#this takes place during chapter... 2 or 3

[runabout-river]

No matter what Gege does with Gojo, I don’t think it will be satisfying for me

I considered every option for what could possibly happen with Gojo, regardless of how likely I think they are, and I genuinely can't find myself considering any of them a satisfying conclusion.

**1. He is dead and no one will mention him in the last chapter.**

Hate this. So much. Random civilians in Shibuya were shown respect by Yuji in the middle of chaos and panic, but nobody has ANYTHING nice to say about Gojo?? Since the fight ended, we got Kusakabe saying he is at fault for not killing Yuji and Shoko calling him an idiot (endearingly) for not destroying Geto's body. Lovely.

**2. He is dead and somebody will say something or we will be shown a grave.**

Better but still bad. I feel like the ship has sailed at this point. They had a chance while reflecting on the fight and we got nothing. Megumi and Shoko were at Tsumiki's grave and... we got nothing. I think it's pretty safe to say no one will be mourning him in the last chapter, they're already going on missions after all. And a simple mention feels incredibly cold and empty.

**3. He is dead but will come back to life due to his soul still not departing and sacrificing one of the Six Eyes in a binding vow.**

I won't comment on how possible or not this is because Yuta managed to return to his body simply by being in proximity of Rika. If Gege wants to write it, he can. However, we are talking about the last chapter of the manga and this would absolutely take away the spotlight from Yuji. Not to mention that this route needs groundwork that I don't think 19 pages can provide for. ALSO, this still doesn't explain why nobody is sad or willing to acknowledge him because, to them, he is dead.

**4. He is actually alive and that's why nobody has been shown to be sad about him.**

Would make sense in terms of characters like Yuji and Yuta not showing any emotion towards him. But this isn't like Nobara's situation. Like I said, it needs build up. A character like Gojo should be shown making his choice, not just appearing out of nowhere. It would add absolutely nothing to his arc and would honestly be pure fanservice.

**5. The dream theory.**

I don’t know how much you've heard about this but there is a theory going around that these last chapters or more have all been a dream. I won't do any analysis on the validity of it because this isn't important to my point. "Who's dream?" is the actual question here.

**a) It is Yuji's dream.**

You want to tell me somebody as kind and compassionate as Yuji has no place for his teacher in his dream of a happier tomorrow? Get out of here.

**b) It is a collective dreamlike state, a product of Sukuna's activation of the Merger despite the rules imposed on it.**

Again, nobody, not a single soul, has it in their heart to include Gojo in their dream? In any way other than criticizing him? It would go against all the care Yuji and Yuta have shown for him and be a genuinely awful characterization. It would show he was actually not loved at all, something we know isn't true.

**c) It is Gojo's dream.**

So, Gojo is dreaming of a world where his body is used as a weapon, his students don't care enough to even mention his name and life goes on as if he never existed? He can imagine himself being blamed but not having a place in his ideal future? Do you want me to kill myself?

I would really like to hear opinions or other options if you have any. Right now, this is all just sad.

*Cracks Knuckles*

First of all, I have read the dream theory and I believe it's possible but for now we take the last chapters at face value.

Yes, the lack of any mourning for Gojo (and Choso) is sad and a sour note at the end of the manga. We already had this lack of regard for his death during the Shinjuku fights. There I could understand though how the characters pushed all their feelings to the side once Gojo had been defeated.

They needed to act fast and steadfast, so we got most of their concern and other emotions while Gojo was still fighting.

Now though there is no excuse anymore. JJK had alwasy been a little loose when it came to the slower and reflective moments but Gege had the space the previous chapter to fill it with somehting meaningful. Instead we got an unnecessary explanation of the New Shadow Style school system that's just plain unimportant three chapters before the end.

So in that regard, yes, Gege fumbled it. Even in the driest part of Gojo's death, there still should've been an earth-shattering shake up of the status quo the same way his birth had changed the jujutsu world. But that was also lacking because chapter 270 basically erased all conflict in the story.

So what will happen now?

Your option 1) hate it, too :D

Option 2) nothing to add. Perfectly said how Gojo should've already been talked about instead of letting it go to the last chapter where he most likely won't get centre stage.

Now to Option 3/4) First, the last chapter will be longer than 19 pages. It was either double or tripple the length of a normal chapter so there is more time to flesh the last things out. Second, I have my own theory on how Yuta using Kenjaku's CT on Gojo's body and then getting ejected from it, might've have permanently revived Gojo.

I don't like Gojo being just alive though because that would be anticlimatic and detrimental to the high stakes and emotions that came before. It would be just one more thing in this super happy ending everyone got (except Choso). What could work though is Gojo's body being alive but in a vegetatitve state. Then it would be open ended how his story would go on.

Now the thing about the dream theory is: Yuji only imagines the good things. That's why characters where their death was ambiguous are all alive and only those who had been 100% confirmed dead are dead. With Yuji doing the dreaming, he would push negative feelings about death away and mourning is one such feeling and he had done exactly that previously as well.

If this theory comes true, Yuji would be mourning way more than just Gojo's death at the end. He would also be mourning the good end he envisioned for everyone. And that's sad but also... what I would prefer in contrast with this sugar cloud of a happy ending.

[jumbledpages]

You want it back? Come and get it~!

different images under the cut

[stargazer-dreamer]

It's on the Tip of My Tongue Chapter 2

character: yami sukehiro

content warnings: denial of feelings, jealousy

reader: gender neutral; ring magic user

chapter list: 1, 2 [you are here]

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. pre-relationship. part of the stoprewind verse

Mealtimes at the Black Bulls were chaotic. In the week leading up to your official first day, you had no idea—you hadn’t dined a single meal with them. Either out for lunch with Finral during a break, or so focused on getting your room cleaned that you didn’t notice the plate left for you at the door until it grew cold, you hadn’t sat down at the table with everyone until the ebony robe sat upon your shoulders and the paperwork was properly filed away. And even then, it took the witch coming out to find you and bring you back already in the thick of it to get you to understand exactly how hectic things could get.

It was well-past noon, and you and Yami had wandered aimlessly throughout the forest talking. It turns out, he was serious about getting to know you—but his version of this seemed to only consist of asking unrelated questions one after another until you were sure he didn’t actually care about the answers he was getting at all. It became quite repetitive, a question and a reply, the captain barely sparing a moment to reflect on your answer given until he’s moved on to the next.

He probably does this to all the new guys, you thought, stepping over a fallen tree branch in the path, to help them feel included. You were going to be living under the same roof—you figured the plan was that Yami would spend some quality time with you before returning back to his normal routine. Break the ice, learn some facts about you, converse a little. The two of you were, after all, supposed to be working closely together from then on out. It made sense that he would be working from a mental script—he was the captain. This was apart of the job.

Nothing else to it. Nothing at all. But I didn’t know Yami was such a poor conversationalist…

It was starting to get ridiculous. You watched as he bent to pick the branch off of the ground. Pausing for a moment, he slowly rose to full height with it in hand, an unidentifiable look sitting on his face. Eyes on the branch, you watched as his eyebrows furrowed. And then, in a large swooping motion, he whipped the branch to the side. You blinked. He did it again, and again, and again, and with one step forward one more time, before straightening back up again.

After a pause, he looked at you, tossing the branch to the side. He said—“What do you like to eat?”

For a moment, all you could do was stare. What kind of a demonstration was that? And that’s what he decided to ask you? Mouth opening trying to formulate a response, you were needlessly cut off by a rising, grumbling noise. It came from Yami’s direction. The longer it continued, you realized that it was coming from the captain himself. Namely: his stomach.

“Oh!” you bit back a laugh, understanding the question now. “Oh, you’re—okay, yeah! We can find a place in town. Here—” a ring left one of your fingers and hovered in midair between the two of you. “There’s a place I really like that serves—”

“There you two are!”

Voice drowned out by the sudden interruption, the two of you looked skybound. Up higher than the trees, a figure on a broomstick waved, her dark robe stark against the sky. Flying in a sweeping circle, she found a break in the treeline and descend; the wide brim of her hat fluttering in the wind as she did. Landing, she walked over with the stick over her shoulder. Her eyes shone like jewels, tinted lips curving the closer she got. She was recognizable even from a glance—Vanessa Enoteca.

“I was sent to look for you guys!” she said, with a hand on her hip. She was as beautiful as they say. Perhaps moreso, in person. “Figured you guys would be in town by now, but now that I think about it—this makes way more sense!” She smiled at you like she knew something, but you were certain you had absolutely no clue on what exactly that something was. Before you had time to respond however, her gaze traveled. “A quiet little outing—I didn’t expect that from you, Yami!”

The captain shifted his weight, reaching for a new cigarette and swatting at your still-floating ring, causing it to return to your finger.

The action didn’t go unnoticed, but, “Lunch is ready,” she was carrying on. “Let’s get back and eat!” And with that, she turned on her heels and started down the path with a bounce in her step.

Hesitating, you adjusted the now resting ring on your finger. The final piece of the puzzle put itself into place in your mind as Yami’s hand came down gently on your shoulder as he passed you, leaning down so his next words were heard by you only—“Next time,” he said, scratching the hairline at the back of his neck. The action drew him closer, and his next words came quieter, a rumble that shot exactly to where it shouldn’t—“There’s a place I like. I’ll take you.”

---

Despite the order of finding work, it seemed like the entire squadron was there; filling their plates high and chatting all the while, loud and boisterous—this was the Black Bulls you knew. Sitting in a circle around a rather large table, chairs and sofas had been moved to gather around; the common room transformed into a space to share a meal together. The noise was incredible, each person’s voice raised to speak over the other, seemingly in a constant loop that grew louder and louder by the second.

“Captain!” called the man with the mohawk. Magna Swing, with his gloves still on and sunglasses pushed up towards his hairline. “I saved seats for you!” He patted heartily at the loveseat beside him, nestled between him and Finral. “Come eat!”

Vanessa found a seat on the opposite end of the table—and it appeared that the only remaining place for you was right next to Yami. A bit sheepishly, you followed him into the fray and sat down. It was a bit of a tight fit—the loveseat was of average size but Yami’s bulk was anything but average. An unfortunate shift in your seat could have your thighs pressed up against each other—and following that specific line of thought, you snuck a peek sideways out of the corner of your eye.

He was silent, face once again unreadable as he filled his plate with the buffet before him. The reach of his arm going across the table towards the various foods stretched his muscles nicely, and when he pulled back, the shape of his biceps had you—

At least Finral was on the other side of you. “Welcome back,” he smiled. “You two were gone for a while.” There was a certain lit to his voice, one that brought to mind the memory of earlier in the day, when just about everyone had laid witness to the misunderstanding in front of the base.

Your face burned. “N-no! We were just talking!” You looked towards Yami but any additional input you hoped he would have provided was nonexistent—his plate now towered high with several portions worth of food. He slapped thieving hands away, the movement drawing your eyes to the ring encircling his finger. Stealing the light, it sat vivid against his skin and the scars that embedded him. A new connection; a bond formed between the two of you, the ring a symbol of your—

“We were just talking,” was your explanation. For everything. “Just walking around the woods!”

Finral gave you another smile, polite this time, and raised his glass to his lips. “Okay, okay. I won’t embarrass you.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” came Yami’s voice before the overloaded plate was dropped in front of you. “Figured we’d talk in peace. Finally. What with you hogging up my new ride’s time and all.” His face was still indescribable, but the angle of his brows were curious as he locked eyes with Finral. “Couldn’t even offer a simple hello before you started portaling across the entire kingdom.”

There was a certain hardness coming from the captain. A pressure that weighed you down, leaving you sinking into the cushions as suddenly an awkwardness settled within the room; a haze that slowly drowned out every voice. Not so subtlety, conversations stilled and all eyes came to your side of the table.

Avoiding every gaze, you focused your attention on the food. There was just about everything on that plate, the entire buffet’s worth of selection spilling over each other and tumbling down the tower every so often—and a glance at Yami found him without a plate of his own. Admittedly, with so many different flavors and textures mixed together, it didn’t look very appetizing at all—but a fork was passed over to you, so you started to dig in, if only to appear that you weren’t paying attention.

Picking at the bread, you listened as Finral sputtered. “I was just doing what you asked of me!” his eyes flickered in your direction. “Come on, I’m not trying to—we still have a lot of places to mark—”

“Now you suddenly want to work.” Coming from Yami, it didn’t sound like a question.

You knew of Finral’s reputation—he was known to slack off, often found leisuring around the castletowns instead of working. You frowned, remembering that day in the alleyway. The two of you were paired up immediately, imprinting upon countless and countless of locations, so really, who’s fault was it that you were often together? Besides, Finral was working—what was wrong with that? From what you’ve heard, he was usually off flirting…

Cutting through your thoughts like a hot knife, your attention was pulled across the table towards the starry-eyed boy from before as he called out to you. The conversation happening at your side drowned out as you tried to remember the kid’s name.

“Asta!” he supplied. “From Hage Village!” You didn’t know where that was. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you before—what kind of magic do you use?”

His obliviousness to the confrontation happening literally right in front of him was a breather, causing a soft reset in the vibe at the table overall. Slowly, conversations started to pick back up and the noise level steadily grew—not to what it once was, but high enough to no longer be as obvious about the eavesdropping as before.

“It’s ring magic,” you explained, trying to concentrate. With multiple conversations happening all around you—including the one currently flying over your head—you were finding it exceedingly difficult to hear yourself. “I can do a lot of things with it, but it follows the basic functions of rings as a whole.”

Asta shoveled food into his mouth as he looked at you in awe. Without swallowing, he asked, “What’s that?”

“Communication. At least, that’s how I think of it.” You thought of playing with your mother’s jewelry box as a child, and fiddling with her rings. They were cheap things, bought on whims, but you didn’t care. They were beautiful; hers, a piece of her left with you while she worked long hours, away from home. You felt your heart start to swell at the thought of it. Inspired, you carried on. “A ring usually signifies a bond or status, so I can use them as communication or tracking devices. Opening portals is what I do the most though—it’s just so much easier to take one step as opposed to walking all the way across town.”

Suddenly solemn, your eyes lowered as you remembered: “It’s not a really desirable attribute though, since it’s so easily replaceable with actual magical items. And it’s no good in a fight.”

“What are you talking about? It sounds like you could do all sorts of cool stuff,” Asta chewed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what other people think—aren’t you here because of your magic?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to learn how to fight, I can teach you!” A messy-haired boy spoke up from the other end of the table. You recognized him as Luck Volta; and if his reputation is anything to go by, you knew taking him up on that offer was a bad idea.

His static raising your hair already, you frantically shook your head—“No, thank you, really, I’m not good at that—”

“If you need help with your magic, you should ask Gauche!” A small girl was stuffing her face. As she paused to down her drink, you were able to catch a glimpse of her features—Charmy Pappitson. She pointed in the direction of the man in question. “He’s usually using an item, too—he could probably give you some good advice!”

Gauche Adlai was looking at a photograph in his hand, hardly touching his food at all. Monotone, he replied, “I only help my sister.”

