#off another chapter starter

[clochanam]

she slides the tiny scrap of paper across the table, a pleased grin on her face that gets swallowed with a press of lips that doesn't really obscure it so well as she'd like. it feels silly to be so proud of it. to feel as proud of this little bit of paper as she does of her own children. but she does. because on that piece of paper, is aisling's name.

and she wrote it all by herself.

OPEN STARTER. / aisling is illiterate, we know this, but the idea of her just spending months on this simple thing that we all take for granted?? yeah it's making me cry what about it--

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (10) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 20.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

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

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

The weekend after your site visits passes by excruciatingly slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s always wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You were injured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not gonna sleep here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will what?” You laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In clothes, I would assume.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And why is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which?”

“That you’ll laugh at me again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is… is this okay?” You softly ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, were you worried?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least you’re not alone, right?”

“That’s true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It might be slippery.”

“I have good balance,” you lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” He challenges.

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

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

“I figured. Let’s go, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that a trick?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

“May I?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh at how seriously he says the words.

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

“How’d he know I like highball?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You cook?!” Do-hyun basically yells. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?” Do-hyun asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sort of,” he hums. “And you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it happen a lot?” You wonder. 

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

“What do you do when it does?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But did it help?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve seen you do that a few times.”

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

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

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

“You didn’t deserve those either.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On second thought, you want him even closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 13

[chap twelve] | [all chapters here] | [chap fourteen]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

a/n: We've got another chapter here that I absolutely love! Now that ice princess realizes what she's feeling, the shenanigans are that much more amusing~

wc: 7.2k

Chapter Thirteen

Come Monday morning, you were still struggling to grasp all the shit that had transpired over the weekend, the short two days of it feeling more like a lifetime. What should have just been a fun party led to a chaotic fight with your family, and that chaotic fight led you to realize that you had a god damn crush on Eddie that you had been trying to ignore for the past twelve fucking hours. And to top it all off, you still couldn’t remember most of Saturday night, leaving you with the sensation of lost time, with the vague feeling that you were forgetting something vital but not knowing what that could possibly be.

When you finally recognized what exactly you were feeling for Eddie - what you probably had been feeling the past week or so, despite your own obliviousness - you didn’t know what the hell to do with those feelings. You tried your best to play it cool as you and Eddie ate food and watched movies and shared his bed Sunday night, but you were certain he could see your hesitation, could feel your trepidation. It felt like a damn sitcom once you started thinking about it - you had to pretend you didn’t have a crush on the boy you were pretending to date. How much more ridiculous could it get?

You’d already decided there wasn’t a chance in hell you would tell Eddie about this. For starters, you weren’t sure if this was a real crush or if all the fake dating was getting to your head; you would be the person to start confusing fake feelings with real ones amidst all the shit you and Eddie had been through thus far.

And if that weren’t the case, you could simply be feeling this was because Eddie was nice to you - you’d never really felt this attracted to someone before, simply dating because it’s what was expected of you, so it could very well be due to Eddie’s kind nature. Niceties didn’t exactly come easy to you, your old friends, or any of your exes, so you couldn’t let yourself go and develop feelings for the first boy that was simply kind to you. You figured that’s just how he was, how he treated all his friends.

On top of that, you didn’t want to deal with the embarrassment of telling Eddie about this only for him to reject you. The two of you were such opposites, so very different, that it seemed unfathomable for Eddie to reciprocate your feelings - what interest would he have in you, a girl who was rude and impatient and bossy as all hell?

Sure, you’d caught him looking at your legs or your chest a couple of times, but considering that that’s how all boys have looked at you since puberty, you couldn’t take those moments into account - physical attractiveness was surely something Eddie wasn’t too concerned about, if his character was anything to go on.

And, shit, Eddie was so unlike anyone you’d previously been into, it almost felt crazy to even entertain the idea of liking him. This was nerdy, goofy, metalhead Eddie, the kid who was a terrible student, who dealt drugs, who spent hours playing silly board games that you couldn’t even begin to understand - how did all of that possibly come together to create a package that caught your attention? You hated to be shallow about it, but on paper this maybe-crush on Eddie shouldn’t have happened and couldn’t ever work.

So, no, you wouldn’t let him know about this ridiculous little crush of yours, because it would simply pass in time. You’d move on from it sooner or later, meaning there was no need to draw attention to it now. Give it a couple of weeks, and this whole silly thing would be forgotten - that was your mantra when you woke up far, far too early on Monday morning.

Why you were up before the fucking sun was beyond you - one minute, you were asleep like the dead, and then the next you were wide awake. You figured it must’ve been because you and Eddie spent the majority of Sunday sleeping, and now your body clock was completely out of whack. You begrudgingly sat up in bed - realizing with a blush that you and Eddie were practically on top of each other once again - and glanced over at the alarm clock. You groaned when you saw that it was just after five o’clock.

You rose to your feet and shuffled around the bed, remembering that you saw a pack of cigarettes somewhere on the nightstand. You felt around blindly until you had the box and a lighter in hand, tiptoeing to the door with a silent prayer that it wouldn’t creak and wake Eddie. As you closed it gently behind you, a deep exhale escaped you before you opened the door that led to the rickety little balcony attached to the house.

Of course, you weren’t expecting to see Wayne there with a cigarette of his own, his presence causing you to gasp and nearly jump. You seemed to have startled him a little as well, but he was much more calm in showing his surprise. For a couple awkward moments, you lingered in the open door, unsure of whether or not to give Eddie’s uncle space; but he nonchalantly waved his hand, a simple indicator to join him.

“He’s not up, is he?” Wayne asked, his voice gruff but kind. You shook your head, leaning on the arm of the worn-out couch while popping a cigarette between your lips, flicking the lighter until you could feel the nicotine in your mouth, “Nasty habit.”

Wayne’s eyes twinkled at his joke, the humor only emphasized by the deep drag he took from his cigarette. You couldn’t help but smile, amused by the fact that he could say that with a perfectly straight face - it was immediately obvious that he and Eddie were related.

You wrapped your arms around yourself while slowly blowing smoke between your lips - despite your sweater, you probably could have used at least one more layer to keep warm. October was always an unpredictable month for the weather in Hawkins - one day the sun would shine bright, the next you’d be freezing your ass off. Your eyes drifted across the quiet trailer park for a few beats before you looked at Wayne again.

“Not a habit I expected to pick up.” You answered conversationally, hoping he didn’t feel as awkward as you did - you weren’t really sure how to talk to the man who raised your fake boyfriend that you totally weren’t crushing on. Wayne hummed in response, allowing you to study him as he also looked around at the neighbor’s homes absentmindedly.

“Should we formally introduce ourselves, or would you prefer to stay strangers?” Again, you smiled at Wayne’s distinct personality, rough around the edges but so clearly kind at his core. Again, it reminded you of Eddie. His sense of humor was odd, but not off-putting to you - maybe that stemmed from your own habit of speaking plainly and from an emotional distance.

So, you gave Wayne your name and he returned the favor, nodding simply while dropping his cigarette butt in the nearby ashtray. He looked up at you with an expression that you’d seen on Eddie’s face before, which was nearly startling - his eyes were studious, as if he were trying to make sense of you, a stare that you were becoming all too familiar with. You could feel your neck warm a little as you waited for him to say something.

“Relax, kid,” He pointed lazily to the couch, which you still chose to lean against rather than sit on. So, you slowly settled yourself onto the cushion, trying to ignore the worn spring that poked at your back. Again, Wayne studied you for a moment longer, making you a little nervous under his stare, “You seem good for Ed.”

The simple statement took you aback, your brows going up in response, which must have amused Wayne if his faint smirk was anything to go on. You looked down while taking another deep drag, shaking your head a little, though not necessarily in disagreement. Really, you didn’t know why you shook your head. Maybe because you knew you and Eddie were bullshitting everyone, and getting a compliment of that sort from Wayne felt wrong; it made you all too aware of your deception.

He shrugged simply, looking back out at the horizon and the vague streams of sunlight that were just beginning to come up, “Suit yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who sees it,” You responded smally, taking one last inhale from your cigarette. As if on cue, Wayne held the ashtray in your direction, and you put the cigarette out with a thankful look. It’s not as if you wanted to complain to Wayne, but the words just seemed to roll out of you with ease, “I knew people wouldn’t like me and Eddie dating, but I guess I never thought about just how terrible they’d all be… Or maybe it’s me, fuck if I know.”

You were tempted to grab another cigarette just so you could have something to do with your hands, but you settled for fidgeting with the lighter instead. Wayne turned his eyes back towards you for a brief moment, but the both of you continued to stare anywhere but at each other. It felt so damn odd to be here, sitting in silence with Eddie’s uncle with such ease - it should’ve been more awkward, you should’ve been more standoffish. But maybe after yesterday, your energy was too low to be worried about that sort of thing.

“So long as you’re not causing too much trouble, there’s no harm.” He answered simply, slouching a little in his fold out chair, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably, “You two’ll be just fine.”

“You’re sure about that?” You couldn’t help but counter, although not argumentatively; no, you asked it because you simply didn’t believe it.

Wayne shrugged again, meeting your eyes, “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you simply made a noncommittal face of agreement, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched more sun rays slowly shine in the sky. The two of you sat in a comfortable, companionable silence for a few minutes, although your mind was going a hundred miles an hour - you couldn’t help but find it odd how easy it was to exist in the same space as Wayne, a man that you literally just spoke to for the first time.

You were bombarded by thoughts of your own family and how damn different this was. Most days, it was impossible to even be in the same room as your father, whose domineering energy was oftentimes unbearable and irritating. Meanwhile the man who raised Eddie put you immediately at ease, had a relaxed energy that invited you to him. For a moment, you felt a flare of anger that you never got to have someone kind like this in your life, that your “idealistic family” was the exact opposite of such.

Wayne eventually rose to his feet, grunting a little as he looked down at you, “I got a long day ahead.”

You nodded, deciding to head back inside too; you’d been willing to fight the morning cold for the sake of sitting with Wayne, but if he was heading back inside you sure as hell weren’t going to stay out here. He held the door open for you, and you nodded in thanks while ducking back into the house, trying to make yourself small against the bedroom door so that you didn’t take up the cramped hallway space. As Wayne shut the door behind him, he gave you a kind little smile.

“Make sure he’s up at a decent time,” he pointed at Eddie’s closed door, “he can’t be missing any more school if he wants to graduate.”

You gave a short nod before opening the bedroom behind you, slipping inside as Wayne turned towards the restroom. Your eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the room, your feet sliding quietly across the floor to avoid tripping over anything and making more noise than necessary.

“Were you talking to Wayne?” Eddie’s voice startled you from the dark, a surprised sound escaping you as you shot a look in his direction. Your ears warmed as your heart beat just a little faster, something that made you immediately want to kick yourself - you don’t like Eddie, you reminded yourself on repeat.

Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could see the outline of Eddie’s silhouette propped up on one elbow in bed. Your voice was quiet with your response, “Yeah.”

Eddie hummed, much in that same way that you heard Wayne do earlier, which caused you to smile to yourself. You glanced at the alarm clock near him as you stood near the bed.

“He said you can’t miss school, so you should probably take me home.” Even without being able to see Eddie’s face, it’s as if you could feel the concern settling in there. Going out on a limb, you added, “Don’t give me that look.”

“You can’t even see my face!” Eddie’s ruffled voice was laced with humor.

“I don’t need to see it to know you’re pitying me.” You laughed a little, but were surprised by Eddie’s hand grabbing your forearm; you hadn’t realized you were close enough for him to touch you, and it sent a jolt through your body.

“I’m not,” You knew he was leveling you with a serious stare, “Just… worried, considering yesterday.”

Your brows turned down, “The longer I avoid them, the worse it’ll get; I wanna piss them off, but not so bad that they start plotting my murder.”

“Why not just wait? We’ll go to school, then you can deal with them later.” Eddie’s grip on your arm tightened for a brief moment before he released you.

You laughed smally, “Well, considering my outfit choices are either ‘teenage boy’s dirty pajamas’ or ‘Saturday night hooker,’ I’d rather go home and change first.”

Eddie scoffed but nonetheless laughed with you; you thought you heard him grumble “Saturday night hooker” to himself, but you couldn’t be sure, as at the same moment he kicked off the bedsheets and stumbled over to open the curtains. You both cringed a little, the sun now high enough in the sky for its light to come through the window. You watched as Eddie yawned and stretched, first twisting his back before raising his arms above his head. Seeing a sliver of skin at his waist, you quickly diverted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring as your ears grew hot. In a measly effort to distract yourself, you began to collect what few belongings you had lying around the room.

“If it makes you feel better, my dad’ll already be gone by the time we get there,” You started, glancing back towards Eddie, your eyes briefly looking him up and down, “And you can come in with me - that’ll keep my mom from acting hysterical.”

A slight laugh escaped him, “You sure I won’t cause the hysterics?”

You shrugged as you two turned back towards one another, “I guess we’ll see.”

Eddie looked to be in consideration of something for a beat before accepting your response, “Right. Gimme ten minutes.”

The trek to your house was passed in relative ease - with how much he chauffeured you around these days, you figured you probably owed Eddie quite a lot of gas money.

At the house, you two didn’t even cross paths with your mother, who was cooped up in the master suite the entire time - she probably didn’t even know you and Eddie were there, too busy fussing with her extensive morning routine. You tried to freshen up as quickly as possible, fussing with your hair, reapplying makeup, choosing a new outfit. 

All the while, Eddie studied your room, looking to be in total disbelief at how much space you had - your room was double the size of his, you had a walk-in closet, and your own en suite bathroom. You were beginning to feel self-conscious, guilty at how much excessive space you had compared to what little he had in his own home.

When you finally exited the bathroom, you found Eddie studying your VHS collection that lined nearly an entire bookshelf. You wondered if he was impressed by the assortment or if he was resentful of how much you had. Aside from the shelf of movies, little of your personality was truly conveyed in your bedroom - your mother was too fussy about the house to allow you to completely make the space your own. Yes, you had your trophies and medals on display, you had framed photos from your childhood placed sparingly about, you had pretty pastel throw pillows and decor, but otherwise the room was nearly clinical in appearance. Again, you felt sheepish about what Eddie’s impression of it might be.

You led Eddie back out of the house just as quickly as you’d led him in, unwilling to hang around longer than necessary. And, much to your surprise, you two actually made it to school with just a few minutes to spare. You nearly, impulsive leaned in to hug Eddie goodbye, but caught yourself mid-movement, awkwardly spinning around to rush off towards your first period class. You hoped he didn’t clock what you nearly did, and you also hoped the embarrassment didn’t alight your face once you caught yourself and ran off. You did not like Eddie, you reminded yourself yet again.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

As the lunch bell rang out, you quickly scooped your belongings off the lab table you shared with a fellow student, retreating from the classroom without stealing a glance back. All throughout fourth period, you caught Duncan shooting loathsome looks your way, and considering how your weekend had gone, you really weren’t in the mood to deal with him.

You figured he had one of two reasons to be pissy with you: the most likely reason was, of course, the fact that someone slashed his tires homecoming night. That someone was you, but you sure as hell weren’t about to confirm that for him.

The second, and less likely, reason was that you and Eddie actually won homecoming king and queen; apparently, everyone in this school had a shitty enough sense of humor to latch onto that miserable joke.

You found out during second period as you mindlessly streaked watercolors across paper, letting the paint bleed and puddle together. At the work station closest to you was Chrissy, who seemed to be just as mindlessly focusing on whatever she was doing; she was interrupted by a fellow cheerleader, who was being far from subtle when she asked “so, Chrissy, what do you think of the little ice princess over there beating you out for the crown?”

It was clear that the girl was trying to start something, so you simply shot her the coldest glare you could muster; you unintentionally caught Chrissy’s eyes a moment later, and to your surprise she appeared somewhat apologetic. As the second cheerleader walked away, you “accidentally” knocked over your cup of filthy paint water, trying not to relish in the way the girl squealed as it splashed down the length of her leg. You thought you may have seen Chrissy smirk, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

So, knowing that Duncan surely wanted to confront you about something, you hightailed it out of class, doing your best to try and avoid him. You’d had enough confrontation the past weekend to last you at least the next month.

Of course, your running off didn’t dissuade Duncan in the slightest; he caught up to you quickly and roughly grabbed your shoulder, trying to spin you around. Without a second thought, you aggressively smacked his hand, causing him to exclaim with pain while pulling back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You bite, turning your fiery glare onto Duncan, crossing your arms and jutting your hip with all the attitude you could muster. From the look on his face, you knew he was too worked up for something as simple as homecoming - this was most definitely about his car.

A mean scoff sounded in his throat, his tone accusatory as packs of students parted around you two in the migration to the cafeteria, “Were you the one that messed with my car?”

You gave Duncan an innocent look of confusion, although you weren’t overly concerned with it being all that convincing - if your eyes glittered with amusement, then so be it.

“What are you talking about?” You had to fight back the beguiled grin that dared to cross your lips - that would’ve been as good as admitting you were guilty, and you weren’t about to do that. No, you’d just mock him with your eyes, taunt him with your words.

Duncan gave you a mean, challenging glare, eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you. Squaring your shoulders, you refused to move an inch, planting yourself firmly - this boy didn’t scare you in the slightest, no matter how hard he tried, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your response was clipped as the both of you glared daggers, neither of you willing to back down to the other.

“So, your dumb boyfriend, then?” Duncan grinned cruelly, as if Eddie was just a joke to him; your jaw clenched harder, your heart skipping as the need to defend him arose. You took a moment to collect yourself, however, knowing that you couldn’t fly off the handle and accidentally say something you’d regret.

“I don’t know what you think Eddie did, but leave him the hell alone.” Your tone was low and serious as you took a couple slow, taunting steps back, preparing to end this face off before it could continue.

In the next moment, though, Amelia and a couple of Duncan’s friends appeared nearby, clearly en route to meet him; a part of you wondered if they knew he planned on confronting you like this. Seeing the intent in their faces, you rolled your mean eyes, turning to walk away because you just knew this shit was about to get worse.

“Hey, homecoming queen, where you running off to?” Amelia’s sing-song taunting grated at you, and you shot a vicious glare back over your shoulder.

“Anywhere but here, runner-up.” You gave her an impudent smile as you continued to walk away. But you could hear them following just a step behind you, which is exactly what you had expected of them; you used to be one of these kids, after all, so you knew all of their tricks.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of a conversation.” Amelia’s voice trailed behind you as an annoyed sigh left your mouth. You continued forward, hoping that your posture appeared completely unbothered, even as the look on your face showed otherwise. The group continued to talk to your back, and you fought hard to keep your mouth wired shut, refusing to respond to their incessant taunting.

You rounded a corner as they determinedly followed after you, and when you nearly walked right into Eddie, a sense of relief washed over you; he must have been on his way to meet you, considering this direction was opposite of the cafeteria. He looked startled and then amused to bump into you, until the group of assholes rounded the corner as well, causing his expression to quickly falter. The two of you shared a tired, fed up look - yesterday was one problem, today was another, and it left you wondering if these annoyances would only continue.

“Would you look at that - just the guy I wanted to talk to.” Duncan greeted with cruel, false friendliness. Without ever having come to a full stop, you grabbed Eddie’s hand and yanked him along with you, forcing him to stumble over his feet before meeting your pace as you continued retreating from this bullshit confrontation, “Oh, come on, wait; I just wanna talk.”

“Piss off, he didn't do shit.” You responded harshly, staring ahead with a wicked glare, although you knew walking away wouldn’t stop them from taunting you. You've seen enough of these antagonistic conversations before to know exactly what to expect - they’d find a way to corner you, mock and belittle you, and then once they were satisfied with your misery, they’d laugh and leave as if nothing happened. You loathed to think that you were once friends with these people, that you were once as nasty as them, and so you were determined to not let this crap happen to you and Eddie.

“The hell are you running for?” Amelia continued with a hint of aggression in her tone. Her hand fell roughly onto your shoulder, manicured nails digging into your skin, “What, are you feeling guilty about something?”

Just like with Duncan, you swatted Amelia’s hand but refused to stop for her, your angered glare deepening as you resisted the temptation to look back at her. You couldn’t give her that satisfaction. But, as you expected, Amelia didn’t like being brushed off, so in retaliation she gave Eddie’s back an unexpected shove, causing you both to stumble a little.

And that was the exact switch that she needed to flip, because without a second thought you whipped around to confront her, tugging your hand out of Eddie’s so you could jab a finger at Amelia. As your energy boiled red hot, you could see her torn between satisfaction and fear.

“Don’t fucking start with me.” You threatened as she matched your glare with her own. All the boys stood back, creating a pseudo-fighting ring around you and Amelia as you both waited for the other’s next move.

“Or what?” She taunted as you arched your brow challengingly; your jaw was clenched so tight that your teeth nearly hurt. When you didn’t grace her with a response, Amelia rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, “Geez, you’re so tempermental these days, it's ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is the fact that you won’t just leave us alone.” You looked around the group harshly, your glower darkening on Duncan before you returned your cruel gaze to Amelia, “I’m not gonna take your shit, so stop trying to intimidate me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, this time with a condescending smirk, “I don’t need to intimidate you; it’s more fun to get a rise out of you, anyway.” When your face tightened with annoyance, she added with satisfaction, “See? Even that got to you, you make it so easy.”

You resisted the urge to insult her or smack her, resisted the temptation to spew terrible things in her face - you couldn’t take anymore fighting right now, and you couldn’t give her any of the satisfaction that would come with your retaliating. So, you took a couple steady breaths through your nose, your eyes flaring with intensity before you calmed down.

“Whatever.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards Eddie, ready to lead him away from this group of bullies.

“Do you even realize how damn transparent you two are?” Amelia prodded again. You wished you were stubborn enough to just walk away, but you couldn’t help but look back over your shoulder; her expression was smug, arms crossed with a sassy attitude, “Some of us have started placing bets on when you’ll finally give this up.”

She got you going again whether you liked it or not, and so you mirrored Amelia’s posture as she looked cruelly between you and Eddie, “Give what up?”

“You’re clearly faking this whole thing.” Your surprised, affronted expression only seemed to amuse her, egging her on even as you tried to control the nervous beating of your heart, “You and Munson? Do you think any of us have been buying this? This whole thing between you too is so fake, it's almost sad.”

Putting on a brave, confident face, you bit back with malice, “Really, you think we’re faking all of this? Shows how much you know.”

“Please, I’ve known you since grade school.” Amelia took a challenging step towards you, eyes alight with spite, “You hate being touched, you’ve told me as much - wouldn’t even let Duncan hold your hand or hug you most of the time. But you cling to this freak as if you’re obsessed with him? It's performative.”

You were about to retaliate, but Amelia was just a little faster and a little louder as she continued over you, bulldozing through whatever you may have wanted to say.

“And don’t get me started on the stupid little face Munson makes at you, like he’s asking for permission to do something or that he needs approval of what he says. I don’t know why, but you put him up to this - I can read you better than anyone else.”

A worried part of you knew that, in some ways, Amelia was right - you two had spent so many years by each other’s sides, and had done just about everything together since you were five or six years old. The rapid dissolution of your friendship didn’t mean that you two would simply forget everything about one another - how could you forget the time Amelia stayed up late in the night to help you with a school project, how could she forget the time you instigated a fight with a boy who rejected her?

Hell, you and Amelia had spent more time with each other than either of you had spent with Janet, having sleepovers without her or going to movies and not telling her. At one time, you two were practically attached at the hip, doing nearly everything together from the ages of ten to thirteen.

So, if anyone was going to see through your lie, it would be Amelia - it didn’t matter just how good a liar you were, Amelia knew how you ticked. And, apparently, she’d been paying a lot of attention to you and Eddie, probably trying to catch you two in a lie.

But, then again, if she knew this was fake, why didn’t she say something about it sooner? Was she simply watching and waiting in amusement, anticipating when you’d give up the act? Or was she using this lie of yours to her advantage somehow? Better yet, was she the one lying to you right now, saying anything just to get a reaction from you?

As your angry eyes bounced around Amelia’s face in search of the truth, your expression only darkened, feeling fired up and eager to fight. When she simply raised a mocking eyebrow - daring you to prove her wrong - your stubbornness flared to the point that your fiery frustration boiled back down to icy contempt. 

Without a moment of hesitation, you gave her a smart look, your tone condescending and cold, accentuated by a mean smirk, “Well, how about you try reading this, you jealous bitch.”

With a flip of your hair you marched back towards Eddie, completely blind to the potential repercussions of what you were about to do. Your determined eyes met his confused ones, but you didn’t take a moment to second guess yourself as you threw your arms around his neck, knotting your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. For a split second, you could see the alarmed realization in Eddie’s face, but just as quickly you were drawing that handsome face down towards yours.

Your lips crashed together like rocky waves, noses bumping and teeth practically clashing; the kiss was sloppy and haphazard, the farthest thing from hot, and yet your entire body pulsed along with the excited leap of your heart. Eddie went rigid against you as if in alarm, and so you kissed him encouragingly, as if silently insisting that he get it together. When you tightened your grip on his hair and pressed your body flush against his, you could feel Eddie’s shoulders relax, could feel the exact moment that he gave himself over to you.

Once Eddie’s lips moved wantonly against yours, sparks flew through your entire being, your heart drumming aggressively in your chest as heat pooled in your center. In sync, you and Eddie melted together, a lithe arm snaking around your waist and pressing firmly against the small of your back; the flex of his fingers along your spine sent another surge through your body, a satisfied sigh daring to escape you.

God, you felt fucking weak in the knees, like a melting puddle in Eddie’s arms; as if to keep yourself upright, you cling to him even tighter, your lips suddenly full of a hungry, desperate fervor. Eddie’s kiss was inexperienced and tentative, and yet you found him utterly intoxicating, his mouth tasting malted and smoky as if he’d recently had a cigarette.

You were consumed by the moment, forgetting yourself as your tongue teased at Eddie’s lower lip; perhaps for the best, it caused him to hesitate, even as you felt him gasp against your lips. For a moment, he pinned you tighter against him before bringing the heated kiss to an end, pulling back with a deep breath as he watched you through his lashes.

Short breaths caused your chest to press against Eddie’s in a way that you tried to ignore, your hooded eyes staring at the shiny tint of your gloss that had transferred to his full lips. Electricity coursed through you, your body sensitive and heated as you finally met Eddie’s attentive, fraught gaze; as you stared, your mind was too frazzled to even think straight.

As if he could tell you were reeling, Eddie composed himself to the best of his ability, taking a step back, but keeping his hand securely on your back as if to keep you upright. Coming back to yourself, you blinked and attempted to correct your expression, nearly too embarrassed to look back at the group that was surely ogling the two of you.

In an effort to appear entirely unaffected, you brushed your hair back from your face and huffed as you met Amelia’s eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were still probably large with surprise, but you attempted to give her a smart, mean look; your voice was weaker than you would have liked as you asked accusatory, “You perverts enjoy that?”

Eddie, too, tried to put up a calm and collected front, using his hand on your back to guide you in the opposite direction of your former friends. While flipping the bird over his shoulder, he attempted to give them a self-satisfied grin, although to you it was so clearly false. Much like you, his tone wasn’t entirely convincing, “Go find someone else to torment.”

As the two of you continued down the hall, you found yourself momentarily hypnotized by Eddie’s features, mesmerized by each tiny detail of his eyes, his mouth, his skin. When he looked forward again, you quickly scrubbed away the look of uncertain elation on your face, forcing yourself to put on an impassive expression. As you stared mindlessly ahead, you had to resist the temptation to press your fingertips to your swollen lips, trying not to be so damn in awe of the fact that you kissed Eddie.

The trek to the cafeteria was passed in total silence, as if neither of you knew how to strike up a conversation after that; your cheeks were warm as you kept stealing glances up at Eddie, who faced forward as if determined not to meet your eyes. The kiss played in your head over and over again as if it were a goddamn movie, the reel on a loop as you thought about his musky scent engulfing you, his wild hair tickling your face, his dexterous hand holding you close.

You could feel heat rising all the way up your neck and ears now, causing you to nearly giggle as you suppressed a grin. You thought you may have caught Eddie glancing at you, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to check in case you two met eyes - that would most certainly make you laugh like a schoolgirl, and you were not about to do that.

You were at odds with yourself - your silly, childish side was practically fawning over the damned kiss, meanwhile your colder, more adamant side tried to shove the giddiness down. You were supposed to be moving on from this crush on Eddie, not making it worse. You shouldn’t have been stupid, you shouldn’t have kissed him, but you got caught up in the heat of the moment, allowing your pride to outweigh your head.

But, shit, that kiss was too good, and you just knew you’d be thinking about it for the rest of the week. You were an absolute idiot for kissing Eddie like that, and you wanted to kick yourself for it. You had to wonder what the hell Eddie was thinking, what the hell he’d say about this later; you both clearly figured that now wasn’t the time, hence your silence, although you feared the inevitable discussion that would come from this.

With each glance you stole up at Eddie’s annoyingly attractive face, you grew more and more worried that maybe you upset him by doing that. Unfortunately for you, now was one of the few times he seemed guarded, because you couldn’t read his straight expression in the slightest. You figured he must’ve understood why you kissed him, but you also suspected that it made him uncomfortable, even as he kissed you back just to appease the onlookers.

You already knew Eddie was a good actor, always putting on a performance for whoever was around even if they were his friends, so his ability to seamlessly slide into the kiss was terribly convincing. In that way, you were lucky, because neither of you looked stupid in front of your attempted bullies. But not so luckily for you, that kiss was far too enticing, as your heart still beat rapidly in your chest and your head was still fuzzy with confusion.

As you two entered the cafeteria and Eddie threw up that easy, joyful smile that often rested across his lips, it reaffirmed that, yes, he was acting, doing exactly the thing you asked him to in this little game of make-believe. You were almost mesmerized by how easily he played his part, guiding you through the lunch line and then to your table, tugging your chair closer to his so he could rest his knee against yours or throw his arm over your shoulder.

It went from being mesmerizing to annoying, because how could he so seamlessly put on these fronts when you were still struggling to regain your composure? How could he laugh and tell stories while his hand was on your thigh and making your entire body feel static? God, it was almost pathetic how worked up you’d gotten, and you just prayed that no one drew attention to it.

As lunch went on and Eddie kept everyone entertained, something began to nag at you that you couldn’t quite place, like a pressure at the back of your skull trying to remind you of something. All throughout the hour, the nagging grew as the kiss played through your mind again and again, even as you tried to think about literally anything else.

While trying to place what was worrying at your mind, you traced your finger lightly along your lower lip, back and forth in an unconscious motion that you weren’t aware of until your gaze flicked over to Eddie. His eyes were locked onto your lips, even as he spoke to the rest of the group, though his speech seemed to slow a little. You quickly dropped your hand into your lap, your body tightening nervously.

You realized that what you felt was a sense of familiarity, that there was an incomplete memory in your head on the verge of coming back to the surface. It was almost as if… kissing Eddie reminded you of something else, recalled another moment in some way. As you lingered on this, it almost seemed as if you already knew his musky scent, his plush lips, his lingering touch. But that was crazy - why would any of those things be familiar to you?

Had the kiss with Eddie simply been similar to a kiss you’d had with someone in the past? Perhaps you were confusing moments, befuddling sensations, because you most certainly hadn’t kissed Eddie before. Nothing about this should have stirred some kind of half-remembered moment, yet, you couldn’t just shake off that peculiar feeling.

You’ve never kissed Eddie prior to today, that couldn’t have happened, so why were you somehow under the impression that you had? When would you have done something that ridiculous and bold and thoughtless?

And then it hit you like a ton of bricks - the hours lost to your mind, waking up in the van, Eddie’s nerves throughout the morning.

Did you kiss him at the party?

With an anxious skip of your heart, your apprehensive gaze flicked back over to Eddie, who was caught up in telling a new story that you hadn’t been listening to you. You drank in his features with a mixture of desire and dread, torn between the two parts of yourself. You couldn’t have kissed him at the party, right? Even if you were drunk off your ass, that seemed like the kind of thing you wouldn’t so easily forget. But you had forgotten so much of that night, had a gap in your memory the size of a canyon… anything could have happened in those however-many hours that slipped by you.

Staring at Eddie’s lips, a wave of nerves crashed over you, and you had to force yourself to look elsewhere. If you did kiss him, why wouldn’t he have brought it up? Why wouldn’t he have asked about it? You must have made him uncomfortable, must have done something that he didn’t like, and he’d rather ignore it than ever address it again. And like an idiot, you kissed him again today, which probably did nothing to make Eddie feel any easier around you.

That was all the confirmation you needed to decide that you could never tell Eddie about this crush of yours - if he liked you in that same way, you would have already known about it. He would have mentioned that supposed first kiss, right? But because he hadn’t, you knew it wasn’t a subject he wanted to address.

And, so, this kiss wouldn’t be discussed either, you decided. You could ignore the butterflies in your stomach for Eddie’s sake, you could go on pretending that everything was perfectly fine between the two of you. You had to pretend.

With a dejected slump of your shoulders, you crossed your arms and slouched; Eddie’s hand still rested easily atop your thigh, and the way you lulled in the seat caused his fingertips to brush under your skirt a little, sending a bawdy jolt up through your center. You stole a timid glance at him from the corner of your eyes, watching as he realized his hand was higher on your leg before he pulled it back with a start.

There was no way Eddie liked you back, and you sighed to yourself, already missing his warm skin against yours.

.

.

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@damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape

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[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Dark Fae Romance: Hezirus (Chapter 1)

The first chapter in the long awaited romance story with my Dark Fae character, Hezirus!

Your can read the Starter Chapter here, which will introduce you to the characters and give some context. This story was in the kiln for so long and has many bits to it. I got way too into the story and I absolutely will not apologize! I enjoyed it too much!

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Chapter Words: 11k Warnings: a sfw starter. Notes: I do not give permission to anyone to repost, steal, copy, bind my stories. Also this is the Patreon Exclusive Freebie for you all to enjoy. You can read Chapter 2 on Patreon, which has just been published.

Your stomach growled loudly in the silence of the dungeon. Someone whimpered and the shadows chittered like a swarm of insects as they passed your door.

Daylight streamed into your cell through the small square hole in the wall of your room. And that’s where the servant found you. The moment the day winked against the stone, you sat in its brightness. Soaking in whatever warmth the cold morning air allowed.

You had no idea what time it was. But when the cell door opened, you were dizzily glad for the hot soup and bread that the owl woman placed by your feet.

“The prince wishes you to join him for a bath this morning.” The owl woman said as you dug into your breakfast. Your eyes widened as you swallowed.

“Is that an order?” You asked, a little more harshly than was probably needed. But you felt the giant round eyes regard you emotionlessly. As if your anger didn’t matter to her. It probably didn’t.

“I would assume so. Since you are his pet.”

“I’m not his pet.” You snapped, eating another spoonful of soup and buttered bread.

“Yes, you are.” The owl woman said. Her head then twisted to look behind her without moving her shoulders. Very much like how you’ve seen owls normally do. Her feathers puffed up for a second before she settled and turned her head back to you. Blinking slowly. “Would you prefer to be fed to Master Maahes? Because he is just down the hall waiting for me to leave the door open.”

