways. It is known for its historic mansions, you know. Make sure to send your location or call Silver so we can find you."

Sebek nodded and adjusted Yuu by securely wrapping an arm around her so she did not fall off his lap. "Understood. It should be one of the upcoming stops, so I should be there soon."

"Good. See you soon, Sebek!" Lilia said and hung up. Sebek pocketed his phone and looked down at the sleeping Yuu. She looked peaceful, and she was breathing quietly. However, she did look cold, and her thin long sleeve did not look like it was enough. Sebek took off his coat, leaving him in his white shirt and tie (it surprised him just how he did it, given the complex design), and wrapped it around Yuu's body. He wrapped his arms protectively around her again and sighed. 

"Next stop is Ramshackle Station. Stand clear of the closed doors, please," the intercom's voice called out. 

Sebek gently shook Yuu's shoulder. "Hey, you need to wake up. Your stop is coming up."

Yuu slowly opened her eyes and looked around her surroundings. "Huh?" Her eyes landed on Sebek's face. "Oh, right. I took a nap on you. Let me get out of your way." She moved to stand up but was stopped by Sebek holding onto her hand. 

"You have a few minutes until the train stops. You can stay until then..." His voice trailed off. 

Yuu chuckled, her laugh sounding like music to Sebek. "Where are my manners? I'm Yuu." she smiled, causing Sebek's heart to skip a beat. 

"I'm Sebek Zigvolt." Yuu's smile grew even wider as she clung to Sebek's coat. Realizing the unfamiliar fabric, she looked down in shock.

"Is this yours? Here, let me return it-" She began to take it off only to stop when Sebek shook his head. 

"Keep it. Besides, you can wear it even longer if you allow me to walk you home."

Sebek expected her to say yes, not jump on him, and wrap her arms around his neck. "Yes! Thank you, Sebek!" She grinned. Maybe her day was finally getting better after all.

Bonus: Sometime during the walk back to Yuu's house. 

"You know, this fabric seems pretty fancy. Are you a bodyguard or something?" Yuu asked while rubbing Sebek’s coat between her fingers. 

Sebek nodded and smiled proudly. "Yes, I am. In fact, you might meet my masters when I drop you off."

Yuu's eyes widen. "Really? They must be important people for you to call them that."

"Of course! It is none other than the great Malleus Draconia! He is so great and powerful-"

Yuu sweatdropped as Sebek went on a rant about Malleus when all she wanted to do was to go home. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.