“Focusing on one aspect of your magic isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Vanessa sipped directly from a bottle. “You’re working on portals, right? I heard you can make a whole lot more than you used to—and it’s only been a week! You should give it a proper spin.” Before you could ask what that meant exactly, the shine in her eyes appeared again as she stood up from her seat. Circling the table quickly, she came to a stop behind you. With each arm, she pulled both Finral and Yami closer, encaging you in a huddle of sorts.

“Okay you two, I think we can all agree that Finral can take a little break,” she smiled. “Yami! Why don’t you two lovebirds go on that mission you were talking about earlier?” She shot you a wink, “The two of you are perfect for the job!”

[nostalgia-tblr]

in fic news i realised that i've accidentally commited myself to several scenes of jotunn!sylvie porn rather than just the one that i'd initially added mainly for the weirdness factor

[dittomander]

ohh nnnnoooOOOOOOOO

oh my god i fucked it up

I got so caught up in the euphoria of fixing the desk problem that it completely slipped past me that I wrote a chapter with Gabe in it during a time where he ISN'T EVEN IN THE COUNTRY

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 2 

word count — 43k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff 

part 1 — part 2

synopsis —  campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter warnings — explicit content, swearing, mature language, sexual jokes, heated smut, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, voyeurism (yn gets off watching a video of jeno’s cock yeehaw), oral sex, intense emotional scenes, ‘daddy’ name calling smut scene, hard dom jeno, choking, jeno fucks reader in headlock, mirror smut, jeno pussy eater, reader sits on jeno’s face, degradation, slapping, spitting, exhibitionism, orgasm control/denial, name-calling, dirty talk, intense and graphic descriptions of sexual activity, emotional vulnerability, hard angst in this one, tear jerker moments, really emotional scenes, heated confrontations, heated fights, a lot of secrets and exposed, heavy reliance on drugs and alcohol to cope, lots of smoking, drinking, getting high, so many college parties, so many band shows, jeno and arin revelations, confused and misleading jeno, jeno and arin moments, reader, jeno and arin moments, girl boss yn, girl moments🫶, possessive sexy jeno, jealous jeno, full penetrative sex, soft soft smut, deep intimacy and emotional connection, size kink, with emphasis on fit and fullness, praising and reassurance during sex, consensual and tender dynamic, heightened emotional depth, including tears and deep affection, slow pace with meaningful, deliberate thrusts, nudity in a semi-public, playful and loving interactions with a focus on mutual satisfaction, declarations of love and monogamy, soft and passionate kissing, emotional climax with affirmations of love and fidelity

author note — it’s here 🥹🥹 thank you for all your love and support, this is the final part and it’s making me so emotional. i hope you all enjoy <3 get your tissues ready lol. please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah enjoy 💋

in your eyes masterlist

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Silence fills the room.

You let out a hollow laugh, your body tensing as you prepare to stand up and walk away. However, Jeno's soft, pleading eyes root you to the spot. “What is this, Jeno?” you ask, your voice unintentionally gentle, betraying the firmness you had intended.

Jeno reaches out, attempting to pull you back onto his lap, but you shake your head firmly, maintaining your distance. He lets out a weary sigh, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “Y/N, just hear me out, please,” he pleads.

“You have two minutes,” you respond, your tone flat, as you glance at the phone, the silence hanging heavily between you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours as he grabs the phone from the table, an electric charge of contact that sends a shiver up your spine. He turns off the phone decisively, silencing it before Arin’s call can go to voicemail. You watch, puzzled and slightly overwhelmed, as he places the phone facedown on the table, ensuring that nothing distracts him from this moment with you.

Arin’s relentless calls continue, the phone vibrating insistently on the tabletop, but Jeno doesn’t give it another glance. His eyes, dark and intense, are locked on yours, conveying a seriousness that commands your attention.

“Those photos and videos shouldn’t be there, and I’m sorry I didn’t delete them. Honestly, I had a lot of photos and videos like that, with Arin, on my phone. I thought I had deleted them all, but obviously not. Some might still be there and I know how careless that is, I’m really sorry.” He says with a mix of regret and sincerity, his voice carrying a hint of apology and concern for your feelings. He's straightforward yet gentle, acknowledging the mistake and taking responsibility for it.

You take a deep breath, your gaze fixed on Jeno. His eyes reflect a sincerity that tugs at your heartstrings, warming the cold edges of your doubt. As he waits patiently for your response, the quiet empathy in his expression helps steady the whirl of emotions inside you.

“You really didn’t mean to keep them?” you ask quietly, needing just that bit of reassurance. 

“No, not at all,” he replies quickly, his voice firm. 

Feeling the warmth of his hand encasing yours, the sincerity in his voice helps tilt the balance of your emotions towards trust. You nod slowly, trying to process his words. It's not anger or disappointment that fills you, but a mix of confusion and uncertainty. You're unsure how to react, torn between wanting to believe him and feeling a pang of doubt nagging at the back of your mind.

“Why do you still have her number saved?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard when a storm of emotions is raging inside you.

Jeno pauses, looking thoughtful, as if he’s sorting through the right words. “When we—when we split up, a lot of things went wrong. It wasn’t just messy, it was painful, and I blocked her number to help myself move past it. That was over a year ago, and it took a while, but I’ve been trying to get over it,” he explains, his tone reflecting a mix of regret and contemplation.

“And when exactly did this conversation happen?” your voice shakes slightly, the weight of his words settling in.

“It was about six months ago,” he replies, the timeline aligning just before the two of you had started seeing each other more seriously, you sigh in relief. 

“So, you’re okay with her now?” you probe gently, needing to hear him say it.

He shifts slightly, making eye contact with you as he continues. “A few months back, she reached out. She apologized, and it seemed heartfelt. We had a long conversation, and it helped me see things from a different perspective. I’ve always found it hard to maintain bad blood with anyone, even if things ended badly. I’m a people pleaser. So, I forgave her,” he adds, a softness in his voice that tells you this isn’t just about moving on but about healing.

“Oh.” You mumble, a deep frown plastered on your face. "She keeps on calling, Jeno," your voice comes out softer, tinged with a hint of fear as the words hover between you, carrying more weight than intended. Your eyes shift to his phone on the bedside table, its screen lighting up insistently with each ring, the vibrations echoing the tension in the room.

He sighs, a deep sound filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. As he leans forward to grab his phone, which continues its insistent ringing on the bedside table, you move faster. Your hand snatches it up before he can touch it, pressing the answer button with a sharp jab.

“Hi,” you say, your voice flat, giving nothing away.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end is light, confused, but undeniably sweet.

“Me,” you reply tersely, as if that should explain everything. There’s a pause—a moment of silence where the simplicity of your answer hangs in the air.

“Is Jeno there?” The voice on the other end is light, tinged with a hopeful note that makes it harder to stay indifferent.

You hesitate, the simple inquiry echoing oddly in your chest. “Yeah,” you admit reluctantly.

“Could you tell him Arin wants to speak to him?” Her voice is sweet, almost disarmingly so, and her words are polite, her request reasonable.

You turn to Jeno, relaying the message with a stiffness in your voice, “Arin wants to talk to you.” You watch his expression for any sign of what he’s thinking, but he remains inscrutable.

He doesn’t respond verbally; instead, he simply extends his hand for the phone. The ease of his gesture, the quiet acceptance, it isn’t what you wanted. You had hoped for a denial, a refusal, some affirmation that the past was just that—the past. Yet, here he was, ready to slip back into old conversations as if they were nothing.

Jeno's fingers gently curl around the phone, the action deliberate and calm. The warmth in his gaze as he met yours moments before shifts as he brings the device to his ear. There's a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable before they settle into a determined glint. You watch, almost holding your breath, as the conversation unfolds.

"I'm busy," he states simply, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside you, Jeno's blunt dismissal catches you off guard. It's a sharp contrast to the gentle way he usually speaks, and it anchors you back to the moment with a jolt of unexpected approval.

On the other end, there's a pause—a momentary breath of silence that feels charged with tension. "Will you call me later?" Arin's voice filters through, her tone a mix of hope and hesitation.

"Probably not," Jeno replies, his response as clipped as before. The simplicity of his words, the casual dismissal, it adds layers to the scenario unfolding before you.

"But, Jeno, it’s important," Arin insists, her voice pressing for something more, something beyond the brief exchange.

"Ok?" His intonation rises slightly, a question in the guise of a response, signaling he’s not committed to the promise of another conversation. His fingers tighten slightly around the phone, a visible sign of his discomfort or perhaps his resolve.

As you observe him, a mix of feelings courses through you. There’s an unexpected surge of relief that he’s not engaging more than necessary, yet a lingering doubt nibbles at your thoughts, wondering what was so important that Arin still reached out despite his clear resistance.

He ends the call swiftly, the screen going dark as he places the phone back down. His gaze returns to you, searching, perhaps unsure of how much you've interpreted or how deeply the brief exchange might have affected you.

"You handled that... differently than I expected," you venture, your voice a careful blend of curiosity and subtle approval. 

Jeno exhales, a long, deep breath that seems to release some of the tension that had built up. "I didn’t want to drag things out—there’s no point. It's better to keep it short and clear."

His response makes you nod, understanding his approach but still processing the entire interaction. The simplicity of his handling was reassuring, yet the complexity of his past relationship with Arin still hung in the air, an unspoken chapter that was slowly coloring the edges of your own story with him.

"You think she’ll call back?" you ask, a trace of concern threading your words.

He shrugs, his expression a blend of indifference and slight irritation. "Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. I meant what I said."

His hand finds yours, the warmth familiar and comforting, and in that touch, you find a silent promise—a commitment to face whatever comes, together. "Why don't you want to talk to her anymore?" you ask softly, your curiosity tinged with a need to understand his perspective.

Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his eyes reflecting a deep seriousness that seems to draw you in. “I’ve gotten closure from what happened with her. I have nothing left to say to her. I'm here with you now, and you deserve my full energy and attention,” he says earnestly, his hand reaching up to gently caress the side of your face, his touch conveying the depth of his commitment. The way he looks at you, so intently, makes it clear that he's fully moved on, though he adds, “I can't speak for her, but I’ve put it all behind me.”

You nod, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, but still a bit puzzled. "I don’t get it though, does she call you a lot?"

"A few times, but I always say I’m busy and end the call. You know, a lot of people reach out to me; I don’t pay special attention to her calls. They just blend in with the rest," he explains, his tone dismissive of the significance of her attempts to contact him, emphasizing his focus is entirely on the present and specifically, on you. His hand remains on your face, maintaining a gentle but affirming touch that reassures you of his priorities.

He releases your face gently and reaches for his phone, which lay forgotten on the table beside you. His movements are deliberate, each action punctuated with a silent promise of transparency.

You watch, your heart in your throat, as Jeno unlocks his phone. The screen lights up, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. He navigates with familiar ease, a few swipes bringing him back to the gallery. His thumb hovers over the photo of Arin—a brief pause, a final acknowledgment of the past—and then he presses down, selecting the option to delete.

The action is simple yet profound. He doesn’t look away from you as he does it, his eyes holding yours, ensuring you understand the significance of the gesture. “It’s gone,” he says, a finality in his tone. He doesn’t just delete the photo; he also takes a moment to clear it from the recently deleted album, erasing all possible traces of her image.

He lifts your chin gently, guiding your gaze back to his. The warmth of his hands radiates comfort as they cup your face, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. His eyes search yours, seeking to convey everything his words might have left unsaid.

He pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace that feels like a safe haven from the storm of emotions brewing inside you. You lean into him, your head resting against his chest, where you can hear the steady beat of his heart—a reassuring rhythm in the midst of your turmoil.

He wraps a blanket around you as he notices the slight tremble in your shoulders, the soft fabric adding another layer of warmth. His lips find your forehead, planting soft kisses that make their way down to your closed eyelids, each touch light but filled with intent, as if trying to kiss away your worries.

You’re enveloped in his warmth, feeling the security of his hold tighten slightly when he feels you shiver, not from the cold, but from the emotional chill the photo has left in its.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks you softly, you feel his fingers brushing over your eyelids, his touch gentle and comforting, yet there’s an underlying tension in the air. You hum in confusion, not fully registering his question as your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Arin.

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” you finally voice, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, echoing the turmoil inside you.

“Y/N—” he begins, but you cut him off, your curiosity burning within you.

“What’s happened with you and Arin? Why did you break up?” you press, needing answers to quell the unease in your heart.

“Y/N, it really isn’t relevant anymore—”

“You obviously used to love her at one point. It’s relevant. I’ve heard from many people that you and Arin were serious. Is it wrong if I want to know how you got together and why it ended?” you challenge, your voice firm with determination.

He exhales slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an intensity that demands truth and clarity.

“We were never officially together. She was never my girlfriend. But I loved her. I cared a lot about her and always wanted her around, but I knew there were a lot of problems with us,” he begins, his honesty setting the tone.

“How did you meet her?” you ask, curiosity weaving through your tone.

Jeno’s gaze softens, a reflective smile briefly passing over his lips. “I first met her when we were 16. We’ve known each other for a long time. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, always in and out of each other’s houses. We always found our way to each other.” 

As you listen to Jeno describe Arin, a tight pang clenches in your chest, but curiosity propels you forward. Questions spill from your mouth before you can stop them. “What was she like? How did you fall for her?”

He looks off into the distance, his expression softening as he reminisces. “She was like summer in a person—bright, warm, impossible to ignore,” he begins, his voice soft and reflective. “She had this laugh that could light up a room, and she was always so… alive, you know? Full of energy and love.”

You notice how his face lights up when he talks about her, the warmth in his voice unmistakable as he drifts back to those days. It’s clear from his tone and his faraway look that those memories hold a special place in his heart, even now.

He sighs, shifting slightly as he continues, Jeno’s smile widens a fraction, tinged with a youthful nostalgia. Pausing, he looks at you, ensuring the story is not overwhelming. “And yeah, we were each other’s firsts,” he admits, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said no because she was moving away. That was the first time she ever told me," he sighs. "When she left, it felt like I was losing a part of me I didn’t know could be lost."

Jeno says, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "I dealt with it by trying to move on—I had sex with a lot of different girls, kissed others. It was my way of filling the void she left."

“Three years later, by some twist of fate, we ended up at the same college. It was like no time had passed at all, and all those old feelings came rushing back. We reconnected instantly, drawn to each other all over again.”

“But you were never official?” you probe gently, picking up on his earlier thread.

He shakes his head. “When we were 16, we were only together for a summer before she moved away. We were never boyfriend and girlfriend. We were exclusive though, when we were 16 and then in college.” 

“Nayoung mentioned that you guys used to casually fuck, that you were fuck buddies… friends with benefits?” you inquire, needing to understand the dynamics of their past relationship.

"It was more than that," he replies softly, his voice showing a slight frustration with the label. "It wasn't just about casual hookups. When we got back together in college, it was comforting and familiar. We slipped back into each other's lives effortlessly. It was like a habit, almost too easy."

Jeno’s eyes held a vulnerable honesty as he spoke, his fingers absently tracing the back of your hand, seeking a reassuring touch. “You probably think I sound so pathetic, so caught up in someone who I fell in love with when I was 16 and feeling the effects of that even after all this time.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his honesty. It’s difficult to acknowledge that he’s not in the wrong for his emotions; they are a part of his history, part of what has shaped him. “I don’t think you’re an idiot at all,” you assure him gently, meeting his gaze with a supportive smile. “It’s a lot of history, a lot of significant moments. It makes sense.”