Terror gripped you and you almost dropped your bowl. “W-What?”

“He can’t touch you while I am here. Since Prince Hezirus would punish him for breaking the rules. But if you do not wish to follow the orders given to you, I am allowed to threaten you to make you follow me. Master Maahes, I presume, is an adequate threat, is he not?”

You wanted to throw the soup. Maybe not at the owl because she is only doing her job. But at something. Did you risk getting rubbed down by the prince in a bath? Or thoroughly destroyed on the floor of a cell by a mountain of a man?

You grumbled and sighed. Finishing off the soup before handing the owl woman back the bowl. “Fine. Take me to the prince.”

“Excellent choice. Follow me.” The owl turned on her three toed feet and led the way out of the dungeons. You expected to see Maahes around every corner. But as you scaled more and more stairs, you felt like Maahes was no longer around. The owl woman looked calm as she hopped up each step. Her feathered hands gliding along the banister of the staircase as she walked.

You couldn’t stop staring at the way she literally jumped up every step. It was kind of adorable.

“What are you?” You asked. Unsure how to entirely word your enquiry without sounding rude. But the owl woman didn’t seem to mind. She kept walking as she answered.

“My name is Nola. I am Prince Hezirus’ head Steward of the estate.” Nola finally gave a reaction by her feathers puffing up proudly with the title. But it didn’t answer your question. And when you voiced this, Nola glanced at you with her own quizzical look. “What do you mean? I am Nola. Stewardess of the estate.”

You were unsure if Nola just didn’t understand the question. Or was not giving you the proper answer on purpose. You decided to leave it. Maybe even ask Hezirus if you needed something to talk about. “So…the prince asked to bathe with me?”

“He asked me to bring you to him while he bathed, yes.” Nola nodded. Her hopping gait shifted to a walk once the stairs leveled out onto flat ground.

“Why?” You asked.

“I would assume to bathe.” Was Nola’s response. And it was physically painful not to roll your eyes. Was this how all Fae creatures spoke, or just Nola? Another question you added to the list you were going to ask of the prince.

You gave up trying to make small talk and followed Nola to a beautiful set of wooden doors. Bronze and gold encrusted the carvings of a tree in autumn. And when Nola approached, the doors opened. Splitting the tree directly down the center.

Nola halted by the open doors and stepped to the side. Bowing her curved beak. “In you go. Call for me if you need an escort back to your cell.” Her tone was so sweet it didn’t at all fit the situation. And you stuttered a thank you as she turned on her clawed feet and hurried away.

You hesitantly stepped into the room beyond the entrance. And when your bare feet touched warm stone, the doors behind you swung closed. And your ears picked up a very soft click of a lock setting into place.

The room in front of you was as if you stepped into a forest oasis. A large pool of crystal clear water filled the majority of the large room, steaming in the early morning light. Moss circled the pool. Poking through rocks and twisted roots that acted as a natural border encircling the pond. The soft green flooring felt as soft as a cloud under your feet as you stepped closer to the water. Inspecting its depth, and finding that it was merely deep enough to come to your waist.

A harp was playing somewhere, filling the room with a soft lullaby-like melody. And cascading over the room was a ceiling made from the branches of a white tree. Golden leaves rustled in a cool breeze and small birds fluttered between the thick, pale branches. Sunlight streamed into the room through an open ceiling, giving the water a pale gold reflection.

“Over here, pet.” The prince’s smooth voice echoed softly through the room. You followed his voice over a path of moss, circling around a flowering hedge, acting as a barrier to shield the area beyond from the door. And there you found the prince by a tumbling waterfall. His long hair twisted up into a loose bun and his bare chest had a glistening sheen to it. His wings were soaked through. Sprawled heavily over the surface of the water as Hezirus dipped lower into the pool to wash off the soap from his shoulders.

“I see the dungeons didn’t dampen your light.” The prince hummed. Those bronze colored eyes traced heavily over your body as you moved closer. “Come join me. You reek of the lizard and the filthy cells.”

You could feel the warmth of the pool even from your position by the edge. The chill was still heavily set in your skin and the thought of a warm bath sounded heavenly. But the dress wasn’t designed for swimming. And you didn’t see any swimwear around to put on. Only plush towels and more plants. Even a cart full of food and beverages.

“Is there a problem, pet?” Hezirus’ tone made you snap your attention back to him. There was an undertone of impatience but his gaze was gentle, waiting for you to join him.

You sighed, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Hezirus chuckled. And he gestured to himself…all of himself…from the chiseled, flawless chest and down below the water where you could see his cock swinging freely in the water. “Neither do I. Strip. No one will see you.” The last few words were a tease. One that was carried on a smile that carved his beautiful face into something gorgeous.

It hadn’t been an order. But you felt the promise of one lingering on the edge of his words. You sighed and threw your pride and embarrassment aside, sliding the sleeves of the dress down your shoulders and then wriggling out of the tight material.

Hezirus’ gaze didn’t budge from you as you became bare in front of him. Raking down over your breasts and the curve of your hips. You ignored how he licked his lips when your core was left unclothed.

And his smile broadened when you quickly slipped into the pool. Hissing as the warm water bit at your frozen skin.

“There. Isn’t that better?” He asked, leaning back in the water so he was somewhat floating on the surface. Thankfully his hips were still below the water so you were graced with not seeing anything.

It was better. Much, much better. You sighed and let yourself sink until only your head was above water. Enjoying the sweet salvation that the warm waters brought. Your eyes even closed for a second, but they flew open when you felt a finger graze along your arm.

You jerked back. And Hezirus laughed, raising his hand as if showing you where they were. He was much closer than before. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but touch you. You look so soft.”

“Please,” You bit at the word, like it was a bad taste in your mouth. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what? You’ll splash me? Get water in my hair?” Hezirus scoffed. But thankfully, moved back a step and his wings made a wave behind him as they shifted. “But as you wish. I won’t touch you until you say so.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised there was no fight in the prince to get closer. “You’re awfully compilable for a fae.”

“And you’re awfully skittish for a woman who willingly jumped into a fairy circle.” Hezirus retorted. Lacing his fingers behind his head. His arms flexed as he rested his head against his palms. You looked away before your staring was noticed. And you half turned your body so you could start rubbing your hands over your body. Using the water to try and get some of the dirt and grime off your skin. There was a smell on you. It was unpleasant and you hoped it wasn’t something you had laid in while in the cell.

“Want me to scrub your back?” Hezirus asked as he floated nearer to the waterfall. His gaze still fixed on you as your palms brushed over your shoulders and sides.

You shot the prince a glare. Giving up trying to get your fingers to reach the area that you weren’t flexible enough to reach. “I don’t know, maybe you should just make me let you.”

Hezirus’ eye roll was followed with an exaggerated roll of his head, and a groan of irritation. “I merely made you drink water. It would have been more cruel of me to let you starve at that table.” Hezirus stood and made his way over to you. You had somehow moved away from him so much that your back hit the side of the pool. And Hezirus approached until he was directly in front of you. You don’t remember him being so tall. Towering over you with his wings creating a shadow around you. Like he was deliberately trying to crowd you.

A chill ran up your spine. Despite the warm water that surrounded you.

“And are you cruel?” You asked. Your voice felt too quiet against the racing pulse in your ears. Your heart pounded and you wanted nothing more than to avert your gaze from the fixing gaze of the prince..

“I can be if you want me too.” Hezirus said. Leaning so close that you could see flecks of gold in those pretty bronze eyes. “But you’d enjoy our time together less if I was. Now, do you want me to scrub your back?” He offered his hand out to you. Tilting his head in a way that a stray strand of brown hair tumbled from the bun.

You blinked and suddenly the shadows were gone and the Hezirus standing in front of you watched you with a gentle smile. Your heart calmed and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“O-Ok…but nothing cheeky. Just…Just my back.” You said. Forcing your eyes to narrow, despite the warning bells that were sounding in your head.

“Nothing cheeky.” Hezirus repeated. And he twirled his fingers, gesturing for you to turn and rest against the edge of the pool. Which you did. A little hesitantly. But you followed the unspoken order and laid your arms over the side of the pond. The moss was cool under your heated skin and the rock that was pressed against your stomach felt rough against your skin. But you forced yourself to relax. Holding back the flinch that attempted to jerk you away from the hands that brushed along your spine.

Hezirus was gentle. His fingertips felt like the ghost of a breeze against your skin. And as his palm pressed against your back, you felt a weird sensation spread over your skin.

“It’s just soap.” Hezirus explained as you tried to look at what was in his hands. The prince titled his hand up so you could sniff the substance. A simple white bar of soap that smelled strongly of honey and…some other sweet scent. “It’s made from the sap of a tree that grows only in the groves of my estate.” The prince explained when he saw your quizzical look. “When in its natural state, it can burn through fabric and sting the skin. But refine it and it is better than any moisturizer I know. And the smell is one of my favorite scents.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of course he would lather you up in a smell he liked. “It��s not going to affect me differently?” You asked. “You know, because I’m human?”

“I’m going off the assumption that if any of the people in these lands can use it, humans can as well.” Hezirus replied. When one hand circled your skin with soap, sudsing the entirety of your back in white bubbles, the other massaged and kneaded. You felt the tension in your spine release and even a knot in your shoulder give way under the prince’s touch.

But as you asked, his hands never went any further than your back. Perhaps teasing your sides and dipped under your lower back. But they never found purchase or strayed for too long.

Eventually, you were so relaxed that you laid your head on your arms. Your eyes half closed as you lost yourself to the gentle pampering. Hezirus’ hands cupped water over your back to wash away the soap before returning to spread another layer of bubbles.

At some point, you knew this was going on for longer than it needed to. But it wasn’t until the prince huffed irritably that you sat up and turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Your voice almost slurred, you were so relaxed.

“Unless you allow me to wash the rest of you, the smell is going to stay.” Hezirus sighed. Pouting as he looked you over. “Let me wash the rest of you.”

“Absolutely not.” You said. Feeling more alert now you were standing again. “I said nothing cheeky.”

A grimace flashed over Hezirus’ expression but before you could properly assume his reaction, it was replaced by a look of exasperation. “I won’t do anything cheeky. I just want you to stop smelling like Maahes.”

You crossed your arms over your bare breasts and shook your head. “Either you let me do it or I’ll stay smelling like your friend.” You opened your palm for him and wiggled your fingers.

The prince scoffed, as if you had offended him. But curled his lips in a distasteful grunt and slapped the soap into your waiting hand. “Fine. Be quick about it.”

You smiled and nodded. And immediately started to run the bar along your arms and across your chest. Then turned your body around so Hezirus’ gaze didn’t leave heat marks on your breasts as the bubbles started to form over your nipples. He laughed but said and did nothing about it.

You washed yourself twice. Once apparently wasn’t enough for Hezirus. “You’re not washing yourself correctly. Just let me do it.”

You moved away when he tried to take the soap from you. You saw anger flash in his eyes but thankfully Hezirus’ words remained free of an order. “Gods, you’re stubborn.” He snapped.

After some time, the prince seemed satisfied enough that he allowed you to relax again in the pool. But your floating around and exploring the gardens circling the water was soon cut short.

Hezirus left the bath with a cascade of water following him from his wings. He dragged what seemed like half the pond out onto the moss covered ground as he walked over to the rack of towels and grabbed a large plush one.

Your eyes must have strayed for a touch too long because he turned sharply, catching you staring at the muscles of his back stretch and flex with every twitch of his feathered limbs.

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Hezirus said, smiling when your eyes darted to the ground. But you then looked back up at him as he stretched out the left wing to its full extent. Even when wet, the feathers gleamed in the bright sunlight that streamed through the yellow leaves. Flecks of gold twinkled like stars throughout the deep brown tone of his feathers.

Yes, they were beautiful. He was beautiful. In a way that seems unnaturally so. But you placed that uneasiness that came from looking at him for too long down to his nature. A Fae. Or at least a creature your mind was perceiving as a threat.

Something in you still screamed at you to run and hide. And those voices heightened when Hezirus lowered his wing, turning to you with one of his beautiful smirks. “Dry them for me.” He said, the tone bordering a command but the order didn’t stick. You could tell he was leaving it as a suggestion, so the magic didn’t take hold of you.

You glared at him, but found yourself moving through the water towards him as he wrapped the towel around his waist before fully turning to you. “You could say please.” You mumbled. Heaving your relaxed body out of the pool to join Hezirus by the towel rack.

“I prefer to hear ‘please’ in other contexts.” Hezirus replied. Shifting through various jars of leaves and ground powder on one of the carts before finding what he wanted and scooped a small teaspoon of it into a cup. “It would sound better on your lips, anyway.”

You stared at him. Your mind stumbled as you tried to come up with a retort, but ultimately failed to do so. Your thoughts are too flustered to find something coherent to say back. Hezirus didn’t seem to notice. He poured steaming hot water from a porcelain kettle into a cup and stirred the contents. The clear liquid turned brown and the scent of strong tea filled your nose.

“Grab a towel and start drying. Be sure not to crinkle a single feather.” Hezirus said. Sipping on the scalding hot drink. Smacking his lips and turning back to the cart to place a sugar cube into the cup. “And please, feel free to get cheeky.”

Your cheeks burned but you nodded. Sensing the threat behind the ‘suggestion’ if you didn’t do as you were told right away. Grabbing two plush towels from the rack, you wrapped one around your body and made sure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t fall while you were moving. And then moved up behind Hezirus as he flexed and his wings fanned open. Water dripped from the tips of each feather. But the moss soaked up the escaping liquid. Leaving your feet only damp against the soft ground, rather than standing in a puddle of water.

You looked up at the lord’s wings and pouted a little. There was so much real estate to dry. You would probably go through ten towels before he was dry.

“A problem?” Hezirus asked. Tilting his head so he could glance at you over his shoulder.

“I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” You told him, somewhat truthfully. You were also fighting the urge to reach out and touch his wings.

“My servants usually begin by drying the feathers by my shoulders and work inwards. From the tip of the wings down.” Hezirus explained. And it shocked you a little by how genuine he sounded. Like he was actually trying to help and not give a bit of cheek to your hesitance.

You nodded and did as he said. Placing the towel between the blades of his wings, against his skin, and started to wipe. His back felt like you were wiping down a rock wall. Smooth and hard against the palm of your hand under the soft fabric of the towel. And his feathers felt like shards of glass. The fine edges caught on the plush material of the towel. And you started to get frustrated with pulling the towel off the pin-needle threads of his feathers. It slowed you and eventually you had to discard the shredded remains of the first towel for another. But you still dabbed the feathers with as much care as you could. The strange, hard make of these feathers still felt fragile. Under your fingers, it felt like you could squeeze them and they’d shatter like a thin panel of glass.

Eventually, your arms started to ache. You were halfway done with the left wing and on your fourth towel since the others kept catching or became too wet for you to use. But it was taking you a long time to finish this task. By the time you got to the next wing, it probably would be dry.

Hezirus didn’t seem to mind how long it was taking you. He made himself another cup of hot tea and seemed content to hum along with the music that wafted through the baths. Occasionally, when your hand slipped and your fingers met the smooth, sharp lines of his feathers, he’d stop and glance at you. The first time this happened, you feared you had sliced your hand open. But your skin was left unmarked. Only his feather was damaged. Which you quickly smoothed down and ensured the rachis (the very thin base of the feather) hadn’t snapped under your touch. You kept your frustration and discomfort in check so you didn’t hurry and make a mistake. But there was so much to dry out.

And then you had to do the undersides of each wing as well! Which was a very intense experience. Not because anything was different, but Hezirus’ gaze was fixed on you the entire time. Over the lip of his cup when he sipped on his tea. Or when his head tilted, smirking when you had to readjust your towel when it started to slip.

You ignored him as much as you could. Keeping your eyes fixed on the feathers you were carefully drying.

An hour seemed to go by before you finally completed drying each wing. Your arms felt like jelly and in the heat of the room, you were sweating a little. Hezirus stretched his wings and curled one around himself so his fingers could glide over a few feathers. Testing your work.

“You’ll get better at it.” He said in amusement when his fingers came back with the smallest amount of moisture on his skin. “But next, you’ll need to oil them.”

“Oil them?” You huffed. Your arms, that had started to regain strength, gave a promising ache at the thought of another strenuous task. You followed Hezirus through another set of doors that led into, what you could only describe as, a fitting room. There were many shelves and dressers around the room. Mirrors lined the walls and a short stage was placed in front of the right hand wall. Obviously where Hezirus would stand to get fitted or stare at himself in each outfit.

Hezirus led you over to a large vanity with a massive round mirror. And Hezirus sat in the plush cushioned stool in front of the vanity, handing you a crystal bottle. The contents were clear with a slight shimmer when you tilted the bottle and the light trickled through the thick substance inside.

“You will only need a small amount for each wing. Too much and my feathers will be too heavy to lift me.” Hezirus explained, reaching into a drawer of the vanity and removed a silken hand-towel. Then grabbed a fine toothed comb with white teeth from the vanity top. Handing both to you before looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “A little bit on the cloth, then as you spread it over my feathers, run the comb through the threads.”

“And what does this do?” You asked, popping the lid off the crystal bottle and dropping a small ball of oil onto the cloth. You then placed the bottle at your feet and moved closer to Hezirus. You followed your previous work and started running the cloth over the feathers nearest to his shoulder blades. Running the material down and the comb followed behind it. Sliding between the feather’s threads like a hot knife through butter. It gave the feathers a brilliant sheen and a nice aroma started to fill your nose.

“It makes my feathers look pretty.” Hezirus said simply. Watching you work over his shoulder. His wings were fanned out but relaxed. The longer feathers on the bottom of his wings curled as they rested against the marble flooring. You had a thought to say something, to warn Hezirus of crinkling the beautiful feathers. But his question scattered your thoughts, “What was it like falling through the fairy circle? Did it hurt?”

You thought back to when you tumbled through the darkness and cold. The harsh iron smell that welcomed you as your body free-fell through a vortex of freezing wind. You don’t remember it hurting. And you said as much. “It happened rather quickly. To be honest, I was drunk at the time, so if anything amazing or terrifying happened, I didn’t notice it.”

Hezirus hummed thoughtfully. His left wing twitched as the comb slipped and scratched the skin beneath the glossy feathers. You muttered an apology. Catching the small glare from the lord through the mirror. “Before the rings were outlawed, humans would come through battered and broken. Some even dead. You were lucky.”

You didn’t feel lucky. But you guessed there could be worse fates than combing oil into an other-worldly being's wings. “Why were they outlawed?” You asked. Though you could probably make a few good guesses.

“The new Queen disliked the use of human pawns in our wars.” Hezirus said. There was no judgment in his voice, only facts. Like he was reading it out of a book. “Some of the courts in our realm bred humans to fight against their enemies. Your kind are easier to grow and train than the long maturity of Fae warriors. You could never hold a flame to a trained elf or Fae lordling. But your numbers and stubbornness are nothing to scoff at. That, and she didn’t like how much mortal blood was running through her subjects.”

Your work stalled for a moment as you took in this information. But you quickly started moving the comb and cloth again when Heazirus shuffled his wings impatiently. “But Jackal had one open.”

“I doubt even he knew it was still active,” Hezirus said. His eyes searched your face for something. Horror? Disgust? But he only found silent concentration as you tried not to snag the comb on his skin again. “You haven’t asked why I have so many in my manor.”

“I don’t think I need to know.” You replied with a half shrug. Moving a step along his wing so you could start on the next section. “I could guess, I’m sure. But I think it would only horrify me.”

“Guess.” Hezirus smiled a vicious, almost hungry, type of smile. “I doubt you can guess correctly.”

It was your turn to glare at the lord over his shoulder. “I’d rather keep the rest of my sanity intact, thanks. I’m still trying to come to terms that I’m not having a really weird drunken dream. That feels very real.” Your fingers brushed over the feathers again. Feeling the sharpness of their edges before wiping the cloth over them, cleaning any smudge you might have left behind.

“You think you’re dreaming?” Hezirus asked. The smile faded into one that was more casual. Less predatory. “Is it common for you to have dreams that seem so real you question them?”

“Sometimes.” You replied. “I once had a nightmare that had me think something was in my house. Not a person, but a creature. Another time, I could taste the sweetness of a treat I was eating while dreaming. Made me very hungry when I woke up.”

Hezirus chuckled. A proper, light-hearted laugh that made his wings shift against the cloth. “What was the treat?”

You attempted to remember. But you couldn’t. You only recalled waking up confused and the memory of a flavor on your tongue.

And when you said this, Hezirus looked confused. “You don’t remember your dreams?”

“It depends.” You said. Moving along his wing, Hezirus stretched the limb as much as you needed to continue your work. “Nightmares are easier for me to remember. But I think that’s because the mind wants to remember it for future survivability. Even if it is my mind making them up and they’re not real. Dreams scatter the moment I open my eyes. It’s like grasping at floating specks of dust. The more you try to catch them, the more they evade your hands.”

Hezirus looked deep in thought as you combed through his feathers in silence. You completed the first wing and stepped over to the other, continuing the motions. This felt a lot easier than drying him.

“We don’t dream.” Hezirus said suddenly. “Some of us have prophecies when we sleep. But that’s linked to a power very few have. I’ve heard Maahes waking up, roaring at unknown voices. I doubt Jackal even sleeps. But I didn’t know humans could dream.”

It was your turn to glance at Hezirus in puzzlement. “You don’t dream?” Hezirus shook his head. “I suppose, a few humans don’t either. Or maybe, they do but they’re gone before they wake up. I don’t think you’re missing out on much. Some of the nightmares I’ve had are…wild…”

Hezirus’ brow grew faint lines as he stared at himself in the mirror. Deep in thought. You allowed the silence to grow between you. Concentrating on the task at hand. Even when you stood in front of him, polishing and combing the undersides of his wings, Hezirus continued to stare at nothing. As if he was trying to remember if he had ever dreamed of something before.

Then his eyes slid to you. Contemplating. “What causes your nightmares?”

You shrugged again. “Lots of things. Past trauma. Stress. I once watched a movie that made me dream of monsters in the dark.”

His wings shifted and you paused your combing to let Hezirus get comfortable. He then said, “Would you expect my home to visit you in your nightmares?”

You turned to look at him. Surprised by the question. “Oh, um…I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out a little about all this. And Maahes definitely left an impression. But the dungeons might be the worst part so far. Or maybe the shadow things Jackal has. I don’t know. There’s a lot going on.” You returned to preening him and Hezirus fell quiet again.

You worked until each feather gleamed like polished glass. And Hezirus stood. His wing curled around himself so he could inspect your handiwork. You were surprised when he smiled and his wings tucked themselves tightly against his spine. “Not half bad. With practice, your hands will move more quickly. And I won’t be sitting here for hours while you shred my flesh apart.” He said. And you replied by rolling your eyes. Returning the items in your hands to the vanity and drawers.

“If I’m so bad at it, why don’t you get someone else to do it?” You asked. Watching the lord as he went to a dresser and opened it. Revealing a collection of clothes hanging on silver hookers. They were arranged in various shades of red and gold. And when Hezirus opened another cupboard, those were aligned in tones of blue and green.

“How else are you going to improve your skills?” Hezirus replied. His slender fingers delicately sliding down the hem of a gorgeous sapphire coat. “If you are to be my favored pet, I want you to do more than sit around my feet and look pretty.”

You pouted at his words. “Don’t you have servants that could do a much better job?”

“Of course. But none are as fun to play with as you. They don’t bite back. They’re so afraid to make a mistake that it takes longer sometimes for them to pamper my wings.”

Hezirus shifted back to the first dresser and removed a beautiful robe of autumn red and shimmering gold details. You averted your eyes as the towel dropped from around his waist. You felt him glance at you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at the beautiful body in front of you.

Beautiful tanned skin, chiseled in a way that would put some Greek statues to shame.

When you saw the red and gold stop shifting in the corner of your eye, you turned your attention back to Hezirus. Who reached up to his hair and pulled a single pin from the bun. And a silky cascade of brown hair tumbled down over his shoulders. Perfectly untangled, as if he had already put a comb through it as it fell from the pin.

“Now, you my sweet thing, need something spectacular to wear.” Hezirus beamed as he turned to you. “We have a big day of sitting around listening to very old nobles talk. So, I need you to look stunning enough for me to distract myself when I get bored.”

You gawked at him. Trying to form a question, but having too many in your mind to properly make one, as he herded you into another room. His wing acted as a barrier behind you so you were forced to walk next to him.

Through another door, was a room smaller than the first fitting room. But very similar in layout. But here, instead of dressers and ranks of clothes, there were fabrics and materials on rollers. Stacked on top of the other to the ceiling. And there was a person here. A very tall, slender being with four arms and a face that reminded you of a praying mantis. But they looked human. Or…human-like.

When you entered, their long fingernails clicked excitedly and they bowed so low that their pointed chin almost touched the ground. “My Lord, what brings you in here? Are your robes not suitable?” Worry coloured the being’s voice. But Hezirus shook his head, waving away the creature’s concern.

“No, no, your clothes are fitted well, as always. But, I need something for my new pet.” The wing against your back pushed you forward. The strength behind it had you stumbling a few steps until you were standing directly under the chin of the being with too many arms. “Something that catches a gaze but keeps them wondering. Thin but modest.”

The being in front of you tilted its head and your throat tightened as two abnormally white eyes peered down at you. Your skin crawled as its gaze filtered over your body with precise concentration.

“Accessories?” The being asked. And Hezirus thought it over for a moment, but shook his head.

“No. She’s pretty enough without baubles and trinkets distracting the eye.” There wasn’t a flash of a smirk or a teasing stare that you could imagine would come with a sentence like that. And something about the genuine look in the lord’s eye that had your chest warming.

“Very well. Step here.” The being instructed with a wave of two hands to a small platform in front of a corner of mirrors. You hesitantly did as you were told. Staring at four versions of yourself at different angles.

Then, before you could protest, the towel was ripped from your body and discarded across the room. You yelped as the cool air bit at your skin and when you tried to cover yourself up, the being hissed like an angry snake. “Stay still.” Bony fingers wrapped around your wrist and your hand was yanked away from your chest. The harsh touch made you grimace. But the being’s hand quickly disappeared when a growl tore through the room.

You looked at Hezirus’ reflection from the mirror. His eyes were tearing into the creature by your side, the bronze now molten and bubbling with a restrained anger as the creature cowered at your ankles. You heard it whimper. And you didn’t blame it. Though the glare wasn’t set on you, the heat from the lord’s eyes was enough to sizzle your own skin just being in proximity of the target. “Forgive me, Lord.” The being chittered pathetically. “I only-”

“Bruise her and I will take an arm.” Hezirus warned it. Then the anger faded as quickly as it sparked. And the creature stood straight again. Its hands were now careful and light on your skin as it started taking measurements.

Fabric was pressed against your skin. Colors were matched to the tone of your complexion. All at the nod or shake of Hezirus’ head. And when Hezirus liked a color, or the feel of a material against your skin, the creature started to stitch. Skirts were placed around your waist and fabric wrapped around your bosom. Tightly enough that they were perked higher than they normally would. Giving them more volume. Almost to the point that your chest looked like it was going to jump out of the dress that was developing around your body.

The dress was almost an exact replica of the one Jackal had you dressed up in for Maahes. However, the material didn’t sparkle and was thicker…barely. The shape of your body was revealed only by the tight confines of the outfit. A deep ‘V’ revealed the even deeper crevasse of your breasts. It was gentle on your skin. It was unlike anything you’ve touched before. And the stitching that held it all together created gentle swirls, giving a delicate shape to your hips and thighs.

When the creature was done, you felt like a doll put on display for Hezirus to inspect. And he did so thoroughly. “Are you comfortable?” Hezirus asked. His fingers sliding along your hips. He didn’t comment when you pulled away from his touch. Glaring at him.

“I doubt you’ll let me put on a jacket?” You asked. And when Hezirus shook his head with a teasing smirk, you shrugged. “It’s fine.” More than fine. This dress looked like it cost more than you could afford in a lifetime. And when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t deny how goddamn gorgeous you looked in it.

“Good. Because you’ll be sitting in it for the rest of the day.” Hezirus said. And with a gesture of his hand, the being beside him presented you with slippers. Silk and soft soles welcomed your feet as the being carefully slipped them on.

Another being was summoned to the first room and Hezirus had you sit in the vanity chair. The woman, a beautiful rosy cheeked elf, her pointed ears poked through neat strands of blonde hair, stared in shock as Hezirus asked her to do your hair. You weren’t sure if it was because you were sitting in a seat obviously reserved from Hezirus, or because you were human, but the elf’s hands were hesitant on your hair. Until Hezirus barked an order for her to hurry up.

Your hair was combed and made to shine. A pin was slipped between the strands, a beautiful piece of rubies and watery pink stones. Again, something you could never afford. Something that Hezirus was placing on you as if it was normal.

Once your hair was to his liking, Hezirus dismissed the elf and you followed him out of the room and into the neverending corridors of his estate.

You passed windows that overlooked the front of the manor and saw a large crowd gathering there. Your eyes widened when you noticed the line continued through the gardens and out past the estate gates. “Are they all here to see you?” You asked. Hurrying to catch up with Hezirus’ long strides.

He nodded. “Even escaping to my holiday home doesn’t allow me to evade my responsibilities. I’m sure some are even here to see you. The nosy vultures that they are.”

You swallowed the ball that was growing in your throat. And tried to speak without the unease flowing through your words. “They won’t…try anything would they?”

Hezirus laughed. But it wasn’t light or playful, it was cruel. Vicious. “They can definitely try. But as a guest in my home, any slight against you would be a slight against me. They’ll gawk and slobber at you. But no, my dear pet, none will touch you. You have my word.”

That sharp iron smell hit your nose and you expected something to happen. But nothing did. Your legs and arms moved as you wished and you didn’t see anything change as magic flowed around you. You looked at Hezirus and he merely smiled at you. Your silent question, unanswered.

You followed Hezirus into a throne room. A vast room of polished tiles, hanging tapestries and a single carpet that rolled in the center of it all. From the gold doors that were closed, to the throne of carved wood, stone and metal that sat at the opposite end. The throne was magnificent, but simple. And as you got closer, you noticed the intricate designs of leaves carved into each different material.

Then there was the seat next to it. A simple, low to the ground stool that was large enough for you to sit on and even curl your legs under yourself. The cushion was deep green and looked comfortable. But next to the throne, it looked like a pet bed.

“Sit.” The Fae Lord said. Again, not an order. An offering of comfort. And despite yourself, your nose curled a little at the thought of what this was leading to.

“I’m not a dog.” You spat and Hezirus’ eyes twinkled.

“Would you rather sit on my lap? There’s nowhere else to sit.” Hezirus replied. Seating himself on the throne and kicking an ankle over his knee. The robe flowed over him like a red blanket in a regal display of power. A crown of gold vines and roots sat atop his head. You don’t remember ever seeing him put that on.

You eyed the nook of his lap with disdain and slumped down on the stool. His chuckle echoed through the throne room.

The same elf from before approached you and started fiddling with your dress until it pooled around your ankles elegantly. You found yourself straightening your back as two guards, strapped in armor, also stepped closer to the throne. To their lord.

And the elf girl quickly retreated from your side when Hezirus waved his hand and the gold doors slowly opened.

You caught sight of many faces and bodies pushing to be first through the door. You almost laughed at the polite scramble of the two at the front of the pack as they tried to beat each to Hezirus’ feet. If they weren’t trying to hold their heads high and feign boredom, you were sure they’d be sprinting to beat the other to the throne.

“My Lord,” The one on the right rushed to greet the Fae Lord first. Much to the disgruntled glare of the other. Who fell silent and stepped back. Obviously having lost whatever race was happening between them. “I hope your morning has been pleasant. I see you have a new pet, congratulations.”

The man’s eyes flickered to you. And your whole body tensed with pins and needles as an unworldly blue gaze settled on you. A hunger blazed through the stranger and your pulse stuttered with a spike of nervousness, before settling as the man turned back to the lord beside you.

Hezirus tilted his head in a polite greeting. “Welcome. Make this quick, there is quite the line behind you.”

“Yes, yes, let me start off with the important query I come to you today.”

You grew bored incredibly quickly. You sat beside Hezirus while what seemed like hundreds of people came to ask him questions or ask permission. Once or twice, a person came to his attention and offered an alliance between houses. Something about a person in Hezirus’ court that would be a fine match for the person’s offspring. Hezirus seemed disinterested in it all. But spoke politely and firmly. His words carried authority, and none challenged it.

As much as the people stared at their lord, you were centered with quite a few curious and hungry eyes. Hezirus wasn’t kidding when people would slobber in your direction. You noticed some beast-like persons wiping their lips after staring at you for too long. Others snickered. Some sneered in a way that made your blood turn cold. Frozen with fear.

When these people came forth, Hezirus shifted and his hand casually drooped over the arm of the throne. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, sometimes playing with a curl of your hair, and you felt a calm wash over you. The scent of iron and fresh air following the sensation. When this happened, those who had cruel eyes that drank you in, turned away and hissed. As if burned.

Hours passed and your eyes wandered from strange faces and lust-full gazes, to inspect the room around you. You counted twenty tapestries. Each with their own design and colors. Houses, maybe. Courts of royalty in this strange world?

Then you noticed that the tiles on the floor had a decorated outline to them. And weren’t just colored shards of greens and browns and golds. A forest of sharp leaves and elegant flowing roots. Strange animals bounded between ferns and colorful flowers. You busied yourself with inspecting these floors, until Hezirus tensed beside you and his hand disappeared from your arm. Leaving warm tingles as his back straightened.

You moved your attention to the person in front of you. They looked similar to the guards that were positioned on either side of Hezirus’ throne. But this one was in green, rather than gold and brown. You hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, but their pale eyes flicked to you. “You know what will happen when the Queen finds out about it.” It took you a moment to realize who the person spoke about. You. “Harboring humans is outlawed. Your pet will need to be sent home or killed, if you wish to avoid any punishment from her majesty.”

You risked a glance at Hezirus. And almost wished you hadn’t. The sheer anger in his eyes had his pupils blown wide and his knuckles white on the arms of his chair. You glimpsed talons sneak out from his human-like nails. “The human is under my protection until I find her a way home.” Hezirus replied. His calm voice contrasted the expression that painted his face. “I am searching for the cause of her coming here. Your Queen has no need to send a reminder of her laws. I know them well. Since I helped write them.”

Surprise riddled through you. And a wave of murmuring washed through the crowd behind the messenger. Who didn’t look convinced. “You prance it around like a prized horse and expect me to believe you are not…using her.”

Hezirus’ talons scratched at an imaginary imperfection on his throne as he replied. “Would your Queen rather I lock her up? Forget about her in the cold cells until I can shove her back to her realm? Keeping her fed, clean, clothed and comfortable is my priority. She is my guest here. Not a prisoner. Not a caged beast I found in the forest. A guest.”