He exhales, a sound mixed with relief and appreciation. Jeno’s eyes soften, the gratitude evident as he looks at you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your skin in small, grateful circles. “You’re incredibly understanding, always.”

Silence overtakes the room and the eye contact you hold is intimate, the way he’s looking makes goosebumps run all over your skin and you suddenly feel so shy; his gaze is so heated and intense. You cough, averting your gaze. You feel him smile at your reaction, calling out your name softly as he leans forward to press his lips against your cheeks in a soft kiss.

“You were telling me?” you try to change the subject, wondering how he still manages to make you so shy and flustered.

He chuckles softly, his amusement clear as he appreciates your efforts to steer the conversation away from the deep. “Right, where was I?” Jeno teases gently, his voice low and soothing, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You were saying you were more than ‘friends with benefits’” you remind him, finding your voice again despite the strain you feel inside. 

He nods. “When we reunited in college, at the start, yeah, it was very much friends with benefits. She wasn’t ready to commit. But then, I started catching feelings; I fell for her. God knows what she felt; she was never good at communicating or expressing her true feelings. I think she fell for me too,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. 

“What happened? Why did it all end?” you ask, your voice carrying a note of finality, needing to know the closure.

“I needed more,” he admits, his voice firm but pained. “I wanted something stable, something real. She was still caught up in having no labels, no commitments. And I...” He sighs deeply, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “I loved her. I really did. But loving her and always wanting more than she could give... It was draining. I ended it because I couldn’t continue halfway between what we were and what I needed us to be.”

He looks at you, his eyes clear and earnest. “It hurt, but it was the right thing to do. For both of us.”

“Oh?” you mumble, trying to process his candidness.

He hums, a hint of a smile breaking through the solemnity. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head slowly. “I thought she did something wrong.”

“She wasn’t perfect, don’t get me wrong. I had a hard time getting used to such a negative side of her, especially because when we were younger she was nothing but kind. But when we started seeing each other in college, I noticed that she grew into something else completely, she had a lot of flaws. She was irrational, immature, and refused to communicate. We’d argue, and her way to fix it would be by trying to fuck me or suck my dick. It just infuriated me how childish she could be. She was also so jealous, to the point it was off-putting. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend, but she also got so annoyed if I ever spoke to another girl or did so much as look their way. She’s made a lot of girls feel uncomfortable because of how possessive she can be,” he explains, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident in his words.

“Nayoung mentioned something like that,” you murmur, memories surfacing from past conversations. “She said that she hated Arin because you stopped fucking her to go back to Arin.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. When I ended things with Arin, I went back to sleeping casually and fucking around, to deal with heartbreak, I guess. She became so jealous; it was ridiculous. At first, I used to fall for it. She’d try to tell me that she wanted me back, tried to convince me that she was serious about her feelings for me, that she wanted us to be together. And I would always go back to her. I was still in love with her at this point, so I’d drop anything and anyone for that chance. But then I realized she was just toying with me. She was never serious about it. She’d only say that because she didn’t want to see me with another girl, even if it was only just for sex. But she’d completely disrespect me,” he admits, his voice carrying a weight of past disappointments.

“She really did break my heart, I feel like a part of me is still broken. It took a long time to get over her.” 

You swallow hard, absorbing the weight of his words. Avoiding his gaze, you gather your courage to ask, “Do you still like her?”

He chuckles softly, surprised by the question. “God no, I’m over it.” You want to sigh in relief, but something in his voice leaves you hesitant. Was he really over it? He answers so quickly you don’t know if you can believe him.

Really?” you probe, needing reassurance.

“I wouldn’t be here, with you, right now if I still liked her. I’m over her, trust me,” he assures you, his tone softening with sincerity.

“Do you still love her?” you blurt out, unable to suppress your curiosity.

He sighs, his tone serious. “Y/N.”

“Jeno,” you press, needing clarity.

“No, I don’t love her anymore. I stopped loving her a long time ago,” he states firmly, his words carrying a sense of finality.

“What if she told you she was ready? That she wanted a relationship?” you inquire, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

He shakes his head firmly. “Nothing she says will ever make me change my mind. I will never feel the way I used to. I don’t trust or love her anymore.”

“Oh, very nice,” you respond bitterly, not quite knowing what to say, you were at a loss for words.

“You sure?” he says, amusement lacing his tone at your understated reaction.

His gaze softens, and he shifts your positions, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap, your chest pressed against his. His hands settle on the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest, his touch soothing the tension he senses within you. Cupping your face gently in his hands, he brushes his lips against yours, a soft peck that leaves you craving more.

“You don’t need to worry, okay? I would never go back to her,” he assures you, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’re so important to me, you mean so much to me. I cherish you so much. Don’t ever worry about Arin.”

All you can manage is a nod in response, overwhelmed by his words.

“Has she said anything to you? Has she tried to make you feel uncomfortable?” he probes, concern evident in his tone. “I’m only asking because she used to say a lot of rude stuff to girls I used to sleep with and you mean so much more to me than those girls, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Arin knew that and tried to get to you.”

You shake your head, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon you. “She hasn’t said anything to me yet but she always stares at me.” 

He hums softly. “If she ever does say something to you, don’t let her affect you, okay? She likes to do whatever she can to get into someone’s head but you’re stronger than that, right?  Don’t let her make you upset. Just ignore her and tell me if she bothers you, yeah?” he urges, his protective instincts kicking in.

You nod, “What would you do?”

He lets out a dry cough. “Whatever needs to be done. I’d do anything for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me.” His confidence and self-assurance make you hold back a moan.

You nod. “Of course I would.”

In a heartbeat, he responds, “You’re my priority, you’re my special one. You mean everything to me.”

“You’re so — you’re so cute, but you’re also very corny. Imagine if the guys heard you.” You snort. 

“I have nothing to hide, I’m not —”

But before he can finish, you cut him off with a kiss. The moment your lips meet, the atmosphere shifts, electrifying the air between you. His hands instinctively find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly nearer.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated, as desire courses through your veins. Your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you, as if you’re trying to merge into one. Every touch, every caress, sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Breaking away from him, you’re both left breathless, panting heavily as you stare into each other’s eyes. The intensity of the moment hangs between you, thick with desire and longing.

“I cherish you more,” you whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, stress evident in your heavy breathing. But even as the words leave your lips, you know that they hold a depth of emotion that goes beyond mere words.

“Good girl,” he whispers in response, his voice husky with affection, as he peppers soft kisses all over your face. You lean into his embrace, revelling in the warmth of his affection and the closeness you share. 

“Why are you so hard?” you giggle, running your fingers teasingly along the bulge in his pants. Leaving hot and heated kisses alongside the curve of his neck. 

“Because there’s a hot girl sitting on my lap and grinding against my cock,” he responds with a smirk, his eyes dark with desire. You feel a surge of satisfaction at his words, knowing you have this effect on him.

“Yeah, but I sit on your lap all the time, it doesn’t get you hard like this,” you tease, your voice low and sultry.

“Yeah, it does,” he huffs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly.

“Not this hard,” you challenge, biting your lip as you continue to rub against his bulge, feeling the growing hardness beneath you. With a swift motion, you reach for his shirt and pull it off, revealing his toned chest.

“Everything you do gets me hard,” he admits, his voice husky with need, his gaze locked with yours in a primal intensity. “I haven’t had sex in a long time.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a rush of desire coursing through you. “Wait — have you not fucked anyone else in the last few months?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“But the time between the two times we had sex was around 3 months” you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. Just you,” he confirms, his gaze unwavering.”

“Why?” you laugh incredulously, a snort escaping you. “Even I would’ve fucked someone else if I were you. I kept ignoring you and walking the other way after our first time because of how nervous you made me. If I were you, I’d give up and go back to fucking.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he says simply, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

“Have you fucked anyone else but me since our first time?” he asks you now, curiosity tinged with desire in his voice.

You shake your head, leaning in to leave a soft kiss against his lips. “Just you.”

“You used to have so much sex…” you trail off, feeling a mix of emotions at the thought.

He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “It’s okay though. You know I don’t mind. I’ll wait for years if it means the only one I’ll fuck is you.”

“You should’ve told me that you’ve barely gotten laid in the last few months,” you tease, deftly unbuttoning your shirt and letting the fabric fall to the floor, revealing the curve of your body.

His gaze remains fixed on yours, dark with desire.

“Well, let’s make up for lost time, let’s have sex now.” you purr, your voice dripping with heat as you close the distance between you.

A boyish grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, your own excitement matching his.

“I don’t have any condoms, baby,” he murmurs huskily as he shifts his body over yours, his hands tracing the waistband of your skirt, eager to explore further.

“Just fuck me,” you breathe, your voice heavy with need, your hands already reaching for the waistband of his trousers, ready to pull them down and lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

You swear it was so close to happening—the moment was right, the energy was electric. But then Donghyuck had to come barging into his room, asking for his headphones. Jeno groans in frustration, his irritation palpable. “Donghyuck!” he yells, tossing the headphones in his direction with more force than necessary.

──────────────────────────────

Your preparation for the band show feels more special tonight, infused with an unspoken anticipation. You put meticulous care into every detail of your appearance. You want to make a statement, not just on stage but also afterward, Jeno was going to take you somewhere, it was a ‘surprise.’

Nayoung is by your side, curling your hair into perfect waves that frame your face beautifully. The warmth from the curling iron is a stark contrast to the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You carefully apply your makeup, choosing colors that enhance your features—bold, smoky eyes paired with a soft, glowing complexion and rosy lips that promise subtlety yet allure.

As you blend your eyeshadow, Nayoung watches you through the mirror, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’re going out with Jeno after the gig?” she probes with a casual tone, but her eyes are too sharp, too curious.

You nod in affirmation, your focus momentarily shifting from your makeup to her reflection in the mirror. “On a date?” she presses further, her tone teasing yet probing.

You pause, brush in hand, and shake your head slightly, “It’s not a date, it’s—”

She interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’re not official yet. You guys should really have the ‘what are we’ talk,” she suggests, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

The suggestion hangs in the air, a subtle push towards a conversation you know is inevitable but aren’t quite ready to initiate. Yet as you turn back to the mirror, applying a final stroke of mascara, you can't help but wonder if tonight is the right time to define what Jeno really means to you.

The outfit for tonight was meticulously picked out and laid neatly on the bed behind you. The choice for tonight is daring, a black off-shoulder top with long sleeves that falls just right, It’s cut low enough to hint at the curves of your breasts, a tease of what lies beneath, paired perfectly with a plaid mini skirt that flares at the hem, playfully showcasing your thighs.

You stand in front of your full-length mirror, nerves racing through you as you slip into the outfit, the fabric clings and contours to your form, complementing your figure in an eye-catching way. The knee high boots you choose add an edge, their chunky heels lending height and attitude, while your chosen jewelry—simple yet elegant—adds a sparkle that catches the light as you move.

Nayoung watches your transformation, her reaction a mix of approval and a hint of pride. “Jeno’s not going to know what hit him,” she says, her voice tinged with excitement. “You look hot—he’ll love it.” Her words are a boost to your confidence as you give yourself one final look in the mirror, feeling ready to take on the night—and maybe, just maybe, ready to take on whatever conversation awaits you with Jeno

As you stand there, ready, you feel a blend of nerves and excitement. “Do you think he’ll find me pretty?” you ask, the innocence in your voice catching you by surprise.

“He always finds you pretty,” Nayoung replies confidently.

You can’t contain the blush that spreads across your cheeks. “I know,” you admit softly, a secret thrill at the acknowledgment.

Nayoung watches you, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. “I’ve never seen you put so much effort into looking this sexy for your shows,” she observes.

You find an excuse, one that doesn’t quite reach your own ears convincingly. “I want to look good for photos, plus a lot of people will be there.”

“But is that all?” Nayoung probes, her voice gentle yet insistent.

“What do you mean?” you deflect, not quite ready to confront the truth.

“It’s nothing bad,” she assures you. “It’s just that you’re very much giving ‘girlfriend who wants to look pretty and dress up for her boyfriend.’ It’s cute seeing you make so much effort because you know he’ll appreciate it and make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, no matter what you’re wearing. It’s for him, isn’t it? You like dressing up for him.”

The realisation strikes you, and you’re left speechless. You gulp, searching for the right words. “It’s not just that, I—I like dressing up for myself too,” you assert.

She nods, understanding the complexity of your feelings. “Of course, but when you have someone who likes you as much as Jeno likes you, it’s nice to dress up for them, to feel seen and beautiful in their eyes.”

You bite your lip, willing the tears not to fall, the delicate balance of your carefully applied makeup at stake. Your eyes shift downward, catching the glow of your phone as it springs to life with a message from him. Jeno’s face smiles back at you from the lock screen. In the simple act of seeing his name, a realisation crystallises, breaking through the layers of your apprehension.

It’s a truth that has lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a whisper you’ve silenced for fear of the upheaval it might bring. But it’s undeniable now, demanding to be acknowledged with a force that feels as natural as breathing and as terrifying as falling.

With a tremulous voice, barely louder than the brush of butterfly wings, you admit to Nayoung, to yourself, to the universe, “I have feelings for Jeno. I’m falling for him.” The words are a confession, a release, a testament to a heart that refuses to be hushed any longer.

Nayoung’s reaction is a gentle laughter, rich with the warmth of shared secrets and sisterly bonds. “I know you do,” Nayoung kisses your cheek and then groans at herself for doing that as she’s just messed up your makeup. As she’s fixing it, she tells you how proud she is of you for being true to your feelings and understanding who and what you want, for being mature and honest. “You know, I thought you’d be more emotional. I thought you’d cry,” she laughs, expecting you to admit you liked Jeno with tears due to the heavy confession.

“I’m fine. I’m happy. He makes me happy and I trust him,” you speak with so much innocence and trust.

“So you don’t want it to be casual anymore?” she probes.

You shake your head. “I didn’t mind at first but now? Fuck, yeah, he’s mine. I need him to be mine. I really wanna ask him tonight, or hope that he asks me,” you say with a determination in your eye.

“No, Y/N, you should wait until he asks you,” Nayoung gives you friendly advice, her voice sweet.

“Why?” you inquire, curious about her reasoning.

Nayoung pauses, her hands still as she meets your gaze in the mirror. “Because it’s important that he makes that commitment too, without any pushing. It shows that he’s not only ready but eager to take that step. You want it to be his decision, coming from him wanting you just as much as you want him. It’s not about playing games; it’s about ensuring that his feelings match the depth of yours. Plus, it will mean more if it comes from him, don’t you think?” Her words carry the weight of experience, gentle yet firm, aiming to guide you towards a decision that solidifies the sincerity of your relationship.

You nod, a flicker of hopeful naivety shining in your eyes. "I really think it's going to happen soon. We had quite a moment last night," you begin, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"Oh?" Nayoung leans in closer, her interest piqued, sensing the significance in your tone.

Taking a deep breath, you confide, "I stumbled upon a photo of Arin on his phone. It was... intimate, and it made me feel all sorts of ways—jealous, upset, and then to make things worse, Arin happened to call him at that very moment." You pause, collecting your thoughts. "Jeno was open about it. He said he used to have a lot of pictures with her and probably missed some when he was deleting them."

Nayoung's eyes widen as she registers what you just said. "She called him? She what? Why does he still have her number?"

You huff, frustration evident. "God knows why. And I picked up the phone because I got angry, and Arin was kinda sweet?"

Nayoung scoffs, her disbelief clear. "Sweet? Please, she's nothing but a bitch, pretending to be all innocent."

You laugh at her blunt assessment. "She asked to speak to Jeno when I picked up."

"And??" Nayoung presses, leaning forward in anticipation.

"He said he was busy and ended it," you respond, trying to mask the mix of relief and confusion in your voice.

Nayoung is visibly stunned, processing the information. "Well, at least he didn't entertain her," she finally says, a slight nod indicating her approval.

Nayoung’s eyes widened, taken aback by what you’ve just spilled. “So they were serious? Not just fuck buddies?” she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

You nod, feeling the sting of the admission. “He told me he loved her once.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” she exhales, processing the weight of your words.

“He made it clear they’re over. He ended things because she wouldn’t fully commit, and he’s been over her for a long time now. I want to believe him when he says he’s moved on… Am I naive for that?”

Nayoung considers this, her expression serious. “Do you trust him?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“He told me he wouldn’t ever go back to her, even if she changed her mind. He said I mean too much to him, that he wouldn’t ever do that to me, that he wouldn’t hurt me, that I’m his priority and that he cherishes me,” you confide in Nayoung.

Nayoung’s eyes widened in surprise, a rare moment of speechlessness. “If a guy ever said that to me, the words ‘I love you’ would be slipping from my tongue.” 

“We also nearly had sex but Donghyuck walked in, and I’ve never seen Jeno get so mad. You should’ve seen his face.” you add with a laugh, sharing the absurdity of the situation.

“Yeah, and get this—” you lean in, a playful glint in your eye, “—since meeting me, I’m the only girl he’s fucked.”

Nayoung’s mouth falls open, her surprise genuine. “Seriously? For Jeno, that’s… that’s huge. Normally he’s having sex twice a week, sometimes even more.” 

──────────────────────────────

The bar is a canvas of shadows and dimly lit corners, where a mingling scent of aged wood and spilled liquor permeates the air. It’s an ambiance that speaks of stories untold, a place where many nights have unfolded in the haze of neon lights and reverberating music. Strings of Edison bulbs drape across the ceiling, offering a warm glow that dances off the well-worn surfaces of the bar and tables.

The crowd tonight is unusually thick, a sea of faces swaying to the rhythm of the music. You glance around, perplexed and a little overwhelmed by the number of people gathered. It’s as if the whole town has decided to show up. Despite the usual anonymity afforded by the dim lighting and the casual chaos of the bar, tonight feels different. As you scan the room, your eyes catch glimpses of familiar faces mixed with strangers, but what surprises you is the number of eyes that fleetingly meet yours, quickly looking away as if caught in the act of watching you. The realisation dawns on you slowly—the crowd isn’t just here for the usual Friday night revelry. They’re here for you.

You don’t blame them, you’re on stage and you’re in your element, the throb of the bass vibrating through your fingers as you blend into the fabric of the music. Your band plays with such harmony and rhythm that the crowd can’t help but sway to, captivated by Yeji’s beautiful voice, a melody that tugs at heartstrings.

You're also singing, harmonising with Yeji. While you haven't done a solo in front of anyone before, you love to sing. You enjoy it. Sunwoo has heard you sing and has tried to convince you to lead one of the performances, but you're too shy to take the spotlight.

And there he is—Jeno, your unspoken muse, the silent force behind every note you play. His eyes are locked on you, and even from the distance, you can feel the warmth of his gaze, the silent support in his smile. When he blows you a kiss, a current of exhilaration shoots through you, and for a fleeting moment, it’s just the two of you in the room.

Your eyes are only for him and he means the world to you. Tonight feels like the perfect moment to ask him to be your boyfriend.

Your eyes fix on Jeno once more but you notice a shift. instead of the usual supportive smiles, his gaze is elsewhere—fixed on Arin, who’s laughing, looking effortlessly breathtaking beside someone new. You didn’t even realise she was here, why was she here? 

The knot in your stomach tightens as you watch his expression change. There’s a hardness in his eyes, a tension in his jaw. The way he watches her speaks of unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Jeno’s look is one of jealousy, mixed with a hint of regret, as if he’s reconsidering every decision that led him away from her.

Your fingers falter on the bass strings, the melody souring. The room spins slightly as you try to refocus, to lose yourself in the music and Yeji’s harmonizing voice, but the scene unfolding offstage captures all your attention. Why now? Why here? 

With each jealous glance Jeno throws Arin’s way, a cold fear grips you. The joy of playing, the thrill of the music, fades into the background as a single, painful thought pierces through the confusion: What if he still wants her? What if tonight, the night you planned to ask him to be yours, ends with your heart breaking in front of everyone?

As the last notes of your performance fade into the din of applause and chatter, the glow from the stage lights seems to flicker out with your spirit. You feel drained, your usual post-show buzz overshadowed by a dull ache in your chest. The image of Jeno’s gaze drifting away from you and onto Arin is etched painfully into your mind.

You're barely off the stage when Jeno finds you. He pulls you into a hard kiss, the kind that usually melts away any remnants of stage fright or leftover adrenaline. But tonight, the kiss doesn’t reach the hollow feeling creeping up inside you. As he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, his joy at your performance shadowed by concern at how quiet you are.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice soft, threaded with worry.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the tightness in your throat, the words refusing to come. He doesn't push, but his eyes narrow slightly—a silent acknowledgment of the tension he too can sense.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you from behind. His lips find your cheek in a gentle kiss, and he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.” The warmth of his breath against your skin sparks a contrast to the cold knot of doubt inside you.

But the images from earlier—the way he looked at Arin—haunt the edges of your happiness. “You were amazing tonight,” he continues, his hands sliding down to compliment your skirt, his fingers tracing the fabric around your hips. “I love this look on you,” he adds, voice rich with admiration.

His praises should have lifted your spirits but tonight they fell flat. Why was he looking at her like that? 

As he guides you through the crowd, his hand firm on your back, his actions are everything tender and protective, yet your mind races, trapped in a spiral of what-ifs and why-nows. His intimacy and affirmations, though genuine, feel overshadowed by the brief flash of something else in his gaze earlier—a complexity you hadn’t anticipated and aren’t sure how to navigate.

Sometime later, you find yourself with the band, leaning your head against Eric’s shoulder as laughter and chatter fill the air. The atmosphere is relaxed, almost festive, but you can’t shake off the weight of the evening’s events. Despite the alcohol flowing freely, you force yourself to stay present, mustering a smile to blend in with the group.

Jeno is engrossed in conversation with some friends, his animated gestures catching your eye from across the room. You take a moment to admire him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, the easy charm that draws people to him.

Needing a moment alone to gather your thoughts, you excuse yourself and slip away to the toilets. Leaning against the sink, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the turmoil swirling inside you. The events of the night replay in your mind, each moment etched vividly in your memory.

Emerging from the bathroom, the lingering energy from the gig vibrates within you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the sight of Arin waiting by the corridor. Her smile is warm, seemingly genuine, as she clutches her purse. “You were just wonderful tonight,” she starts, her voice sweet, complimenting each of your band members—Yeji’s powerful vocals, Eric’s intense drum solos, Sunwoo’s infectious energy. Yet, when her eyes finally rest on you, the warmth subtly shifts.

She steps closer, her voice still soft but carrying an undertone you can’t quite place. “You know it’s not gonna last, right?” she murmurs, almost kindly, as if she’s sharing friendly advice rather than planting a seed of doubt.

You gulp, feeling stunned as it takes time for her statement to register and digest. You look at her in confusion. "What are you—?"

She laughs, the sound joyful and bright, and the twinkle in her eyes makes her look so beautiful and carefree. You understand why she's so adored by everyone. Yet, you can't tell whether she's laughing with you or mocking you. "I'm talking about you and Jeno," she says, her voice lilting as if discussing something trivial, not the bombshell she just dropped.

Managing only a faint reply, your voice comes out hushed and shaky, betraying your rattled nerves. “Why would you say that?” you ask, your question more of a whisper, as if speaking louder might confirm her 

She gives a gentle, patronising laugh. “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” she says, her eyes pitying. Her tone is nurturing, but the words sting, undermining the intensity of what you feel for Jeno.

Feeling a tightness in your chest, the words barely escape your lips, “Do you really think it’s not serious?” Your voice quivers, laced with insecurity and a lack of confidence as you seek validation for the intense feelings you harbour for him. 

Arin nods slowly, her expression morphing into one of feigned sympathy. “I can see how much you like him, and that it’s serious for you,” she begins, her tone soft, as if trying to cushion a harsh truth. “I’m really sorry he doesn’t feel the same way” Her words aim to sympathize, yet the empathy doesn’t quite reach her eyes, making her sincerity questionable.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she shouldn't undermine the feelings you and Jeno very clearly have for each other. It is serious, but all you can do is swallow hard and nod slightly, unable to muster the courage to speak your disagreement. The weight of her words hangs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with their arrogance.

"Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?" Arin presses, her voice dripping with skepticism, her eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of weakness.

"No," you admit, your voice barely audible, feeling the weight of her scrutiny bearing down on you, making you shrink further into yourself.

Arin's tone shifts, carrying a hint of nostalgia as she leans in slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. 

"He asked me to be his girlfriend only three months after we met. How long have you two been seeing each other now? Six months?" Her words, meant as mere conversation, hang heavily between you, laden with implications she doesn't fully grasp.

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment as her statement sinks in. The comparison stings, underscoring your own uncertainties about where you stand with Jeno. Arin's smile broadens, her eyes bright, oblivious to the discomfort she's unwittingly evoked.

Arin's expression softens, a wistful sigh escaping her lips as she leans closer, her voice lowering to a more intimate tone. "Honestly? I want him back. I’ve always felt like I’ve been his and he’s been mine. Like he’s my soulmate. Our connection and love is too strong for us to tear apart. Even if we distract ourselves with others, like what he’s doing with you, I know we’ll always find our way back to each other. Jeno is the one for me. He’s kind, caring, funny, smart, always puts me first and—don’t even get me started on how it feels to be kissed by him. And sex with him? God… I’ve really missed him."

That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, you wanted to mutter out loud. “Did you really just call me a distraction?” you question, your voice soft, not raised or rude at all. You weren’t going to stoop to that level.

She nods, apparently unaware of how harsh her words sound.

“I’m not a distraction, you can’t talk to me like that,” you defend yourself, your tone still even.

She giggles and shakes her head, her demeanour light as if she hadn't just dismissed your feelings. “Don’t be like that, you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, genuinely confused and hurt. “I really don’t.”

Arin’s conviction seems to solidify as she speaks, her tone sharpening, not catching the strain in your eyes. “You don’t get it,” she says, her voice rising slightly with a mix of frustration and certainty. “He’s still in love with me,” she declares, her hands casually smoothing her hair as if to emphasise her nonchalance. “That’s probably why he hasn’t taken it further with you.”

The tears well up in your eyes, but Arin remains utterly unfazed by your distress, her expression as composed as if she were discussing something trivial.

“I’m just waiting for him to come back to me, honestly, because that’s what he always does. But for some reason, he’s been infatuated and hooked on you for so long now. I guess the sex is that good, right?” Her words drip with insinuation, her smile sly and assuming.

Your laughter catches her off guard, and you can see the confusion in her narrowed eyes. Was she serious right now? Did she really think the only reason Jeno could ever be interested in you was for your body? In truth, you and Jeno haven’t had a lot of sex. You haven’t been ready for it, and he’s respected that. If only Arin knew. But you wouldn’t tell her. It’s frankly none of her business, and it’s incredibly intrusive of her to speak about your relationship with Jeno.

"I knew you'd understand," Arin smiles, her tone light but loaded with insinuation. Her words catch you off guard.

"What?" Your confusion is palpable, reflected in the slight furrow of your brow.

"Well, I know how much of a girl's girl you are—how sweet and loving. I have no doubt in my mind that you'd step away from whatever situation you’re having with Jeno," she continues, assuming a camaraderie that isn't there.

You huff, irritation spiking. "It's not a situationship, don't you dare—"

"It doesn't matter what it was," Arin cuts in dismissively. "The point is, I love Jeno and I deserve another chance with him. I know you'd understand. It's not like you feel anything for him, and he doesn’t like you either. It's obvious, why else hasn’t he asked you to be his girlfriend? He’s still in love with me."

Her words sting, a mix of arrogance and misguided assurance in her belief that she could manipulate your feelings. The audacity to suggest that your relationship with Jeno was anything less than genuine makes your heart race with a mix of anger and hurt.

Seconds later, your name floats across the room, spoken with a warmth that tugs at your heart. Jeno's presence cuts through, drawing every ounce of your attention. You force a smile as he approaches, though it feels hollow against the turmoil within you.

Jeno doesn’t hesitate as he reaches you, his gaze locked intensely on yours. There's a fervor in his eyes, a seriousness that chills you even as it pulls you closer. Without a word, he wraps you in his arms and kisses you passionately, his lips firm and insistent. As he pulls away, his lips find your forehead, pressing against your skin in an act so tender it sends shivers down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?" His voice is a soft rumble, filled with genuine concern. You look up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

"Just a bit overwhelmed," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions. You're acutely aware of Arin's lingering presence nearby, her shadow casting a pall over the moment. Jeno seems oblivious to her, his attention undividedly yours, his hands holding you with a protectiveness that feels both comforting and profound.

You shiver, whether from the cold or the intensity of the situation, you can’t tell. Jeno notices immediately, his brow furrowing with worry. "Are you cold, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. Before you can answer, he gently slides his jacket over your shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body and you get lost in the scent of him. 

"Thank you, Jen," you manage, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"I’ve been trying to find you, where did you go?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes searching yours for deeper answers.

You take his drink from his hands before you can answer. He rolls his eyes, telling you not to get carried away with drinking tonight, but you wouldn’t listen, especially when he tears the cap off with his teeth and holds it for you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips before you down it.

As you down the drink, the alcohol burns your throat, causing you to choke and cough. "Slow down," he chuckles, his hand rubbing your back gently to soothe you. He wipes away some of the alcohol that had dribbled down your chin, his touch tender and affectionate.

He leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering embrace. When he tries to take the drink from you to slow your pace, you pout playfully, earning another affectionate peck on the lips. The two of you are lost in your own little world, you allow

yourself to forget about Arin just for this moment.