Something about the word and how Hezirus said it carried more weight than you understood. And the messenger’s eyes narrowed in on you for a moment before he bowed. “Very well. I will inform my Queen of your intent. But, my Lord, know that she is watching you. If this goes on for too long or it disappears-”

“She,” Hezirus hissed. “Will not leave this estate unless it is to go back to her realm.”

As if that’s all he needed to hear, the messenger bowed again and left. The crowd watched him leave, continuing to mutter amongst themselves as Hezirus relaxed. His hand returned to lightly touch your shoulder. And you didn’t lean away from his fingers as they drew circles on your skin. Even if the talons left red lines instead of warm goosebumps.

Late in the afternoon, when the sun started to dip and shadows stretched over the estate, Hezirus finally stood. The room bowed to their retreating lord. You hurried after him. Taking a glance in your direction as a signal for you to come with him.

His wings shifted as he rolled his shoulders. Stretching and groaning as the doors behind you both closed. “I couldn’t take it anymore.” Hezirus scoffed. Continuing down the corridor, with you trailing behind his wings. “Not one had anything interesting to say. All demands and no compromises. At least some had some news of the lands on the outskirts of the forest. But still nothing interesting. What do they think drabbling to me will get them in return?”

You let Hezirus rant. Your legs were just happy to be moving again. You had been shifting restlessly on your stool all day. Unable to find another comfortable position until you were leaning against the throne and your legs sprawled out beside you. The elf girl had come out each time and shifted your skirts so they sat elegantly around you. Regardless of how you sat. Hezirus had taken the new position to reach new skin. Anytime they dipped lower than your collarbone, you shifted, and his fingers returned to your arms or brushed his knuckles along your jawline. Your skin itched from the claws he still hadn’t retracted. The lines on your skin weren’t harmful or permanent, already fading now he had left you alone. But the slight irritation made you long to bathe.

“Is it like that every day?” You asked. Your dress flowing around your legs, as light as a cloud.

“Not every day.” Hezirus sighed. Slowing just enough to let you catch up and walk next to him. “I offer my attention to them every so often so the nobles don’t get antsy. They swarmed here to see you. The news of your arrival left my estate quicker than I anticipated.”

“Did you mean it?” You asked. Lifting the dress a little so you could climb the stairs he took unhindered. “When you said you are looking for a way to send me back?”

“Yes.” Hezirus said. And you felt the glowing light of hope and relief flood through you. “You can’t stay here forever. As much as I would want that. But the Queen’s laws dictate any human that comes here, regardless of free will or otherwise, is to be sent home right away or killed. To stop any…procreation and abuse against your kind.”

“You said you helped write them, the laws.” You asked. And Hezirus nodded.

“As much as I hunger to devour you, my sweet flower, I can see the damage that it could cause if a human continued to stay in my court. The same damage I knew would unfold if those laws weren't set. Eventually, I could see your kind breaking through to our world and starting a revolution. Blood would be spilled on both sides. It wasn’t worth the risk, in my opinion. For sex and blinding pleasure. Or fodder for wars that are needless and proud.”

You nodded. Stunned, but understanding of his position. “It’s just surprising…” You said.

“Because I play with you so much that it makes me seem predatory?” Hezirus asked. And you nodded, not bothering to lie to him. He laughed softly. “Your kind never truly understood the allure you possess. You always tried to use it, and sometimes it would work, but it would get them killed more times than not. You’re like…catnip to Fae.”

“Why?” You asked. And Hezirus shrugged.

“I’ve found it to be a manner of things.” Hezirus led you into a dining room. Not the same one you first dined with Hezirus at, but very similar. It was on a higher level of the estate and the windows overlooked a garden of color. “Your blood, rich and untouched by magic, calls to some of us to be devoured. Though, many of us consider humans to be impure and toxic to consume, something about your blood calls to them. It could be a trace of Fae lingers in an ancient ancestor, passed down to an unsuspecting human. And it yearns to be with Fae-kind. Another reason is the strange obsession that grows in us when we bed a human. It has baffled my kind for centuries why we get such delicious pleasure from you. But that is the main reason. Once you lay with a human, you start to crave it.”

“We’re nothing but sex slaves in your eyes.” You said a little bitterly and Hezirus shrugged. Seating himself at the head of the table and gesturing for you to join him on his right side.

“Lust and love were commonly mistaken back then.” Hezirus explained. Leaning on his elbows that sat on the smooth surface of the dining table. “I had a friend that followed her human lover into their realm. I felt her life smolder out after some years. Consumed by the smog that plagues your world. It’s a dangerous thing, this…obsession. It’s another reason why the Queen had your kind banished from our realm. So fairies, fae and all in between are saved from the cruel fate of being consumed by a human’s allure.”

“But…we’re just…”

“Human. Yes, you are. And that alone has killed more of us than you can imagine.” Hezirus held your gaze until you tore yourself from those beautiful bronze eyes. “I have Jackal looking into how and why the ring brought you here. He has assured me that the ring had been disarmed when I ordered it. So, a mystery of why it flared to life when you stepped into the circle, is being investigated. The magic needed to take you back is dangerous. Since those traps were always a one way ticket to a cell and chains. But until then, I don’t want you to leave the estate. The Queen would find it easier to destroy you, than risk someone in my court using the portal to sneak more of you here.”

“She’d really just…kill me?”

“For the safety of her people and the forgotten truce between our worlds, yes. She’d burn you and forget about it an hour later.” Food was brought out and placed in front of you both. A warm dinner with wine to sip that matched the food perfectly.

Your stomach gave a loud rumble at the sight and smell of the food. You didn’t realize how hungry you had been until you started to eat. You waited until you started to feel full before asking the question that was dancing on the edge of your mind.

“Have you fallen to this…obsession with humans before?” You asked. And the amused smirk that curled Hezirus’ lips made you want to take back the question.

“When I was young, yes.” Hezirus replied. “My first human was gifted to me by the same friend that disappeared into your world. ‘You’ll love it,’ she said. ‘It’s like riding a cloud made of ambrosia on a summer’s morning. You’ll never want to leave their body.’ I was…let’s say, doubtful about it. But she was right. By the Hells…she was right.” Hezirus’ eyes clouded for a moment, but when they lifted from his plate to you, he was smiling playfully. “My parents were less than understanding why I spent all my time plowing humans everyday. A mated Lord and Lady had no need for outsourced pleasure. But I was young, they gave me more leverage than I deserved while being a Prince of the Wilds.”

You tilted your head, sensing a cloud of dread behind the lord’s words. “What happened?” You said the words slowly, very carefully. As if you had approached a wild beast and didn’t want to startle it.

Hezirus opened his mouth to answer. Those beautiful bronze eyes searched your face for something. And kept still, seeing the turmoil behind his gaze before he shook his head. “It’s a dark tale. And one of the reasons why I was so heavily involved in the creation of those laws.”

His tone attempted to keep the air light between you two, and something in your mind told you not to push. Or else something bad was going to happen. You merely nodded and finished your plate in peace.

Hezirus made small conversation, despite the heaviness in his gaze. You answered questions about your world. How the lives of humankind have changed over the centuries. What your life was like back there. You answered honestly. Once attempting to lie but Hezirus’ glare set a cold tremble through you and you quickly dropped your words. Giving him the truth about your mundane life.

Once dessert was presented and then eaten, Hezirus then brought you back to the bathing room. You went through the same song and dance as this morning. Hezirus would get too close and you’d shy away, snapping at him. He would laugh and tease you, splashing water at you as he backed away.

“You’re already naked, half the fun has already started.” He had said. Eyes twinkling. And you poked your tongue at him. Snatching the soap from the side of the pool before he could try and start that argument again.

Hezirus had you dry his wings and comb the oil through the feathers once more. When you questioned why he did this twice a day, the lord’s wings twitched hard enough to cause a stir of wind across the dressing room. “I like to be clean.” Was his only answer. And the tone of his voice silenced you for the rest of the task.

Once Hezirus was satisfied with your work, he led you a touch further down from the bathing room and to a pair of doors that looked far too magnificent to just be doors. The entire wooden surface were carvings of forests and battlefields. Creatures and faerie types raged in a battle beneath a canopy of trees. A gorgeous illustration of a winged wolf loomed over it all. Howling up at a sky full of stars and an eclipse in the center. It split down the middle as Hezirus approached the entrance and the doors opened up into a room the size of a house.

It was a lovely decorated room.With a roaring hearth warming the air with a large loveseat in front of it and a stack of books sat on the small table beside the lounge. Paintings filled the creamy walls and the ceiling was a mimicry of a tree’s branches in summer. Sunlight streamed through hundreds of leaves, giving the illusion of light through various shades of green.

Then your eyes fell on the absolute monster of a bed, and your heart sank a little.

This was a bedroom. Hezirus’ bedroom.

“I don’t think…” You started speaking but what were you going to say? It’s not appropriate? You didn’t want to stay here? Anything the lord wanted he very much could have. Did your worries even mean something to him? He brought you here, to his bedroom!

Hezirus strode through the room as if he didn’t hear the fear in your voice. He went to a door beside the large fireplace, hidden from you with your position by the door, and opened it.

“I know better than to force myself on a human.” Hezirus said, expression unreadable as he waved a hand through the open door. “But unless you’d rather sleep in that cold, dark cell, I’m still keeping you close.”

So he could come in later tonight while I’m asleep. I’m within arms reach and-

Hezirus sighed. Seeing your hesitation. “Would it make you feel better if I told you a little truth about myself? A piece of trust to gain trust. I used to be…like that. Used too. Humans were nothing but tools to me. A simple household item that I could use at my leisure. But I learnt my lesson in the power of consent. The brutal consequences of forcing a yes onto someone's lips when everything is screaming no. Your body is safe from me unless you say otherwise. I promise.”

His words were followed by a sting of iron on your nostrils and a cold wind that ripped through the room. You felt something in you seal. Like a lock in your skin that you couldn’t place the location of. The feeling caused a strange tingle to run through you. Enough so that you wrapped your arms around yourself and rub your skin for a bit of comfort.

But you nodded. Still feeling unsure, but anything was better than the cells. You approached Hezirus and peered into the next room. Another bedroom. It wasn’t as big as the first, but still rather spacious. And the bed was large enough that three of you could fit in it and still have room to roll around in. A smaller fireplace flickered and spat. And the room was decorated with a few paintings and shelves, crammed with books. A window looked towards a forest, dark and looming on the edge of the stone wall of the estate.

“To stop any unwarranted visits directly to your room, anything you need, let me know. And I’ll have it delivered to my room.” Hezirus explained. Keeping a respectful distance behind you as you take in the room. “I’ve already had clothes provided for you. They’ll be in the dresser.”

You glanced at the armoire and when you pulled open one of the drawers, you found lacey, thin clothing neatly folded within. You shot Hezirus a glare and he smiled innocently. “I’m going to freeze in these.” You muttered. Pulling a pair of lacey sleepwear from the piles.

“The fire will keep the room warm enough.” Hezirus replied. Leaning against the door, watching you as you inspected more of the clothes. Finding less and less coverage than the last. “Or if you get too cold, you can always share my bed.” You rolled your eyes at the honey and silk in his words. When you shot him another glare, he clicked his tongue. As if irritated. “Well, you can’t hate me for trying.”

You laughed and Hezirus smiled. You picked out a pair of sleepwear with the most material you could find. A simple pair of silk shorts and a top that looked more like a sports bra than a shirt. You tried to ignore Hezirus as he watched you drop the towel from around your body and change. Once you were clothed, Hezirus retreated to his bedroom. Taking a lounging position on the loveseat. His wings draped lazily over the cushions and sides. He almost took up the entire space. But conveniently there was a section for you between the side of the sofa and Hezirus’ side.

“No bedtime oi-” You stopped yourself before saying the word. Because you could imagine Hezirus’ reply if you finished your sentence. And the flash of mischief in his eyes confirmed your hunch. “I mean, no bedtime cleaning routine?”

Hezirus laughed and shook his head. Plucking one of the books from beside the lounge and began to read as he replied. “No, sweet flower, you can relax. I’m sure today was a lot for your adorable head. You can retire if you wish or join me by the fire.”

The warmth from the flames was comforting. The walk from the dressing room to the bedroom, with only your towel, had robbed some of the blissful heat from the baths. The night air had a chill to it. Even just standing by your bedroom door allowed some of the cold to brush along your skin.

Eyeing the very small space, tightly snug up against Hezirus and his wing, you bit you lip and tried to look for any other spot that wasn’t the floor. But there wasn’t anything else to drag over to the fire. You spotted spaces that could have once help a chair or lounge, but they were empty. How inconvenient… “I think I’ll retire.” You said. Glancing back at your room and Hezirus’ smile was soft when you said. “Goodnight, Lord Hezirus.”

“Goodnight, sweet flower. Sleep well.” The bronze of his eyes flickered with reflected flames and your heart thundered in your chest as you closed the door. You thought about locking it. He’d definitely hear it and you doubted it would stop the lord in his own home. But the whispering worry in the back of your head told you to do it anyway. And when you did, the sound echoed like a thunderclap in your room.

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

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Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 4: The Cabin: Day 1 (pt.1)

Summary: You and Soap leave for your week alone together. Your first day together goes about as well as you’d expect.

Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, slightly suggestive language, Scottish language usage, lots of arguing, strong language

A/N: See the end of the chapter for the inspo pics of the cabin!

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Bitter Allies • Part 4

The next morning when your alarm went off at 0330. You wished more than anything you could go back to sleep, but Price said the plane was leaving at 0400, and you didn't want to be late. You feared your tarty arrival would make him add another week on to your sentence. Dealing with Soap for one week was going to be challenging enough, you weren't looking to add on more time.

Luckily you were used to waking up at odd hours and getting up super early. The military work you did didn't allow for any semblance of a good sleep schedule. If anything, by now, you'd become accustomed to being able to sleep and wake whenever.

Despite that, you were still super tired as you pull yourself out of bed and turn off your alarm. You didn't have too much time despite being up thirty minutes before departure. All you could really do was clean your face, get dressed, and do your hair before you needed to go. You planned on eating on the plane.

Once you were dressed and had freshened up, you had about fifteen minutes left, which was plenty of time. You pull out your pre-packed duffle bag, sleeping roll/pillow, and backpack. It might have seemed excessive, but you didn't know what you needed. Price didn't give you any indication of what would be provided and what you needed to bring. It was fairly safe to assume nothing though.

So your duffle bag had all of your clothes for the week, a towel, hygiene products, and some things to shower with. Your backpack held the more basic survival items. Flashlight, water purifier, MREs, cooking supplies, a knife, a fire starter, first aid kit, and then some books to help you pass the time. You wanted to bring a pistol as well, but you had a feeling Price wasn't going to let you take a gun with you.

Looking down at your packed things, you sigh to yourself. Maybe Price would change his mind when you got there. Maybe it was punishment enough to think he was going to make you do this, and then you'd have to spend all day unpacking and then doing the real punishment he had for you.

You could hope.

Collecting your things, you head out for the hell that awaits you.

***

Ghost was walking through the hallways back to his room. He hadn't been able to sleep last night, which was sadly a bit normal for him at this point. He woke up around 0200 and couldn't get back to sleep. So he decided to go to his office to get some paperwork done. He worked two solid hours before he ran out of work to do and opted to go back to his room.

His room was right next to Johnny's. He could have had an officer's bedroom, one with its own shower, but he sort of liked being closer to his team. Everyone was here aside from States, who stayed in the female barracks. The barracks they had currently weren't too bad either. They were cleaner, more modern. Much nicer than some of the others. He couldn't really complain.

As he got to his door, moving to unlock it, he hear what he believed to be snoring coming from Johnny's room. He paused for a long moment, listening carefully. He was supposed to be up already and heading off with States for their week in paradise, not sleeping.

Moving to his door, he knocked, figuring it wasn't going to hurt to check either way. If Soap wasn't there, none would be the wiser, if he was, then Ghost was doing him a huge favor.

"Johnny? You in there?" He calls out, but gets no reply. The snoring seems to continue though. Ghost tests the handle, finding it does turn. Of course Soap didn't lock his doors. He peaks insides, finding a lump still under the covers. Soap hadn't gotten up yet, and it was well past 0400 now.

"Johnny!" He shouts, pushing the door open more and finally making the other man startle awake. "What the fuck are you doing? You're supposed to be boarding like five minutes ago!"

Soap sits up fast, staring at Ghost with startled and sleep filled eyes. It takes the Scot about three seconds to fully process what Ghost had said before he looked over to his tiny alarm clock, blinking the time at him in red: 0407.

"Aye, for fuck's sake! Whit the fuck! Ma bloody alarm didnae go aff!" He shouts, his Scottish tongue thick as he throws his covers off and bolts around the room. He was only in his boxers, yanking his dresser open to grab some pants and a shirt. "Did they send you to come get me?" He asks hurriedly as he throws his shirt over his head and struggles to get his socks on.

Ghost watches him, eyes tracking his every movement. "No, I just happened to hear your loud ass snoring."

"Oh, thank God." Soap seems to relax a little bit at that, though he still keeps his quick pace as he gets ready. At least they hadn't sent anyone looking for him. He was sure they would soon though. Hopefully Price wasn't going to be too mad either. The last thing he wanted was to have to suffer another week with States all because his alarm didn't go off. He’d never hear the end of it from her if that happened.

"Fucking hell. You think Price is going to kill me?" He asks Ghosts as he gets his duffle bag and sleeping roll and throws them by the door. He gets to work on yanking his boots onto his feet and hurriedly doing the laces up.

"States will probably kill you first." Ghost answers truthfully, moving out of the way as Soap throws his stuff.

"Steaming Jesus, don't even bring her up. I don't want to even think about that lass right now." He groans, pulling his laces tight and doing up the remaining laces in a bow knot.

"You asked." Ghost shrugs as Soap springs to his feet.

"I asked what Price would do, you stoter." He grumbles, grabbing his bags from the ground and giving Ghost a pat on the chest as he passes. "Thanks for waking me up, I owe you one!"

***

You'd been waiting roughly fifteen minutes now by the plane, bags at your feet, and watching Price pace angrily. He hadn't been happy the second it hit 0400 with the Scot still nowhere in sight. You worried what he was going to do. You desperately didn't want him to extend your stay. You were here, why should you be punished when you were on time? Then again, if bootcamp taught you one thing, it was that if one member of your squad messed up, you all messed up.

"Aye! I'm here!" You hear in the distance. When you look, you can see Soap sprinting across the asphalt, duffle bag in one hand, sleeping roll under his armpit, and his free hand waving. "I'm so sorry I'm late. My bloody alarm didn't go off."

Price is glaring at him. Despite being one of the nicer military captains you've ever met in your life, Price was still a leader and didn't put up with people not listening to him. "You are fifteen minutes late, Soap. You've made me waste fifteen minutes of my time waiting on your ass." His tone was deep and rough.

"Sorry, Captain." He apologizes, but it doesn't seem to be enough for Price. You watch as he turns and walks to the plane, pulling out a large suitcase and throwing it onto the ground in front of you. You and Soap both stare at it for a long moment before looking up to Price.

"Listen up. Both of you. You are going to start working as a team. One of you messes up, you both do. And you don't blame each other, you'll blame your lack of teamwork and work to make it better. I want you both to repack your things into this suit case. What doesn't fit doesn't get to go. Your sleeping rolls don't count. You've got ten minutes to work it out."

“Captain, you can’t seriously-” Soap starts before Price cuts him off.

“I’d shut your mouth, Soap! You’re already on thin ice.” He growls. “Now, start packing.”

"Price," you quickly start, getting an annoyed look from him. He lets you continue regardless. Probably because you’d been on time.

“What?” He asks.

"Can you tell us what's already going to be there at the cabin? Like is there food already there?"

"I left some supplies for you on the plane. Figure it out." He says, looking to his watch. "And go."

You and Soap share a look before immediately ripping into your own duffle bags open. Clothes made sense to by the first thing to go in. Anything else could just be thrown on top. Quickly though, you are realizing just how much space they'd take up.

"Steaming Jesus, States! Take some of your clothes out!" Soap is already grabbing at your things and tossing them out. You grab his wrist to stop him.

"Don't throw my clothes on the ground! Throw some of your shit out!"

"I packed four sets of clothes! You have fucking seven!"

"Cause I packed enough for a week. I am not going to wear dirty clothes."

"Well you're gonna have to cause there's not enough room!" He yells, pushing your hand away. He tries to pull more out, but you stop him again.

"Fine! Fine, just let me do it! I'm taking seven pairs of underwear though." You start to take some of your clothes, stuffing them back into your duffle bag and trying to count out four pairs of pants and shirts. When you get to putting your underwear into the suitcase, you try to do so quickly so Soap doesn't see. However, you must not have been fast enough, because Soap seems to stutter in his movements.

"You have fucking red lacy panties?" He asks, making you blush furiously. To be fair, they were all different colors and designs. He'd only managed to catch a glimpse of the red ones.

"Shut up!" You growl, getting a grin from him. He thought this was funny.

"Who the hell you trying to dress up for?" He teases, but it's anything but playful. He's just being a dick.

"I said shut up! It's none of your damn business! These were in my bag, you shouldn't have ever seen them."

"Seven minutes!" Price calls out, reminding you to hurry. You still needed to finish packing your basics and needed to check the supplies you had on the plane to see what you might be missing. Time seemed to be going down way too fast.

Soap quickly moves on, throwing in his towel and a few others things while you try to put in your shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap in. Soap quickly tries to take them out though.

"Oh no," He starts, picking them up and handing them back to you. "We are using my stuff. We are already short on space, we don't need these taking up room."

"I am not using that horrible shit you use." You counter. Before you can argue it, Price is stepping in yet again.

"Come on, guys! You're down to six minutes! Work it out faster."

"You can pack that," you motion to his body wash. "But I get my shampoo. I will forget the conditioner, but I get real shampoo."

Feeling the time pressure, Soap all but growls. "Fine! Just move your ass!" He takes the shampoo from your hands and packs it away roughly before shoveling other hygiene things in. You're glad to see he's bringing deodorant among those things.

One of the last items you throw in are some tampons, which had Soap making a face.

"Oh, gross." He groans. "Don't tell me you're gonna menstruate."

You glare at him. "I might. I want them just in case. What, would you rather me bleed all over the place?"

"That's so fucking gross."

"What the hell you mean gross? You are around blood at the time!"

"That's different." He claims, making you stare at him in utter shock.

"How is it- you know what, forget it. Never, ever, get a girlfriend, MacTavish." He rolls his eyes but offers no argument back. Or maybe he would have, but Price cuts in.

"Five minutes, move! Lets go!" Price yells at you, making you grab your backpack.

"Go check the plan, see what we have, I'll throw in whatever we don't." You tell Soap as you start to put things in just in case Price calls time and you don't have them packed.

"No, cause you're going to mess with my stuff." He accuses, getting a glare from you.

"Can you just fucking trust me!? I'm not going to do that! I need to survive too!" You shout back, which gets him, reluctantly, moving. He runs over and hops inside the plan, pulling out the crates that had your supplies.

"We've got food! And a few MRE's. Probably enough for a week." He informs you. You still add a few of the MRE's you had just in case. "Looks like we also have a pot and utensils, water tablets, ..." He went silent a moment as he continued his digging.

“Come on! What else?!” You yell to him, growing frustrated that he seems to just be taking his sweet time.

"I’m working on it! Don’t get your red panties in a knot.” He yells back, making you huff. “Uhh.. a med-kit, flares, toilet paper, and a flashlight. I think that's it."

With that knowledge, you pack a few fire starters and then your pocket knife. The suit case was bulging at this point, but you hoped it would zip shut. Soap comes back out of the plane and looks over the things you've added.

"You two have one minute. Close it and get it in the plane." Price tells you. You try to shut it, but Soap quickly stops you.

"Wait, I've got one more thing." He quickly starts to dig through his bag and pulled out two, somewhat thick, black journals and some pencils. He throws them on top, and you shake your head.

"Really? Do you really need that?" The suitcase was already bulging. You were worried it wasn't going to close without the two books on top.

"Yes. I need those." He growls defensively, trying to move them to a different spot so they'd fit.

“So I can’t have conditioner, but you can have two fucking thick books?”

Soap glares at you. “I saw you pack a book. I get these.” He flips the top of the suitcase down. "Just sit your ass on it, I'll zip."

You would have fought him more about the books, but you are very aware you are running out of time. You didn't put it past Price to not let you have the suit case if you couldn't get it to the plane in time.

So you do what Soap says, putting all your weight on the bag while he tries to force the zipper alone the track. At first, you are worried it's going to break at any second the way he’s pulling on it, but he manages to get it shut.

"Thirty seconds!" Price calls.

Once Price calls out that time, you are scrambling to get off it while Soap is lifting it up. He grunts as he does, and you have to pause and watch him a moment. The muscles in his arms are flexing beautifully as he lifts the suitcase up. It's-

Oh God. You could vomit. Did you really just describe any part of Soap as beautiful? To be fair, he was a very good looking man. A very in shape one at that. But he could be pretty to look at while also being a train wreck on the inside. Still, you made a vow to never think about him in that way ever again.

"States, get your ass over here!" Soap shouts at you from inside the plane. He's already lifted the case inside while you're still on the ground by your stuff. Price is counting from ten seconds, and you scramble to your feet, running to board before Price says zero. Lord knows if he was going to punish you more if you aren't on the plane in time.

You make it up with about four seconds to spare. You and Soap are both out of breath a little bit, and Price is giving you a slow clap as he walks over.

"Didn't think you'd be able to pull it off if I'm being honest." He admits. "Since you exceeded my expectations, I'll let you go grab your sleeping rolls." He says, nodding behind him to the identical rolls still laying by your things. You and Soap both let out a groan, and Soap instantly lays into you.

"You kidding me, States? I do all that work lifting this overpacked luggage bag, and you can't even grab our sleeping gear?"

You're embarrassed to admit that the likely reason you didn't grab them was because you'd been distracted by Soap's muscles and then the horror of realizing you'd been staring. Of course you aren’t going to tell him that though.

"Well you could've reminded me to grab them." You try to cover, choosing to just respond to him the way you always did "That's what a team would do after all."

"Oh don't get all high and mighty, kiss ass."

"Soap go grab them," Price orders sternly. "Before I change my mind and tell the pilot to take off without them."

Soap peels himself from his seat with that order, grumbling as he goes. You stay where you are, watching him pluck both off the ground. Price stops him a moment while he's on his way back. They talk for a moment, and you think Soap takes something from him, but you aren't sure. You don't see anything though as Soap boards again and tosses your roll at you. You hadn't been expecting it, and it hits you in the face a bit. You managed to get your arms up just in time to block most of the impact.

"Hey!" You grumble as it hits you. You send Soap a glare and then grab your roll, moving it under the bench next to a backpack. "Don't throw my stuff around."

"Need to work on those reflexes." Soap mutters to you as he places his own roll on the other side of the backpack. You roll your eyes.

"Alright," Price says. "One week. You kids have fun. Don't fucking kill each other, got it? I don’t want to have to do all that paper work."

"Aye sir." Soap agrees, while you answer with a "yes sir."

***

The plane ride over was filled with a long silence. You didn't look at Soap, and he didn't look at you. It went on like this for hours. Price hadn't exactly told you where you were going, and at this rate, you didn't even know if you were going north or south. The only thing you really did know was that there was miles of trees below you.

Finally the pilot spoke to you over your headsets. "Touching down in five. Need to touch down in a clearing, so it's going to be about a two mile hike."

"Of course it is." Soap gripes over the headset. It's the first thing he's said since you took off. You sigh deeply, already preparing yourself for all the whining he's going to do while you make your way to the cabin.

The plane lands in the clearing, and you get up to gather your supplies. For only two people, there was a lot you needed to move. The container your food came in was a wooden box, so it was heavy. The suitcase was also super heavy, and on top of that, you also had your sleeping rolls and the backpack of supplies.

"How in the hell are we suppose to carry all this?" You mutter to yourself as you look down at all the stuff. The pilot had left the cockpit and was in the cabin with you, glancing over all your things.

"There's a wagon you can take. Might be a pain to get up hills or over rocks, but it might help to lighten the load a bit." He offers. "I'll go get it for you." He gives you a pat on the shoulder, and you offer him a smile.

"Really? That'd be great. Thanks." You hum, watching him leave. He must not have gotten the memo you and Soap were being punished. Still, you weren't going to say no to a wagon.

"Sure thing." He nods. "Anything for a pretty girl like you."

You are blushing furiously now, not expecting the pilot to say something like that to you. The compliment was appreciated, of course, though with Soap being around to hear it, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Soap was rolling his eyes and huffing as he watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Once the pilot is gone, you are glaring at him. "What?" You ask sternly. What could he possibly be all huffy about?

"You always flirt your way into getting the easiest route possible?" He grumbles, a venom to his tone. You stare at him in disbelief, mouth hanging open just slightly.

"I.. are you joking? I was not flirting with him. He's the one who offered to help. All I said was thanks." You don't know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Soap was just being an ass.

Soap rolls his eyes like he doesn't believe you. "If you show him your red lacy panties maybe we can get him to help us carry some this shite." He adds further, rather loudly, making your cheeks turn just about as red as your underwear. You throw an MRE at him, hitting him in the arm and making him jump slightly.

"Shut up!" You growl. "I do not need the whole world knowing something like that."

"Oh just me then, aye?"

You throw another MRE at him, but he's more prepared for it this time. He tries to catch, but misses. It just hits his hand and falls to the ground alongside the first one you threw.

"Stop throwing those! That's our food!" He growls, and you prepare to throw another one, but then the pilot comes returns.

"Here we go! Think this will work?" He asks, unfolding a decently sized wagon. It was going to work really well and definitely save you some strain. You look over to Soap, who's raising a brow at you, giving you a suggestive look. God, he was a child.

"Yep. That's great. Thanks." You say hurriedly, your tone coming off a lot less grateful than that poor pilot deserved. You take the handle from him and rush to pack up your stuff. "Soap get your ass over here and help me pack."

"You got it, lass." He says way too cheekily. He's just trying to get on your nerves. The faster you pack up and get to the cabin, the sooner you could get away from him.

He comes up right behind you, his breath on your ear. "What would you like me to do, boss." You flinch away from him, rubbing your ear of your shoulder. He's like a mosquito you can't get to leave you alone.

"Can you back up!? I don't want your stank breath on me. Just-just go make sure you have all your shit and make sure the backpack has everything we need." You snap, making Soap defensively raise his hands in surrender and back off. But you had a feeling he was perfectly fine with getting out of helping pack the wagon.

"Fine. Anything you want, princess."

You hated it when he called you that, but you just ignored him. It was too early in the day to be this mad at him. 

Luckily with him gone, it made it much easier to pack. You were still feeling stressed though. The suitcase is the first thing you put in, followed by just one of the crates of food. Already the wagon was pretty much full. You ended up dumping the other crate, just piling in food wherever it will fit. Hopefully the wagon would be just a little lighter without the extra crate.

The rest of the supplies was, hopefully, in the backpack. Given the fact Soap needed those things to survive too, you had high hopes he actually did a good job packing. When you regrouped, you forced Soap to pull the wagon, so he gave you the backpack to carry. You didn't argue that seeing as it was only fair.

The backpack was heavier than you thought it'd be, but not awful. As you walked down the ramp, you couldn't help but feel like you were forgetting something. With how rushed Price had you this morning, you hoped it wasn't something you left in your luggage back on base.

***

The hike to the cabin was worse than you thought it'd be. There was no cleared path that led to the cabin. It was all just woods. While the wagon seemed like a good idea, it got stuck on every rock, branch, and plant you passed by. You had to help Soap push it up the hills and get it unstuck so many times. It more than doubled the time it'd normally take for you to walk two miles. Every muscle ached by the time you reach the cabin, and tensions between you and Soap were running high.

When the cabin finally came into view, you were so excited. It looked so nice from the outside. It sat in the middle of a clearing, a big lake behind it, and sun beaming down on it. You swore it had a halo as angelic as it was.

That was until you stepped inside. The cabin you were staying in was tiny. It only had two rooms. Upon immediately walking in, you found yourself in the kitchen. It had an old wood fire stove for cooking in one corner, one cabinet for food, a few shelves, and a tiny table in the other corner. There was also a door which led outside to a small deck, and the lake was a good 15-20 meters away. There was also an old fire pit that sat between the deck and the water.

Off to the right was the bedroom. A wall with a door separated the bedroom from the kitchen. Inside was two cots, a dresser, and another wood stove between the cots. It was a really small room. The two cots took up a majority of the space.

"Where's the bathroom?" You frown, watching Soap from the kitchen as he stood in the middle of the bedroom. You hoped you'd just missed it somehow or it was hidden away.

"There isn't one." Soap grumbles, still cranky from the hike over. You were both pretty tired and hungry. It was around lunchtime.

"What do you mean? There has to be one. Where are we supposed to shower and-"

"Your eyesight's as sharp as a rubber knife, you know that?"

You were losing it. You'd just spend the last hour and a half walking two miles. You were sweaty, tired, and hungry. "Can you just stop being a dick and tell me?"

"There's an outhouse a few meters away from the cabin outside. You can shit in there. As for showering, you probably have to bathe in the lake." He answers finally.

You could die. Price was really pissed with you this time.

"Bathing outside. Just great." You mumble, looking out of the window to the lake. The water was probably freezing. Plus the thought of Soap seeing you naked made your skin crawl more than the thought of bathing with a fish.

While you'd been lost in thought looking out of the window, Soap came out of the bedroom to grab the backpack and the suitcase from the wagon. He wordlessly moves it into the bedroom, probably to start unpacking his things. Not wishing to be in the same room as him, you get to work on putting food away. You lift the crate of food from the wagon and set it on the ground then start to sort through the remaining food in the wagon.

A second later you hear a loud squeak. It sounded like the springs of the cot. Curiously, you looked into the bedroom to find Soap had sat on one. He shook his head and got up, moving to the other one.

"Hell no. Not dealing with that all night." He grumbles, sitting on the other cot, which was silent in comparison. You glare at him.

"Are you fucking serious? You're going to stick me with the bed that squeaks?" You stay in the doorway, watching as he unzips the backpack and pulls his sleeping roll from it.

"Yep. Snooze you lose." He says, unrolling his sleeping roll and laying it on the bed with his pillow.

You scowl are him from the doorway and storm over to grab the backpack from him to retrieve your own roll. Of course he was going to do this to you. "I fucking hate you, MacTavish. You're such an absolute child." You seethe, digging through the bag and not finding your sleeping roll in there. "Where's my sleeping roll?"

"Hell if I know." Soap answers, sitting on his cot and lying back while he watches you dig.

"What the fuck did you do with my sleeping roll, MacTavish?!" You shout this time, rage filling you. You needed that otherwise you were going to freeze every night.

"Christ's sake! I didn't touch your stuff! I don't know what the fuck you did with it!" He shouts back, matching your volume.

"You didn't pack my sleeping roll when you packed yours?!"

"Hell no! Why would I? I thought you'd have packed it in the wagon!"

"Why would I-?!" You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. "So you're telling me my sleeping roll was right next to yours on the plane, but you packed yours, and left mine?"

"That is exactly what I am telling you."

"Why would you do that!" You growl at him as he sits up.

"Well for one there wasn't enough room in that bag for both with all the other shite that is in there. And I figured you'd grab your own bloody shite!" He growls right back, gripping the metal railing of the cot until his knuckles turned white.

"I was packing something else. I was distracted. You could have, I don't know, brought it over to me!"

"I thought you would have grabbed it yourself! You told me to worry about my own stuff, so I did!"

You groan aloud, running your fingers through your hair and pacing slightly. "Can you contact Price somehow and tell him to bring me my sleeping roll?"

"No." Soap answers, making you glare at him. "Don't you fucking glare at me! I don't have anyway of contacting him! Maybe you should have brought a radio if you were going to lose your stuff!"

"I didn't lose my stuff! My fucking teammate fucked me over and left it! You probably did it on purpose too!"

"Don't you dare fucking blame this on me, States!" Soap stands up suddenly, and he's right in your face. You find yourself taking a step back, but he just follows you. "I didn't do anything on purpose, so don't even go there! You did this to yourself! Fucking hell lass! Learn to take responsibility for your own actions, just like you should have at the debrief!" He shouts. "If you'd done that, then maybe we wouldn't be here! And you wouldn't be sleeping without your roll!"

You were shocked for a moment at his outburst, but quickly turn your gaze into a glare. The irony wasn't lost on you. He was demanding you take responsibility for your actions, but he wouldn't do that himself. Instead he just blamed everything on you.

"I should take responsibility? I should take responsibility!? You are always against me! Half the stuff I do is because I'm also being forced to work against you!"

"You're not being forced to do anything! You make your own damn choices and then blame me when it doesn't go the way you want it to!"

"You blame stuff on me all the time!!"

"Cause it always your fault! I tell you to do something and then you ignore me and treat me like I'm the enemy!"

"Maybe if you acted more like my teammate, I'd be less willing to treat you like the enemy!"

Soap's jaw clenched at your words. You stare at each other in silence. There's an intensity as you look at each other. You feel like at any moment, with a snap of your fingers, the tension is going to break. When it breaks, you're not sure what's going to happen. Before it can though, Soap finally breaks eyes contact with you.

"Fuck this and fuck you!" He snaps, stepping around you to leave the bedroom. His shoulder slams against yours as he does, and a few seconds later, you hear the cabin door slam shut.

Once he was gone, you feel your lip trembling. Already, one day in, and things were going terribly. You had to do this for six more days, and you weren't even halfway through the current one. You didn't know if you could do this.

Moving to your cot, you sink down and sob into your hands, the cot making a horrible creaking sound as you sit. The stress was getting to you and finally boiling over. This morning not being able to bring all your things, having no bathroom or shower, the long walk over, the hunger, the fighting with Soap... it was all too much. 

After sitting for a while, and Soap not coming back inside, you wipe your eyes and get to work on unpacking. You unpack your stuff, hoping to find your sleeping roll hidden somewhere among all the clothes. You didn't find it.

You then moved on to placing the cooking supplies and food onto the shelves and into the cabinet. Price had left you with some good food. A whole box eggs, bread (which was crushed a bit), cans of soup, beans, and corn, a bunch of MREs, and salt. You also had a small pan, two bowls, two plates, and two sets of silverware.

Once everything was packed away, all that was left to do was to sit around and wait for Soap to inevitably come back. You'd take a nap, but that was unappealing without your sleeping roll. You wanted to eat, but you didn't need Soap blowing up again cause you were wasting the rations or excluding him.

He didn't come back though. Hours passed. You got hungry eventually and went outside to start collecting wood to cook with. You looked for him as you did, but you didn't find any trace of him. You made one of the cans of soup, ate it slowly, and watched the door, thinking he’d come through any second.

As the sun began to set, and it started to get dark, you were really, really beginning to worry.

***

[a-doubleh-x]

Buttonblossom Analysis in TADC Episode 2

(Background rainbows: hint, hint)

Ragatha was so sweet to Pomni in episode 2 🥺💖 Most people caught onto the obvious fact that Raggs is being codependant and leans onto toxic positivity on the way she tries to cheer up Pomni, but I still think for the most part her heart is in the right place.

I liked their dynamic in episode 1, but I liked it so much in 2 I decided to write a little analysis on it (plus the ship fuel 👀) in preparation for the romance fic I'm writing about them.

Without further ado, let's go!

Looking back at Ragatha, on the good side, she made some very strong, active efforts to help her during her transition into the digital realm. She checked first thing in the morning if she was okay, she tried to make her feel included in the adventure at the beginning and showed care for her safety overall.

My favorite scene, though, is when the circus gang falls into the fudge river and after checking in on them, the first thing she says is: "Poor Pomni!" 😭 Girlie is so empathetic she even manages to care for someone who's not even there, while she's in a terrible situation herself!

I think this proves how much of a good person Raggs is. She doesn't just help people to feel good or superior, she does it because she geniuenly cares for other people's wellbeing and I find that very noble 😊

On the negative side, she seems to have some very particular communication issues with Pomni, even though she seems to be the circus memeber she cares the most about at the moment.

For starters, her attitude comes off as a little condescending very often. She hardly asks questions to Pomni and tends to assume for her. She hardly acknowledges some of her struggles and tries to downplay them, like when she degrades their experience as "larping". Also, she makes Pomni feel like a child when she tries to "hype her up" in her own words.

If we take Pomni's nightmare into consideration, it seems she believes Ragatha thinks Pomni is not "cut out for it", which might be a result of her condescending behavior I just mentioned.

This makes sense to me and also sheds a little bit of light on how Pomni sees herself as: small and insignificant. It's unclear at the moment how she was before on the physical world, but I speculate based on this evidence she probably didn't think she had much agency in her life (just how she feels in the circus).

At the end, however, thanks to her experience with Gummigoo and looking at the crew grief over Kaufmo's abstraction, Pomni opens herself more to the crew, which is a very good sign.

I think her current dynamic with Ragatha is wicked cool! ✨️ There's a lot of room for growth, which is good in my opinion. Ragatha clearly cares a lot about Pomni and I think with time she could grow to reciprocate her as well.

Despite her cowardness in episode 1, I always had the feeling that Pomz was deep down a caring individual as well, which was solidly proven in 2 with her interactions with Gummi.

On the fanon side, I saw a lot of fans foaming at the mouth (myself included) over the fact that Ragatha was such a tryhard with Pomni (which was anticipated to be the contrary). Some fans have interpreted their potential dynamics as both being shy, which I really, really like.

I believe I will definitely include that in my future fanfic. Another idea I wanted to explore is Pomni talking to Ragatha about her overbearing issues, while still appreciating her good qualities at the same time.

I think it's going to be great ☺️❤ I already look forward to what the end result is going to be. I love mutual pining and I love sweet lesbians caring for each other (even when they're silly girlfails). I'm planning to start by submitting chapter 1 by next Friday and submit a new one every following one, as I've done before.

Get ready for digital lesbian shenanigans 🎪💙🎀 See ya!

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

The lack of hostility between Chuuya and Dazai is probably one of my favorite things to come out of the new chapter. I have seen some bsd fans touch on this subject but I want to join in as well!! :)

Some people have stated that the reason they are acting quite calm and less aggresive to each other has to be due to the fact that their alone, and while I think thats a plausible reason, I think there's more behind it.

Chuuya and Dazai have only been calm around one another when they are alone + when they are TIRED. And I got to say, it's telling that both of them went through hell and back (drowned, shot, injured, etc.) and they are so exhausted at a point where they can't even pretend that they hate one another lmao.

Like, they are actually in a situation where they are under extreme stress and preasure, not having any time to even put on a play and act like they want each other dead.

past chapters provided us with how over the top and exaggerated their "hate" for each other is (although we all know how in reality, they are fond for each other), but in this new chapter, all masks are off.

For starters, Chuuya shows concern for Dazai multiple times and even tries to reasure his worries, telling him Fyodor is dead and he shouldn't be anxious anymore.

I also want to mention, Dazai's openess around Chuuya and how of course, this isn't the first time Dazai has had these sort of emotional/anxious outburts infront of him.

Dazai is comfortable around Chuuya, comfortable enough to show his much more vulnerable side. And sure, Dazai is understandably tierd and stressed but even then he wouldn't show this state to anyone but Chuuya.

All in all, its clear that Chuuya and Dazai are in a place where they both know hostility and facades are the least needed at the moment. They are alone, which gives them an open chance to be honest with one another without fear of betrayal.

I think the sheer trust they have for each other has always been shown in past chapters/light novels but this is defiently some of those rare times where they are showing nothing but honesty and care for one another.

What are your thoughts? let me know!

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 8

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

omg hi guys.............

i'm so sorry for leaving it this long, i just literally could not write anything, my brain was absolutely fogged up - probably because i had covid unknowingly lmao. this is another long chapter so i hope this makes up for it! <3

thank you for reading and for all your kind messages and support, i appreciate you all so much. i know i say this constantly but i really mean it. stay safe and keep healthy, guys!! love you :')

let's get this train on the ROAD!!!

The summer of '93 was an interesting feat, to say the least. Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, and you'd found yourself dating someone you never thought you would.

You had not expected yourself to be caught up in a whirlwind type of romance, especially not by someone you'd despised back in school. Yet, here you were, arm in arm with none other than school menace, Benjamin Bluewater. The two of you were currently strolling through Hogsmeade, wide smiles spread across your rosy-cheeked, cold faces. The snow crunched beneath your feet as Ben wrapped an affectionate arm around your waist, pulling you close against him. You failed horribly at trying to hide the bashful smile that picked at the corners of your shivering lips.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you every other day." Ben said, giving you a squeeze.

"Yeah," you hummed happily, glancing up, "this summer has been very..." You trailed off, struggling to find the words. Ben glanced down at you, a lazy half-smile reaching his lips.

"Unexpected?" He chuckled, finishing your sentence for you.

A grin broke out on your face and Ben leant down to plant a soft kiss against your smiling mouth. "Definitely." You replied against his lips, nodding softly, letting your eyes fall back to the powdery-white trail in front of you as he pulled away. "You can visit me if it gets too hard." You teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. It'd only been a month and a bit of seeing Ben, but he really had you hooked. Each time you saw him, the agonising thought of you and Snape melted away from your mind a little bit more. You felt like you'd finally got control - he was no longer dictating how you felt. However, you did feel a tad bit guilty. At times it felt like you were using Ben to get over the broody Potions Master. You didn't dare tell him about it either, you were pretty sure that he wouldn't take it well - in fact, you were certain he wouldn't. How would he believe that you'd fallen for the man that used to cause the pair of you grief in school? For starters, he used to be your teacher all those years ago, and secondly, in Ben's mind, he considered Snape an ugly old git.

"I think you'll be the first to crack, Y/N." Ben nudged you back, prompting a playful scoff to fall from your mouth. Ben's lips broke into a grin, pleased with your reaction.

"As if," You choked. "Wait, who was it again that turned up at my door the day after our first date? Oh yeah, you." You scrunched your nose up at him and poked out your tongue, though, your attention was soon hooked by the flash of what looked like a figure dressed in all-black. Your breath caught in your throat as your head snapped to the left, eyes flicking desperately between the forest of pine trees, searching  for what you thought you had seen. Ben picked up on your change in behaviour almost immediately.

It couldn't be, you thought, heart suddenly beginning to race.

"You okay?" His bushy brows furrowed at your unusual skittish demeanour, clearly worried about you. Ben's alarmed voice did not compute in your head. "Hey," His hand slipped from your arm and fell to your wrist, tugging it at it to pull you from your thoughts, inducing a soft gasp from you as you spun on your heel to face Ben. It looked as if you had just seen a ghost of some sort.

"What?" You questioned softly, blinking. Ben stared at you.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost, Y/N." He said, concerned. You swallowed and wet your lips, looking down at the ground as he brushed his thumb tenderly against your wrist.

"I'm alright." You looked back up at Ben, placing a forced smile upon your lips. He didn't seem convinced, though he didn't press you. He gave you the benefit of the doubt. "Just, err, just a little on edge, you know with, erm, the whole Sirius Black thing." You lied, a nervous chuckle leaving your throat.

"I don't think the mass murderer known as Sirius Black would bother himself with a place such as Hogsmeade, Y/N." Ben smiled, almost amusedly at you. You stayed silent, not sure what to say. Ben let his blue eyes to flick between yours, almost like he was attempting to read your mind. You broke the connection and glanced away, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. Ben sighed gently and looked ahead of the two of you. The town of Hogsmeade was settled in the distance, shrouded in a cloudy mist. An idea popped in his mind. "Would a tea or a hot beverage of some sort make you feel a little better?"

"Um, yes, I could go for a tea." You nodded lightly, looking back to Ben. A small smile graced his features as he let his warm hand slip into yours. The corners of your lips tugged upwards a little. Ben felt at ease once more as your pretty face was lit up with that bright smile of yours. He couldn't resist placing another sweet kiss upon your lips.

"Alright. Let's go, I know just the place."

You laid on your bed in your quarters at Hogwarts, the pale sunlight peeking through your curtains was slowly ceasing as the evening began to set in. Your mind was constantly reeling back to yesterday afternoon. You continuously replayed the memory of the flash of black in your mind, attempting to put a name to what it was. A sigh of frustration left your lips, leading into a groan. You refused to acknowledge who you thought it was. There was just no way.

All those feelings and thoughts that you'd buried and hidden away with the idea of Ben started to creep back out of it's cage and it frightened you. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think that you'd move on so quickly. A month and a bit was definitely not enough time to heal. Yes, you were unquestionably foolish to think that forty-three days was a satisfactory amount of time to rid yourself of the thought of someone you had been near almost every day for a year.

Whatever, you thought. It'll pass. It will... won't it?

Gods, now you were doubting yourself. You knew you still felt deeply for Snape, of course you did, you spent almost a whole year in his presence, but you thought dating someone else in the meantime would have solved some of that. Jesus, that's messed up. Were you just using Ben to get over Snape? This was so wrong on so many levels. You liked Ben, truly you did, but you always found yourself comparing him to Severus. The way he spoke, the way he moved... your mind was plagued with him, and you were an idiot to think that locking away the thought of Severus would do anything but help yourself. You did this to yourself, and now you deserved to deal with the consequences. You just had to act like your feelings for him didn't exist, maybe that would help. …Maybe it wouldn't, but that was the best idea you had right now.

You needed to clear your head, and badly. Your buzzing thoughts were starting to drown you. You quickly slipped out of your bed and headed out of your room, quietly shutting the door behind you. Just as you were about to turn around to walk down the hallway, a tall, shabby looking man stood in your way. He had light brown hair with flecks of grey in it, a fluffy moustache and a rather painful looking scar was scraped across the middle of his handsome face.

"Oh- hello," You said in surprise, confusion evident in your tone. The man smiled at you jovially, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He looked rather tired and pale. You tilted your head at him, furrowing your brows.

"I apologise for scaring you," The man pursed his lips as he attempted a light-hearted joke, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm Remus, err, Remus Lupin, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor." He added, his eyebrows raising a tad.

"Oh, yes, of course!" You instantly smiled, your cheeks turning a little red out of embarrassment. Lupin found it rather endearing. You scolded yourself for forgetting soemthing so important - Dumbledore had mentioned this the day before you left for Summer break. "I'm so sorry, it had totally slipped my mind. My name is Y/N L/N," Your smile widened as you held out a friendly hand for him to shake. "I'm the professor of Herbology here at Hogwarts."

"Ah," He nodded, returning your smile and shaking your hand. His grip was firm. "Lovely to meet you. I hope we get along well, Professor L/N." Remus said trustingly, his hands returning to his pockets. You clasped yours together, resting them against your hips out of habit.

"I'm sure we will, and please, call me Y/N." You grinned. Remus gave you a curt nod. "Is this your first day here?"

"Teaching yes, but in regards to having been here before? No." He replied.

"Oh?"

"I attended Hogwarts as a small boy, so it's a little nostalgic walking round the place again." Remus explained, earning a surprised look from you.

"It seems as though every single teacher here also used to be a student here." You laughed lightly, inducing an amused smile from the new professor.

"It seems that way, yes." Remus nodded.

"Well, I hope to see you around, Remus." You smiled politely at him, noticing the way he slumped slightly in posture, almost like he was trying to hide himself. Remus returned your smile and dismissed you with a nod, continuing past you with a slow gait. You let yourself think for a moment. Those scars looked pretty horrific, they looked rather... deep. A grimace twisted your facial features as your mind raced with quite gruesome and morbid theories on how Lupin had acquired those wounds. You shook your head rather vigorously as if to relieve your mind of the grisly images that were popping in and out of it.

The hallways and corridors of Hogwarts were peacefully empty once again. Students, old and new, were still back at home preparing for the next school year that began in just a couple days. Goosebumps erupted on your body out of anticipation as you thought about what the year could hold - though, you were mainly excited to get back to teaching your beloved subject. In fact, you'd missed it a lot over the summer. More than you expected to, despite the distraction called Ben.

A tiny smile flickered on your lips at the thought of him, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you as your feet carried you forwards, a cool chill wrapping itself around your bare shoulders. You were wearing a thick-ish, buttercup-yellow night dress; the sleeves reached your wrists, but it was a little baggy up top, causing the wide neckline to slip partially off your shoulder. The chill made you quickly pull it up with your fingers, enveloping yourself with your arms.

Bumping into Professor Lupin outside your room had caught you off-guard. The thought of grabbing a coat of some sort had slipped from your mind the second your curious and confused eyes fell onto him. You shivered slightly, cursing yourself for being so forgetful sometimes. It might have been late August, but Scotland's freezing climate left no survivors.

"Did you not think it unwise to go around strolling in such... poorly thought out attire, Professor L/N? It is almost as cold as the arctic." That deep voice that had caused you so much grief and heartache shot through your head like a stray bullet. You froze in your position, your breath hitching as you refused to turn around to acknowledge the man that spoke with such articulated words it seemed laughable. You felt like you couldn't move. Like you were in a glue trap, like a little mouse.

Eventually, you thawed. "I'm not cold." You replied shortly, reluctantly turning around to face Snape. Your heart instantly sped into a gallop as your eyes fell onto his tall, brooding figure. Then and there, thought of Ben entered your mind as you stared at the Potions Master, immediately comparing the two. You knew Ben didn't make your heart race like he did. Your shoulders suddenly slumped with guilt. You shouldn't be thinking any of this. Ben was good for you, he treated you with kindness and respect, and most of all, he actually liked you.

"Your trembling figure says otherwise." Snape tilted his head at you, scrutinising you. Right then you wanted to shrink down into nothingness. You couldn't bear to feel so vulnerable underneath his eyes. Somehow, Snape looked better than the last time you saw him. And you hated that. You were sure you looked utterly terrible right now.

"I'm fine." You said sternly, dragging out the syllables as you fought back the bitter glare that was itching to break out onto your face.

"Fine, hm..." Snape drawled, almost mocking and sarcastic, letting his dark eyes drop down your figure, studying your improper outfit. You hugged yourself tighter at the sight, cheeks suddenly burning as you felt rather self-conscious. His brows knitted together suddenly, like something had just clicked in his mind. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

You hesitated. "I forgot to grab one." Snape's brow arched at you disapprovingly. You fought the urge to groan at him. "I bumped into the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, outside my door." You explained, tone flat. "It's not like you care whether I freeze to death or not anyway." You added, rather bitterly. Snape narrowed his eyes at you, glaring. He did care, but he would never show it. Not right now, at least.

"Lupin?" He repeated, ignoring your last comment as his jaw ticked out of irritation. You frowned at his odd reaction. "I suggest you stay away from him, Professor L/N. For your own..." Snape trailed off, pondering on his words as he let his eyes sweep over you in a patronising manner. "...good." He uttered, almost like a warning. You were completely and utterly confused. Why did Snape seem so unwelcoming towards Lupin, he'd just joined Hogwarts, unless there was... history between them? Was there?

"What's wrong with Remus?" You asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity and suspicion about his feelings regarding the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Snape's jaw clenched at the sound of Lupin's first name, almost like he flinched. "He seemed perfectly kind and pleasant earlier."

Snape didn't reply. A harsh, exasperated sigh fell through your nose as you rolled your eyes at the enigmatic man before you, growing tired of his games. Why did he always act so cryptic? What was the problem with telling you the truth? Would it be so bad?

Before you could protest and poke at his mind, Snape began to stalk away from you, prompting a curt scoff to leave your lips. Your teeth were gritted out of frustration as you stared at the back of his head. Christ, he really hadn't changed - he was still pissing you off at an almighty rate. At this point, it was impressive.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, forcing Snape to halt in his tracks. He turned his head to the left, silently encouraging you to continue. "Would you just answer me?"

"I don't owe you anything." Snape said rather coldly. You clenched your jaw rather angrily at his rude reply. Jesus, will this guy ever just bite the bullet for once and give in?

"When you tell me to 'avoid' Professor Lupin, I think that demands an explanation as to why I should, Snape," You said, shaking your head at him like he was daft. "You must be delusional to think otherwise!" That must have struck a nerve within the Potions Master, as he swiftly spun around, his cloak turning with him dramatically like a bat, making you shrink in regret. He stormed over to you, footsteps heavy and determined. You backed yourself up, a little unnerved by his sudden and intense approach towards you. Snape got right up in your face and you could feel his hot breath dance across your skin, sending anxious goosebumps down your spine. It felt like your heart was about to fall out of your chest from the high gear it had suddenly kicked into. 

How could- no, why was your body still reacting so fiercely to Snape? Weren't you meant to be focusing on Ben?

"Lupin is not who you think he is, Y/N." Snape warned, snapping you out of your thoughts. It nearly sounded like there was a hint of concern in his voice, like he was worried about you. You had to laugh at that, as if Snape - the man who had pretended like you didn't exist for half a year - cared for you. He'd never stoop to such a pathetic ideal. You brushed the hurtful lie under a dusty rug in your mind, averting your attention back to the pair of deep, obsidian-coloured eyes that sat mere inches away from your own.

"And how do you know that?" You challenged, a hint of venom in your voice as you mocked his serious tone. Snape sneered at you, leaning back from your face, like he was disgusted.

"Your ignorance is blinding." He replied bitterly, still refusing to explain anything to you. At this point he seemed like a child to you. From his the way he glared at you, and reeled back from your agitated little form, Snape seemed to be disappointed in you. You didn't think he had a leg to stand on with that idea.

And so, that was your last straw, you couldn't hold in your frustration anymore; it felt like all the pressure that had been building up beneath your skin was coming to a rise and it had finally burst at the seams. "Jesus, Snape!" You cried out, infuriated, your hands flying up to pull helplessly at your hair. "Why is it so hard for you to answer me?! Are you so incapable of that?!"

Snape seemed a little taken aback by your outburst as the ill feeling of deja vu began to seep into his bones. This felt a little too familiar: it reminded him of that night he found you drunk. Yet, right now, you were stone-cold sober, and still shouting the same things at him. In regards to your outburst, he truly hadn't seen it coming, and yet, he was almost always aware of how you were feeling. He could read you so easily. To him, you were like a book he'd read almost a thousand times. He remained quiet again, unsure of how to reply to your instantaneous combustion; a briefly-lived feeling of worry that he'd add more fuel to the fire.

He couldn't reveal the reason to you. He'd given Dumbledore his word that he would not speak of Lupin's condition. In fact, Snape had doubted Dumbledore's usually-wise judgement when he mentioned that he'd hired Lupin. The Potions Master thought the Headmaster had gone mad for openly inviting a werewolf into Hogwarts, let alone allowing him to teach classes full of children. And then, he'd found himself roped into producing the Wolfsbane potion so Lupin could keep his wretched condition of Lycanthropy at bay. Snape still doubted the whole idea. He knew it was doomed from the very beginning. Balancing the safety of Hogwarts on the constant, perfect production of a potion and the hope that Lupin was competent enough to remember to take it each day of the preceding week of a full moon?

Doomed, Snape thought.

Despite your best efforts of attempting to force the answer out of Snape, he knew you'd figure it out sooner or later once you noticed which ingredients he'd be borrowing from you. He had faith that you were smart enough to work it out. So, he stood straighter in front of you, wordlessly giving you his answer as he turned around to walk away from you.

No.

"A warm, warm welcome back to you all!" Dumbledore's raspy voice boomed through the Great Hall, the applause from students and staff alike to quickly quietening down. You were seated comfortably between McGonagall and Hagrid, and it felt awfully similar to last year. Just a year ago, you had no idea what you were strapping yourself in for. "Before we indulge ourselves in this delectable feast, I'd like to welcome Professor RJ Lupin, who will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said, turning around to gesture to Lupin with eccentric, wrinkly hands. The professor stood up goofily with anxiously-clasped hands, giving a grateful nod to the Hall as they applauded him. He caught your eye, and you sent him an encouraging smile, ignoring Snape's distasteful face beside Lupin.

"Good luck, professor! Now, our teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be taken than none other than our own, Rubeus Hagrid!" The Headmaster announced as he spun around to gesture to the half-man-half-giant sat happily beside you, a genial smile spreading across the Dumbledore's face. Applause and whoops erupted in the Hall once more as Hagrid gave a short nod and a cheerful smile to the hooting crowd. You rolled your eyes and elbowed him, prompting him to stand up, his large belly shoving the table forwards with a sharp screech; a handful of glass goblets falling over and smashing. McGonagall looked up at the newly-appointed professor rather disappointedly before eyes her goblet that now laid shattered before her.

"Finally, on a more describing note, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the dementors of Azkaban, until such a time Sirius Black is captured." Dumbledore said, a stern and serious tone taking place of his usual reserved one. Gods, how could you have forgotten? Mass murderer Sirius Black was still on the loose. Apparently the thought of Snape was enough to distract you from a highly important news article. And now, one of the most feared creatures of the Wizarding World was going to be lingering around Hogwarts? This was not what you signed up for. Your teeth started to chew against the inside of your bottom lip anxiously.

"Will they be on the school grounds?" You whispered to Minerva beside you, failing miserably at trying to hide the shaky fear within your voice. She instantly looked at you, smiling softly. You'd always had a phobia of dementors, and now the fact that they were going to be lurking around the school had put you on edge. Merlin, can this year get any worse?

"I'm not sure, my dear." Minerva replied to you quietly, subtly noticing the fear swimming in your eyes. The older witch placed a hand upon yours in an attempt to soothe your anxiety. "There's nothing to worry about, I assure you." You merely nodded at her, unbelieving. Nothing to worry about, sure. It's not like some savage, minacious murderer is on the loose.

"The dementors willl be stationed at every entrance to the grounds." There goes your sanity. "Now, whilst I've been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution: dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt, and the one who gets in their way." You hated the way that Dumbledore spoke of the dementors, and it hardly settled your trembling and anxious mind. No, in fact, it bloody well worsened it. The old man was basically saying if you get in their way, it's a death sentence. They have no sense to decide whether you're a threat or not, or they just don't care.

Either way, you were screwed. You could not produce a Patronus charm, let alone a corporeal one, and it was something that played on your mind a lot. You could never find the right memory to do so. Every happy memory you flicked through in your mind, it just wasn't happy enough. So, if you came into contact with a dementor, you were, let's say, royally fucked. Was your life that sad?

"Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you, give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. But, you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light." The Headmaster finished with a cryptic riddle, making you sigh a little heavier than expected, catching an intrigued look from Hagrid. Sorry, but what the fuck does that even mean, Dumbledore? You were well aware that Dumbledore was undoubtedly an ingenious and powerful wizard, but sometimes, the things that came out of his mouth just sounded like nonsense. Maybe he just said those random things to keep up his mysterious act.

As you looked up from the nervous, fidgeting fingers in your lap, your eyes locked with that same pair of black, emotionless ones that were staring so deeply into yours just last night. Immediately, you looked away, your cheeks flushing red out of embarrassment, and perhaps, suppressed affection. There was that weighty feeling of guilt again, finding your shoulders once more. Ben's smiling face materialised in your mind as you shut your eyes, attempting to rid yourself of the buzzing feeling that Snape had awakened within you. With just one look into his eyes, you were melting back into your old ways.

You heard the creaking of a chair shift beside you as a gentle mass poked your side. "A'right down there?" Hagrid questioned quietly, noticing your subtle change in demeanour. You were suddenly stiff in your seat.

"Yeah, yeah, fine thanks, Hagrid." You cleared your throat, avoiding those two addicting pools of inky-black.

"Hmm." Hagrid hummed beside you, obviously skeptical about your curt response. He let his eyes flick to where you were previously looking, his stomach sinking as he spotted the broody cause of your sudden mood change. Hagrid didn't bother pressing you for answers, he knew you had enough on your plate, and he would rather you come to him. The last time you spoke about your problems regarding Snape, you were in tears, or you would burst into tears, there wasn't really an inbetween.

Silently, you were thankful that the newly-appointed professor beside you chose to keep shtum.

As you glanced back to where Snape sat, he was completely avoiding your eyes too, however, as you continued looking over in his direction, the wave of a hand beside the Potions Master caught your eye. Flicking your gaze to the right, you noticed it was Lupin waving sheepishly at you, a kind smile tugging at his scarred lips. You returned his smile and waved back, turning to the professors beside you as he glanced away from you.

"Professor Lupin seems to be a kind soul." You commented outloud, a genial smile upon your lips. McGonagall glanced at you, eyeing your curiously.

"Yes," She agreed slowly, her eyes gently dissecting you. "Have you met before?"

"No, I just bumped into him a couple nights ago, by my door."

"Yer' door?" Hagrid repeated in an octave higher than usual, intrigued.

"He just happened to be there when I walked out." You frowned, wide eyes looking up at the gigantic man, trying to understand what he was insinuating.

"Right, right." Hagrid quickly said, almost awkwardly as his cheeks reddened a tad, averting his eyes from your suspicious ones. Minerva's lips quirked into a small, amused smirk as she glanced between you and Hagrid. "Well, this food looks delicious, ay?" He cleared his throat, raising his brows as he glanced down at your plates that were now burdened with a generous amount of steaming hot meat and vegetables. You couldn't help but laugh softly to yourself at Hagrid's awkwardness. It was sweet to you.

Before you let yourself indulge in the plate full of food in front of you, you dared to look in the direction of a certain gloomy individual. Snape had already begun to eat, which surprised you. He usually takes a few bites and retires to his office, but this time, he'd stayed. You frowned to yourself as you stared at him, observing the glum way he kept to himself, avoiding any kind of conversation. Once more, you found yourself yearning for him. And yet again, your heart and mind were telling you two different things.

"Isn't that a Mimbulus Mimbletonia plant, professor?" Came Neville Longbottom's curious voice, his inquisitive eyes dragging over the plant you held cautiously in your arms. A cheery smile graced your lips as you nodded at the boy.

"Yes, indeed it is, Mr Longbottom." You said proudly, inducing a thrilled smile from Neville. "Can anyone tell me what it's uses are?" You asked, glancing around your greenhouse at mostly confused faces. You had an inkling that none of them would know the answer, perhaps apart from Hermione or Neville, who you noticed seemed to excel in Herbology. Though, Hermione wasn't in your class this morning. So to you, it was all down to Neville.

"Stinksap, right?" Neville answered quickly, his bunny-like teeth sticking out from underneath his top lip as he stared at you, awaiting your reply.

"Correct, and what can we use stinksap for?" You questioned, your smile widening at Neville. A sense of accomplishment suddenly tickled your body - maybe your students were listening to you and learning. You were a little worried that you hadn't exactly made an impact on them. As you got lost in your fretting thoughts, a light voice you weren't familiar with caught your attention. You turned towards the dark-haired girl, her deep blue eyes lighting up with confidence as she retrieved you from the abyss that you unfortunately called your mind.

"Stinksap can be used in certain potions as it contains very good healing properties," Alisa Arumina spoke up, earning a tilt of your head. You nodded at her, encouraging the girl to continue. "However, you have to be extra cautious when handling such a plant as this one since it will squirt out rather rancid smelling sap. Hence the name, stinksap." She finished, a sheepish smile upon her lips. You grinned proudly at her.

"Yes, lovely! Ten points to Ravenclaw, Miss Arumina." You carefully placed the plant down upon the table you were all gathered around. Before you could continue on to explain how to care for it, a distraught sounding voice called from behind you, at the door to your greenhouse.

"Professor L/N," Madam Pomfrey called out, her voice shaky. Immediately, you spun around with a worried frown upon your face. She sighed. "There's been an accident, do you have any mature Mandrakes ready for use? A Wiggenweld potion is required at once." Madam Pomfrey's eyes looked afraid. This must be serious, what the hell happened? You thought as your heart began to anxiously pick up in pace.

"Err," You stumbled over your words, blinking quickly. "Yes, yes, of course. I'll have them delivered to you immediately." You nodded in a poor attempt to assure the terrified look upon Madam Pomfrey's face. It didn't work.

"I'm afraid Professor Snape has asked for you to go to him right away." She said regretfully. Of course he fucking did, you groaned inwardly. 

"Is it so hard for you to come and retrieve the Mandrakes yourself?" You demanded as you burst through Snape's classroom door, your irked eyes finding Snape's startled ones. Though, just as quickly as he had looked startled by your sudden entry to his room, he had returned back to his usual angry glare, shooting it directly at you.

"Is it so hard for you to knock before entering?" Snape grunted at you, rubbing his fingers in circles against his temples. He lifted a hand and patted the empty space on his desk beside him. "Place the mandrakes here." You scrunched up your nose at him in disgust,

"I'll put them there once you tell me what the hell is going on."

"Your dear friend, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, thought it wise to introduce the children to a hippogriff on their first lesson together." Snape sneered as he rose from his desk in a slow and intimidating manner, his hands splayed out across the deeply grooved, dark wood surface. "I knew he was an oaf, but I at least thought he had retained some form ofhuman intelligence. Perhaps even common sense!" He exclaimed, his brows glued together in fury. Your brows mirrored his own as he insulted your friend. "A student was injured, Professor L/N, a student of my house." Ah, so that's why he's so upset. "Draco Malfoy." Riiight, it's adding up now, you thought, your anger simmering down slightly at the utterance of a student being injured.

You knew Hagrid wasn't incompetent, he was smart enough to not put students in the way of danger, but maybe this was a very big mistake. Perhaps he was too... eager. A hippogriff is a highly dangerous animal, especially if the students are not taught how to approach one beforehand. A strained sigh left your nostrils as you clenched your jaw, averting your eyes from a fuming Snape.

"Is he alright?" You asked, hesitating. "Hopefully he didn't lose a limb..." You muttered whilst perching yourself down upon a stool to your right.

"By the grace of the gods, Malfoy's arm was merely scratched," Snape seethed, clearly still very angry. Maybe it'd be best if you just left now, you did leave your class unsupervised for this visit. The thought of being a hypocrite niggled at your mind as you thought back to the time you'd chastised Lockhart for doing the same thing. But, this wasn't the same thing right? This was urgent, his was... whatever, you're better than that babbling, bumbling baboon anyway.