“Why are you so stressed out?” Jeno’s voice broke through the air 

“Because Arin here is telling me to back off and stop fucking you,” you replied with a nonchalant tone. Your voice was steady, but your hands betrayed you, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

That’s when Jeno’s eyes shifted, landing on Arin for the first time since he came over. His look was a mix of disgust and confusion, tinged with an unmistakable uninterest. She had been so silent, her presence had almost slipped your mind. But there she was, just observing, as if waiting for a crack to appear in the facade of your evening.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jeno said firmly, his voice raised just enough for Arin to catch every syllable. It was as if she wasn’t even worthy of his gaze, let alone a direct confrontation.

He then leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, a stark contrast to the chill that Arin’s words had left behind. “We haven’t even been fucking. Half the time she’s living in another universe, so don’t give her any attention, okay? Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s bothered you,” he whispered, his words a soft but potent shield against the chaos Arin tried to sow.

Jeno's reaction is sudden and sharp as he hears your words, his face contorting into an expression of disbelief. “What else did she say?” he asks, his voice tinged with an edge that makes you hesitate. When you reluctantly admit, “Apparently you still love her,” a laugh bursts from him—one you’ve never heard before. It's not filled with amusement but rather a harshness that makes even you feel a sting of guilt for Arin. The sound hits her visibly, the impact evident in her faltering demeanor. 

Jeno’s grip on your hand tightens, his frustration palpable as he turns towards Arin with a piercing glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, his voice booming in the small space, drawing the attention of those nearby. 

Arin, trying to defuse his anger, pleads with a shaky voice, “Jen, don’t be angry—”

But he cuts her off sharply, “Don’t call me that.” His response is so cold, so final, it makes you flinch; you've never seen him this furious, this detached from his usual warmth.

Realising the scene might escalate, you turn his face to meet yours, cupping his cheeks gently. His eyes, which had been hard and unforgiving, soften immediately under your touch. His breath evens out as you whisper soothingly, “Jen, don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Jeno hums, his brow furrowed in frustration, his body tensing as he turns back to Arin. There's a cold sharpness in his eyes now, a clear signal that he's far from finished. "What else did you say?" he demands, his voice low and threateningly calm.

Arin swallows hard, visibly shaken by his intensity. "Me and Y/N just had a heart to heart," she stammers, attempting to paint a picture that never existed. "We talked about how she'd take a step back from whatever situation you two have gotten yourselves into. That way, I could tell you the truth, show you how much you mean to me, commit for real. I know you don’t trust me yet, and that it will take a lot of work, but I’m willing to try. Are you? I really do love you, Jeno, and I always have."

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with tension that makes the air thick and difficult to breathe. Jeno's face cycles through emotions rapidly—humour gives way to disbelief, and then a scorching anger that flares intensely in his eyes. The transformation is so sudden, so severe, it sends a chill down your spine. You want nothing more than to reach for his hand and pull him away, but the moment demands your presence, your witness to his raw, unrestrained emotion.

"What is wrong with you?" Jeno's voice cracks like a whip, each word dripping with disdain and incredulity. His stance is imposing, the muscles in his jaw twitching with barely restrained anger.

Arin, teary-eyed, looks up at him. "Jeno, am I so wrong for being true to my feelings?" Her voice breaks, a mixture of desperation and manipulation.

"You're pathetic," Jeno responds, the harshness in his tone slicing through the tense atmosphere. "You’re so pathetic. I can’t believe it." His words are not just a dismissal but a condemnation, delivered with a brutal honesty that even makes you gasp.

Arin's voice is a soft, broken whisper, almost pleading as she clings to a sliver of hope, tears streaking her face. "I know you’re still in love with me."

"I don’t love you, and I never will," he states firmly, his voice void of hesitation or doubt.

Arin’s plea intensifies, her emotions raw. "You used to love me, you used to love me so much—"

"And you're making me regret ever feeling that way," he interrupts sharply, his tone laced with a harshness that draws a startled gasp from you. The situation escalates quickly, his anger palpable.

Through her sobs, Arin struggles to comprehend the finality in his voice. "How can feelings like that just disappear? How can you move on so easily?"

Jeno’s anger simmers into a cold, controlled calm. "Honestly, just stop talking now," he commands, the tension in his voice still evident but more restrained.

"Jeno—" Arin tries to interject, desperation tingeing her voice.

"Arin." He warms, the bitterness in his tone a stark contrast to the sweetness with which he usually says your name. "I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. We're going around in circles, and it’s clear I’ve moved on. You should too."

“Look, if you ever upset Y/N again, if you make her feel this way again, I won’t stand for it. I’m not just upset because of what you said about us, but because you hurt someone important to me. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into our past. You need to respect that and stay away.”

Jeno's confrontation had echoed loudly through the bar, drawing eyes from every corner. As he turns around and pulls you into a tight hug, you feel the weight of those stares, the lingering tension from the audience that had gathered. His arms wrap around your waist firmly, holding you close. Even as he releases you, you sense his reluctance, his smile barely held back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him even closer.

The curiosity and concern of the onlookers press on you, and your only thought is to take him away, to calm him down. You gently lay your hand over his, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his skin. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear—words only for him, soothing and meaningful. You watch his eyes close, a nod acknowledging your comfort, but his face remains tense, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Seeking to lighten the mood, you kiss his eyelids gently and ask with feigned casualness, "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"About two hours," he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"That explains why you're looking like a zombie," you tease gently, hoping to draw out a real smile. He lets out a low chuckle, not quite his usual laughter but appreciated all the same. Normally, your jokes would have him laughing heartily, but tonight it's forced, you were only trying to cheer him up. Yet, you feel his gratitude radiating back to you; he's thankful for your efforts to ease his mind, for trying to make him forget the stressful confrontation.

"Let's go home now, yeah?" you suggest softly, each word laced with concern, eager to leave the charged atmosphere of the bar behind. He nods silently, the agreement solid and sure.

As you both prepare to leave, Jeno drapes his arm protectively around your shoulders, guiding you through the crowd. The physical closeness comforts you both, a silent promise of support as you walk out of the bar together, leaving the whispers and stares behind in the dimmed lights.

The second you’ve guided him away your hands find his cheeks, cradling his face with a tender touch that you hoped would soothe his ruffled emotions. In the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes searched yours for reassurance, finding solace in the calm you offered amidst the storm.

As you led him to the car, your fingertips lightly traced the contours of his face, planting soft, reassuring kisses across his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. "You got everything off your chest."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and residual tension as he pulled you closer, sealing your affirmations with a kiss that spoke volumes of gratitude and a lingering trace of sadness. 

As you reached for his car keys, Jeno's hand covered yours, stopping you gently but firmly. He finally spoke up, a hint of laughter in his voice to ease the tension, "No way, I don’t have a death wish," he joked, but his tone quickly turned serious, the humor fading as he looked directly into your eyes. "You mean so much to me," he continued, each word weighted with earnestness. "I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I'm not letting go. You're all mine."

"All yours.”

──────────────────────────────

You catch the hoodie Jeno tosses your way and pull it over your head, replacing your top with the comforting scent and warmth of his clothing. Watching him make his way to the edge of the bed, you notice how the night had etched itself into his form—the tension in his muscles, the fatigue in the set of his jaw, his skin glistening slightly under the dim room light.

Approaching quietly, you sit beside him, close enough to share warmth but giving him the space he seems to need. You reach out tentatively, resting your hand lightly on his back. The skin under your touch is warm, slightly damp with the sheen of stress. You start to move your hand in slow, comforting circles, trying to soothe the tension that has him so tightly wound.

The room is only filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing, each exhale slightly shaky as he tries to regain his composure. "Jeno?" you whisper, breaking the silence gently as you wait for him to meet your eyes. When he finally looks at you, the heartbreak in his gaze is palpable, and it strikes you deeply. The dim light from the bedside lamp catches the tears brimming in his eyes, a rare display of vulnerability.

"Oh, Jeno," you whisper, your voice thick as you fight back your own emotions. Seeing him this vulnerable disorients you—Jeno, always the strong one, now so clearly in need of support. He draws you closer, 

As Jeno gently pulls you onto his lap, the physical closeness brings an immediate sense of comfort and security. Settling into this favored position, you can feel the warmth of his body radiating against yours. The firmness of his thighs provides a grounding stability, while his arms encircle your waist, drawing you even closer. His embrace is protective, his hands resting lightly on your back, a touch that’s both reassuring and tender.

Every breath he takes is a shared experience. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, the subtle tension in his body as he tries to relax. His heartbeat, strong and steady under the palm of your hand, beats a comforting rhythm in the quiet of the room.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. The closeness allows you to see every detail of his face, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. Your fingers gently push back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead, and you wipe away a tear with your thumb. Each touch is filled with concern and a deep need to comfort him, to ease the distress that so clearly weighs on him.

"You can always trust me, you know?" you add softly, looking into his eyes for a moment of connection, hoping to reassure him of your support.

Jeno responds with a small, appreciative nod, his eyes briefly closing as if to savour the comfort your words bring. Then, with a gentle nudge, he shifts your positions on the bed, guiding you both to lie down. He settles back against the pillows, and you naturally find your place on top of him, your body aligned with his in a close, comforting embrace.

His arms wrap around you securely, a protective gesture that pulls you closer into his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his chest enveloping you. Each breath he takes is a subtle rise and fall, a rhythm that you find yourself syncing with as the tension slowly begins to melt away from both of you.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods, a silent acknowledgment of your words but also a sign that he's still guarding his thoughts closely. “I know I can, baby.” 

“I can feel how tense you are, what’s up?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, making you shiver slightly. His arms tighten around you, drawing you even closer, his body language reflecting his concern and deep care.

You gulp, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. You’ve been trying to hide your own unease to put him first, but he always knows when something’s on your mind, just by looking into your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you weigh your options but decide it’s better to be open with him. "Jen, I have been trying to tell you something and I've been worrying about how to say it," you begin, the weight of your confession making your heart race a bit.

He looks at you, concern flickering in his eyes as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "What’s up?" he asks, his voice rough, filled with both concern for you and the weariness of his own troubles.

“Nothing,” you lie softly, a sad smile touching your lips as you lay your head back down on his chest. “It’s not important.”

“You can always talk to me, you know,” he replies, his tone gentle, using your own words against you in a playful yet sincere way.

You giggle at the role reversal, the light moment bringing a flicker of warmth to the heavy atmosphere. “I know, I know,” you whisper back, allowing yourself a moment to just be held by him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“Do you wanna talk about your thing?” you suggest after a while, hoping he trusted you enough to share his heart with you. You would always listen and respect his feelings, they were so precious to you.

“No.” He says immediately, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he insists in a tone that doesn’t match his heart. “Just feeling tired, it’s nothing more than that.”

And that was his first lie.

──────────────────────────────

Walking across the university campus feels different today. The echoes of last night's band performance seem to have followed you, with noticeable traction and attention specifically directed at you, almost as if the applause and cheers have spilled over into the daylight. It’s been gradually building up, this increasing visibility, but today the weight of it truly sinks in. Each step feels more observed, each glance carries a hint of recognition, making the campus pathways feel less like passageways and more like stages.

The change isn't loud or sudden, but the weight of it is undeniable. People notice you, recognize you. It's not because of anything you've done, but because of who you're seen with: Jeno. Your relationship with him, not quite defined but visibly close, has unwittingly thrust you into a spotlight.

You're aware of the looks, the whispers as you pass by. Your previous anonymity has been stripped away, leaving you exposed to curious eyes. Your connection with Jeno is evident in your affectionate gestures both on and off campus. Whether it's hugging, kissing, hand-holding, or sharing laughs, people often mistake your closeness for a romantic relationship. Despite this, neither you nor Jeno correct them, leaving the nature of your bond open to interpretation.

This spotlight isn't confined to the walkways of the campus; it extends into your online world too. Your Instagram, which once felt like a personal photo album, now buzzes with activity. Posts featuring Jeno, which you uploaded without a second thought, have attracted more attention than you could have imagined

Messages and interactions flood your inbox, each one just a variation of 'hey' from people who never noticed you before. You see through the thin veil of their sudden interest—it's insincere, a shallow attempt to connect with you, not for who you are, but for the company you keep.

The newfound attention is dizzying, but it's also exhausting. Each interaction, each forced conversation, drains you. What used to be simple walks to class are now peppered with stops and small talk, leaving you feeling more like a public figure than a student.

Some of them were bad interactions and attention—really bad. You’re working on a university project with Jiwon, someone you recently befriended. But she’s cool, and you need a partner for this project. The way you met wasn’t the nicest:

“So, you and Jeno have been getting close, right?”

Your stomach twists at the unexpected question, and you shoot Jiwon a puzzled look, trying to gauge her intentions. She meets your gaze with a knowing smirk, and you can’t help but feel a tinge of unease creeping up your spine.

“Who are you?” you respond cautiously, the edge in your voice betraying your suspicion.

“You know who I am,” she counters, her tone dripping with confidence.

But that’s the past. You always thought she was a bit weird, but she works hard, and you guess that’s just her way of being friendly. Little did you know what her true intentions were. 

As you typed away on your laptop, surrounded by stacks of musical textbooks, you couldn’t help but smile at the messages popping up from Jeno. A thousand thoughts whirled in your head, and none of them were focused on this project; you were utterly unfocused. Jiwon tapped away at her laptop across from you, occasionally glancing over with a too-curious gaze that prickled your comfort. The air between you, once filled with the soft clicking of keys and the rustle of pages turning, now carried a charge of tension.

“That was quite the show last night,” Jiwon started, the curiosity evident in her eyes as she peered at you over her laptop screen. “I saw you leave with Jeno.”

“Yeah, figures, we are seeing each other,” you responded dryly, not lifting your gaze from your screen, hoping your tone conveyed your lack of interest in discussing it further.

Jiwon's eyebrows quirk upwards, a mix of surprise and something else—a calculated interest—flashing across her features. "Really now? That’s... interesting. How long has that been going on?" Her tone is casual, but her eyes are too sharp, too keen, as if dissecting your every reaction.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not liking the scrutiny or the direction this conversation is taking. "A while," you reply vaguely, keeping your eyes fixed on your laptop screen, hoping to convey your disinterest in continuing this line of discussion.

"But are you guys serious?" Jiwon presses, leaning forward, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Because, you know, Jeno and Arin were a pretty intense thing. Everyone thought they were endgame."

“But they never were a couple. They were never boyfriend and girlfriend.” you say, keeping your tone deadpan.

“Oh honey, is that what he told you?” Jiwon responds, her voice dripping with sweet, mocking condescension.

“Is it not true?” you say, a hint of irritation seeping through, feeling foolish for even having to defend what Jeno told you.

Jiwon pauses, as if contemplating how much to reveal, her gaze sharp and calculating. "Well, it's complicated," she starts slowly, each word measured. "They weren't officially a couple, no. But they might as well have been. They were everything but in name. And sometimes, that's even stronger, don't you think?"

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the doubt she's planting beginning to sprout. Struggling to keep your voice steady, you confirm, "So, they were serious then." No matter what Jeno tells you, this confirms that he still had lingering attachment to her. 

Jiwon nods, a feigned sympathy in her eyes as she leans closer. "They were inseparable, everyone knew it. Just because there wasn't a label on it doesn't mean it wasn't real. Jeno... he's someone who feels deeply, you know? When he's in, he's all in. And he was all in with Arin."