"So, it wasn't even a big injury...?" You repeated, frowning. "A little... scratch and you're almost losing your hair over it?"

"I think you're missing the point, Professor L/N, as always," Snape scoffed at you, earning a resentful glare from your eyes. "Hagrid has proved himself to be incapable of handling a class safely. I mean, a student injured and sent to the hospital on the very first lesson? Seems like a bad omen, if I do say so myself."

"Oh, please, Snape," A frustrated, heavy sigh left your nostrils again as you glanced to the side. "It's his first day!" You laughed incredulously, defending your friend. Sure, Hagrid might have misjudged this lesson by a smidge, however, you knew he would never put students in harms way.

"His first day, and his incompetency has resulted in injury!" Snape replied bitterly. He clearly didn't like Hagrid, and it was very obvious. He only ever spoke bad about the man, and it angered you. Hagrid was more than just an... 'oaf'. "Those... beasts... should have never been allowed at Hogwarts, regardless." Snape's nose crinkled in disgust.

"Give him the benefit of the doubt!" You cried out at Snape hopelessly. "And Buckbeak is a perfectly good hippogriff, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"How would you know that?" Snape's lips curled up into a distasteful sneer once again. Your cheeks ran hot as rage boiled beneath them at his comment.

"Because I know Buckbeak, Snape," You seethed at him with your fists balled, "Buckbeak would never do such a thing unless he felt threatened or insulted!" A hand flew up to wipe at your face, your breathing becoming ragged and hopeless. As you glanced back at Snape, he paused for a moment, his lips curling into an amused, incredulous smirk at your words. He couldn't believe what had just fallen from your mouth. Did he hear you correctly? Were you truly so delusional?

"You 'know' Buckbeak? Don't be absurd, Y/N." Snape huffed at you, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his lips tugged downwards disdainfully. "Buckbeak is a wild creature, it is hopelessly foolish of you to believe you can understand, much less, tame one!" He said, strained, his knuckles turning white from the aggressive, vice-like grip he had on his desk.

"These creatures are deeper than you think, Snape," you frowned, eyes stormy and reckless, unknowingly searching for trouble. His long fingers flew up to massage the bridge of his nose, clearly growing more fed up by the second. "Perhaps you'd understand if you had a heart within that empty chest of yours." A curt, exasperated sigh tore from your nostrils. Though, before you could take back your words, a blanket of regret wrapped itself around your seething body, your once-stormy eyes widening a tad as the realisation of what you had just uttered began to seep in. The sudden silence in the room was unbearably thick.

Snape's eyebrow twitched as he raised his head. Slowly, he fixed you with a dark, scrutinising gaze, rendering you speechless. Your body froze. "Bold, today, are we?" Snape's deep, stinging voice cut through the quietness like razors, reaching your ears like a thousand sharp pins.

You didn't answer him, fearing you might provoke him further. You'd never seen him like this. Dark, unnerved, fervent. It was terrifying to you. Perhaps you did cross the line. Gods, what had you done? Couldn't you have just brought the Mandrakes and sodded off? Jesus.

Snape marched towards you without a word, his cloak billowing out behind him like a flag. You couldn't help but notice the fury emanating from every single inch of his body, prompting your cheeks to flare up in a wild, raging blush. You had no time to defend yourself from Snape's long, cold and slender fingers as they clutched your jaw in force, shooting a frightening yet delicious shiver down your spine. A soft surprised gasp escaped your throat as he pushed you off of the stool you were sat on, a loud bang breaking through the silence as it clattered to the floor. Your back was instantaneously pressed against the table behind you as Snape shoved your backwards from the hold of your jaw, your eyes pooling with sudden panic as his fingers tightened against your skin, bound to leave marks. Fearfully, the palms of your hands flew to steady yourself against the edge of the table he'd rammed you against; your back arched painfully as he leaned right into your face, a spine-chilling scowl adopting his features.

The two of you were mere inches away from each other. Snape bared his teeth at you in a sneer, almost like he was revolted by your presence. He let his thumb slip upwards from your chin to the skin just beneath your bottom lip, pressing it against your teeth. Your eyes were forced to stare into his, his ones cold and penetrating in a way that only Snape's could be. Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears that at this point that you were afraid you'd go deaf. 

Both of your chests heaved laboriously, leaning against one another, like you'd just sprinted for a mile without stopping for a break. As you stared into Snape's threatening eyes, you felt your body numb, his signature scent of sweet wine, books and smoke invading your nose like it was nothing. Against your will, your body welcomed it and you felt yourself relapsing from the addicting smell. With wild eyes locked together, you saw something else swimming in his wicked, black eyes. They almost looked pained, helpless, maybe even like they were... yearning? Your eyes flicked over his face gradually, slowly drinking him in. Whilst the two of you stared at each other, trapped between one another's body, a fluttering sensation slowly materialised in your gut, prompting your eyes to fall to Snape's angry, quivering lips. The undeniable urge to press your lips against his own was scratching at you like a desperate caged animal. You inhaled sharply and blinked, averting your hungry eyes back to his own, distracting yourself from such thoughts. Again, you found yourself lost in him.

Before you even had a chance to look deeper, Snape's bone-chilling voice tore you from your thoughts. You felt as if he'd noticed you spotting something deeper lingering within him.

"Get. Out." Snape spat, roughly releasing you from his grip, your hand flying up to soothe your aching jaw. You stood there, your arched back and splayed out hands against the edge of the wooden table, flabbergasted. Snape stalked back to his desk acting like the previous minute did not just happen. For once, you obliged and stood up straight, your feet immediately rushing forwards to carry yourself out of Snape's classroom in absolute silence, face blank with shock. As you shut the door behind you, you paused in your footsteps for a moment, eyes locked absentmindedly on the cobblestone ground in front of you.

What the fuck had just happened? Can the two of you no longer have normal interactions? You always have to be at each other's throats each time?

Your fingers lifted up to your face and traced where Snape's fingertips had been pressed into the skin on your jaw, a dull soreness emitting from the area as you touched it. That's definitely going to leave a mark.

Fuck.

You just hoped Ben didn't visit you for another week or so. There was absolutely no way you could explain this without it seeming super fucking suspicious. Oh jeez, Ben. How were you meant to face him when you'd just been on the verge of kissing Snape? It was just in the heat of the moment, obviously... Was it? Did he feel it too? No, of course he didn't, he looked like he wanted to kill you.

A frustrated groan bubbled in your throat as you stomped away from Snape's classroom door, heading back to your class.

Merlin, were you fucked.

Part 9!

hey guys.... i hope you enjoyed this part, i apologise again for how long it took me omfg. i'm ashamed. :( i just couldn't get the creative juices flowing, then i got covid (which im still battling). like bruh give me a BREAK PLEASE.

anyway, i already have part 9 planned out so i'm hoping it wont be as long to type up!! <3 love you guys.

please let me know what you thought!! also what are your patronuses if you have one?! mine is a snowy owl :)

taglist: (i hope i haven't missed anyone or added anyone by accidient!! if i have i'm sorry and please tell me!!)

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

@v3lv3tvampir3

@lashipperrubia

@camilla-black

@acakius

@hiddlestonspassionsackx

@tellatubbies

@mikariell95

@sunshinemink

@m0rtifiedg0th

@spookymicrowave

@sayonara30

@novas-dreamworld

@ms-snape

@captainrogers-19

@allygranger

@nataliewalker93

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Pride, Prejudice, and Pennywise

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, tiny bit of Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: Sam’s movie night pick leads to some discomfort for you, but it doesn’t last long.

Author’s note: hey guys! Hyperfixation is still going strong, I promise I haven’t forgotten about my Sherlock fic! I’m just having so much inspiration for Supernatural right now, but I’ll be back eventually with another chapter, promise! For now, enjoy the fruits of my hyperfixation.

You and your oldest brother Dean had very little in common. For starters, he was the oldest Winchester, you were the youngest. He always agreed with your father, you rarely ever did–although unlike Sam, you didn’t voice your opinions often. Dean was stern, serious, and protective; you were always ready for a laugh. He was a flirt, you could barely hold basic conversations with people you didn’t know very well.

However, there was one thing you had in common with Dean; your hatred of horror movies. Although Dean hated them because he thought they were stupid and incredibly unrealistic; you hated them for a very different reason.

They terrified you.

Not that you would ever reveal that to Sam or Dean. After all, with the monsters, demons, and general malevolence that they faced during their occupation, you could hardly expect them to understand your fear.

But the brothers had kept you as far as possible from the hunting world, and watching horror movies just felt like a small snapshot of what your brothers must be facing on a daily basis. It was horrifying to think about. The horror movies just served as a reminder for all that you knew to be out there. Most people could watch those movies and brush them off as fiction; you couldn’t.

Unfortunately for Dean, and more so for you, Sam liked horror movies. The scarier the better for him. He claimed it gave him another angle to look at, a way to see the “fun” in their monster-hunting job. Well, that was all well and good for him, but you had lost many nights worth of sleep thanks to this little hobby of his.

Not that you could possibly tell your brothers–who had to be the bravest people in the world–that the unrealistic, stupid tv monsters scared you.

So instead, here you were, curled up in the small chair in the dingy motel room, Dean snoring in his bed and Sam enraptured in another horror flick. It had been his turn to pick the movie tonight, so horror it was.

You had tried to sleep through it, but you found that only hearing the screams, growls, and general fearful melee was much worse than hearing and seeing it, so you’d given up and gone to the couch to watch.

You tried desperately to look like the movie was gripping you with interest instead of terror, but you weren’t sure you were succeeding. Sam kept glancing your way, and you were afraid that it was because you were clutching your blanket just a little too tightly. Nevertheless, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, even if it meant Sam figured out your secret.

You had become so focused on trying to look like you were enjoying the movie, that you hadn’t even noticed that it had gone to a commercial, and that Sam had gotten up out of bed to stand next to you. That is, you didn’t notice until Sam spoke.

“Hey bub, you ok?”

You snapped your head up to see Sam frowning down at you.

“Yeah-” you cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice came out a little too high. “Yeah, just great, why?”

Sam glanced at the tv and then back to you.

“Well uh, it's just…” he let out a sound that was half laugh, half sigh, “You look a little freaked.”

You tried to scoff, but even you could tell it wasn’t very convincing.

“Freaked? Why, because of the movie?” you peaked a look at Sam, and weren’t at all surprised that he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“We don’t have to watch it if it scares you.”

You shook your head quickly.

“It doesn’t.” You knew you’d spoken too fast.

Even though Sam wasn’t buying it, he shrugged and returned to his bed.

“Ok then.”

The commercials ended and the movie began again. It was reaching the climax, only getting scarier and scarier. This had to be one of the worst ones Sam had ever played.

You couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper at one of the more gruesome jumpscares; you were lucky that it wasn’t a full-on scream.

You were surprised when the tv suddenly clicked off, and Sam’s voice broke the short silence.

“Ok, come over here.”

You looked up in confusion, before hesitantly rising out of your chair and going to stand by Sam’s bed, still holding your blanket around you.

Sam lifted his covers, gesturing for you to join him under them. You instantly obeyed, darting under the covers and curling into Sam’s side. You had wanted to do that since the stupid movie had started.

It was silent for a minute or two before Sam decided to speak.

“You could’ve just told me that these scared you.”

“They don’t.”

Sam scoffed, “N/N. I know you’re lying. You know you’re lying. So how about, you don’t lie, and I’ll let you pick a movie to watch tonight.”

You looked up in surprise.

“Really? But it’s your night!”

Sam laughed softly.

“Really. Apparently I've been scaring the crap out of you every time it’s my night to pick a movie, so I think I owe it to you to get an extra pick, ok?”

You giggled, “Ok Sammy.”

Sam’s smile dropped after a moment and he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You moved your head so that you could lean against his chest, comforted by his heartbeat.

“Because it's stupid.”

“It’s not-”

“Yes it is. You and Dean go out-out there and fight monsters, real monsters, and I can’t even watch it on tv! You guys are fighters, you’re brave, you save people, and I can’t do any of that! I’m a-” You swallowed hard. You hadn’t meant to let all of that slip.

“You’re a what?” Sam had sat up, dislodging you from your spot, and was now staring hard at you. “Y/N, what were you gonna say?”

You dropped your eyes to your fidgeting hands, avoiding Sam’s penetrating gaze as you mumbled,

“I’m a coward.”

You winced when you saw the tear drip onto your hand. Great, now you couldn’t even make it through a conversation without crying. Gosh, you were pathetic.

“Hey,” Sam ducked into your field of vision so that you had little choice but to look at him. You couldn’t help but think that his eyes looked sad.

He feels sorry for me. It was the only explanation you could think of.

“Don’t you ever say that, ok? Never again,” His voice was sterner than usual, an authoritativeness usually reserved for Dean in his voice.

You felt a sob bubble up in your throat, and you couldn’t hold it back.

“It’s true,” you managed to get out between breaths and tears as you leaned forward against Sam’s shoulder. You felt his hands come up to wrap around you, and he placed his head on top of yours.

“No, no it isn’t,” he said firmly. “Kid, me and Dean aren’t some great heroes, ok? We’re scared too, all the time. We just do what we have to do, even when we’re scared.”

You sniffle, “Exactly! And that’s why you’re so brave. But I can’t do that.”

Sam pulled you back, an incredulous look on his face.

“Are you kidding me? You do that all the time!”

At your confused look, Sam just scoffed and continued.

“Who summoned that demon in Phoenix last September? Who drove Baby–for the first time ever–at twelve years old to come and save mine and Dean’s butts when we were fighting that group of vampires? Who snuck past seven spirits to get to the grocery store to buy some dang salt when Dean forgot to pack more? That wasn’t us, baby. That was you.”

“You’re the one who forgot to pack the salt.”

Sam’s serious expression gave way to one of indignation.

“Hey now smarty-pants, I’m trying to help you here!” you giggled as Sam dug his fingers into your sides. When he relented, you looked up at him with a much more sober expression.

“But I didn’t fight anything.”

Sam shook his head.

“You don’t always have to fight something to be brave. Were you scared all those times?”

“Of course.” You felt a little ashamed to admit it, and you were surprised when Sam grinned.

“See? But you did it anyway. That’s what makes you brave, N/N. And do you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re the bravest of us all.”

You blushed, “Sam, don’t.”

Sam laughed, “I’m serious!”

You giggled, “Ok ok, I get your point. Can we watch a movie now?”

…

“So wait, we’re rooting for Lizzie and Wickham, right?”

Dean awoke to the sound of your loudly dramatic groan as you responded to the middle Winchester brother.

“No Sam, he’s a douche. We’re rooting for Lizzie and Darcy.”

“But I thought Darcy was a jerk.”

“Would you just watch the movie!”

“I thought it was Sam’s night to pick the movie,” Dean grumbled as he sat up in bed. There was no way Sammy had picked Pride and Prejudice on his night. No. Way.

Sam just shrugged, “I let Y/N pick this time.”

“You let her pick Pride and Prejudice?”

Your voice was annoyed, “This movie is great, ok! Just give it a chance!”

Dean retorted sarcastically, “Yeah ok, sure.”

…

“I can’t believe she turned him down!”

“Are you kidding? After the way he proposed, no one would say yes.”

“I’m sorry Sam, did you even hear him? Most ardently? I don’t even know what that means, and it almost made me swoon!”

“You’re crazy!”

“Enough!” Both brothers jumped in surprise at your outburst. “You guys can debate this over the commercial, but the good part is coming up!”

“You’ve said that at least twelve times already,” Sam said skeptically.

“Yeah, and I’ve been right every time! They’re all good parts, trust me.”

Sam and Dean both grumbled, but sure enough they quieted down to watch the movie. You smirked. You wouldn’t have thought it possible to get Sam and Dean Winchester invested in Pride and Prejudice, but here you were. And it was great.

Best. Movie night. Ever.

[otomeowl]

Impressions of all the villains as of writing-

Routes I Completely Read

William - Excellent starter villain who really went “I could make her worse 💅” Has a way deeper voice than you’d expect and it keeps surprising me every time. I really like how proactive Kate becomes, and it’s nice to have a man decently chill and not super clingy. And I’m fine with clingy, but we go a lot of clingy boys in this game already!

Liam - He’s so sweet he makes me blubber and sputter like a seal. Love how his voice purrs, but despite the game always saying he’s like a cat and super curious his route doesn’t really focus on those aspects. It has a lot of The Sad and it makes you want to give him a warm blanket. Kate and I agree sweet boy must be treasured. And Kate and Liam are also really sweet to each other and the fact that Kate was already into theater and Liam’s an actor makes me happy.

Elbert - SAD WET CAT SUMMER!!! The most interesting thing for me is how despite being The Greedy Queen and thus being the most obsessive out of all the boys once he’s into Kate he’s also one of the nicest? Like even before he’s attracted to her he’s so sweet, tender and gentle and he’s always looking out for Kate’s wellbeing? It makes me sob! Sweet Boy 2!!! It also really showcases how the curse itself affects a villain. Like previous routes there’s some bastards (fucking Jeffrey every time I think of this fucker I wanna-) who hurt Elbie, but what made his past so tragic is directly caused by the curse. Very melancholic. Aside from The Sad he’s also dense and slow-spoken when he speaks, cuteness factor is off the charts! Not to mention his friendship with Alfons I could write a six-page essay on that.

More about incomplete and unreleased routes under the cut

Incomplete Routes

Harrison (Read Summaries but Haven’t Started His Route)- I’m sorry I keep setting him aside 😭😭😭. I want to get his 22 bond first before doing the route but I should probably just read it already after finishing up Elbie. I also haven’t read most of his events because they’re all after he and Kate get together. Strangely this makes me more intrigued by Harrison since I’m purposely leaving myself in the dark. From what I gather though he’s even more chill than William and despite his curse he seems like a decent fella.

Alfons (Japanese Only, Read Summary) - Stay away from Kate 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪. I simultaneously love reading about his character but hate hate hate him using his illusion power to make Kate do things. It’s not my thing and every time he has a scene with Kate I’m like don’t fucking dare 🔪. Love his interactions with Elbert and I’m really intrigued by him but every time he uses illusion power I’m skipping 🛑✋🛑✋. Has a nice voice though. Listen to Kate when she says he is a literal nightmare though.

Ellis (Japanese Only, Read Summaries and Translations up to Ch. 10)- SWEET! BOY! THREE!!! He’s the most outwardly kind to Kate, but he’s also super caring to all his fellow villains. He’s even sweet to Jude, and Jude going “ew” every time he does makes me chuckle. But he’s also one of the most dangerous to Kate so far. Out of all the villains (aside from Vogel that’s tbd) he’s somehow the most likely to kill her. So every time he asks if she’s at her happiest I’m like 😳😳😳 and then she says no and I go 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨. Probably has my favorite voice, so gentle yet so creepy. Out of all the villains (again aside from the newbies) he keeps the effects of his curse close to his chest the most.

Roger (Japanese Only, Read Translations up to Ch. 3) - Another man who needs to practice personal space with my Kate! 🔫🔫🔫. And yet another really interesting character in spite of that. Unlike his fellow Crown members he’s the most determined to fight against curses. I’ve only read three chapters of his route so far (translated by dark-frosted-heart) and so far I’m interested to see where it goes. I’m really intrigued to see how Vogel plays a part since Roger’s the first route to feature them, it’s a good way to draw people in! Voice is nice but I’m not hunting down his voice line the way I am with other villains.

Unreleased Routes

Jude - Rude Boy Rude Boy Rude Boy! One of the funnest villains with his attitude and how trouble follows him around. I’m not into how cruel and disrespectful he is to Kate but sometimes Kate is kinda into it? The amount of events where Jude is surprised when Kate’s a little too turned on by him being a meanie makes me laugh. I’m really interested in his route to see how many fights break out and how many kinks Kate discovers 🤣. Also interested in his attitude towards love and making promises.

Victor - Guys I love him so much I wanna sneak into the kitchen at night and eat scones with him too! So gentlemanly! So suave! So villainous! I want his route NOW!!!! His voice is nice but what really sells it is how cheerful he is! You can really hear the ✨ sparkle ✨ in his voice. And how he’s such a dad to his sons fellow villains! I want to hold this man and give him a tight squeeze and maybe commit crimes for him.

Nica - The literal definition of a Bad Boy who plays with girls’ hearts, hmph! 😤 I can’t stop thinking of a certain German prosecutor in ace attorney every time he injects German in his sentences. The Bad Boy girlies are gonna be suuuuper into him but I’ll have to see what else he’s got. I like how he cares for his twin a lot though.

Ring - S-sweet boy four??? Seems like a strong silent type but it looks super easy to break his tough exterior. His unconditional trust in his brother and Darius makes me feel like I need to hold his hand when he crosses the street! He’s a real cutie but given how all our previous sweet boys have a dangerous side I’m keeping my eye on him! I’m worried that his curse is to have his feelings affected by touch, as a foil to how his brother can cause others to feel affected by his touch, which makes me even more worried for him.

Darius - I’m having Gilbert flashbacks and can’t stop mumbling “this motherfucker” under my breadth. Really interested in what he’s hiding and I can’t stop listening to his voice. I don’t appreciate him hating my Victor though! Guards, put him in a jar and shake him violently!!!

Feel free to reply/reblog with your own impressions of the characters!

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (09) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 18.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I return to uni. On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

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

Seeing you standing in his kitchen donned in that pastel-colored blouse makes Jungkook stop in his tracks; you’re exactly who he needs to wake him up. 

It’s been weeks of vacation, which also means weeks without his usual routine. It’s striking how being absorbed in his work has altered him in that sense - he looks for the stress, for the long hours, for the isolation that’s demanded of his job. Perhaps there was just really nothing to look forward to, and work was an excuse for all those things because there wasn’t much else going for him. Ironic, considering everything he can do with what he has, yet nothing seems to be what he’s looking for, even if deep down, he knows what it is.

This is something that Hoseok and A-yeong made him realize during the trip as he watched them gush about the pretty streets and marvel at the fjords and immerse themselves in the view of the northern lights. 

His cousin, the President of the company who makes decisive decisions and conducts press conferences and signs off on billion won projects, is the same man who squealed during a husky ride in Finland, laughed his butt off when he slipped on a glacier, and muttered words of love to his wife as they all watched the bright evening sky over the lake in Norway. There was so much passion in him, something A-yeong mirrored, whether it was about work or his relationships or just about everything in life. Hoseok looked forward to that trip, to that time with his wife, to that break, to seeing the scenery and feeling peace. 

While Jungkook found himself constantly thinking about the Arts Center and upcoming projects and new design ideas… and the one person who connected him to all those - you. It felt like he was rushing towards something because the achievement was the goal, and while he stopped by the mountains and marveled at the water as he sat on the cliffs, his mind was racing, chasing something that he couldn’t even grasp. 

That’s how the past six years have been. Perhaps more, he thinks. Maybe 20. He’s never allowed himself to just be. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know who he is outside of what he does; he doesn’t know much of how he is outside of being an executive and heir, and so during the moments when he isn’t functioning as such, he’s a bit lost, just existing in a place he’s visiting, not knowing how to interact, how to breathe; not knowing how to connect or to be free.

You’re the bright spot amidst it all. With you around, he still seems to be wandering while stuck in a certain spot, but he’s not alone because you’re there. With you around, there’s a sense of calmness somehow, with your smile and your presence warming the coldest parts of him that he’s left untouched and unfeeling for years.

So when he walks towards you, his eyes fully opening now to see you better, he hums in satisfaction. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, prompting you to turn around. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Really, Mr. Jeon? I thought the three weeks felt fast,” you giggle. “But it’s nice to see you, too. Were you able to rest out there?”

“Somehow,” he replies, taking the glass of water you give him.

“Is that why you passed on your morning workout to sleep in?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking that he’d slept in when you walked into his penthouse earlier without the usual sounds from the gym that you’d gotten used to.

“I was pretty jet lagged,” he groans. “Couldn’t sleep so I did it last night to tire myself out and then I finally fell asleep three hours ago. It’s a miracle I woke up after the tenth snooze of my alarm.”

“Ooh, that is not good, considering all the documents on your desks and messages on your inbox,” you shake your head. “What if I move the team meeting to tomorrow so you don’t push yourself too hard today? You could’ve taken the day off.”

“And have a worse day tomorrow? No thanks,” he chuckles. “I’m fine, but I agree with moving the meeting.”

“Just take it slow,” you advise. “I brought some pastries because I know your fridge and pantry are empty. I’ll get them ready shortly.”

“I’ll wash up then.”

You follow not long after, preparing his outfits for the second half of the week, then setting out the breakfast for both of you. He returns to the kitchen wearing the brown suit you chose for today, looking just as handsome as you remember. You fix his tie like you always do and meet his eyes like it’s reflex, the warmth bubbling within you when he returns your soft smile. You take your seat a chair away, taking your iPad after to start going through updates when he stops you.

“Not yet, please. My mind’s still half asleep.”

“Okay, sir,” you respond. “We can talk about your trip instead. How was it?”

Jungkook finds himself more engaged in telling you about it, not like how he was when his best friends met him for dinner last night and he was too tired to narrate how it went. But you ask with such excitement that he ends up sharing more than what he planned.

He talks about the Vikings museum and historical tours, the bike rides and coastal walks, the calm but lively cities and the breathtaking waterfalls. He even mentions the things he’d only kept to himself - like that one evening when the sky looked like one of Lee Jaemin’s paintings that had him staying at the balcony with a glass of wine while basking in its beauty, and when they were in Hans Christian Andersen’s hometown and he wondered what kind of fairytale character he would be, and that he learned he really enjoys hot springs during the winter. They’re random thoughts that he just ended up saying, somehow feeling natural and comfortable in sharing them with you. 

You indulge him, asking more and sharing your thoughts, too. You even throw in the occasional teasing remark and playful laughter. You ask about the scenery, expressing your yearning for the outdoors that you said you never really appreciated before, as the open space always overwhelmed you.

He passes you his iPad where he’s opened the folder of the photos that he took with his camera, a gift from Taehyung who’d said that Jungkook needed to go out more and “feel the sun.” He rarely used it but a Northern Europe trip seemed like the perfect excuse. He’s used to assessing interiors and marveling at structures from afar, but this time he got to appreciate what lies beyond his walls, beyond the little world he’s been burrowing himself in.

“These are stunning, Jungkook,” you gush, dropping the formalities as he shares something that feels so personal. “I didn’t know you had the talent for photography, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” he shakes his head. “I took it as an elective during university and it helps with design ideas. I should at least take nice photos if I need inspiration or a basis. I don’t really do it much, though.” 

“Did it make you feel good, at least?” You ask, wondering what else gives him satisfaction.

“Somehow. It makes me feel good when I’m looking at the pictures. I’m transported to that day and that place again, like a holder of memories and desire for the good things.”

You go through the photos - dozens of them. He didn’t take too many, just one or two shots of every scenery. Beyond the majestic landscape, there are the everyday scenes - people talking at a cafe, strangers enjoying the park. There’s a couple holding hands, laughing at each other; from the silhouettes, you can tell they’re Hoseok and A-yeong, a moment that Jungkook probably thought too precious to not capture. 

Something in you stirs, as the photos elicit a mix of awe and yearning. You look at Jungkook and you think it’s what he felt, too. 

There’s a saying you heard about watching what people photograph to learn what they fear losing. With Jungkook, it seems as if these - freedom, tranquility, connection, intimacy - are things he wants; somehow they seem to be what he fears having. 

“It’s nice to have a keeper of good memories, isn’t it? Of that reminder that beautiful things exist and that they’re tangible, you know?” You say, returning his gadget. 

“It is,” he responds after a beat of silence, seemingly processing your words. “We forget sometimes. Or maybe, we just don’t know what that’s like. In that case it’s like an illusion. But it’s still good to have that, I guess. It’s still something.”

You don’t know what more could be said. It feels too personal or even intimate of a conversation to have with your boss on a Wednesday morning as you eat breakfast in his apartment. So you let it go, smiling as you say you’re glad he got to have some rest. 

He says that so does he and then asks about how your holiday was as you both head to the car. You talk about it during the ride, how you spent a week in Wando with your mother’s partner’s family and then drove to Jeonju, how the entirety of your break had you stuffing your face with food and bonding with them, and how they drove you back to Seoul last weekend, thankful that for those two weeks, they had you around.

You don’t tell Jungkook that some days, you’d think of him, wondering how he’s doing. You don’t tell him that you’d seen A-yeong’s posts and that he looked at peace in them, that there was a softness in his eyes that you’ve rarely seen on him. You don’t tell him that despite the vacation that you said you were looking forward to, you were also looking forward to this - having him back, sharing stories, and living in the silence alongside him.

You wonder, as you glance at him looking out the window, if this is what you meant about savoring the moment, enjoying what’s in front of you, and feeling less alone. Because right now, those are exactly what you feel. 

Jungkook wanted to wait to get to the office before proceeding to work matters, something that surprises you because he always gets down to business immediately, not unless he’s recovering from a hangover. But he blew you off even in the car, wanting instead to listen to your stories and then doodle on his leather notebook again for the rest of the ride. You end up meeting with him for an hour before he settles in, then he goes to lunch with his father, meets with your team, and then decides to visit the Arts Center mid-afternoon. 

Work is back in full-swing just like that, and you pull the energy from within you to manage the crazy week. There are start-of-the-year events to attend and organize, a board report and meeting to prepare for, new projects to initiate, and a major one to monitor. 

You’re glad that despite all that, Jungkook allows you to have a four-day off on the succeeding week so you can celebrate your birthday with a road trip down coastal towns with Jimin and Soomin. It’s a silly thing to do in the middle of winter, but they insist that warmth is most satisfying when it’s cold outside, and you don’t disagree. You’ll definitely be sighing in relief when you hold the steaming hot hotteok in between your hands, and it’ll be the best one you’ll have. 

It’s Thursday and you’ll be back in a week. You’ve just finished briefing Do-hyun, who’ll be covering for you while you’re away, and you get off your chair to grab tea in the pantry. Jungkook’s voice stops as you, as he stands by his door and asks if you’re already leaving.

“In an hour, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Is there anything I can help you with until then?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “I’m actually about to leave for dinner with Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh, alright, sir,” you hum. “Goodbye, then. And I’ll see you next week. Just know that you’re the only one who can disturb me.”

He laughs in response. “Come on, I won’t be badgering you, especially on your birthday. It’s your one week away from me. You have to savor it.”

“So should you,” you counter. “But okay. I will.”

“Good,” he nods. “I’ll just fix up and go ahead then.”

He returns to his room and you’re just the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t properly greet you but you suppose that’s good for you. So you go to the pantry and end up chit-chatting with the team, finding yourself smiling when you look up and see Jungkook by the door, who tells everyone not to stay too late before he heads out. 

You arrive back at your desk, your heart beating fast at the sight of a small brown bag on your table. 

For your trip. Something to help remind you that beautiful things exist and they’re tangible, the note reads. Happy birthday. 

Your mind goes to a conversation you had not long ago, about how photos can elicit certain emotions and be a keeper of memories, especially of good ones. You know this is from Jungkook, and you also have an idea of what this might be, which is why you open the package right away.

Still, it catches you by surprise, especially when you find two disposable film cameras inside. They’ll definitely be enough for your upcoming trip and you know the photos will come out amazingly. You’re ecstatic. 

Perhaps this is why he wanted to leave before you did - you’d thank him and he’d be terrible at accepting it again, then you’ll call him out for it. Maybe it was good he hadn’t stuck around to see you act this way. At least he didn’t see you with that silly smile on your face.

But Yoongi does as you head down the elevator, smirking at you when he sees the bag you’re holding and the familiar handwriting on the card.

“I’m guessing you’re not fighting it anymore, huh?” He says, teasing yet somehow still comforting. 

“I’m trying not to, even if I know I’m being stupid,” you admit. “I can at least have these fleeting moments of joy after I walk away from this.”

“Retain the good memories. That’s one way to let things go,” Yoongi advises, as he exits the carriage on the parking lot floor.

The doors close on your smiling face, and he chuckles to himself at the irony of things. That’s how he learned to let you go, after all.

You return to work the following week with a spring in your step, with Jungkook noticing as you heat up the fried rice that you told him you’d be preparing for breakfast. You hum as you go about in the kitchen, feeling energized after the last few days you’ve had. 

It was freezing, but you, Soomin, and Jimin went a little crazy and ran down the beach whenever you drove by one, something you all did as kids living in Busan. The drives from town to town were slow but they had you all singing to your favorite songs, munching on chestnuts and bungeoppang, and stopping over viewing sites for fresh air and photos. 

You used Jungkook’s gift a lot, taking pictures of things that elicited strong emotions and good memories - purple and orange skies, snow melting on the pavement, the crashing ocean waves turning white at the tip, an empty playground in the park, Soomin’s infectious laughter, Jimin’s angelic smile. 

The cold was an excuse to seek your best friends’ warmth and they took advantage of it. It reminded you of those few years growing up with them before you returned to Daegu for college, something you and Jimin reminisced about, and something that you thanked him for after what seemed like ages. You recalled how he approached you first as the new girl who entered school in the middle of the school year, how he followed you around because you were always alone and was scared of loud noises, and how he’s never left your side since then. 

Every night during that trip, he hugged you as you tried to fall asleep, knowing you needed it for the cold you felt inside and out. He was next to you when you talked about Jungkook gifting you the cameras and admitted that it made you feel good, that it made you happy.

“I’m glad he’s showing you kindness,” Jimin had said. “But… just be careful, okay? Your heart is capable of a lot of good things. Pain is the last thing it deserves.”

“I don’t really know what my heart is capable of,” you replied. “My brain does the hurting but my heart… I don’t know what it does. I don’t know how it works.” 

It left him speechless then and somehow, you were glad that he just held you tighter, only because it was the only way you wanted to be comforted at that moment. But you also knew that whatever your heart ended up doing or experiencing, Jimin and Soomin would be there to help you make sense of it, to pick up the pieces should they need to.

“It seems as though your birthday rejuvenated you, ___,” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. “You look much lighter and relaxed.”

“Only because I haven’t checked my emails nor taken new instructions from you,” you laugh as you serve the fried rice in bowls then head towards him. You fix his suit again and speak casually like you’ve gotten used to. “Once I open that iPad and see what I have to deal with, relaxed would be the last thing I’ll be.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “Let me savor this then.”

His words catch you off guard and they prompt you to meet his eyes - soft yet piercing, then he turns shy and turns away from you. Perhaps he’s surprised at what he’d said, too.

“Work is stressful and your calmness rubs off on me most times,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a busy few days ahead and I want that calmness to linger.”

“It will,” you assure him. “And yes, I feel rejuvenated, and that’ll probably last me for days so that will linger, even if I’m stressed, so don't worry. You’re gonna do well. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

Jungkook’s meeting the Culture Minister next week to present the Arts Center’s plans and activities leading to its opening to the public, which is why you think he needs that calmness as well. The team has been helping him with the preparations and while you felt bad that you didn’t get to contribute as much, he assured you that all the notes you left him have been instrumental. 

But still, his words affect you. Is this calm and relaxed version of you all he wants to savor? Does it mean anything more? 

The thoughts wander away as you have breakfast with him, and he asks if you wish to talk about work later on but you insist that you’re mentally ready for it all. He’s the one who gives you updates this time, and just like that, you’re back to your usual routine.

You glance at his plate, all clean right after because even this dish, he savors. And you realize that doing things for him, no matter how simple, makes you happy, too, especially when his lips turn up in a small smile and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows. 

“It’s infinitely better than mine,” he hums.

“So, it’s really, really, really good then?”

“You don’t even know how mine tastes like.”

“True. But Taehyung said once that yours was really delicious and I’ll take his word for it. Seokjin agreed and I believe them.”

“Wow, really? That’s a rare moment where they praise me,” Jungkook laughs. 

“You should savor that, too.”

“I should. Heavens know the last time that happened. And when it’ll happen again.”

“That’s kind of hard though, isn’t it?” You say, being a bit reflective as you go back to your daily routine after a trip that you wholly enjoyed. “Savoring things… capturing them, appreciating them. Like, you have to be in the moment, you have to be present, and that’s not easy to do.”

“It isn’t,” he responds after a while. “You have to care enough for something to be worth savoring, I guess.”

“Exactly. But how do you do that when everything is temporary - things, feelings… people. Not all of them are meant to stay,” you reply, meeting his eyes as they seem to be in deep thought.

“Maybe they will… if you ask them to,” he softly says.

“That depends.”

“On what?” He asks.

“If they have a reason to,” you shrug. 

Your faraway eyes tell him that you’re in deep thought, perhaps processing the exchange that even Jungkook can’t fully wrap his head around. But you turn to him not long after, smiling as you take the plates to clean up, as if you’d just snapped out of a trance, of a moment of honesty. 

He watches you from his seat. There’s an aura about you that truly feels more relaxed, yet there seems to be an added layer of pensiveness, of deep thinking that could easily be mistaken for savoring the moment when you might be questioning it, perhaps wondering if it’s real… or worth caring about in the first place.

Even until now, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him hanging on to every word you say, like it’s some secret message or code to learning who you are and what your fears and pains and hopes and dreams might be. 

In the past months, his moments with you have allowed him a peek inside - there’s this yearning for something that you’re not ready for; there’s this knowledge of the fleeting nature of the world that you want to capture as memories because that’s the only way you can make them stay; there’s this desire for companionship that terrifies you more than anything.  

But then again, as he sees that soft courage in your eyes, maybe he knows why - he has the same fears as you, and perhaps that’s terrifying, too, as he realizes that much of what he’s scared of is tangible. 

He fears the emptiness left in your absence and the silence surrounding him when you’re gone. His trip over the holidays made him think so; this past week when you were away solidified it. There’s a lot of you to miss. He’s unsure how to deal with these thoughts and feelings; he doesn’t know how to move forward and be professional when you affect him this way. All he can hope for is that you’ll always find a reason to stay close to him, that you’ll always find a reason to want him around, and that every moment you share is something worth it enough for you to savor but that you both never have to let go.

You think about the conversation with Jungkook later that night on your way home. There’s something about the impermanence of the world that’s always scared you; things break and wither away all the time and you fear the loss in their absence. Perhaps it’s because you’ve experienced various types of losses throughout your years of living. 

You lost that childhood innocence the first time you saw your mother cry, then when her smile that finally returned was wiped off, and then when her hopeful eyes became filled with tears out of fear. You lost that comfort of a routine when you left Seoul at 10 years old, and then that stability when you said goodbye to your life in Busan. You lost that security when you decided to come back here with a dream tucked away, burdened with a debt and a past that you couldn’t escape. You lost that feeling of freedom when your favorite library closed, and then of safety during that night at the restaurant when you were hurt and exposed. 

It’s hard to savor things when you know you’ll lose them one day. But that’s also precisely why you should, as what these past months have been showing you, you think now. The absence reminds you that something good was in its place, and that at one point in time, it made you hope that you deserved it, that you were worthy of having it. 

But as you lay in bed that night and think of how much of Jungkook you thought about while you were away, you start to think that maybe things aren’t as temporary as you once believed. He was in the icy streets that you walked on and the warmth of the hot chocolate drink you had. He was in the drizzle on the playground that you wiped off and the touch of the leather notebook you saw at one of the shops. 

And perhaps that was the difference - you didn’t just stand by; somehow it felt like you connected with them - they were tangible, within your grasp, and that made them linger, that made them feel real. In your mind, that’s where they stayed.

The tail-end of winter marks the time when you’ve settled in the new year. All your backlog from the holidays and your short birthday break have been worked on. Operational plans and goals for the year have been finalized. The Board report and meeting are over and major events have been scheduled. Things are picking up now as the Arts Center is near its completion, with the consequent promotions and marketing on full speed. That last bit has been contracted to a subsidiary company but Jungkook is still on top of most things, which means that so are you. 

You accompany him to meetings with different departments regularly, and that’s on top of monitoring the other small projects that the VP office is working on, which is also on top of supporting Jungkook’s executive functions. In a blink of an eye, you’re back to the hustle and bustle nature of your job, and you’re reminded of why it’s been so hard to get out of it, and also why you can’t wait to do so. 

There’s just so much going on all at once, and given how you are, you give all of yourself to it because it’s the only way to get things done; it’s the only way to get through it without feeling like you’re taking for granted all that you’ve been given and achieved. But it also means you’ve lost the sense of meaning of most other things, and you wanna be able to do something that means something to you, something of good memories, of beautiful things that are tangible that you can touch and feel. 

You let go of the thoughts when Do-hyun and Yohan pop in your area to say goodbye. It’s another long night for everyone and you’re glad that they finally listened to you and decided to go home. You say that you still have a couple of things to work on when they insist that they walk you to the bus stop, telling them once more that you’ll be fine. 

“It’s forecasted to rain soon,” Do-hyun informs you. 

“I’ll get a cab, don’t worry,” you assure them. “Finance needs these files first thing tomorrow morning and we’ve got that ocular at 8. Thank you though.” 

“Fine, but let us know when you’re home, okay?” She says.

“I will. Get home safely, you two.”

You get back to work, and with the peace and quiet in the office with you being the last one here, you manage to finish what you need to in an hour and then finally call it a night. You head out and sigh to yourself once you see the lightning strike, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the rain will begin to pour. You manage to bring out your umbrella by the time it does, then turn at the corner to look for a cab so you can avoid those who’ll be hailing from the main road. 

There are a few people who have the same idea as you, and it’s after some time before you spot one, with the driver slowing down once he sees you. But right as you start speed walking towards it, some man decides to get ahead, running past you and bumping you in the process, causing you to lose your balance. The wet pavement doesn’t help, as you slip on your foot and fall to the ground. You try to get up but jerk in pain when you do, realizing that you’d hurt your ankle, a foreign feeling that has you immediately worrying. 

After all the times you’d found yourself under the rain, this is the worst moment of all - you’re hurting, all alone, and completely worn out. You’ve had a really long day and you don’t have the energy for this; all you want is to go home and have some rest. But you know there’s no other way, so you shift on your bum, manage to get up and strain your arms in the process, then you limp to the nearest post you can find using your umbrella as a walking stick then stand on one foot.

The rain has weakened a little, so you’re at least not getting even more wet, but it’s still winter and you’ve started to freeze. There are no other cabs in sight and all ride-hailing apps have been such a pain to book. Knowing that it’ll be tough to get home in any way at this stage and that you won’t be able to manage on your own, you decide to call Mr. Ri. He’s always told you that if you need help for anything, he’s another person that you could call.

It’s half past 8 in the evening. You’re banking on him being on the way home after having dropped Jungkook off at his building after a dinner meeting at 5:30.

“Hey, ___. Is everything alright?” Mr. Ri asks, knowing you rarely call at this hour. 

“Not really,” you sigh, the shiver in your voice evident. “Have you dropped Jungkook off?”

“Not yet. But what do you mean, not really? What happened?”

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to finish. Tell me, are you in danger?” He presses, and you hear the worry in his voice. 

You told him about Chi-won some weeks after it happened, and Mr. Ri, having known you for many years, knows you’re not one to usually reach out. He’s made it a point to check on you regularly, and calls like this would definitely ring some alarm bells. 

“I’m not in danger but I hurt myself,” you say, quickly appeasing him that it’s probably just a sprained ankle and not that serious. “I just can’t get any ride and I can barely walk. I was hoping you were on the way home.”

“I’m not but I’ll go get you, okay? I’ll tell Jungkook and we’ll drive to you right away.”

“Mr. Ri, he’s in a meeting!” 

“That’s most likely over and now they’re just chatting over drinks,” he reasons. “I’ll get him. You know he’ll want me to.”

“You don’t know that,” you stammer.

“You weren’t there with him the days after what happened that night at the restaurant, ___,” he huffs. “I just knew it was really bad because of how worried he was, and he’s never been that way. So yes, I know he’ll want me to get his ass out of there and be on the way to you. Plus, I’m sure he’ll fire me if I don’t.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Just don’t make it sound so bad because it really isn’t.”

“You know I can’t control how that kid reacts,” he hums. “Just send me your location.”

Mr. Ri heads out of the driver’s lounge and rushes to the restaurant where he manages to send a message to Jungkook that you’re stranded somewhere with possibly a sprained ankle. He says it as it is, knowing that Jungkook won’t need much to decide on ending the meeting and go to you, which he does right away.

“What happened?” He asks the older man as they both walk towards the basement parking.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask any more questions,” Mr. Ri responds. “She’s somewhere near the office. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Try for 15,” Jungkook instructs.

He calls you right after and he immediately picks up on your chattering teeth.

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?”

You’re a little surprised when Jungkook calls this soon, and with how you’re trying to move past whatever attraction you have towards the man, this really isn’t helping.

“Just… cold. My umbrella flew away,” you laugh. “The wind’s picked up and I think it’s gonna rain again.”

Just as you say so, it starts, and you pick up on the change in Jungkook’s voice. You’ve since learned that he’s not fond of it, always closing his eyes and trying to tune everything out with even just a drizzle. But he continues talking and asks what happened, trying to keep you company. You narrate the incident and attempt to play it off as something minor, although the longer you stay leaning against the post, the more pain you’re starting to feel. 

“We’re five minutes away. We’ll be there soon,” he assures you then drops the call.

Jungkook clenches his fist and closes his eyes as the rain continues to pour. With the sound of the thunder, he jerks in his seat like he always does, but he pushes forward, knowing you need his help. He takes deep breaths just as he’s learned to do, and not long after, Mr. Ri informs him that he sees you just meters away.

The car slows down and Jungkook looks outside the window. He can see you leaning against a pole on one foot, drenched and shivering, your eyes closed as you wait for them to arrive. He meets Mr. Ri’s eyes in the rear view mirror as they halt, and with the rain just barely stopping, the older man nods and exits the car.

Jungkook watches from inside as Mr. Ri runs to you. He sees the smile on your face despite the droplets on the window. The older man takes your bag then helps you walk, leading you to the car where Jungkook manages to push the door open. 

You slowly enter with as much energy you can muster, wincing in pain when you have to adjust your foot inside. You sigh in relief as you feel the warmth and dryness of the car, prompting you to apologize for getting it all wet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ll take you to the hospital, okay? And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing that much as you’re causing him inconvenience right now, you’re too tired to argue. You lean your head by the window and try to catch your breath. 

“Have you had dinner? He asks.

“Not yet. I was supposed to grab it on the way home.”

“We’ll pass by somewhere after the hospital.”

“Okay,” you look at him and smile. 

Jungkook isn’t surprised when you don’t counter him. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, as he sees it in how your smile isn’t as bright as what he’s used to, with it fading as you turn away. You’re still shivering though, despite the car heater being turned up. He doesn’t have a towel to dry you up, though, so he instead removes his coat and instructs you to lean forward so he can place it over your shoulders to warm your back. He takes his puffer jacket from the front seat and puts it over your lap right after, giving you warmth there, too. 

“Is that better?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mouth. “Thank you.”

His scent wafts through your senses, allowing you to breathe and feel all of him at once. It’s the closest thing to tangible comfort you’ve gotten from him, and you hate how good it feels.

You’re just about to fall asleep when the car comes to a stop. The rain has subsided and perhaps that’s why soon after, you hear Jungkook open his door and then your door, too. He removes his coat over your back, placing it back inside, then he holds onto your forearms to help you climb out. He takes his jacket and instructs you to wear it, giggling at how you’re being swallowed in it.

“I look ridiculous,” you pout as you sit on the wheelchair that he’s asked the nurse to get.

“Just a little,” he teases.

He walks next to you as you’re wheeled inside the hospital, staying close by when you explain to the ER doctor what happened. She assesses your foot and lower leg, diagnosing you with a sprained ankle like you expected, and proceeds to wrap it in elastic bandage. 

She treats the minor scratches on your palms you got from the fall then writes you a prescription for painkillers. Jungkook takes it so he can buy them for you after, then he helps you settle the bill with your insurance. 

You’re quite uncomfortable - you’re still a little wet and the bandage feels foreign around your foot. But you’re also feeling a bit shy, now that Jungkook is the one pushing the wheelchair towards the pharmacy nearby. He parks you at the side while he buys the medicine, and as you look on, you can’t help the relief mixed with giddiness that you feel despite the pain that’s close to overtaking you.

He stands by the counter with his white dress shirt slightly untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are in his pockets while he waits for the pharmacist to return, and amidst everything that’s going on, you’re still able to admire how overwhelmingly handsome he looks, especially given what he’s doing right now for you. His side view is quite blinding, so you’re slightly embarrassed when he turns around and calls your name again after you missed it the first few times.

“Dazed and tired?” He asks as he walks back to you with a pack of medicines.

“Definitely,” you say, which isn’t a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. “I just want to eat and have a nice bath and then sleep.”

“And you’ll do all that soon,” he assures you. “We’ll pass by whatever’s open on the way to your place. Just make sure you don’t have the hot water on, okay? And then elevate your foot when you sleep.”

“Yes, I heard everything she said,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“Including the full-on rest that’s required of you for the next few days?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that’s what you’re gonna have. You’re on leave until you’re able to walk properly again, Ms. Cho.”

“So now you’re being formal,” you tease, flashing him a playful smile. “But yes, Mr. Jeon. The instructions are understood.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Glad you’re not being stubborn about it.”

“Oh, not with this one, not when I’m this tired and in this much pain.”

His look turns sullen at the admission of what you’re feeling and you wish he didn’t feel this bad. But you can’t deny the way it’s giving you butterflies, prompting you to scold yourself internally because learning how caring he is isn’t exactly what you need to get over a crush. This is definitely the worst part about being injured, you decide. 

You make it out of the hospital and he helps you again as you enter the car, sliding in next to you as he ensures that you’re warm. 

You pass by a noodle house on the way, and he buys you some more food for the next day despite your insistence that he didn’t have to. But you’re too tired to argue some more, and you doze off a little during the drive to your apartment, with your half-awake self mumbling your apology about taking up his time.

Jungkook playfully shakes his head. Knowing you’re probably shallow sleep-talking, he disregards your words. He just gets glimpses of you, comforted to know that you’re at least getting the most rest you can have, given your current state. The painkillers will kick in soon and that’ll help you sleep better, but right now, he wishes he could do more for you. 

In the deepest crevices of his heart, he wants to hold your still shivering hands and maybe hug your trembling body. He wants to stay with you until you’re warm and comfortable in your bed, perhaps assure you in whatever way that you’re not alone, that there’s help whenever you need it. He can’t imagine how it would’ve been like for you being under the rain, cold and hurt with no one around. 

On second thought, he can, and that’s the thing about it. Even if you get out of it with just a sprained ankle - considering how much worse it could’ve been - it’s still terrifying being alone and powerless, paralyzed on the spot and not knowing if anyone will show up. He wants nothing more than for you to get over that and be able to move past it because he knows how haunting it could be; he knows how restraining such memories are.

But he also knows that there’s not much he could do - not with the unnamed feelings he can’t express, and not with the line he still believes he shouldn’t cross.

So he settles for glances and soft smiles at your fluttering eyes and slightly parted mouth. You look tired but peaceful; he thinks it’s quite endearing. It also feels intrusive so he looks away, out into the streets that he’s able to somehow see now. He thinks about the timing of it all - your late night and his dinner out, your injury and the bad weather. He’s thankful that the rain subsided and that allowed him to help you as much as he was able to, and that he got to you in the first place.

You arrive at your apartment with you now fully awake, and Jungkook heads to your side right away. Pulling you out of the car requires more strength from him, and despite your terrible condition, the butterflies appear once more when he instructs you to hold onto him for support. You have to act unaffected when you feel his broad shoulders and taut arms, with your hands gingerly laying on them; you wonder if he feels anything, too, under the thin material of his dress shirt. 

His left hand only grazes your waist but his hold tightens after you grant him permission, perhaps knowing that it would be harder for you if he holds you that loose, he asked you to put your weight on him after all. Despite your agreement, you still hold in your breath, a silly attempt at slowing down your quickening heartbeat. He’s never been this close, and you’re unsure if you want him to be anywhere else.

You suspend your thoughts for the shortest of seconds until you both manage to get up the few steps to your door. Mr. Ri helps in unlocking it, and you settle on the dining chair that Jungkook pulls out for you after you both enter.

As you release a breath and watch him look around, it’s then you realize that your boss - the Jeon Corporation Vice President who lives in a penthouse in an exclusive district in Seoul - is in your tiny studio apartment that’s literally just the size of his bedroom. You’re not ashamed one bit but you are a little shy, so you jokingly welcome him to your “little mansion.”

“It’s nice,” he hums, looking around some more, which he doesn’t need to move to do. 

The small round dining table, the off-the-wall kitchen, and the three-seater couch are all in the open living space. There’s a half-wall that separates your sleeping area, with your double bed against it and the tiniest of balconies just off of it. 

You’re quite proud of what you’ve made of the place, with the plants in the corners, some chic art pieces on the walls, and photos with your friends and family on stick-on frames resting on the shelves. It’s cozy and comfortable for you, and you feel quite proud when Jungkook’s lips turn up when you respond that you’re happy here when he asks.

“It’s everything I need,” you hum. “And it’s in a safe part of town. My neighbors are older couples who are all kind.”

“That’s good,” he says, turning to you. “Will they be much help to you while you recover?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “I have a crutch. I’ve got food to heat up, and my place is so small that I don’t have to move around to get things done. I don’t really need help, you know?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly unconvinced. 

“Watch,” you say, your shallow confidence pushing you to grab the crutch next to you then using it to walk towards him so you could prove that you’re capable enough to look after yourself. 

But your unfamiliarity with it leads you to mistime your step. Before you know it, you’re tripping on your foot and losing your balance, and as your life is about to flash before your eyes thinking that you’re gonna fall once again and make your injury worse, Jungkook’s reflex kicks in and he steps forward to catch you. You feel his grip on your waist gradually tighten as if to keep you steady, as if to make sure you’re alright. He’s so close, you can feel his breath as he pants, the worried look on his face something you’re familiar with by now. But he stays there, inches away, and so do you. 

He’s bending, so he stays leveled with you. You can see his long eyelashes resting on his honeyed skin and the endearing curve of his nose. He looks so soft like this, comfortable even, with his big round eyes looking like the most innocent ones you’ve ever seen.

The voice in your head suddenly becomes loud enough and you break his gaze, realizing then that you’re also clutching onto his shoulder for support. You give him a look of apology but he just laughs, something you’re thankful for because the last thing you want is for the tension to thicken.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You think it’s that easy?” He shakes his head, his tone sounding like he’s both teasing and reprimanding you.

“It seemed like it,” you shrug, allowing him to help you back on the seat, disregarding the slightest bit of giddiness you feel as he has one hand on your free arm while the other ghosts over your waist in case you fall again.

“It’s not. And I know this because I’ve used this before,” he says. “So since you’ll be by yourself, we have to make sure you can at least use the crutch without falling, okay?”

“Fine,” you concede, listening to his instructions carefully then trying to do it on your own. 

It takes some getting used to, but after a few tries, you manage to at least walk without tripping. You plan on just staying in bed or on the couch tomorrow anyway so you’re not that worried. Even if Jungkook still seems to be.

“I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m gonna survive. But you should head home. It’s getting late and you have that ocular in the morning. I’ll just have to email Chin-sun about accompanying you and—”

“None of that,” he interjects. “I’ll be the one to tell her and I don’t want you worrying about work tomorrow, okay? You’re gonna take your medicine and just rest.”

“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Only when I’m dealing with someone as stubborn as you,” he counters. 

You just laugh at him answering back, enjoying your banter more than you should, then he says that he’ll go ahead, for as long as you’re sure you can manage. It takes another five minutes until he makes it out the door. But before he disappears, you call his name, your heart skipping a beat when he turns around, as if he’s just hanging onto your every word.

“Thank you,” you say. “I know it was a long day and it was raining but… you still came for me.”

“Just recover quickly, okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.”

You nod and he leaves. And just like that, you’re once again on your own - damp, injured, and extremely tired. Jungkook’s presence remains in your apartment though, and there he is again, making you smile and making you feel things you shouldn’t.

You don’t mind being alone. In fact, you enjoy it. But during the times when you don’t want to be, he just happens to be there. And being the stubborn woman that you are, deep down, you like it that he is, that in your own little world with the walls up so high, he’s become a frequent visitor. You’re just not sure if you want him to stay just yet. 

You wake up the next morning feeling faint and sore, and it’s probably the painkillers having lost their effect. And there’s a reason why, seeing that it’s close to midday when you finally get out of bed. You manage to stand and walk to the kitchen with no issues, and you take your medication and heat up the food that Jungkook bought for you last night. It’s when you’re seated that he calls, bringing that smile to your otherwise uneventful day.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Just fine. I took my medicines for the day and I’m about to eat lunch,” you reply. “And you? How was the ocular?”

“It was good. It has a lot of potential so I’ll run down the details with the teams and propose it. But speaking of sites, remember what I said about Hoseok and I thinking of a Scandinavian-inspired mid-rise in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the one you came up with during your trip. Are you gonna push through with it soon?”

“Perhaps. I’ve gotten emails of proposed sites for some other projects but I’ve seen a few that could work with this idea,” he shares. “There’s one in Gangwon that’s near the town center so it would be practical for many. There’s even— ah, why am I saying this to you now? You’re off the clock.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. Jungkook doesn’t always show this much excitement with the projects he has to manage so when he does, you encourage him. It’s also an excuse to hear more of his voice. “My mind’s not prepared for being home today anyway so I’m a little disoriented. But that’s good. I can look into the sites and we can do an ocular whenever you prefer.”

“Alright, that’s something to schedule for next month. But uh, you sure you’re fine? Does your ankle still hurt? Did you get proper sleep?”

“Well, I slept like a baby,” you giggle. “And I at least remained in one position. It still hurts a bit but it should be okay in the next few days. I’m just gonna have to replace the bandage tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Just make sure to ice it and keep it elevated.”

“Yes, boss,” you tease, earning you a groan. “But uh, thank you for checking up on me. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

He’s silent, and you suppose it’s him again not knowing how to respond to gratitude, so you follow it up by saying that you’ll eat your meal now and reminding him of his meeting at 2PM.

“You better not be checking your emails and my calendar right now,” he warns.

“I’m not. I just memorize your schedule,” you defend.

“Okay then, I’ll go ahead.”

Jungkook drops the call and sinking in his seat, he sighs in relief. He managed to get through that conversation without sounding extremely worried, which is what he’s been since last night. His busy day today actually includes constantly worrying about how you’re doing, but he supposes it’s too much to let you know. Sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but knowing how you tend to move about, anything can happen. You were all alone for some time last night, too, just waiting for a way to get home. And that’s another thing he worries about - that fear latching onto you, that helplessness weighing you down.

He asks Mr. Ri if he’s heard from you, thinking that you’d probably be more honest with him, but the older man says you told him the same thing.

“Don’t you believe her?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“I do, but she’s quite stubborn though,” Jungkook laments. 

“Well, I’ve known her for a while and she tends to just deal with things on her own,” Mr. Ri says.

“But she shouldn’t. She’s injured.”

“I think it’s natural for people who’ve been alone for many years to be that way,” the older man shrugs. “I mean, you’re the same.”

Jungkook doesn’t disagree. And if you’re truly anything like him, then you’d just push through the pain and force it to stop hurting so you can go back to your normal busy life because doing so keeps you from thinking of how lonely it feels when you’re sick or hurt and there’s no one around. It’s how he’s always been, too, he admits to himself.

The thought disturbs him, which is why he messages you three more times during the day and then again the next morning, asking if he could drop by. He’s expecting you to insist that you’re fine and he doesn’t need to, so it surprises him when you say that he could. 

You’re pacing back and forth in your mind since you’re unable to physically do so, but the thought of Jungkook visiting you this Saturday morning is a lot for you to handle, even if you did say it was alright for him to come. The truth is, you wanted him to, only because selfishly, seeing someone be that worried about you gives you some form of comfort.

You called your family yesterday and told them about the injury, which they obviously panicked about. Your mom asked if you needed her to come to you but like always, you said she didn’t need to. You told Yoongi about it, too, and he was worried as well, in the classic way that he often is; he had food delivered to you for dinner last night so you didn’t have to think about it. You only told your best friends about it this morning and they were furious you waited so long to let them know; they were packing their stuff right as you were speaking to them two hours ago. 

You know you have people to depend on and would be at your doorstep anytime you ask. These are the same people who’ve done that for years and you fully accept their care and attention; it’s become a part of you and your healing process. But when someone like Jungkook who, for whatever reason he has, shows you the same, it feels different; he goes out of his way to show it to you, and he’s not even someone who normally does it. It’s a new kind of comfort, one that you find yourself seeking. So when he called earlier and asked if he could drop by, there was an internal sigh of relief. 

Over half an hour later, your doorbell rings, and you limp your way towards the door to open it. 

Other than being in suits, you’ve only ever seen Jungkook in his gym clothes - half naked as well - and in night out wear. You realize that this is the first time you’re seeing him in a casual outfit, and with a jacket over a sweatshirt and a brown beanie, he looks different - there’s that boyish charm that you’ve never seen; he looks softer, kinder, still reserved but a lot more comfortable.

You let him in after your greetings, then you turn to him and smile. 

“It’s really the suit, I know it now,” you tease. “It’s what makes you look intimidating.”

He looks at his attire then frowns at you. “So how do I look now?”

“Not intimidating.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Whereas you…” He eyes you in gray leggings and a blush jumper, looking soft and comfortable and even more like the bright spot he’s realized you are, but he’d never tell you that. “You look injured.”

“Gee, what a surprise. I feel injured, too,” you laugh. “But uhm, it’s nice of you to visit my humble mansion once again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better,” he hums. “And bring some more food so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You eye the beef brisket with rice and say that you know what you’ll be having for lunch. He responds that he might just go back to the restaurant and meet his best friends there, too. You return to your seat on the couch, realizing there’s not much room for him to sit on, but he gets to you first, standing in front of you and eyeing the elastic bandage on the table.

“Aren’t you due for a redress?” He asks.

“Yes but uh, I can’t actually reach my foot,” you say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m not really flexible so I’ll just wait until Soomin and Jimin arrive.”

“I can do it,” he offers, thinking that the bandage isn’t serving its purpose if it remains loose. “I mean, I’ve dressed myself on my own before so I’m familiar with it.”

It’s probably the painkillers but something possesses you and you agree, your mind too out of it to take the words back. A part of you wishes you had, especially when your heart does a thing when he kneels on the floor and slowly takes your injured foot. You wiggle your toes in reflex, as if they’re shy, too, and Jungkook laughs at your silly antics, especially when you admit that you’re a little ticklish. 

But he softly looks at you right after and asks if he’s hurting you, and you shake your head, unable to say anything else and process that you really allowed this man - your boss and in-denial crush - to do this. 

You sit there, charmed by the way he looks determined to get this done. He removes the old bandage and wipes your ankle before wrapping it with a new one. His hands are large and quite rough but he’s very gentle, making sure to not lift your foot too high and that the bandage isn’t wrapped too tightly. Once he’s finished, he lays it on the table and looks up at you to ask if it feels okay.

“Yes,” you shyly smile. “Thank you. That was, uh, that was really nice of you.”

He nods and stands up to throw the trash in the bin, wanting to quickly hide his smile at how wholesome you looked in thanking him. 

He proceeds to look around, taking more of your home in. There’s something very calming about it, and it’s more than just the plants that you have and the right amount of sunlight coming from the balcony door and kitchen window. There’s also something familiar, as he looks through your shelf of photos, seeing your mom and her partner for the first time. She looks a lot like you. She has a nice smile like yours, and she sees that same joy on her face as he’d seen on you, as she hugs you tightly in one of the pictures. 

The familiarity is similar to when he first had a whiff of your scent - old rose like the one his mother used to wear, one he remembers as a child when he still clung to her. There are those memories that stick with him. Others he doesn’t have anymore but that’s good, he supposes. Seeing your shelf, he sees all the good and tangible things you hold dear. 

“The photo on the far right, the one with Soomin and Jimin. We took that during my birthday trip using your gift,” you tell him. “It came out really nicely.”

“It did. Did you finish the film? What else did you take photos of?”

“We used it all up,” you smile. “And just a lot of the scenery and the three of us. We all divided them so we could have copies and just remember how fun that week was.”

“Good, that’s what I hoped.”

Jungkook stands there, his jacket now off so his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are in his pockets as he looks through your shelf. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing, if any of this makes him curious. It’s as if he’s taking in all the small parts of who you are that he can see displayed before him. He turns to you and your eyes meet again, and for a moment, it feels like you’re really seeing him and he’s really seeing you, like there’s something only both of you share and understand and want and can give.

But the doorbell ringing disrupts it, with you wondering who it could be since your best friends won’t arrive until an hour from now. Jungkook walks to the door and opens it, surprised to see Yoongi who’s just as surprised to see his friend in your apartment.

“Hey, you’re back. And… here,” you smile, attempting to stand up but Yoongi tells you to stay put. 

“I flew home last night and thought I’d visit and get you some food, but it seems like I’m second in line,” he says, his smug face causing you to glare at him. 

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Jungkook defends. “I won’t stay long.”

“Of course you do. And I won’t stay long either. I don’t wanna disturb anything.” 

He smirks at his friend, prompting Jungkook to glare at him as well. 

“Yah, chill, you two. I’m really just passing by,” Yoongi reiterates, making his way now to sit on the arm of your sofa. “Just wanted to check on ___ and make sure she’s well-fed.”

“I’m injured, not starving, okay?” You groan. “But thanks. What have you got there?”

“Noodles, custard buns, and some tarts. Wasn’t sure what you’re into when you’re incapacitated,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“I’m very much mobile,” you correct him. “Just… slow and limping.”

Jungkook pulls your dining chair and sits in front of you, and the three of you talk as if this isn’t weird at all. You’re all colleagues - you and Jungkook consider Yoongi as your friend, but you don’t know if you should consider your boss as such, and you don’t know if he considers you the same. You’ve definitely experienced a lot of things that could qualify what you have as friendship, but even then, there’s something more about it, something a little more intimate, different, terrifying.

You brave through this dynamic and learn that Yoongi likes to tell Jungkook off a lot. It’s the kind of bluntness you expect from Yoongi’s no-nonsense attitude but it’s refreshing to see him be more straightforward towards someone like Jungkook who you’re used to seeing as commanding and serious. Jungkook takes the hits, seemingly unbothered as they bicker, and it’s another side of him you enjoy seeing - the smiles and laughter are natural, and there’s this comfort about him that you suddenly want more of.

The time passes quickly, with the doorbell ringing again signaling that your friends have arrived. Yoongi gets up first to open the door, greeting them who do the same. You manage to stand up with Jungkook telling you to be careful, and when it dawns on them who else is in your apartment, Jimin’s face turns sour and Soomin’s goes from confused to amused. 

Jungkook looks taken aback by the cold welcome, but he manages to introduce himself to them.

“Oh, we know,” Jimin says dryly. “You’re the one who gives her so much work that she had to do overtime again and that’s why she got hurt.”

You feel the tension come like a strong wave and you try to lower the level a little bit. 

“He also brought me to the hospital and got me some food,” you tell Jimin, whose bitterness isn’t unfounded. He did listen to you complain about this very man all those months ago. “He’s just checking up on me, making sure I’m alright, the way you guys are.”

“As we should,” Jimin huffs. “At least we don’t cause you any injury or pain.”

“You don’t. But you do make things better so could you do that, please?” You say, opening your arms for a hug, something to appease him before it gets even more tense. 

Jimin has the sweetest smile but wouldn’t be afraid to burn anyone down with his looks if they deserve it. Jungkook did at one point, but you obviously feel very differently about that now. But still, you glance at the man, hoping this encounter isn’t putting him off too much, and with the slight tinge of guilt in his eyes, you suppose it hasn’t.

Jungkook turns away, partly because a reminder of how he’d treated you before makes him regret even more how you both started, and partly because seeing you affectionate with any man - even if it’s your best friend - makes him a tiny bit jealous, only because it’s something he can’t be with you. Seeing you that way with Hajoon months ago was different; Jungkook had been more shocked than anything. But this time, given that his attraction towards you seems to grow every second, and that he’s been wanting nothing more than to comfort you, there’s more of that feeling of loss, of hope that it could be him one day, even if that’s something that’ll probably never happen.

“I know you dislike him but tone it down for now, okay?” You whisper to Jimin. “My place is too small to contain all this tension.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing him just reminds me of what you had to go through because of him,” he says before pulling away. “But he did help. And well, Soo and I are still upset that you didn’t tell us sooner. You know we would’ve driven here on Thursday night.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why. You both had something big going on and I could wait,” you reply, a reason you give them everytime. 

Wanting a short breather from all this, you excuse yourself and ask Soomin to help you with something in the bathroom, and she heads there right away.

“Can you make sure that those two don’t murder each other?” You whisper to Yoongi as you gesture towards Jimin and Jungkook.

“It would be entertaining if they did, but yes, I’ll try,” he chuckles.

You walk to where Soomin is and after closing the door, she looks at you with the same amusement that she’s had since she arrived.

“What in the romance drama is this!” She exclaims, lowering her voice when you scold at her to keep it down. “All your three men coming to your home to make sure you’re okay? Talk about making an impression.”

“They aren’t my men, okay!” You scowl at her. “They all just happened to have the same thought. And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” Soomin laughs. “It’s just… I know you’re hurt and that you’ll be okay but it’s just amusing to see them show up for you like this. Especially the big boss. He’s way hotter up close, I can tell you that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you frown. “I wish there was a potion I could take to make him look unattractive to me so that I’d stop being so giddy at everything he does. And fuck, Soo, I haven’t been like this in ages. Or ever.”

“Well, you haven’t been this accepting of someone’s attention, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and I’m being silly. I might just be putting myself up for disappointment here,” you groan. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know what I’m not supposed to feel. And he’s not making it any easier.”