You press your lips together, feeling the sting of her words. "But that's all in the past, right?"

"Sure," Jiwon replies, her tone noncommittal. "But the past has a way of sticking around, especially with feelings that intense. It's hard to just cut that off completely, don't you think?"

Her words echo in your mind, sowing seeds of insecurity. You wrestle internally with the implications of Jeno’s past with Arin, questioning whether the affection he shows you could truly eclipse his history with her. Across from you, Jiwon observes your reaction with a slight, knowing smile, her point landing effectively without the need for further elaboration.

Frustration and a touch of defiance rise within you as you process her insinuations about Arin. Clenching your jaw to quell the irritation, you assert firmly, “It’s different with us.” Your tone is resolute, an attempt to dismiss any comparisons she might be suggesting. “We’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Jiwon nods, seemingly satisfied with your discomfort. She taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Sure, sure. Just seems sudden, you know? Jeno moving on like that. Makes you wonder if it's really over with Arin, or if you're just a... distraction."

The word stings more than you'd like to admit, and you can't help but frown. "I'm not anyone's distraction," you snap, more sharply than intended, your fingers pausing above the keyboard.

"Hey, no offence," Jiwon raises her hands in mock surrender, her smile a little too wide to be sincere. "Just making conversation. You guys look cute together, really. Just hope it's for the right reasons, you know?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm the rising annoyance. "We should focus on the project," you suggest coldly, turning your attention back to your screen, signaling the end of this unwelcome discussion.

Jiwon shrugs, the smile still playing on her lips as she turns back to her laptop, but not before giving you a look that says she's not quite done digging. You exhale quietly, tension settling in your shoulders as you try to refocus on the work in front of you, Jiwon's words echoing uncomfortably in the back of your mind.

“Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?” she prods further, her gaze piercing as she waits for your response.

It’s none of your fucking business. 

“We’re just taking it slow,” you respond, your tone polite but laced with a hint of caution, unwilling to divulge too much.

“And you think he will?” she laughs cynically, the sound grating on your nerves as it echoes in the small room.

You shake your head in frustration. “Stop asking me such personal questions,” you implore, trying to keep your patience intact even as annoyance gnaws at the edges of your composure.

She ignores your discomfort completely. “Do you think he’s over Arin?”

“I—”

“Let me show you something,” she interrupts, a smug grin spreading across her face as she pulls out her phone, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

As the video plays, the image of school lockers floods the screen. You instantly recognise a younger Jeno steps into view, clad in his crisp school uniform, his face alight with youthful hope and nervous energy.

He's holding a single rose, his stance awkward yet sincere as he speaks to Arin, the words muted but his intentions clear in his earnest expression. The scene is painfully romantic, set against a backdrop of blooming flowers and classmates passing by with fleeting glances. You can't help but feel a sting as you watch him put himself out there, so vulnerable and open. He was asking her to be his girlfriend. 

But then, Arin's response comes—a shake of her head, her voice lost in the silent video, but her rejection palpable. The rose hangs limply in Jeno's hand as he nods, trying to mask his disappointment. The video ends with him turning away, a figure retreating in the face of unreciprocated feelings, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Jiwon grins at your reaction, revelling in your discomfort. It’s what she wanted, and you’re giving in. Doubt creeps in as you wonder why she approached you in the first place. Was this her ulterior motive all along?

“You’re just trying to get into my head, and it’s not going to work,” you retort, your voice stronger now, determined not to let her shake you. “Why would

that video hurt me? Jeno was a fetus in it and he’s moved on, he wouldn’t ever ask Arin to be his girlfriend today.” 

"But if he's moved on, why hasn't he made it official with you?" Jiwon probes further, her tone mockingly sympathetic. "You're just the girl he's with now. Not the one he wants."

"That's your opinion," you respond crisply, closing your laptop with a snap. "It doesn't matter to me. What Jeno and I have is between us."

“Ok but he’s never asked you to be his girlfriend, has me? I mean… that must sting. I know why he’s never asked, it’s because you guys don’t have anything in common—”

“Yeah, we don’t,” you agree, refusing to let her see how much her words are affecting you. She wants you to disagree and reflect so much so you don’t give her the satisfaction.

“Especially sexually. You’re some Christian virgin girl who’s into vanilla sex—”

“How do you know? Have you fucked me?” you snap back, your frustration boiling over.

“—and Jeno is wild and rough in bed,” she continues, her smirk widening at your discomfort. “You know, once me, Arin, and Jeno had a threesome. I bet he’d never be able to experiment like that with you.”

Jiwon's grin widened, a mix of satisfaction and malice in her eyes as she closely observed your reaction. It was exactly what she had hoped for, and you felt like you were inadvertently falling right into her trap. As you grappled with maintaining your composure, you couldn't help but wonder about Jiwon's motives for approaching you initially. Was this all some twisted strategy on her part? The thought made you feel both jealous and underappreciated, particularly stinging given Jeno had never formally committed to being your boyfriend or shown the kind of grand romantic gestures that Jiwon seemed to enjoy bringing up.

"I just wanna look out for you, girl to girl," Jiwon said, her voice dripping with false tenderness. "I have no clue how he’s wound up with you, you’re not what he’s used to, he’s more into girls like Arin so brace for heartbreak. You’re probably just someone to keep his bed warm; he'll go back to Arin, he always does."

Her words were a calculated strike, designed to undermine and provoke. Anger and frustration bubbled inside you, and impulsively, your hand slammed the laptop shut. The sound echoed sharply through the room, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. For a brief moment, Jiwon's satisfied expression flickered with surprise. But her smirk quickly returned, as if your reaction was a minor amusement.

"You're just trying to get into my head, and it's not going to work," you retorted sharply, your voice firm and your gaze steely. "You need to watch it."

The room fell silent, with a few scattered gasps from onlookers. Someone whispered loud enough for others to hear, "That's Jeno's girl," fueling a renewed sense of confidence within you.

Jiwon leaned back, her expression cooling into something more calculating. "Oh, I'm just concerned, that's all," she replied smoothly, feigning innocence. 

Finally, you had enough. When Jiwon casually suggested, "Yeah, we should continue working," you laughed in her face, a mix of disbelief and disdain coloring your response. "Can you leave? I don’t want to work with you anymore. Get out," you said assertively, leaving no room for her to argue.

Jiwon, caught off guard but maintaining her smug composure, quickly gathered her things and left, her departure marked by a silence that filled the room as everyone watched. You breathed a sigh of relief, proud that you stood your ground, yet unsettled by the seeds of doubt that lingered.

──────────────────────────────

The autumn leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through the campus, a crisp reminder that two weeks had already slipped by since your unsettling conversation with Jiwon. The vibrancy of the season felt at odds with the dreariness settling in your heart. You kept walking, your gaze fixed ahead, but your mind was anything but calm, cycling through recent events that had started to feel like weights around your neck.

Choosing to keep Jiwon’s words to yourself seemed like the wise choice initially, avoiding unnecessary drama. But now, that decision gnawed at you, breeding a loneliness that clung stubbornly to your thoughts. The mistrust it fostered wasn’t just about what Jiwon had said; it was the doubt about what else might be unsaid, the secrets that might be whispered behind closed doors or shared in hidden glances.

You sighed, thinking about the conversations that never happened—the ones about Arin, the discussions Jeno had with her, the ones he never brought up with you. They hovered in the air, palpable but unacknowledged, like specters of mistrust between you two. These matters had remained unspoken, transforming gradually into silent witnesses of your growing isolation.

The campus was bustling around you, students moving between classes, lost in conversations or laughter, a stark contrast to the solitude that felt like it was enveloping you more tightly with each passing day. You hadn’t really spoken to Jeno much, not about things that mattered. The once easy conversations, filled with laughter and deep confessions, had dwindled to nothing more substantial than hurried greetings and vague promises of ‘I’ll text you later’ as you passed each other in the hallways. The rarity of his presence, both physical and emotional, was becoming painfully evident.

You missed him. Not just the physical presence but the emotional connection that once seemed unshakeable. It felt as if he had receded into a shell, or worse, into a world where you could no longer reach him. Each brief kiss, each fleeting touch, left you more frustrated and flustered than before. They were mere echoes of what you used to share, reminders of the distance that had grown between you.

Jeno's reasons for being distant were valid, not just convenient excuses. It was evident in every hurried conversation and the rare, weary smiles he offered between his classes and study sessions. You had seen the tangible proof of his commitment—his desk, perpetually buried under books and papers; the late nights you caught him in the lab, soldering and sketching long after everyone else had left and his apron; always stained with oil or littered with bits of metal and wood.

He had made a clear choice to cut out distractions, putitng a hold on drinking, getting high and partying to buckle down on his engineering projects. There was no question about his discipline or his focus on the future. It was admirable, truly, and part of what you adored about him—his ability to commit so completely to his goals.

You always felt a surge of pride watching him, his determination palpable. Supporting him was never a question; you wanted his dreams for him as much as he did. Yet, despite your pride in his achievements and your awe for his aspirations, a small part of you felt sidelined.

As much as you admired his dedication, it pained you to feel like an outsider looking in. His life was filled with calculations and projects, and somewhere along the line, it felt like there was less and less room for you. It wasn’t that you doubted his affection, but his absence left a void that was hard to ignore. You supported him unconditionally, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of being excluded from the very life you were cheering him on to build.

As you walked, a leaf drifted from a branch, spiraling down to land softly beside your shoe. You stopped, looking down at it, its vibrant reds and oranges stark against the gray pavement. It was beautiful and yet, so transient. A sudden fear gripped you, unbidden and sharp—was this what was happening to your relationship with Jeno? A beautiful thing, fading before it really had the chance to grow?

──────────────────────────────

As you and Sunwoo navigate the bustling pathways of the campus, his arm occasionally drapes around your shoulder, steering you clear of the occasional student and backpack that seem to emerge in your path like sudden obstacles. His touch is grounding, but you’re barely there, your gaze downcast, lost in a swirl of somber thoughts.

Sunwoo has been watching you closely, and his voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. “Hey, you haven’t said much today. What’s going on?” He looks at you intently, giving you a gentle squeeze to reassure you that he’s there, really there for you.

You glance up, meeting his gaze, the familiarity of his earnest concern makes the words spill out of you, almost against your will. “I miss Jeno,” you confess, the words heavy with unshed emotion. “It just hurts a lot, not talking to him for so long. I’m always here to support him, even help him study… But it feels like he’s just shut me out.”

Sunwoo’s expression softens as he exhales deeply, trying to offer comfort. “I’m sure it’s not like that,” he says, although his voice carries a hint of doubt, sensing the depth of your distress.

Your next words are laced with a raw vulnerability, your heart overriding the logic you strive to hold onto. “It’s like… I can see it in his eyes, Sunwoo. He’s losing interest in me.” You pause, swallowing hard, the fear evident in your voice. 

Before Sunwoo can reply, his eyes shift past your shoulder, focusing on something—or someone—behind you. “He’s right there,” he says, nodding towards a figure in the distance. “Let’s go see if that’s true.”

You catch sight of Jeno through the sea of students, his laughter ringing clear, each chuckle like a melody you've yearned to hear. His back is to you, shoulders relaxed among friends. Heart pounding, you hesitate, then muster the courage to approach, tapping gently on his shoulder.

"Jen," your voice barely a whisper, yet it slices through the laughter, halting conversations. He turns, his friends drifting away, leaving you both in a sudden quiet. His smile is tight-lipped, a strained semblance of normalcy that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which dart briefly as if searching for an escape or an excuse.

"You okay?" His words are automatic, the customary concern laced with an undercurrent of weariness. He seems poised to keep moving, to brush past this moment.

"Yeah, I just—I just miss you, that’s all. I hope you’re taking care of yourself," you say, the words more of a plea than a statement. Each syllable is heavy with unspoken emotion, a blend of longing and subtle accusation.

"I miss you too. I’m sorry for how busy I’ve been—" Jeno starts, his apology cut off by the earnest, almost desperate look in your eyes.

"I know you're busy, but can you please come over later? Or I can come to yours. We don’t even need to do anything, I just wanna be with you," you press on, your voice soft yet insistent, betraying your need for him, for the connection that has been fraying at the edges.

He sighs, his face a canvas of conflict and affection. "I have to study so I won’t be able to give you the attention I want to," he admits, his voice low.

"That’s fine… I just wanna be with you," you persist, a frown knitting your brows. "I’ve really missed you, I fear I’m going crazy. Haven’t I, Sunwoo?"

Turning to Sunwoo, who's been hovering a respectful distance away, he mumbles awkwardly, "Yeah, batshit crazy." 

"Don’t do that face," Jeno says softly, his hands cupping your face gently, steering your gaze back to him. His expression softens into one of deep affection, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He pulls you into a hug, the motion swift yet full of intent. 

You exhale sharply, sinking into his embrace, your body finally relaxing after weeks of tension. His scent envelops you, familiar and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The world narrows down to the feel of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"How about I see you tomorrow night?" he suggests, his voice a soothing balm.

You pout, longing for more immediate comfort, but he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Just wait an extra day, okay? Can you do that for me?" His lips graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

"Tomorrow is when all my exams will end, so I’ll be all yours from that moment onwards. Yeah, baby? You like the sound of that?" His words are husky, promising not just his time but his undivided attention.

"All. Mine," you affirm, leaning up to capture his lips with yours, initiating a deep, fervent kiss that you both have missed. The kiss is intense, a mingling of relief and longing, drawing out the weeks of separation into a single point of connection.

The sensation that passes through Jeno at your words is ineffable, a surge that sets his very soul quivering like a plucked string. It’s an ancient rhythm, a silent symphony that whispers of something more profound than desire—too deep to name, too sacred to voice. His heart recognizes it, the strange alchemy of fear and longing intermingled, and it terrifies him. Yet, as his gaze locks with yours, there's an unspoken understanding, a yearning to surrender to this unnamed emotion.

He watches the happiness blossom on your face, and it dawns on him—the decision has already been made in the quiet spaces of his heart. “Come over tonight,” he finds himself saying, the words shaped by a newfound resolve.

Your smile, open and luminous, fans the flame within him. “I thought that you were busy tonight.” 

“I will be, but you can just sit on my lap while I work, and then we’ll stay up together when I’m done. I could take you somewhere nice, yeah? Or we can just chill. Just come over. I wanna be with you. I’m sorry I haven’t given you much time in the last two weeks; that’s all gonna change. I’ll never do that again. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not my priority. Let me make it up to you, tonight and tomorrow night.”

The promises tumble from him, each one a pledge to do better, to be better. And in that moment, he means every word with a fervency that startles him. The smile that dances across your lips is a beam of pure joy, igniting a similar glow within him.

The kiss you share is intense, a physical manifestation of all the unspoken words and pent-up emotions between you. His lips press against yours with a fervor that conveys his urgency, his need to make amends. The taste of him is familiar yet charged with the electric current of your shared anticipation. You respond with equal fervor, your own desire an echo of his own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roam across your back, drawing you in until there's no space left between you. The heat of the moment rises, every movement of your lips and every glide of your tongues stoking the fire. Your breaths mingle, each gasp and sigh amplifying the hunger.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, to the sensation of his body aligned with yours, the soft sounds that spill from your lips into his. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, a testament to his intensity. And even as he whispers apologies against your lips, each kiss he plants is a silent promise of more—more time, more attention, more him.