“Your situation isn’t easy in the first place, hun. And there are many reasons why,” she sighs, wishing there was a way to uncomplicate this very complicated relationship you have with Jungkook. “But whatever it is you think you shouldn’t feel, think about what he may be feeling, too. He wouldn’t be making all this effort since Thursday night for this to just be nothing.”

“I wish none of that means anything. That’s probably gonna be easier, right? That he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I do? That’s probably better than dealing with all the complications.”

“Maybe, but we don’t really know,” Soomin says, pulling you in for a hug. “But also think about how new and different this feels. It might be worth it in the long run.”

You fall into her embrace, knowing that during the toughest times of your life, this was your saving grace. It’s no different when you’re confused and in need of guidance, and though you’ve always made decisions for yourself with knowledge of the consequences, Soomin was there to back you up during the times when you were going in somewhat blindly. She wants you to be happy, and you won’t really know if continuing to feel what you do about Jungkook will make you so. If all else fails, well, you could always go back home, or maybe return to Busan and start a life there. Jungkook will just be a memory; you hope to the heavens it’ll be a good one.

You shake away the thoughts and finally go back out and are relieved to find some peace. Jimin’s washing your dishes while talking to Yoongi who wipes them dry. Jungkook sits on your sofa, looking around quietly, but he stands when he sees you approach him. 

“I’ll go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I… I think you’ve got everything you need.”

“Let me walk you there,” you smile. 

He’s outside the door when you thank him again then apologize if Jimin made him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. I’d be protective of my best friend, too, if I learned how their boss treated them,” he responds.

“I, uh… those were hard times and I may have complained quite a bit about you,” you pout. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure I deserved it,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you have them. I mean, my best friends tease me a lot and say shit about me to my face and behind my back.”

“Oh come on, Seokjin and Taehyung love you,” you laugh. “I’ve seen it, but you all also said you’re like that to each other; it’s how you guys grew up. I mean, I was the new girl in school and Jimin and Soomin have been protective since day one, whereas your best friends have shown you tough love since you were kids. They said you never accepted their affection so they switched tactics.”

“That’s fair. I was always shy and then turned into a bitter, introverted child. There was no transition, I guess. Now we’re adults and have just stuck with each other because we’re all we’ve ever known.”

“Well, you make decisions to stand by people, Jungkook. They do with you and you do the same with them. Plus, you’re not that insufferable,” you tease. 

“At least you don’t think so. Not anymore, I hope,” he says softly, looking away. 

“People deserve second chances. You gave me some and more and I… I’m glad you did. I at least get to see this side of you that’s helped me a lot these past months. I’m thankful. And I hope you know that.”

Jungkook just nods, unable to reply through words again. You let him, knowing it’s his default response. He walks to his car and turns around for a final goodbye, leaving you in anticipation for when you’d be with him again.

“Well, that was a long goodbye,” Yoongi says, surprising you as he stands behind you. “And no, I didn’t hear anything.”

You turn to him with a playful frown. “I was just making sure that Jimin didn’t make him feel too bad. I mean, I know I complained a lot but still. I didn’t want Jungkook to think I cursed his existence or something.”

“You did at one point though,” Yoongi laughs. “But it’s acceptable. Jungkook was rude, and heavens know how much shit I gave him for treating you the way he did.”

“You did, huh?”

“I always told you I’d look out for you, ___. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, I was always going to have your back.”

“You’re heaven-sent, Min Yoongi,” you smile. “I wish I could do half as much as you do for me.”

“You do more. I hope you don’t ever doubt the comfort that your presence gives to people. Maybe that’s what it’s done to Jungkook. And I know he hasn’t felt much of that in years.”

It’s Yoongi’s last words before he says goodbye, and they stay in your head for the next few days. Maybe Soomin’s right - all that Jungkook has been doing might mean something, and you hope that finding out what it is will all be worth it.

Jungkook decides to meet with his friends at one of his favorite restaurants for lunch. All he planned on doing today was visit you and he has nothing else going on for the rest of it. The club scene has become boring for him, and going to one only to bring home a woman to hook up with is no longer appealing, not when you invade his mind all the time.

Being welcomed in your home was refreshing. And even if it was awkward, meeting your friends allowed him another peak into your world. You choose the people you allow in, and you don’t choose many of them. The ones you do stay for a long time, and that’s the kind of person you seem to be. You value relationships so much that’s why you don’t have many of them, and with all that you went through and the vulnerability you’ve both shown each other, he’s started to hope that one day, he’d be deserving of that, too. 

“So did you feel like a fish out of water being there with her actual friends?” Seokjin asks. “Because I don’t know what you’d consider your relationship with her is. Boss-assistant feels too simplistic at this point. Are you friends? Are you more? Or is that all too ambiguous?”

“I don’t… know,” Jungkook sighs. “We’re all that but we also aren’t. We’ve gone through so much that it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to define what we are. But I feel like I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and we’ve connected because of that.”

“And what about you? Have you been vulnerable in front of her?” Seokjin asks.

Has he? Jungkook thinks. Maybe that first time he asked for your help with his new role but he supposes it’s nothing compared to what you’ve shown him, intentional or not.

“Not really. I… I don’t let myself be. That’s still distance I need to establish,” Jungkook reasons.

“More like, because you know that if you do show that side of you, you’re scared you’ll find out that she’ll understand, and that having her next to you is what you need to heal whatever parts of you that are still hurting?” Seokjin counters. 

“I don’t want to need her, you know that. There’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross. She’s my assistant and—”

“You’ve been treating her like the most important person and it’s not hard to miss,” Taehyung interjects. “You were never like this, not since Chaerin.”

“I don’t even know what it is about ___ that just makes me consider risking things, you know?” Jungkook sighs. “I’m always torn with what our reality is and what we could be but I’m afraid that if we cross that line, we’ll have to make sacrifices. I… I’m finding myself wanting her around all the time. When she leaves, I want her to stay. When she’s not there, I want her to come. But at the same time, I don’t want her too close because I don’t know if I can have her or if I can want her. Because I don’t know what of me I can give that won’t hurt her,” he admits, with a bit of help from some whiskey.

“Maybe if you let yourself be vulnerable, you’d know,” Seokjin advises. “Some people would run and hide but there’s always that one person who wouldn’t. That might just be her. And then you’ll learn what you can give, too.”

Jungkook lets his friends’ words settle and then thinks about them throughout the night that he spends all alone in his penthouse, with another glass of whiskey in his hand as he looks out the balcony. A part of him wants you to run and hide when you see who he really is, what he hides and what he’s ashamed of. Maybe that would be easier, he thinks; maybe that would hurt less.

You return to work the next Tuesday, having gone to the hospital the day before and being cleared to return to your usual routine. Jimin and Soomin stayed with you until that evening, with you rejecting their insistence to stay another day. You can manage, you assure them. You’re able to walk properly now and would just need to do daily exercises, wear the elastic bandage for another week, and forego the heels. 

Jungkook’s pleased to know that you’re doing better and makes sure you don’t walk around if you don’t need to, so he’s been the one going to see you when he needs something. He also postponed some potential site visits for the project that he and Hoseok are working on until you’re fully capable, which is why it’s three weeks later when you find yourself in the car with him, on the way to some towns in nearby provinces on an early Friday morning. 

Mr. Ri called in sick today and Jungkook didn’t want to deal with a chauffeur he doesn’t know, so he decided to drive instead, thinking it’s more efficient that way. These are all initial checks and being that you’re the only one from his team who’s privy to the details, he wanted you to join him as a sounding board and also to get your own thoughts about what you’ll be seeing. He has a vision in mind and he needs to translate it properly; you’ve been helpful these past months in making sure he’s able to do that.

Disregarding what this time alone with you would do to him, Jungkook meets you in his penthouse, telling himself to focus on only one thing today, and that’s finding the right place for his planned project. 

You leave early for a quick stop at a cafe and then head north to some towns in Gyeonggi province. There are some properties and land that are up for sale, and you prepared the information about them beforehand, allowing Jungkook to play around with the timeline and budget in his mind, even drawing rough drafts on his iPad as he assesses them. You’re both in work-mode, discussing each site on the way to the next one, with you searching for more details along the way and him, stopping on the side of the road to add an idea that he comes up with on the spot. 

It’s a little chaotic, as his mind goes from one thing to another, but you suppose this is how Jungkook naturally is. You’ve seen him perform his duties in various ways, but this is when you see the most raw side of him, and it’s quite the privilege to see. He always said he preferred the creative aspect of the job, which is why he enjoyed his time in Singapore, handling the design department. You contend that he’s grown tremendously in his executive role. As Hoseok has said, Jungkook relates to his staff better now, and has even engaged and attracted more partners with his great ideas.

You’re quite sentimental going on this trip with him. It wasn’t long ago when you were going to work with anxiety, anticipating his next criticism so you can prepare yourself, and then going home feeling like a failure. So much has happened since then, and you could even say that you’ve found comfort in your daily routines; doing something different like this is now exciting and something you look forward to, especially since it allows you to go outside, see the sights, and breathe the cool air. 

“You okay there?” He asks, noticing your silence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking how 10 months ago, this would’ve stressed me out so much.”

“What? Going on a road trip?”

“Pretty much going anywhere with you,” you laugh. “Car rides even with Mr. Ri made me freak out, and I was so scared to make a mistake or make you wait for information that I couldn’t find. And now here we are - I survived the last five hours with you and not once did you groan at me.”

“Wow, I must’ve been a really terrible boss to make your standard for a non-stressful day to be that low,” he laughs before turning serious. “But I… I’m… I’m sorry, for all the stress and anxiety that I caused you. I was being selfish and irrational about it. I hate change and you were the biggest one, even with my new role. I took out all the frustration on you and I shouldn’t have.”

He says more than he expected, but it’s also the apology that he should’ve given—that you deserved —months ago. 

“I forgive you,” you say softly, glancing at him before returning your eyes towards the road. “I always knew my limits and I guess I let you push it and that was on me. I could’ve stood up to you, too.”

“You did though, more than once. And that knocked some sense into me.”

“I guess,” you hum. “And then things improved and I’m just glad they did.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, as you both opt to bask in the scenery around you. There’s that understanding and acceptance of how things were and that regardless of what’s going on in your own minds, you at least have this. You think to yourself that this just makes leaving that much harder, but at least this is one more memory you could take with you.

You make it to Hwacheon in Gangwon past noon, and this is where you spend most of your time in, as the sites are spread out around the county. There are areas tucked away in the mountains while there are those closer to town with grand views. It’s in the latter where you grab some lunch and go through some of his plans, and you take in his ideas, learning from him in the process. 

It’s late in the afternoon when you inspect the final site, which is in an area in the neighboring Chuncheon county. It’s got potential for another project that CEO Jeon is looking to do, and with your notes completed, you and Jungkook start the trip back home. You would reach the tail-end of the Friday night traffic by the time you return to Seoul, the GPS says, and so both of you savor the sky’s changing colors as it transitions to the evening, letting the soft sounds of the radio replace the silence.

Barely 30 minutes in, the rain starts to pour, and it’s seconds later when it dawns on you what that means, as you hear heavy breathing next to you. You turn to Jungkook whose hands are tightly gripping the wheel, with sweat lining his eyebrows despite the cool temperature.

“Did the forecast say it was gonna rain?” He asks, the mix of panic and frustration evident in his voice. 

“Yes, but not until late in the evening,” you say, checking your phone to make sure you got the correct information. 

Your heart breaks upon realizing that at midday, the weather station warned that there was going to be a thunderstorm, with rainfall coming in around this time. You inform Jungkook, and despite all the progress in your relationship, your heart breaks a second time when he says that you should’ve constantly checked, that the weather changes all the time and you should’ve been mindful, and that now you’re both gonna be stuck on the road because he’s unable to drive and you don’t know how to. His tone is harsh, accusatory, as if it was something you could control, as if everything was your fault, just like how it was before.

Jungkook stops on the side of the road as the downpour continues, and he leans his head on the steering wheel now as he takes deep breaths. You tell him he could breathe better if he sits straight up, but he ignores you. 

A part of you wants to remark how it’s ironic that just earlier, he was apologizing for the way he treated you, and now it’s like you’ve both taken a few steps back. You want to say it’s not your fault, that you wouldn’t even have known that the rain affected him this way if you hadn’t seen him be nervous about it when you went home from the gala last year. But you think about the way his eyes looked earlier, how they filled with worry and fear, like there was a sense of powerlessness that you know a little about. 

So you settle for a bit of grace and understanding, thinking they’re what he needs.

“I don’t know why this is on me,” you say softly. “I didn’t know how bad it was but if I did, I would’ve checked constantly and I would’ve had us turn back the second I saw that forecast. And if I could drive, I’d drive us back as fast as I could. I’m sorry.”

He slows his breathing and sits up. His hands still tightly gripping the wheel but his eyes are downcast, and you suppose there’s more sadness than anger, so you stop pressing your nails on your skin, which you’d started doing in anticipation of him arguing with you about it.

“I don’t like the rain,” he shares, his voice low. “I… I have a bad memory of it as a kid and I just get reminded whenever it starts. I panic when it gets louder and I just… I can’t stay out here when that's all I can hear.”

His honesty surprises you. You can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for him, even more that he has to suffer through this right now in front of you, considering how hard it is for him to express how he feels. You don’t know how bad this weather is gonna go, and at this pace, the thunderstorm will probably reach you by the time you make it back to Seoul. So you do what you do best, and that’s to come up with options. 

“There’s a guesthouse not far from here,” you say after checking the map. “It’s the closest one. We could spend the night there and wait out the rain. That’s better than being stuck here or continuing the drive back to the city.”

He nods in agreement, knowing there’s not much he could do. He doesn’t want to be stuck here; even more, he doesn’t want to unload on you nor have you witness how much worse it could be. 

He keys in the address you give him while you call the property and ask if they still have available rooms. They do, so you reserve two and sigh in relief that that’s one problem solved.

You make it there in 15 minutes. Jungkook heads out the car first with the rain having eased up a bit, and you retrieve his luggage from the trunk, the one he keeps there for emergency trips and instances like this one. It has enough clothes for a day, and you’re glad that at least he has something to change into.

You make it inside and meet the owners then introduce yourself, stating that you reserved two rooms. 

“I’m so sorry but we had to give up one of them,” the woman says. “A family came in with a baby and we couldn’t turn them away. The weather’s going to get worse tonight and we try to accommodate as many people as we can. I hope you understand.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” you say, knowing you would’ve done the same. 

The thought of sharing a room with Jungkook feels too intimate and definitely not good for your heart, added to the fact that you’re probably not his favorite person right now, so you try to find a way out. You turn to the living room and see the sofa that’s big enough for you, so you ask if you can just stay there instead.

“Our cleaners will be using that space since they can’t go home due to the rain. I’m sorry again, Miss. Your room has twin beds so I hope that eases your worry somehow.”

“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” Jungkook says from behind you, hoping to the heavens that he will. He has one fear, and that’s you seeing how he really is during times like this.

He takes the key and walks up the stairs to the room you’re given. It’s spacious with a fair enough distance between both beds. He takes the one farther from the window then gets his clothes from his bag. It dawns on him that you don’t have your own with you, so he offers you his sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. “It’s gonna be cold and you’re gonna need it.”

“So will you. You can’t be in wet clothes, not in this weather.”

“It’s happened before,” you shrug.

“___, just take it,” he insists, placing the item on your bed. “I have a top here that I can wear and the blankets will be enough. This is loose but it’s at least better than damp clothing. And you can go ahead in the bathroom. I’ll just give Mr. Ri a call.”

You nod and head out, taking his jumper and the towel with you. You’re given some basic toiletries, and the warm shower is just what you need for that bit of comfort after a stressful evening. As you’re about to dress up inside, you hear a knock on the door.

“I asked the lady if they had spare pajamas for you and she gave me a set,” Jungkook says from outside. “I’ll leave them on a stool by the door.”

You wait for him to leave before getting them and putting them on. It’s a plain set of shorts and shirt that’s a little big but it’s way better than your damp skirt and blouse, which the owners offered to wash and dry for you for tomorrow.

You return to the room with Jungkook sitting on the floor, and you give him back his sweatshirt that he turns down. 

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t you get cold easily? You’ll need that.” 

He walks out, barely meeting your eyes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed when he returns half an hour later, the sight of him with damp hair in black sweatpants and a white sleeveless top doing things to you. But you shake the thoughts away, especially as he once again creates that distance. He doesn’t look at you when he settles in bed, nor when he switches off his bedside light, and definitely not when he turns around to face the other way. You sigh to yourself, feeling even more alone now with him acting like this.

You can’t really blame him though. Dealing with something that elicits painful memories is difficult, and you understand the tendency to isolate yourself and push people away when that happens. It’s what you do sometimes, but still, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you a little when Jungkook does this to you, considering how good your relationship has become, regardless of your stupid attraction.

Settling in your bed, you decide to turn around and face the window. You focus on the droplets creating their own artwork on the glass, in hopes that it’ll help you take your mind off Jungkook, even if he’s literally just a few feet away from you. The last thing you want is a strained relationship, and you hope that this doesn’t make him fall back into his old ways. Although he’s experienced a few stressful moments these past months, they weren’t personal, and you suppose situations like this are when his emotions truly come out.

The rain has gotten stronger again and you’re pleased that Jungkook isn’t awake for this, based on the soft snores you hear. You’re about to fall asleep, the sound hypnotizing you a little, but that’s when the first blare of thunder strikes, causing you to jerk in bed in surprise. It used to scare you because of what it reminded you of, but you learned how to manage it after the first hit; the succeeding ones are no longer triggering. In fact, you just think of how it used to drown out the sounds of what you were truly afraid of.

Just then, you hear distressed moans. The sounds of frantic breathing and shifts on the bed follow right after. And then there’s a restrained groan, like a call for help that doesn’t fully come out, and that’s what alarms you. You immediately get off the bed and rush to Jungkook’s side. You see that he’s still asleep, his body - now uncovered by the blanket - is tense, despite his efforts of turning about. The low sounds of almost-cries convince you that he’s having a nightmare. 

Thunder hits once again and it’s much louder this time, eliciting another frantic response from Jungkook. He’s kicking the covers while gripping the sheets, and with another roar of thunder that causes him to scream, that’s when you decide to wake him up. 

“Jungkook, hey, listen to me,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping his head still with your hands. You’re able to control him as he continues tossing and turning, repeating his name until he slowly opens his eyes. “Hey, you’re safe with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”

He’s awake now and you see the worry in his eyes, but you talk to him calmly, wanting him to trust you. It works, as he nods and slows down his movements. But he’s still breathing heavily, his lips chattering and the rest of his body shivering. 

You anticipate another hit of thunder, and you’re able to shield him from it, pressing your palms on his ears, trying to drown out the sound. You stay that way, thumbing his temples as you tell him it’s okay, that you’ve got him, and that it’ll be over soon. You hold his gaze to let him know that you’re not going anywhere, and his pretty eyes that often look so far away are now overtaken with fear. 

“Just look at me, alright? And follow my breathing,” you instruct him, your voice as gentle as you can make it despite your own worries for him.

He does as you say, his hands gripping your wrists as if to keep them there, and you assure him that you won’t let go until he says so.

“You’re doing good, just keep breathing,” you repeat, pacing your breathing with his until you’re doing it together. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way, with his head between your hands and your eyes locked on his. It takes a while, but the thunder eventually stops and the rain eases. Jungkook finally calms down and you slowly release him from your hold. You watch him shut his eyes, as if in desperation to let everything go, before he opens them again. 

“Is that better?” You ask, moving just a bit farther from him to give him space, but you remain close, wanting to be next to him in case something happens again.

“Yeah, that was, uh… that was tiring,” he huffs.

“I think the thunder has passed but if it happens again, I’ll be here, okay?”

He nods, his soft and desperate eyes now looking at you to express his gratitude. You want so badly to hug him, to hold his still-shaking hands and assure him that he’s not alone, that you won’t let anything hurt him for the rest of the night, and that you understand it all - whatever it is he’s afraid of, and why he keeps it all to himself.

But you suppose that’s going too far. You’re afraid that you’d want to stay there, even more if he doesn’t want you to. So you nod as well and think that he at least has this to comfort him, that he at least knows you’re just there.

You walk back to your bed and lie down, facing him this time. You smile, wanting that assurance to be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep again. Jungkook does the same as he settles under the covers, patting it down so he could see you better. You both stay there, safe in your corners, your eyes telling each other things you can’t say.

Whatever distance you felt earlier has shortened. Right now, with both of you falling asleep to each other’s view, he’s never felt so close.

The morning after heavy rain is always bittersweet. There’s the reality of the damage it caused but you also can’t deny that it gives life to other living things. What it also does is make way for clear skies and give you that fresh, rainwater scent of the grass and the trees. It’s what you see and smell when you open the bedroom windows, reminding you that the evening has passed and the worst is over. 

You spot Jungkook seated on one of the chairs in the garden, and you hope that the view is making him feel better, with the nightmare from last night slowly drifting away from his mind. You dress up in the dry clothes you find hanging on the doorknob of the room then head downstairs, surprised to see food prepared in the dining area. The tofu stew and grilled mackerel are so appetizing, and the loud rumbling of your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat last night, with all the stress making dinner your last priority.

“Hello, dear. It was a pretty hard evening so we prepared something for our guests,” the owner says, her radiant smile reflecting the brightness of the day. “You may call your friend outside so you can both eat and get ready for a long drive home.”

You thank her then call Jungkook, his eyes brightening when he walks back inside and sees the food. He engages in conversation with the owners, asking about this town and the surrounding ones, and what their appeal is to non-residents. You gauge that he’s doing a bit of research himself, and you think he’s at least not too out of it to still do so.

“You’re free to stay until noon,” the owner informs you. “You can enjoy the view outside; it’s really pretty now that the sky has cleared. I’ll be making tea shortly as well.”

Jungkook says he’ll return to the garden and you wait for the hot drinks before following him. You’re unsure if he wants you around but you try, sitting next to him then sighing in relief when he doesn’t move away.

“I was 10 years old when my parents sent me and my brother to a cabin somewhere in Hwasun,” he starts. “I thought they were coming with us but it was just me and Jeong-sik and some staff. He and I never got along. If he wasn’t ignoring me, he was teasing me. But that day, he convinced me to play hide-and-seek, saying that by the time he finds me, our parents would be back. We were outdoors and I ended up wandering too far, so close to the woods that I couldn’t find my way back. My brother hadn’t come and I was getting scared. And then it started to rain.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“It started getting stronger and the skies had become so dark, I could barely see anything,” he continues, his eyes fixed towards the mountains faraway. “The rain made the ground slippery so I decided to just sit by a large tree and hope someone would find me. It felt like hours and maybe it was. The thunder was so loud then and it kept going and going and going. And I was drenched and all alone, and no matter how hard I screamed, no one could hear me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, feeling your heart break as he narrates a painful memory that you can relate with. 

It’s only close to what you experienced yet it feels so real to you. You can feel his fear and his pain in the tremble of his voice, in the way he grips on the edges of the bench, in the way his jaw clenches at the memory, like it’s one he’s tried hard to bury yet can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries. 

But this feels so personal, and you don’t want him to feel like he needs to share it with you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you add. “I know it’s difficult to share something like that.”

“But I want to,” he responds, turning to you now. “Because I’ve carried the memory with me for 20 years and I’ve been dealing with it all on my own. But that’s not an excuse to treat you the way I did last night. That’s not a reason for me to take it out on you and especially to blame you. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry, ___. I…”

He looks down, perhaps trying to gather the courage he needs to be honest with you, to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you because I did,” he adds. “I was scared and I didn’t think I needed you but you were there and I’m so sorry.”

You sit there and watch him cower onto himself, and somehow you see the little boy who was scared, who was wondering why he’d been left alone, who was waiting for someone to come find him or perhaps… someone to sit there and be with him until the rain stopped. There’s a lot he carries; there’s also a lot he buries, as if there’s a bottomless hole within him where he keeps everything hidden but it still feels too heavy, too much, taking from him every time he hides something new. 

You don’t say anything for a while, as you start to see Jungkook for who he really is. You feel the weight of his words and how much it took for him to say them. It’s not that his experience makes him different, but now that you know the pain he’s been carrying with him, you’re able to see the other parts of him that he’s unable to show, perhaps too afraid that someone wouldn’t understand, or that they wouldn’t stay if they found out why he keeps his distance and why he pushes people away.

Your silence prompts him to look up. You meet his eyes and see the sadness in them and it feels like he needs more than just forgiveness.

“We do things we don’t mean to when we’re afraid,” you tell him. “It doesn’t always mean we intend on hurting them. And I understand that, more than you know. I’ll never take that against you.”

Jungkook nods, shifting again towards the view as he lets your words sink in. He was hoping for forgiveness, but he got so much more. Maybe there’s a reason why you’ve been patient and gentle with him ever since the beginning. Perhaps you’re carrying your own burden and painful memories that you’re unable to share and deal with, too, and though he’s nothing like you, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re the same somehow.

He senses you turn back to look at the mountains, and the silence prompts him to continue the story of an experience he’s only shared twice before - once to his best friends and another time with Chaerin, all of whom have seen this side of him - the scared and vulnerable side. They were understanding and supportive as well, trying to find ways to comfort and help him deal with it. You’re the third and the one he’s known the shortest time, yet he feels more comfort with you than anyone who’s ever tried.

“I fell asleep at that tree while waiting,” he recalls. “The next thing I know, I was being carried back to the cabin. The rain had stopped but it was still dark, and I was tended to until I fell asleep again. I was sick for days and I didn’t see my parents until we were back in Seoul. It’s just a hard thing to remember. I know we have selective memories and I always wish that’s one thing that I don’t ever have to remember but life isn’t that kind, I guess.”

“It isn’t. But we learn to face those fears though, and manage them. It’s the only way we can get through it,” you say.

“Have you?” He asks, wondering if that’s another similarity he shares with you. 

“Not really. I wouldn’t be alone and where I am if I have,” you say. “But I’m trying. And I’ll continue to.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs. 

“Well, it’s not always easy if you’re not quite sure what you’re really afraid of,” you respond. “Is it just thunder?”

“Yeah… but once the rain starts, it tells me that thunder could come. It doesn’t always but it’s what my brain tells me. Then I get anxious and I… I don’t know what to do. Like I’m paralyzed and unable to think or move. I just… stay there and sometimes, I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Well, it rained when I got injured,” you remind him. “But you managed to get me to the hospital. And you stayed with me. That’s definitely something.”

“You were hurt and it was more important that you got treated,” he reasons. “That was scary and I guess my brain told me to get shit done that moment.”

“So… do I always have to be hurt for you to get through the rain when it starts getting bad?” You ask.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you going through that again,” he frowns at you. 

The way he reacts to the thought of you being hurt gives you that warm feeling again. But it reminds you that you feel the same. You don’t want him to be scared, you don’t want him hurt, too.

“Fine. But when it starts to rain and you’re all alone and you feel like you can’t manage, you call me, okay?” You tell him.

“And what would that do?”

“That way I can talk you through it. Maybe go to you if you want me to.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because during the times I was afraid and alone, you were there,” you bravely say, turning to him and prompting him to do the same. “Sometimes something triggers those memories but then I think of how you stayed with me in the alley and in the playground and in my apartment. I think of you and I stop feeling scared. Maybe you can think of last night when it starts to get bad, too. And we can just create more of those memories to override the bad ones. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He savors your words, not realizing how much you’ve held onto your moments together. And he understands that now. The way you held him together last night is ingrained in his mind, and if that’s how it feels to be with you during his darkest moments, he starts to wonder how good it would feel during the good ones.

Maybe he’ll start with this, as you both sip citrus tea while looking at the lush mountains out on the horizon. He’ll continue with the scenic drive back to Seoul and a stopover at a cafe for some iced coffee and conversations about good memories. And at least for today, he’ll end with the sight of you walking to your apartment and then turning around to wave him goodbye, and then your smile giving him warmth on this cold afternoon.

The door shuts and he starts the trip back to his place - empty, lonely, just like how it’s been for years, all his pent up emotions bringing him to this point of isolation. But there’s you - the feel of your touch, the soothing sound of your voice, and the gentleness that got him through the night.

He misses you already. And much as he knows he’s in big trouble, thinking about you and wanting you is all he could do.

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[xortstories]

Contrary Writing Advice: Tell, Don't Show

Wherein I give advice that runs contrary to commonly shared writing tips, because some short bits of advice get repeated without context until they become actively detrimental to the process.

Today, we're looking at a common adage: "Show, don't tell."

On the surface, this seems to be (and often can be) good advice. "Showing," in the context of writing, is all about description. Don't say "He was sad because he had to go to work", say "His shoulders were slumped and he walked with slow, trudging steps to his cubicle."

It paints a picture with words. It implies the sadness, allowing the reader to interpret it by picking up on the cues in the writing, thus increasing engagement in the story.

It's not always that simple, though. For the most basic problem, let's compare word counts. In the example given it's not that egregious—10 words for "telling" vs 14 words for "showing," but that's still a 1.4x increase to the word count of your book, and it could get much more than that. There is value in shorter, telling sentences. For starters, they break things up and can be used to punctuate the end of a sequence. Let's have an example paragraph, which we'll then try two final sentences for.

He desperately raised his shield as his foe rained down a series of heavy blows on him. Once, twice, three times the knight's mace collided with the shield, splintering the wood and driving him to his knees. His shoulder ached, and the shield began to fall low enough that his head would soon be exposed. Then, out of nowhere, another soldier—one of the many allies whose names and faces now bled from his mind as adrenaline washed away all conscious thought—appeared as if from nowhere, colliding with the knight and thrusting his dagger frantically at the weaker parts of his foe's otherwise impenetrable armor.

Probably not the best fight scene I've ever written, but it does the job of being a very strong example of "showing." Now let's look at two ways to follow up this paragraph.

#1: Showing

He turned, heedless of his ally's struggle, and dashed away. His heart pounded in his chest and he struggled to keep his shaking limbs steady, stumbling and faltering every few steps. The sounds of battle surrounded him, overloading his senses, and he narrowly avoided several errant strikes from others embroiled in conflict as he raced through the battlefield.

Again, not the best, but a pretty good paragraph. We'll talk more about it in a moment though, as now we're gonna look at a second followup:

#2: Telling

He ran for it, leaving the battlefield far behind him.

So, let's examine what each of these followups actually does for the story.

For starters, we need to consider what we want this scene to accomplish and how important it is. If this is meant to be a defining moment for the character, the culmination of several chapters of buildup where he trained for the upcoming battle, grew close to his allies, struggled with his fears and insecurities, and now in the heat of the moment loses his nerve?

Yeah, it might be worth it to drag things out and continue "showing" what he does.

But let's say instead that this, instead, is meant to be an establishing moment for an already-true fact about the character. Let's imagine that this is from the opening scene in a story that, we will soon learn, is about a cowardly soldier. The buildup of the main paragraph above sets up a suitably intense, epic fight scene. It paints the main character ambiguously, as someone who is fighting but unable to hold his own, but it leaves open the possibility that he'll join his ally and finish off the knight that was hammering him down.

And then comes the rug pull. Just when the reader expects the intense fight scene to continue, nope! He's running away. The short and to-the-point nature of "telling" what the character does there leaves things unambiguous and drives the idea home immediately. We see that the character is a coward, and that sudden rug-pull creates a great moment where the reader goes "Oh, I see. He's a coward."

Basically, it's a punchline. And a punchline has to be... punchy. You can't draw it out with sentences and sentences of "showing." You just "tell."

Let's also consider the fact that ending a long series of "showing" paragraphs with a short, simple "tell" can be a great way to transition out of a scene. It signals that that sensory feast is over, wraps it up and puts a bow on it, and lets the author move into another discrete chunk of writing.

"Telling" is also great to summarize boring, inconsequential parts of the story. If your book is about political machinations, where the draw is the characters going toe-to-toe with clever enemies in social scenarios, then it's totally fine—sometimes imperative, even—to just say "After three weeks of travel, where x, y, and z, happened, Bobson finally reached his destination."

I could go on, but this post is long enough already. Remember, the point isn't that "showing" is always bad, just that you need to understand the benefits of telling and know when it's best to do one or the other, because 100% of either does not make for a very good story.

Also I'll probably write more of these in the future. I've got plenty of beef with common writing tips.

If you like my posts, feel free to buy me a coffee!

And if you're interested in seeing what I'm working on, check out my Blood of Dragons master post!

[occasional-drabbles]

“The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.” + “I don't know how to exist in a world without you.” with luke and/or kieran? whoever you feel comfier with hehe <33

Thank you so much for the ask!! This was a lot of fun to do! And as a little treat, I did both twins, each with one of the quotes! Same starting prompt, but each one goes a little differently.

Prompts found here!

Warnings: These ended up kind of angsty, with mentions of some stuff that happens in the latest chapters of the main story, but no major spoilers? Let me know if there's anything that needs to be tagged!

Length: About 1k for each of them, including the starter

~

You knew that this was going to happen. You knew. Yet you still weren’t prepared for the consequences. You didn’t expect for it to hit you so suddenly. 

Sylus was doing everything he could think of to earn your favor. Lavish gifts that cost more than any house in Linkon, beautiful clothing tailored exactly to your style and form, for you and you alone. He did his best to give you his full attention, to prioritize you without jeopardizing either of your goals. He tried, and you had to give him credit for that. But knowing that it was all with the end goal of you being able to resonate with him, to convince you not to hate him… None of it had the full effect. You couldn’t even find yourself completely grateful for the effort, since you still vividly remember the anger in his eyes when the researcher had told him that it was because you were so disgusted with him that you had a mental block keeping you from resonating with him. 

And even as you learned to appreciate him more, as you realized he wasn’t completely awful, you still knew that his efforts to win your heart would be in vain. Someone else already had it. 

LUKE

“Well that’s quite the sad face.” A voice spoke, startling you out of your thoughts. Once you registered who the voice belonged to, your shoulders sagged slightly in relief. 

“Hey, Luke.” You greeted quietly, looking over to him from where you were sitting. Sylus was busy with something or other, you don’t really remember what he said, and you were taking the opportunity to do a little bit of thinking while he was gone. So you’d settled yourself in a chair by one of the windows, looking out over the N109 Zone. Sylus didn’t really like having you near windows so much, especially without him there as a precaution, but he’s not here to stop you and you like the view. It made you feel a little less trapped. 

Luke hummed as he leaned against the wall in front of you, noticing the glittering necklace you were wearing. Beautiful rubies in the perfect setting to show off their brilliance, dainty enough to be elegant but sturdy enough that it wouldn’t be easily damaged. Clearly his master’s taste. 

He didn’t even have to verbalize his thoughts before you were speaking again. “Sylus’s latest gift… It really is beautiful.” 

“But you don’t seem satisfied.” He pointed out, moving to come closer to you, sitting on the arm of the chair. There was still a little bit of space between you two, and oh how you hated it. 

You let him reach out to touch the necklace, leaning closer to examine it. If it weren’t for where your thoughts have been, the guilt knotting up your stomach, you’d be inclined to kiss the beak of his mask to tease him. Just the thought made you turn away from Luke, catching his attention. So he reached up, gently cupping your cheek and turning your head towards him. You reached up to take hold of his hand, relishing in the familiar warmth of it. You opened your mouth to try and answer, to explain, but found your voice stuck in your throat. 

Luke hummed a bit, tilting his head slightly. “Is it an issue with the style?” He asked, earning a small shake of your head. “The gemstone, then?” He tried, earning another head shake. 

You took a slow breath to try and collect yourself, finally finding your voice again. “It’s a beautiful necklace…” you started, reaching up to touch the necklace yourself. “But… I feel bad.” 

Luke waited patiently for you to explain, though you could feel the curiosity radiating off of him, even with his mask blocking his expression. “He’s doing all of this, going so far out of his way, spending so much money, trying to get on my good side… Trying to make me fall for him… But I know it’s just so that I can Resonate with him… So it’s not going to work” You swallow hard, trying not to panic at the thought of what might happen when he loses patience with you. “Plus..” You started, then hesitating again. 

“Plus…?” He encouraged gently, his thumb rubbing against your cheek soothingly. It was the most he dared to offer for the moment. 

“The worst part of all of this, with all of the gits and the attention and the care,” you started, your free hand gesturing vaguely to the room to indicate this entire deal with Sylus, “I’m still in love with you.” 

Luke’s thumb paused, and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was from. Did you fluster him too much? Was he mad? Scared? You both knew that this was dangerous, for both of you. Sylus could kill either of you, or even both of you, for this seeming betrayal. You’d never forgive yourself if you got Luke hurt because of your own selfishness. 

It was only when your eyes started to water that Luke moved again, shifting his hand up to gently wipe under your eye, ready to catch the unshed tear. 

He moved closer, setting his chin on top of your head. The best comfort he can offer without risking stabbing you with his mask. “It’ll be okay.” He reassured, his voice quiet, but the way his chest rumbled your entire body helped your muscles relax ever so slightly. “We’ll figure it out… and I won’t let him hurt you. I promise.” 

You shifted to put your arms around him and hold him closer, no matter how awkward the position was. “I’m more worried about you.” 

Luke chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you in turn, giving you a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fiiiine.” He teased, his tone more playful now. “You know better than anyone just how slippery I am~.” He added, and you could hear the grin i his voice and oh how you needed this. 

You laughed and moved away just enough to smack his arm, a few tears finally falling that you were quick to wipe away. “Luke!” You scolded, even though there wasn’t the slightest heat to your tone. 

Luke still seemed proud of himself, reluctantly letting you go so he could sit up on the arm of the chair more properly. There it is, that beautiful laugh he loved so much. The laugh that makes whatever punishments may come worth it. 

KIERAN

You’d found your way to one of the rooftops in the N109 zone, high up and out of reach of most people. Yet you’re still not surprised when you can feel someone watching you from nearby. You were sitting carefully on the edge with your legs dangling, kicking them ever so slightly. Tilting your head back to look towards your company, you offered a small smile when seeing Kieran. “I knew you’d find me eventually.” 

“I’d find you wherever you go.” He commented, walking closer now that he knows he won’t risk spooking you. “You know that.” 

“I do.” You answered, lifting your head properly again to resume staring out over the skyline. Honestly, that was part of what’s been going through your head. How, in Sylus’s efforts to ensure your safety, you had to give up your freedom. 

Sure, you could leave and go about, do pretty much whatever you wanted… but you were always watched. Monitored. No real moment to yourself. 

Though… sometimes, you don’t mind it. Because it means more time with Kieran, when he’s the one tasked with watching you. 

Kieran sat down beside you, within easy reach, but still giving you some space. He didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. You scooted over to him, hesitating for a moment. “Where’s Luke?”

“Boss sent him to follow up on something.” Kieran answered quietly. 

You didn’t waste a moment before leaning against him, your head against his shoulder. 

Kieran waited just a moment before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him. “What are you thinking about?” 

You chewed your lip anxiously, trying to think about how to verbalize it. “Sylus. And you.” 

Kieran hummed to show he heard, but didn’t press for clarification. It was up to you if he needed to know. Oh how you loved that about him. How he accepted what he was given, especially when it came to you. You were both aware of the risks, of how bad of an idea this all was. How every little affection, every locking of your pinkies when you stood near each other, every passing glance, all of it just dug you two deeper into a hole you weren’t sure you could climb out of. 

“He’s trying so hard to convince me to Resonate with him… So much harder than I think I deserve, but… I also know it’s not going to work.” You admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know how to handle it… I don’t want to make him mad by telling him, but I don’t know how long I can put up with all of this either.” 

Your voice cracked, and Kieran pulled you closer against him, his head tilted down slightly towards you. He was careful not to risk poking you with his mask, no matter how badly he wants to nuzzle into you and smother you with affection, to try and dispel your sorrows. 

“I didn’t want to deal with all of this…” You mumbled, your eyes watering. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this….” 

Kieran hummed softly, resting his chin on top of yours and scooting away from the edge of the building to pull you into his lap. 

“I know that it’s a lot, especially when you didn’t ask for any of this…” He admitted quietly, “But… I’m glad that you’re here, all the same. I don’t want to know how to exist in a world without you.” 

You looked up at him, surprised by such outright affection. While it wasn’t as though he wasn’t capable of verbal reassurance, he tended to prefer actions over words. Perhaps he could tell that you really needed to hear it right now. Just that thought alone had your emotions spilling over, pulling yourself against him more as you tried to keep from having a complete breakdown on this rooftop. 

Kieran kept you close, gently pressing your head into his chest. “No one can see you, up here.” 

You gripped onto his shirt, trying to thank him, but instead what came out was a small sob. So there you sat with him, finally safe enough to let out some of the emotions you’ve kept bottled up for far too long. 

As much as he hated to see you cry, Kieran can’t help but be glad that you trust him enough to let your walls down with him. He wishes that you didn’t have to be so distressed thanks to your feelings for each other, that you didn’t have to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. At least he can still be here for you… 

When you had finally managed to stop crying and lifted your head, Kieran gently ran his fingers through your hair. “Better?” 

You nodded, rubbing at your eyes to try and get rid of any lingering tears. “I’m sorry about that…”

“Don’t apologize.” He ‘scolded’, his tone gentle with no heat to it whatsoever. “You needed it. I’m glad I could be here to take care of you.” 

You offered Kieran a small smile, still lacking your usual energy but grateful all the same. “You always take such good care of me…” 

“Of course,” he hummed softly, “I’m always here for you.” 

[notmyneighbor]

instinct | doppel francis mosses x female detective reader

rating | explicit

part 2/?

words | 3.9k

cw | mention of blood and violence, no explicit content this chapter

ao3 link

fanart credit | kri_stasss on X

taglist | @maskedpacific @dreamndestiny @r-o-s-e-0

By dawn, your eyes are burning.

Your neck and shoulders and spine ache. You readjust your position in another futile attempt at achieving comfort, convinced now there is no such thing. The doppel has gone quiet beside you as your surroundings gradually lighten.

The potential suspect exits the house around six, dressed in what you’d consider business casual, carrying a briefcase and a thermos presumably of coffee. He departs swiftly and you exhale a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding.

“Off to work,” you murmur.

“We should go take a look around inside the house.”

You glance at the imposter milkman. “We can’t. Not without a search warrant.”

Francis’ clone shrugs. “I’m not really concerned about such things.”

“You should be. Anything you might find would be inadmissible in court. If he is our guy, he’s gonna walk scot free.”

The replicant frowns over your phrasing. “That makes no sense. You’re saying if we present evidence that assures his guilt, he could somehow still be innocent?” He shakes his head. “You humans have an odd idea of justice.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong there.” You rub the back of your neck.

“So what’s the call? I can’t go in?”

“Not yet. We should do some questioning first. Your alleged eyewitness, for starters.” You yawn around the last word.

“You need to sleep.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes. But our bodies have different requirements. Different stamina.”

“Hmph.” You hate to delay pursuing what might be your only lead, but the doppelganger is right. You do need to get some rest. You’re not going to be able to function properly if you don’t. “I guess I could sleep for a bit.” You run your fingers over the steering wheel. “We’ve got three more nights to nail this asshole. If we don’t, on the next night…”

“We’ll get him,” the doppel says confidently.

“Alright. Quick nap. Then back at it.”

“Agreed.”

***

You forget to set your alarm and end up sleeping until the late afternoon.

It’s the doorbell that wakes you, making you curse and fumble your way out of bed. You glance at the digital display on the clock sitting on the nightstand and curse for a second time, rising and padding barefoot out of the bedroom into the living room.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Give me a sec.” You pull open the door a crack to peer at your visitor: Francis Mosses. Or his imposter, rather.

You close the door and unlatch the chain, then reopen it wider, beckoning him in. His clothing, much like the outfit he’d worn last night, looks crisply pressed, his hair neatly slicked back. You suddenly remember you’re still wearing pajamas: a tshirt and matching shorts in pastel yellow with little pink bows printed on them.

“I overslept,” you offer as an excuse and apology both.

“I see that.” He sounds almost bemused. “I would have brought that infernal substance you humans insist on consuming, but I know you can be very particular about how it’s prepared.”

You blink in contemplation, still groggy. “Oh. Coffee. Yeah, I need that. I’ll make some real quick. I’m guessing by that description you’re implying you don’t want one?”

“No.” He follows you into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe to watch you work, changing out the old filter from yesterday morning, filling up the water reservoir, and spooning a heap of coffee grounds into the new filter before shutting the lid of the appliance. “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve arranged a meeting with the witness. They’ve agreed to converse in,” he glances at his watch, “two hours. And I swung by the highschool. Milk delivery to the cafeteria, you know.” He winks cheekily as you retrieve a mug from the cabinet.

“And?”

“The general consensus matches what the neighbors had said. He keeps to himself, for the most part. Doesn’t seem to socialize with the staff. Teaches chemistry and physics. Student opinions seem pretty neutral.”

“So nothing suspicious, really.” You sigh, filling your cup and taking a grateful sip. “We have another problem, you know.”

“Which is?”

“A testimony from a doppel witness isn’t going to hold any weight. It’s not just about me being prejudiced or whatever; it’s a simple fact. So even if they convince me, it won’t be enough. I don’t know how we’re going to get the warrant. And I don’t like the idea of waiting and watching until he decides to strike again. Too risky.”

“Your laws were made for humans, but you’re not the only species inhabiting this planet anymore. Things needs to change.”

“That won’t happen anytime soon.” You drain the mug further, feeling more alert. “We’ll need to talk to him ourselves tomorrow. At the house. I don’t like him suspecting we’re on to him, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Alright.”

A sudden thought occurs to you. “Who gave out my address, anyway?”

“Chief.”

“Hmph.” You finish the last of the coffee. “Well, I’m going to go get ready real quick.”

“I’ll wait.”

It’s a strange feeling, having the doppel inside of your apartment. But then again, he’d been crammed inside the car with you for hours, so you suppose this is slightly less uncomfortable. Still, you feel his eyes on you as you walk to the bathroom.

It’s a quick shower, and a quick slide into clothes hanging up in your closet. Not ironed, but you don’t want to waste any more time. You emerge to find the replicant pacing the living room.

“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. But that can wait.”

“We have an hour to kill.”

You pause with your hand on the doorknob. “You want to go get food again, don’t you? Honestly, we can’t eat take out every day. It’s going to ruin my skin. And add extra pounds I don’t need.”

“You look fine,” he says. “Though I didn’t mind that other outfit earlier.”

“What…my pajamas?” You hiss, sounding scandalized.

“Yes, those.”

“You’re not supposed to be ogling me.”

“Why not? You do it to me.”

Your mouth falls open incredulously. “I do not.”

Francis’ clone smirks. “You most certainly do. I’m not complaining. Just an observation.”

“I don’t ogle you,” you repeat firmly as he follows you out the door.

The doppelganger hums in amusement. You’re led to the car and you automatically walk to the driver’s side. “Give me the keys.”

“I can manage. Passenger door is unlocked for you.”

“I am not riding shotgun. You are.”

He frowns at the expression, then shakes his head. “Not today. Go have a seat.”

“Uh-uh. No way.” You fold your arms across your chest.

“We’re wasting valuable time. Just let me drive. I’m perfectly capable.”

“This is perfectly ridiculous,” you grumble. “Alright, fine, whatever.” You hate to admit it, but he’s right. You are wasting time. You loop around the nose of the car and settle inside the passenger seat as the mimic sits behind the wheel.

“Seatbelt,” he says, slotting the key in the ignition.

“Oh for pity’s sake.” You grumble but acquiesce, securing the safety restraint in place.

“I’ll let you pick where we go to grab a bite,” he offers in consolation, easing onto the street once traffic has cleared.

“Oh, how generous,” you reply sarcastically. “Are you going to let me order, too?”

“Of course.”

He glances at you, smirking, and you scowl at him. You think he’s secretly enjoying this. Or not so secretly, because he looks smug as all fuck, and you want to wipe that expression right off his face; obliterate those curving lips and dimples and dark, smudged eyes. There’s a little bend to the top of his nose you’re just now noticing, the slightest aberration where the original must have had a break at some point that didn’t quite align correctly when it had healed.

“Let’s get sandwiches. The place on Fifth. You know it?”

He nods, hitting the turn signal and pressing the brakes. “You’re doing it again, just so you’re aware.”

“What?”

“The ogling,” he murmurs.

“Oh, piss off.”

He laughs at this, the first time you’ve heard it, and it’s a rich, deep sound that’s pleasant to your ears. One of the tidy chocolate locks loosens and falls forward, and your fingers itch to tuck it back into place. The car reaches congested traffic and halts. The imposter’s features grow solemn when he sees the expression on your face.

“You want something.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“No, I don’t want anything.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” you insist, all traces of humor now absent. His stern gaze burns until you relent. “Okay, fine. I was just thinking about fixing your hair.”

“My hair? What’s wrong with it?” He glances in the rearview mirror. “It looks okay to me.”

“There’s just this one piece, out of place. I just…”

“So fix it, then.” Traffic is moving again. You’ve reached your destination. Francis’ clone pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine.

“The drive thru…?” You query, puzzled.

“Faster to go inside at this hour.” The keys jingle in his hand. “Are you going to fix my appearance?”

“I…” You hesitate, wondering why you’re so fixated on this. Such a stupid, little thing.

“Are you afraid to touch me?”

“No,” you deny, a little too quickly. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re the one that brought it up. After staring once again.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t…” You reach out, just to get it over with, but his fingers close over yours, halting you.

“I’m not afraid to touch you,” he says, his voice low and husky.

“That’s not appropriate.” You haven’t moved your hand, and he hasn’t shifted his.

“This? This is nothing.” He leans closer and you find yourself gasping. “This, however, is something.” His lips touch yours, and you do nothing to stop him. His mouth is gentle, pressing lightly before he eases back, releasing his hold of your fingers. “Pleasant,” he murmurs.

You let your hand drop, shaking your head. “You can’t just…just do that,” you sputter. Your heart thunders.

“You didn’t seem to mind. You didn’t try to prevent me or pull away.”

“I was caught off guard.”

“So you didn’t like it then?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Liar.”

You bite back your initial reply. “Let’s just go inside. We’re wasting time again.”

“Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes. It is.”

One eyebrow quirks but the doppelganger says nothing, exiting the car. You follow his lead, walking beside him, pointedly looking at anything but the mimic beside you.

***

You’re parked in front of the possible witness’s house a half hour later, belly full but finding yourself not sated.

You hate how much you’d enjoyed kissing the doppel, as brief as it had been. It was appalling to even consider a follow-up on that advance; certainly not professional. You’re supposed to be working a case, not indulging in intimate acts with your partner. Your non human partner.

Francis’ clone doesn’t broach the subject again; hasn’t made any more moves on you. You hate that you’re disappointed about that. Ridiculous. Focus. The case.

The doppelganger’s front yard is tidy. There are even flowers in the window boxes. You try to imagine one of the replicants taking the time to trim the lawn or water the plants. Keeping up appearances. Just wanting to blend in and be good, upstanding neighbors. It was completely preposterous.

The woman that opens the door after you knock on it looks like she’s in her thirties. She’s wearing a plain dress. You can hear other voices, from what sound like children. She looks slightly afraid, until she sees your partner, and some of the tension eases out of her shoulders. You introduce yourself and ask for permission to enter and she nods, guiding you both into a living room, where the apparent owners of the voices are currently lying on the carpet, both engaged in writing, perhaps doing homework.

“Mommy needs to talk to these people. Can you go play upstairs for a bit?”

The pair of kids, a boy and a girl, elementary school age, look curiously at the visitors before nodding obediently and ascending the nearby stairs. The sound of a door closing interrupts the sudden silence as the female replicant gestures for you both to have a seat on the couch while she settles into the loveseat adjacent to it.

“Can I get you anything to drink, or…?”

“We just ate,” the milkman’s imposter replied.

It’s eerie how natural the setting seems. Just a typical household, a hospitable mother and her well behaved children. You wonder where the original versions are; what else is in the refrigerator besides the potential drink you’d just been offered.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us,” you begin, pushing away the grim thoughts you’d been steering towards. “I’m going to be quite blunt, I’m afraid, because the nature of this case demands it. I’ve been told you were a direct witness to one of the violent murders that have been happening in the area. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” She fusses with the hem of her dress. It looks so natural. Just an ordinary response, one a human would display while being nervous. That was somehow almost as terrifying as the murders. Humans were being taken over and completely replaced, and convincing ones like this made it impossible to tell the difference; no way to be certain that the woman sitting in front of you was anything but, until it was possibly too late. Blending right in. They were too adept. More dangerous than ever. You’re in a house full of doppels right now, and you’re the minority. That realization keeps repeating in your mind.

“And you are a doppelganger, isn’t that also true?”

She bites her bottom lip, glancing at the male replicant, then nods.

“Tell me exactly what happened. Everything you saw that night. Don’t leave anything out. Every detail matters.”

“Are we going to be safe? You’re not…arresting us?”

You frown as you retrieve your notepad and a pen from the pocket of your blazer. “I can’t promise you that won’t happen ultimately. I will do my best to advocate for you, and your cooperation today will help further your cause, but it’s out of my hands. If my boss wants you brought in, I’ll have little choice.”

You feel the doppel sitting beside you shift. He’s not pleased with this meager offering, but you’re being honest. You can’t guarantee the doppelganger’s fate. You can’t guarantee the fate of any of the doppels in this neighborhood.

“What we can promise is that what you’re doing will help us catch this killer. And that means saving a lot of lives. We need your help,” Francis implores.

The other imposter inhales deeply, then nods. “It was probably about two months ago now. I was doing the laundry at the laundromat. Washer was on the fritz, and we couldn’t get anyone out to repair it straight away. It was early evening. The sun was just going down. Mark—my spouse—was with the little ones. I had to wait for him to get home from work.”

You scribble some notes, wondering over that statement about a husband. Did they actually get married? Have a ceremony? Doppelgangers meeting and falling in love and having offspring? Or was it all just an illusion? Just doppels cohabitating and pretending to be a family?

“When did you first notice the suspect?” Francis’ clone prompts gently.

“It was in the alley, right next to the building. I had two loads to carry to the car. First one, didn’t notice anything. But when I was bringing out the second…I heard a scream. Dropped my basket. Went to see what was happening.”

“Was there anyone else there at the time? Was it a male or female scream?” The male doppelganger asks.

“No one was around. Couldn’t really tell by the sound. I walked into the alley. Tried to be quiet about it. He was near the dumpster. I couldn’t even make out what was on the ground. There was just blood everywhere. Gore. A mess,” she murmurs.

“And the murderer? What about him? Was he holding a weapon?” You press, pen paused above the pad of paper.

The doppel shakes her head. “No. He had…I though they were gloves, at first, like those latex kind used for cleaning that go up to the elbow, but then I realized they were something else.” Her fingers twist together, her gaze focused on the shag carpeting. “He was wearing a doppel’s arms. Scales. Claws. All of it superimposed over his own flesh.”

“Shit,” your partner curses. This was clearly all new information to him, more detailed than what he’d originally managed to draw out of the reluctant witness. “That explains why they look like doppel attacks. Fuck,” he curses again, then looks a bit sheepish. “Sorry for the language.”

“You’re certain it’s this man that you saw?” You draw a photograph out of your pocket now, holding it out to the female replicant. She shudders and nods, declining to even accept the picture into her grasp. “You saw his face directly? How did he not see you?”

“He was too busy with the…victim,” she replies, clearly deciding to change her phrasing at the last moment. “But it’s him. I’ve seen him before. He helps run the annual science fairs for the junior high and high school students. My boy loves attending and viewing the projects,” she says, a hint of fond pride in her voice.

Sending the kids to school, too. Well, you suppose she’d have to, to keep up appearances. Doppel children. Of course they had to exist. You’ve just never encountered any.

“And you didn’t tell anyone? Not even so much as an anonymous phone call to the police?”

“I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself. I was afraid of being taken; of having my family taken, too. And it was too late for that individual. No one could help them. I’ve warned my own kind in the neighborhood. I thought…I thought that was the right thing to do.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Francis’ copycat murmurs.

You turn to your partner in disbelief. “Like hell it was. That body didn’t get reported for days. Not until the trash collectors came to empty the dumpster. That evidence was potentially compromised, being exposed to the elements, not to mention that just allowed the killer to continue on his merry way, killing more innocents. You let him keep killing,” you say, facing the female doppel again. “You only warned your own kind, and you let all the humans be put at risk.”

“Easy.” You feel the male replicant’s fingers close over your arm and you shake him off. “We’re all on the same side here. It’s not her fault that this man is a serial killer.”

“You’re a doppelganger. You’re a killer yourself. I don’t understand why you’re afraid. You could have defended yourself. He’s a man pretending to be a doppelganger. Surely you could have—”

“—I was thinking of my family,” she interrupts, voice shaking but growing louder. “Not myself. Them. I have no interest in human affairs. We’re just trying to survive.”

“Right. And what’s on the menu for dinner tonight, Mom? You expect me to believe you’re just serving up regular meals? That you’re not guilty of killing humans yourself?”

“You’re out of line. Stop, right now.” He grasps your arm again, the grip vicelike this time.

“I don’t take orders from you. Let me go.”

“She’s trying to help us. She’s our only witness. What don’t you get about that?” He growls before relaxing his grip.

“This is exactly why I didn’t go to the police. You promised she was going to be understanding. Reasonable,” the female mimic looks accusingly at your partner.

From the top of the stairs, voices can be heard. The children have reappeared, inquiring what the yelling was about.

“Everything’s okay. Just a little disagreement. I’ll be making supper soon. They’re leaving now.” She stands, and you rise stiffly, shoving your supplies back in your pocket. You’re escorted to the front door, the interview clearly over.

“We’ll be in touch. Thank you for your cooperation.” Francis’ clone follows you to the car. “Get in.”

You jerk on the door handle and slump inside. He doesn’t speak again until he’s back at your apartment, parking along the curb, then following you to your door.

“I cannot believe what I just witnessed,” he says, his voice low.

“What? What did you expect me to say? Everything I said was the truth. She needed to hear it.” You know you’re speaking much too loudly, your neighbors can certainly hear every word, but your blood is boiling. “I’m so sick and tired of you fucking doppels lying all the time. Acting like you’re the victims. You’re not. And I have to somehow convince our boss that her statement is valid. I’m basing this entire investigation on the word of someone who’s built for deceit. Who’s very existence depends on it. Do you know how fragile that is? I’m putting all of my faith in you right now, you get that? In your kind. So don’t act all superior and entitled when I’m risking my career here. And I don’t know why you followed me up here. We’re done for tonight.”

You shove your key in the lock, pushing the door open and your partner follows, shutting it behind him. You whirl around, about to respond with another angry statement when he grasps your arms and shoves you back against the door.

“We are not done for tonight.” His voice sounds unsteady. His chest is heaving, dark eyes flashing.

You struggle to free yourself from his clutches but it’s useless. He’s too strong. “I hate you.”

“That’s fine. You can hate me. You can hate every doppel there is. But that doesn’t change the fact that you have a duty to protect the innocent. Your hatred has no place in this investigation.”

You squirm again, trying to resist; angry because you’ve let your temper get the better of you. He’s right, and it rankles. It’s loathesome to admit it. “Okay. I’m calm. You can let me go now.”

“You need to apologize to that witness.” His fingers are still clamped around your upper extremities, his body blocking you from escaping.

You sigh. “I will.”

“And to me.”

Your eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. “Why to you?”

“Because of what you said before.”

You let out a long exhale. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I know we’re supposed to be working together towards a common goal.”

“Not if. You did.”

“I apologize.”

“You don’t sound particularly sincere.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. My apologies aren’t good enough either? What do you want from me?”

The doppel looks at you, remaining silent. His fingers finally relax, releasing you from his grasp.

“I don’t hate you,” you mumble. “That wasn’t true.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“Because of this.” His face leans towards yours and his mouth captures your lips.

Any protest you might have issued fades instantly. It’s not gentle like before. It’s hard, rough, sloppy now, his tongue tangling with yours as your hands snake around his neck, holding him there. Heat licks at your sex, impatient and aching. The species doesn’t matter right then. Your body recognizes there’s a male with you, wanting, that same desire echoing back.

[sinning-23]

Glass Chandelier

Warnings; 18+ swearing, some hints at masturbation, buggy is a drama starter, sanji is failing at keeping his hands off your body.

Link to Chapter 3

Enjoy-

Chapter 4

"Wow, you got another one? Already?!" A fourth and more....irritating voice speaks.

You tense again, brows angled down. Firstly, who was speaking, and second what the hell did he mean another one?

"I mean at least she's not ditsy like the rest of you idiots."

You raise a brow at Sanji then the rest of the so-called crew. Zoro sighed heavily, taking the bag you hadn't seen previously off his hip and slamming it rather aggressively onto a barrel.

The reveal was far more interesting than you anticipated, a severed head adorned with a large red nose and a red and white striped bandanna. It beams up at you, the face paint around its lips only accentuating his cheshire grin. You mutter a light 'the fuck...', leaning in a bit to truly try and figure out what the hell you were looking at.

“Not too close sweetheart, I bite.” It wiggles its brows, the innuendo making you scoff.

“Dickless and still talkin'.” You shoot back. The clown head is quicker.

“My mouth can do plenty honey, trust me.” It flicks its tongue and...detaches it?!

Oh wow gross-

“Why are you even speaking right now? Unless you have something useful to say, shut up.” Zoro interrupts.

The clown head rolls its eyes and does an awkward hop/shuffle to turn and look at the map.

“This one knew where to go without me even saying anything. Which meannnss?”

You tense, shuffling back and forth a bit, truly debating if you should punch this thing in the mouth or, better yet square in the nose. That'd shut it up. At this point Zoro has his gaze locked on you, it's somewhat unreadable but serious no less. Next is Luffy, then Usopp, and lastly Sanji. Wow, staring contest of the goddamn century.

"She's obviously been there before and could even be working for the bastard. God you guys are stupid. If I were you I'd ask pretty crucial questions before just throwing any random board my ship."

Luffy is quiet, looking from the map, and then back to you.

"You're already dealing with the aftermath of that as we speak HA! You'll end up doing it again if you keep bringing these random broads. " The clown head speaks, that same grin on his face.

"Yeah well, it's not like the fishy bastard took a chunk out of this 'broads' shoulder. You were stuck in a fuckin bag for that part though, huh Ronald Mcdonald?" Ouhhh the irritation in your voice is wicked.

His jaw drops as he fiends offense. This jackass has been active for no more than 5 minutes and he's already worked his way under your skin. Speaking of which, it's practically melting off as the rest of your 'crew' continue to stare for an answer. The clown had a point, they hadn't asked any questions and you'd just ended up being aboard with Sanji.

"Now's a good time to start talking," Zoro speaks finally, his hand ready at his sword. The last thing you wanted was tension among the people you'd most likely be spending an extended amount of time with. Despite this, your finger itches towards your picks in response.

"Oh yeah 'cause you talk plenty, don't you. I know the way because I've seen Arlong before. I made an assumption if you were even listening that he MIGHT be there still. That'll be the last time I call myself trying to be helpful. Or is 'useful' more of a term you'd like?" You'd hardly realized how close you'd gotten to the man, the sneer ever-present on your lips. Sanjis' at your side, giving a touch over your hips to try and reel you back.

It's quiet again but that clown's laughter rings loud and clear enough to offset the current debacle.

"Ha! Struck a nerve there. Listen, she is right though, you're gonna head in that direction. We get to the island and sing kumbaya, I get my body you get the girl, and everyone's happy!" He jokes, hobbling again to turn his head.

What a fabulous start to the tip. A panic attack and almost a fight. Simply fucking splendid. God, you needed a drrink.

-

It's dark now, and you hadn't left this room since you'd found it hours ago. You needed to reset. Gods know the longer you stay and interact with these strange characters you'd fucking explode. For some odd reason, in your newly adopted quarters you can still feel his phantom touch.

It lingers, something you make note of. The small of your back tingles, as does your waist and shoulder. Your neck and chin tinge and tingle in delight, resulting in a shiver that shimmies its way up your curves spine. Oh right...that's why they so prominent right now. Becaus you were filthy and couldn't help but let your fingers slip past your panties.

The ship rocks and creacks and with each splash of waves against the hull, much like the waters, you drip.

Promiscuous and touch-starved.

How long had it been since someone had been gentle with you, let their hands ghost over your skin. It didn't matter, you'd found ways to satiate the need, even if it was just temporary. You freeze when there's a knock at your door.

You take a breath, notn quite trusting your voice.

"One moment."

Slipping on a spare night dress in a hurry, you open the door.

-

She's beautiful. Her eyes were low and glossy, and her pupils were blown wide. Her chest rises and falls as the ruffles on the nightdress adorn her body so prettily. What is it she reminds me of? I can't seem to put my finger on it.

"I saved you a plate. Luffy was supposed to come tell you but he sid you didn't respond." I speak, seeing her breathe catch for a second.

Her lips part just a pinch and it finally rings in my head.

A doll.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't join you sooner, bad attitude still."

I smile, my hand clenched in my pocket. Fuck my palms are sweaty. Shaking my head in response, I panic at the silence that follows. It was just like earlier when we first parted. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. If anything I'd know what a panic attack looks like and with the way her face seemed paler than before, and her hands shook, I couldn't be far off. Or maybe it was just sea sickness. Didn't matter, some things just were my place to ask. But I can't catch the question before it's out my mouth and in the air.

"Are you alright?"

She breathes heavily, shoulder slumping in exhale as she avoids my gaze. There it is. Whatever it was she was either gonna tell me a half-truth or a lie.

"Splendid."

Lie

I nod looking down the hall as if it'd help me escape and prevent any further questions I had from prospering. I was wrong.

"Fancy a drink?"

It's simultaneous and we laugh, so natural and her laugh is damn melodic.

-

Sanji was without a doubt one of the most talented chefs you'd ever had the pleasure of eating from. The food in front of you was proof of that. You can't help but melt at every bite of the dish before you, it was just so freaking good. Maybe it's cause you haven't had a proper meal in about a day or two as well. Mix that little fact with the wine he keeps pouring and you're done for.

Conversation flows easily, the two of you letting whatever comes to mind simply pass with each moment.

"So, about what he said earlier.." Sanji begins, inhaling from his cigarette as you swallow down the wine you'd just drank.

"The clown or Zoro? Either way, they were right to be cautious. I'm not a threat that's for sure though." You explain.

He hums in response, leaning against his hair with spread legs. Fuck his thighs look good strained against the fabric of his slacks.

"It's been a long time since I've been on a ship. I... I was on one years ago and I traveled to the exact island were going to. Arlong was stationed there and I guess I just never forgot my way back." You explain, tracing the rim of the glass. Not like you had a choice to forget where it was...

"You don't have to explain to me. We've both got trauma, we grow and we get better. You seem to have gotten better." He admits, gaze unwavering.

"Damn, I should be an actress then cause I'm one traumatic event from falling apart." You spoke as he laughs

Sarcastic humor seemed to be his forte and you couldn't help but feed into it, each giggle that slips past your lips creeping its way closer to a full belly laugh. And when he smiles like that, so pretty it makes your chest squeeze. His piercing peeks out just a little, mouth wide with a smile as he tilts his head back.

You sigh, sipping at the wine again, your both a bottle in, the second one nearing its end.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're spoiling me Sanji." You hum, his smile was still present, blue eyes scanning your frame.

He stands, taking your empty plate before approaching the sink and speakng.

"You think so? Pretty girls shouldn't have to eat alone. Thought you'd like company" He admits, washing the dish, awaiting a response.

You finish off your glass and set it in the sink. He pauses for a moment, realising just how close you were, almost pressed against his back.

"Not a girl blondie." You whisper, the wine definitely sinking into your system if it hadn't before.

He swears, squeezing the sponge and plate. Any harder and it'd shatter.

The veins in his forearms are strained and you let yourgaze linger. As if your thought weren't far from ur at the moment this was only making it worse. You reach around him, just barely missing the curve o his hips.

"What're you-"

"A woman."

You shut the water off, stepping away from him with coy smile

"Thank you for the meal and the wine. It was lovely, Sanji."

He swears again, trying to cove it up with a laugh and another smile. Too late, you can see right past the facade.

"Ah, of course. Get some rest, Y/n"

Safe to say you love how Sanji says your name.

-

Morning comes quick and docking is quicker. Sanji is carrying the clown head sack this time and he doesn't seem too thrilled about it. You figured it best not to these him cause you could very well end up carrying the damn thing yourself if you didn't find his body. You manage to slip into some extra clothes, considering the ones you were wearing when this little excursion started were thoroughly torn from the fight.

Your shoes weren't practical but they'd have to do for now. A simple cream-colored blouse with a neckline that dipped almost too far down paired with some pants that were almost too tight was what you sported. Until your next docking point, you'd definitely have to make this last and maybe not have it get fucked up in a fight.

Though you didn't know much about this 'Nami' besides her name, you could feel whatever anxiety from the rest of the crew sink into your skin and turn your tummy. No one really spoke. Well, besides Usopp trying to convince everyone that he should go back to the ship.

You try keeping pace, Luffy and Zoro at the front, Sanji in the middle, Usopp and yourself lagging behind. Since he was the only one really talking, it wouldn't hurt to chat back.

"Soooo Nami, you guys know each other long?" You ask, slowing down so that you're side by side.

"No, but it feels like I have. I know she wouldn't do this to us just because. She's not that kind of person." He speaks, eyes solemn. If you were thinking correctly, each one of these 'crew' members, yourself included was picked up from somewhere else.

"I see. How did you end up on this crew anyway?" You ask, opening a door you had no idea about.

Usopp was about to tell you the story of a lifetime.

Authors note: heyyyy everyone here's chapter 4 a little longer than chapter 3. I'm really trying to like build this up before we get to the super 18+ parts but uhhh we got our first little taste lol. As stated before lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :D

Taglist: : @waannty @strangermeats @nymeriiia @noom147