But time, relentless and unforgiving, intrudes upon the moment. Jeno breaks away with a soft, lingering peck on your cheek, an endearment whispered into the air between you. “I’m already late,” he says, and though the words are an apology, his tone carries the weight of a promise. "I’ll see you tonight. Beautiful." You nod, a smile breaking through your earlier frustrations. As he turns to leave, a sense of anticipation fills you, the promise of tonight and tomorrow holding not just his presence but the revival of the intimacy you've both missed.

──────────────────────────────

As you sit on his lap, the room hums with the sound of his focused efforts, the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clicks of his laptop keys filling the air. He's immersed in his studies, his brow furrowed in concentration, a look of determination etched across his face. Every so often, he lifts his eyes from the screen to meet yours, offering a soft smile or a quick kiss—a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

The seriousness with which he approaches his work is undeniably attractive, adding an edge of admiration to the warmth blooming in your chest. His dedication reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. It's in these moments, even amidst the silence of concentration, that you feel a deep connection to him.

Suddenly, his voice breaks the quiet, a whisper so soft it pulls you from your reverie. "Turn around," he murmurs, his tone low and inviting. You hum in response, a sound of contentment that fills the small space between you.

"I'm taking a break. Turn around on my lap." His hands guide you gently yet firmly, ensuring your cooperation without needing to push. You can't help but smile as you obey, feeling the shift of his body beneath you as he helps maneuver you to face him. The movement is smooth, almost practiced, showing his familiarity with your body. 

Once positioned, you find yourself straddling him, your gaze locked onto his. His eyes, dark and intense, pull you in, and without another word, his lips find yours. The kiss is deep and consuming, igniting a fire that had simmered quietly while he studied. His lips move with a sureness that speaks of deep familiarity and longing, each press against yours a silent message of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his hands wander up your back, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. His touch is both gentle and demanding, a contradiction that only he could manage so perfectly. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin material of your clothes, the warmth radiating between you creating an envelope of intimacy that shields you from the outside world.

"Good girl," he whispers against the shell of your ear after your lips part for a moment. His breath is warm, tickling the sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering slightly as he speaks again. "You've been so patient with me while I work, not disturbing me. I should do this more."

"Do what?" you ask, your voice a whisper that matches his own.

"Have you on my lap," he responds with a hint of mischief in his voice, his hands tightening around you slightly. 

As you lean in, eager for another kiss, he pulls back slightly, a small crease forming between his brows—a silent signal of his concern. "You okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine care. Your eyes narrow playfully, trying to mask the flurry of emotions his simple question stirs within you. 

"I am, yeah." You attempt to bridge the distance for another kiss, but he resists gently, his gaze piercing deeper.

"Is there something on your mind? Talk to me, baby." His words halt your motions, a gentle reminder of how attuned he is to your feelings, sometimes catching nuances you haven't fully acknowledged yourself. As he looks into your eyes, it's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, seeing beyond the facade to the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions you've pushed aside.

His gentle probing breaks through the facade you've maintained. Suddenly, emotions you've suppressed surge to the forefront, triggered by his keen perception. It’s not merely the closeness of his body that reassures you, but how deeply he sees into you. Beyond the physical intimacy, it's his emotional attunement to you—his ability to sense and respond to your unspoken thoughts and hidden feelings. In his gaze, you find a refuge for all that you've held back, a realization dawning on you of how profoundly connected you both are, far beyond the everyday exchanges of affection.

You sigh, gathering the courage to address the tangled feelings you've harboured over the past few weeks. As someone who values open communication above all in a relationship, you feel it's crucial to not let this pattern of silence persist with Jeno, especially when he matters so much to you.

"It started when you talked to Arin after my performance," you begin, watching his reaction closely. "I appreciated how you handled it—being clear about your feelings and moving on right then and there. It meant a lot to me."

Jeno nods silently, his eyes locked on yours, signaling his attention despite the surprise that flickers briefly across his face.

"But since then, something's changed," you continue, the words flowing more freely now. "You’ve seemed distant, harder to read. I understand the pressure you’re under with exams, and I see how hard you're working. I’m really proud of you for that." You pause, ensuring he's still with you. Jeno's nod encourages you to press on.

"However, I can’t help feeling that part of the distance might be due to what happened with Arin. Has it left you feeling confused or lost? I wouldn’t know as we haven’t really talked about it, and our communication has suffered.” 

"Speaking of which," you add, shifting slightly to gauge his reaction to what you’re about to reveal, "there’s something else you should know. Do you know Jiwon?”

"Arin's best friend?" Jeno asks, a trace of caution in his voice.

You nod and Jeno lets out a huff. “Yeah, she’s a bitch.” 

You hold back your laughter and continue. “She approached me recently, and she wasn’t kind. She implied that what you and I have isn’t serious. She told me I was just keeping your bed warm, that you weren’t over Arin and that you’d always go back to her."

Jeno's expression tightens, his jaw clenching slightly as he processes your words. "Oh, that’s what that was about," he murmurs, referring to something evidently on his mind.

You're puzzled. "What?"

"I heard a rumor around campus that you hit Jiwon. I meant to ask about it but forgot. So, did you hit her?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, I'm not violent. I wouldn't do that."

His gaze then sharpens, becoming more serious and focused. “Listen, don’t let her get to you. Jiwon doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s clueless about us, about what we have. It’s so much more than she could understand.” His reassurance is firm, meant to fortify you against the doubts seeded by outside voices.

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but question, the words slipping out softer than intended.

He hummed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. “Is it so much more? Because there’s been no real progression in our relationship, no steps forward.”

“We’re exclusive,” he replied quickly, as if that settled the matter.

But the conversation was already veering into deeper waters. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you still had some lingering attachments or feelings for Arin. She was a huge part of your history, and it’s tough to just let that go. Is that why we haven’t had the ‘what are we’ talk? Because of Arin, because of what you might still feel for her?”

He didn’t see that coming. The shift in the room was palpable.

Sitting on his lap, you fiddled with the edge of his shirt, the physical closeness contrasting sharply with the emotional distance that seemed to widen with each word. the silence stretching painfully between you. It was unfortunate, really, that despite the serious conversations and the mutual admissions of wanting only each other, Jeno hadn’t moved things forward. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and that omission hung heavily in the room, a silent wedge driving doubt into your thoughts.

"Are you being serious right now?" Jeno’s voice sliced through the air, his sudden movement slamming his laptop shut so forcefully it made you flinch. His expression morphed into one of disbelief and annoyance. The intensity in his fiery gaze made you wince as he faced you, his voice thick with frustration. "After everything we’ve been through, every time I’ve opened up to you, you’re really gonna accuse me of that?" His laugh was sharp, a sound you'd never heard from him before, void of humour and filled with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your accusation—that he was still not over Arin—hanging between you. "I just—I can't think of any other reasons and you’ve been acting differently ever since you confronted Arin," you countered, your voice raised in frustration, desperate for him to understand the insecurities that his hesitations had fostered.

Jeno's stance hardened, the muscles in his jaw working as he processed your words. "This is unbelievable. You know that's so far from the truth. You crossed a line, Y/N," he retorted, his tone a mix of anger and hurt. His eyes, usually so comforting, now mirrored the storm brewing within him.

You were a bit taken aback by his reaction. Sure, you expected him to be shocked, but not angry and offended. You weren’t used to this side of him, especially when directed at you. “It’s not a bad thing, Jeno, we can move past this.” You tried to hold his hand but were met with his clenched fists, so you placed your hand on top of his, soothing out his muscles and feeling relief when you saw him relax slightly beneath your touch.

“I didn’t say that you still loved her, it’s just obvious that you’re not fully over her. But it’s okay, no one is holding you to account for it and I understand, truly. Maybe to fully get over her you have to take the leap and be with me seriously.”

“It’s— it’s more complicated than that,” Jeno murmured, his voice heavy with a mix of emotions.

The question finally slipped out, “Why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend?” you pressed, feeling your heart thump painfully against your ribs.

His silence was telling, and when he finally spoke, his voice was weary, “I don’t know. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship, especially after what happened with Arin.“​

The room's stillness was heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city through the open window. As you breathed in deeply, your voice, though shaky, cut sharply into the silence, "Then I’m done with this, with ‘us’." Your hands motioned in the space between you two, the severity of your own words washing over you, sending tears streaming down your face.

Jeno's expression softened, the earlier anger melting into a quiet desperation as he reached for you. "Baby—" he started, voice calm, trying to bridge the gap with a kiss, but you recoiled, stepping back.

"I want something serious. I want to settle down and commit. I want a boyfriend. But I obviously can’t find that in you, so I’m walking away before I’m even more hurt than I am right now." Each word was punctuated by a sob, the tears flowing freely as the realisation of your statement sank in. Could you really walk away from him now, especially when he had become the most important person in your life? His presence had intertwined so deeply with your own happiness that the thought of severing it felt like tearing part of yourself away.

Jeno stepped closer, his voice soft and urgent, "Look at me, please." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet him, and the vulnerability etched across his features stirred a deep, aching empathy within you.

"Don’t walk away from us, not yet," he implored, his voice soft and earnest. "You mean everything to me, more than I've ever let on."

He reached for your hand, his touch gentle, seeking connection. "It’s not about her—it’s about me. I’m scared of being hurt again, of diving in and finding myself lost," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

"You think I’d hurt you?" you asked, the hurt in your voice mirrored in your eyes. The idea seemed to widen the chasm of misunderstanding between you.

"No, that’s not what I’m saying," Jeno quickly clarified, his tone desperate to bridge the misunderstanding. "I’m just... I��m trying to protect my heart, but not at the expense of losing you."

"Because hurting you is the last thing I would ever want," he continued, his words sincere. "Please, just give me a little more time. I promise, I’m not letting go without a fight."

He looked earnestly into your eyes. "Just wait until tomorrow night, okay? I need to show you how much you mean to me. I don’t want us to end like this. I'll make everything right."

Your heart thudded painfully at his plea, torn between the fear of future pain and the undeniable bond that still pulsed so powerfully between you. Could you dare to hope that tomorrow might bring a new beginning, or was it just another promise waiting to be broken?

──────────────────────────────

“What’s up?” you hum to Sunwoo as he looks at you with a concerned expression.

“What’s wrong? I can tell when you’re not yourself,” he responds, his voice laced with worry.

You sigh, knowing there was no hiding your feelings from him. “It’s just—I kinda had an argument with Jeno and I think we left it on good terms but I’m still scared.”

“What was it about?” Sunwoo asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“A few things, he’s been really distant lately and about the whole ‘Arin’ thing,” you reply, hesitant to delve into the details, and thankfully, Sunwoo nods in understanding, sparing you from having to elaborate.

“Aren’t you supposed to spend some time with him tonight?” he inquires.

You nod. “I am. I’m already feeling awkward about it but I want it to be good. I want to celebrate his end of exams with him. I want him to be able to relax and I want to forget about our argument just for tonight, and then we can have a more serious conversation.”

Feeling a momentary lift in your spirits, you grin mischievously at Sunwoo. “I wanna have a good time with him tonight, and I think you can help,” you suggest, segueing smoothly into your request.

“Sooooo, you know how you’re my best friend and you love me so much that you’d do absolutely anything for me?” you tease, sneaking up behind Sunwoo and draping an arm around his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes, already anticipating the favor about to be requested. “What do you want?”

“You’re throwing a party tomorrow, right? For Yeji?” you ask, your tone playful.

A smile breaks across his features, his fondness for Yeji never a secret. “Of course, I am,” he replies, his tone carrying a mix of pride and affection—it's probably the 10th party he's thrown for her.

“To celebrate her finishing exams?” you continue, nudging him gently to keep the mood light.

He nods in confirmation, his smile still wide.

“Jeno’s finishing his exams too…” you trail off, giving him a meaningful look.

“Throw him your own damn party,” Sunwoo retorts quickly, guessing your next words before they even leave your lips.

“No! That’s not what I want,” you protest, your voice full of earnestness. You pull out a piece of paper from your pocket and hand it to him, your grin mischievous. “I’m just kindly asking if you can do all of these things before tonight.”

Sunwoo’s eyebrow arches as he scans the list, visibly taken aback. “You’re really doing all this for him?” He can't hide his surprise as he reads through the detailed list, which includes all of Jeno’s favorite snacks, drinks, and even specifics on the type of alcohol and drugs. It’s clear you’ve put a lot of thought into personalizing the party for Jeno as well.

“Just go to your usual dealer; I’ll send you the money once you’ve got them,” you plead, your voice a blend of determination and hope.

He pauses, looking at you with a mix of admiration and skepticism. “Are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend yet?” he probes, his tone teasing yet serious beneath the surface.

You beam at him, your face alight with hope and a touch of nervous excitement. “I wanna ask him tonight,” you confess, your expression one of innocent trust, eyes sparkling with adoration for Jeno. Your enthusiasm is infectious, and even Sunwoo can’t help but feel a bit moved by your dedication.

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The evening had started with a flutter in your heart, excitement flowed through every motion as you prepared for what was supposed to be a memorable night. Each stroke of the makeup brush on your cheeks, each swipe of mascara was laden with anticipation. The mirror reflected back a hopeful version of yourself. Tonight isn’t just any night; it’s the night you’ve been counting down to, the night when all the pieces are supposed to fall into place with Jeno.

In your bedroom, the air was perfumed with your favourite scent, a subtle floral that Jeno had always loved. The dress you slipped into was a soft, figure-hugging mini that he had picked out on one of your dates, remembering how his eyes lit up when he saw it on you. It was more than just fabric; it was a reminder of his taste, his touch, his presence. As you adjusted the straps, the silky material felt like a whisper against your skin, each movement a call to the night’s potential.

Descending the stairs to the living area, every detail you had arranged caught your eye and tugged at your heartstrings. Jeno’s favourite snacks were arrayed meticulously on the counter, his preferred drinks chilled to perfection, the soft glow of the ambient lighting setting a cozy, inviting scene. 

As the doorbell rings and guests start to fill the space, the atmosphere shifts from quiet anticipation to vibrant festivity. Laughter rings out, glasses clink, and music swells—a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a perfect evening. But as hours slip by, your smiles begin to stretch too thin, your laughs sound too forced. With each passing moment, the weight of Jeno's absence grows heavier.

Leaning against the wall, your phone felt like a leaden weight in your clutch. The screen lit up with each anxious glance—no new messages. Your heart sank a little more with each passing minute. Mingling through the crowd, you tried to engage, to be present, but the buzz of conversation around you felt distant, muffled by the growing dread that he might not show up.

"Hey, enjoying yourself?" Sunwoo nudges you with a smile as you both lean against the wall, watching the crowd.

"Yeah, so much," you reply, your voice hollow. You want to tell him, spill everything about how you're waiting for Jeno, how he promised he'd be here, but the words cling to the back of your throat, unspoken.

As the party hits its fifth hour, reality settles like a cold shadow across your spirit. He's not coming. He forgot. The realisation severs the last thread of hope you were clinging to, and quietly, you retreat to your room, away from the noise, away from the reminders of what tonight was supposed to be.

The transition was brutal. The hallway to your room seemed longer than ever, each step heavier than the last. Inside, the dimly lit space greeted you with its meticulously planned romantic ambiance now feeling like a stage set for a play where the lead actor would never show. The candles flickered, casting shadows that danced mockingly on the walls. The playlist you had carefully curated played low in the background, each song a reminder of what the night could have been.

Your gaze inevitably drifts to the corner where you had arranged everything just for him. Among the glowing candles and cozy ambiance lay several small baggies, each containing Jeno's favorite drugs and pills—a special treat you had secured to celebrate the end of his exams and enjoy together. The sight of them, still untouched, hurts, you had carefully chosen each one, you paid attention to his likes yet he didn’t show up. 

You hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night, resisting the temptation of the freely flowing drinks at the party. You wanted to be fully present, fully aware, to take care of him, to celebrate with him, to be there for him in every way you could..

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you dialed his number again, the ringing tone echoing in the hollow room. No answer. The phone fell from your hand, landing softly beside you. Around you, the soft fabric of the pillows, the dim glow of the candles, spoke of a solitude that was both physical and emotional. The tears come then, unchecked, the sobs shaking your shoulders as you curl up amidst the pillows. You try his number again, the sound of the ring hollow in the quiet room.

He promised. 

Outside, the party raged on, oblivious to the quiet devastation unfolding just floors above. The contrast between the external joy and your internal desolation painted a vivid picture of your current reality. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of beginnings, yet it felt like an acknowledgment of an ending.

As you lay there, curled in the darkness of your room, the decorations you'd so carefully arranged transformed into stark reminders of your solitude. In the silent echoes of the night, you were left to confront the painful realization that perhaps you were never as significant in Jeno's life as he was in yours.

The door creaks open, and Eunji’s concerned face appears in the doorway. She doesn’t say a word at first; she simply walks over and envelops you in a warm embrace. As you lay your head on her lap, the floodgates open, and you let the tears flow freely.

“What happened? Is it Jeno?” Eunji’s voice is soft, filled with worry.

Between broken sobs, you manage to speak. “He was—he was supposed to meet me but he never showed up.” You tell her everything that’s been on your mind, things you’ve kept caged inside: how you planned this to celebrate the end of his exams, how excited you were for tonight, and how you’ve felt his growing distance these past weeks.

Eunji strokes your hair gently, her touch soothing. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, handing you tissues and letting you cry it out without judgement.

Nayoung bursts into the room just then, her expression turning from concern to outrage as she pieces together the situation from the remnants of your tear-streaked explanation. “I’m gonna kill him,” she declares, kneeling in front of you with fierce protectiveness.

You can’t help but let out a weak giggle, despite the tears, as Eunji and Nayoung begin to playfully argue about how to handle the situation.

“If you give me the word, I swear I’ll march right over there and knock some sense into him. Heck, I’ll threaten to cut off his hands and his cock with his own engineering tools if that’s what it takes to show him he can’t treat you like this!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of frustration and protectiveness.

Eunji immediately interjects, her tone soothing yet decisive. “Let’s take a breath here, Nayoung. Threatening violence isn’t going to help anything. We need to think clearly and not let anger cloud our judgment.”

“But he’s making her miserable!” Nayoung argues, waving her hands emphatically towards you. “Someone needs to teach him a lesson, and it needs to be loud and clear.”

Eunji sighs, her expression softening as she looks between you and Nayoung. “I know he does, I really do. But let’s focus on being here for Y/N. Adding more chaos to the storm won’t help her heal.”

Nayoung grumbles but sits down next to you, her energy simmering down slightly. “Fine, but I’m serious. If you just nod once, I’m out that door to give him a piece of my mind. Who forgets a night like this after everything she’s done for him?”

Eunji gently squeezes your hand, her voice warm and reassuring. “We’re right here with you, for whatever you need. It’s perfectly okay to let it all out. Cry, get angry, express how you feel. We won’t leave your side.”

Nayoung’s earlier fire turns to a gentle firmness. “And hey, if yelling at him ever seems like the right move, just give me a nod. I’ve got plenty of volume for the both of us.”

Nayoung’s expression turns serious as she holds your hand tightly, her usual bravado giving way to a look of concern. “I need to show you something,” she says, her voice soft and hesitant.

She pulls out her phone and opens Instagram, scrolling through a series of stories posted by Jeno's friends. Handing you the phone, her touch lingers, as if unsure whether to let go. As you watch, a timeline unfolds, capturing a night that diverges sharply from the one you had planned together.

The photos and videos start innocently enough, with Jeno and his friends toasting to the end of exams. He had told you about this part—just a few drinks to celebrate their freedom before he was supposed to come over. But as you swipe through the stories, the images reveal a night that quickly spiralled beyond a simple celebration.

Each update shows Jeno progressively more engulfed in the festivities. He’s laughing loudly, surrounded by a crowd of equally drunk friends. The videos show them clinking glasses repeatedly, the table cluttered with empty bottles—a clear sign of the night’s excesses. Jeno appears increasingly carefree, his eyes bright with the uninhibited joy of the moment, so drunk and visibly high, completely absorbed in the revelry around him.

The pain of seeing him this way—so lost in a moment that doesn't include you—cuts deeply. Tears cloud your vision as the realization sinks in: he was too caught up in his own fun to remember his promises to you.

You cover your face with your hands, unable to watch anymore, as sobs shake your body. “I hate him,” you manage to whisper, each word choked out between cries of heartbreak.

Nayoung wrapped an arm around you, her presence a comforting counter to the sharp sting of the images, trying to lighten your heart with a gentle joke. But you couldn’t muster a laugh, not with your heart in such turmoil. “We had an argument last night… it got quite tense, but I thought we aired it out; he even promised to make things right the next night,” you explained through tears, your voice trembling. “What if he’s angry at me because of what happened and what I said to him?” The worry in your voice was palpable, the fear of his anger making you second-guess the harsh words that had passed between you.

Nayoung holds up her phone hesitantly, knowing there’s more you need to see. “Y/N, I’m not done…” she murmurs, her voice thick with sympathy. She swipes to a new set of photos, and there’s Arin, looking effortlessly stunning among a couple of her friends. They’re laughing, sipping drinks, the glow of the party lights casting a radiant sheen on her face. Your heart sinks further, the pain twisting like a knife as involuntary sobs wrack your body once again.

But Nayoung quickly interjects, her tone turning analytical, a sharp contrast to the emotionality of the moment. “They aren’t together in any of these pictures,” she points out firmly. “And I can text some people who can tell me if they were close tonight. They’ll tell the truth.” She types rapidly on her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The longest few minutes of your life crawl by until Nayoung’s phone buzzes. “Okay, so Winter messaged me back. You know Winter, right? The really sweet and shy girl who’s always with Karina? She doesn’t drink much, so we can trust her word.” You nod, urging her to continue with a desperate glance.

“Okay,” Nayoung exhales with a measure of relief. “She told me that Arin and Jiwon just kind of turned up unannounced. Nobody really wanted them there. Everyone was pretty hostile and cold to them, especially Jeno and his friends. Apparently, they kept a good distance the whole night, and Jeno acted like she wasn’t even there.”

Your breath hitches at the news, a mix of relief and residual pain swirling within. Nayoung quickly adds, “Ooohh, okay, Karina also messaged me back.” She sighs, reading the new message. “Karina said that Arin kept trying to get close to him, to push into his space, but Jeno was having none of it. Even though he was high, he kept telling her to back off, literally saying, ‘Get the fuck away from me’ and ‘Don’t fucking touch me.’”

Your eyes widen slightly, processing this new information. Yet, despite the assurances, a hollow feeling lingers. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Nayoung nodded, her expression softening in understanding. “I honestly just think he made a stupid mistake,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s not a bad guy, and we all know that. Obviously, he needs to be more mindful, and he deserves the cold shoulder from you for a while to realise the impact of his actions.” Her words, meant to be comforting, still left room for your conflicted emotions to simmer.

Nayoung’s words hung in the air, giving you a bit to ponder, but it was Eunji who broke the silence, her voice as soothing as ever. She squeezed your hand gently, offering a calm anchor in the storm of your emotions. “Whatever you need, we’re here for you,” she assured you with a warm smile. “We can eat all his favorite snacks, drink his drinks, and talk all night. Or we can just sit here quietly. You tell us what you need.”

Nayoung nods, her earlier anger now replaced with a somber, supportive silence, and Eunji pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. The three of you sit in a quiet huddle, the noises of the party fading into the background as you lean on each other for support in the dim light of your room, finding solace in the presence of friends in a moment fraught with heartbreak.

“I wanna get high,” you whisper suddenly, a stark contrast to the comforting scene. You rise from the huddle, your hands shaking slightly as you reach for the baggies you had set aside for Jeno. Each packet crinkles under your fingers, the sound unusually loud in the tense silence.

Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, concern etched deeply on their faces. “Y/N, maybe that’s not the best idea right now,” Nayoung says, her voice soft but firm.

Ignoring their caution, you briskly fix your makeup, trying to wipe away the trails of tears, preparing to face the remainder of the party with a different kind of numbness. “I need to forget tonight, just for a little while,” you mutter as you pocket the pills.

Descending back to the party, the lights and music assault your senses, a vivid contrast to the dark stillness of your room. You start downing shots, the alcohol sharp on your tongue, each swallow a burn that you hope will erase the sharp edges of your hurt. The pills in your pocket feel like a promise of further escape, a temporary relief from the pain that now consumes you.

After what feels like hours, your senses dulled by the mix of pills and alcohol, a sudden stir pulls you from the haze. There he is—Jeno. His arrival slices through the crowd, an unwelcome shock to your numbed heart. He’s not alone; a swarm of his friends buzz around him, their laughter and cheers a stark contrast to the heavy silence you've wrapped around yourself. They are celebrating, oblivious to the wreckage of your evening, to the fact that he's already too late.

You turn away sharply, a reflex to shield your heart from further damage. The sight of him brings a rush of anger and hurt, emotions you're not ready to face. You don't care why he's here now; his presence feels like an intrusion, a painful reminder of what you'd hoped this night would be.

Moving to a quieter corner of the party, away from the boisterous group, you try to disappear into the shadows, to find solace in solitude. But the fragments of overheard conversations tug at your attention.

"Jeno! Man, chill!" It's Jaemin's voice, laced with stress and concern. You glance back, catching a glimpse of him running a hand through his hair, his expression one of someone who didn’t plan to spend his night this way. He’s dressed casually, as if he’d been dragged here against his will, but he came for a reason—Jeno.

From the snippets you catch, it's clear Jeno is far from alright. He’s staggeringly high, more lost to the world than you've ever seen him before. Jaemin tries to manage him, to somehow bring him back from the edge where he teeters. The scene paints a picture of chaos, of a night gone terribly wrong. Jeno had lost control, spiraling in a way that none of his friends had anticipated.

The party's clamor surrounds you, a din of laughter and music that feels alien to your current mood. "Y/N," a voice calls out, tugging you back to the present. It's Jaemin, his expression marked with concern.

You manage a weak smile, your gaze darting anywhere but into his eyes. A surge of anger bubbles within you, though you remind yourself that Jaemin isn't the one to blame.

"Have you seen Jeno?" he asks. 

You shake your head, your response terse. The less you say, the better you can manage the simmering frustration.

"Did you throw this party for him?" Jaemin probes, his eyebrow arched in suspicion.

"No. It’s Sunwoo’s party," you reply, sharper than intended. The last thing you want is for anyone to know this was all for Jeno—a party he never even planned to attend.

"You don’t need to lie to me, you know. You did all of this stuff for him," Jaemin continues, his voice softening as he glances at the table laden with Jeno’s favorite drinks and the pills protruding from your pocket. "I bet you’re even wearing some pretty lingerie under—"

"I’m not," you interject, cutting him off before he can finish. The humiliation of it all is too much to bear.

"And he only showed up now?" Jaemin's voice is tinged with disbelief.

You nod, unable to muster the energy for more words.

Jaemin sighs, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and apology. "I know it won’t mean much coming from me but I’m really fucking sorry. That’s not fair, and you don’t deserve that from him. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him, I’ll make sure he makes things right—"

"Please don’t," you interject, your voice small yet pleading. "It’s embarrassing. Seeing how much effort I put in all to be stood up... I just want to forget about it all. I don’t want him to know. Please promise me you won’t say a word."

Reluctantly, Jaemin extends his pinky. You know you can trust him, and he solemnly agrees with a pinky promise.

"I’m not trying to justify what he did, because it’s unacceptable and he needs to make things right. He needs to realize that on his own," Jaemin continues, his tone serious. "But he’s been really focusing on his exams these last few weeks, shutting out everyone, even me. He’s been an academic weapon. He hasn’t smoked, gotten drunk, or done drugs since exams started, so I guess tonight was his blowout. He always goes overboard when exams finish. When he’s that high, not a single thought goes through his mind."

"That doesn’t make anything better," you reply coldly.

"I’m sure he was supposed to meet you and go but forgot, like genuinely. It doesn’t make anything better, but I’m sure it was an actual mistake from him. It wasn’t intentional. I know Jeno; he’s not a bad guy. He wouldn’t do that for no reason," Jaemin insists, trying to offer some solace, however small.

"Tell him not to call or talk to me from now on," you say, the finality in your voice echoing your resolve.

"Come on, he really likes you," Jaemin tries again, but you're already walking away, distancing yourself from the conversation and the painful realities it confirms. As you merge back into the shadows of the party, Jaemin's words linger, but they do little to mend the ache that has firmly settled in your heart.

The music thrums through the room, each beat a relentless echo of the night’s unraveling. You’re still reeling from the conversation with Jaemin, your mind a tangled mess of anger and sorrow. In your haste to escape the intensity of the moment, you turn sharply, your movement quick and unthinking. The sudden motion sends you crashing into someone. Stabilizing yourself, you look up, ready to apologize, but the words die on your lips as your eyes lock with Jeno’s.

It’s him. The very person who’s at the center of your turmoil, standing right in front of you, almost as if fate had cruelly steered you into his path. His presence strikes you with the force of an unexpected wave, overwhelming and disorienting. For a second, the world seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into a dull roar in the background. 

He looks so good it hurts. There’s an effortless charm to him even now, disheveled as he might be, with his t-shirt slightly askew revealing a hint of his collarbone, and those jeans that always seem perfectly fitted, suggesting the contours of his toned legs. His hair, usually neatly styled, hangs loosely around his face, strands falling over his forehead in a way that somehow highlights the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline.

He’s a vision, undeniably handsome—every inch the kind of distraction that has always drawn you in, despite tonight’s circumstances. His eyes, though dilated and clouded slightly by his indulgences, still hold that familiar warm glint when they meet yours, making it hard for a moment to remember the disappointment simmering inside you.

"Hi baby," he says, his voice smooth despite the noticeable slur, his words tumbling into one another yet filled with a warmth that pulls at you. He reaches out, attempting to pull you into his embrace, his movements confident yet slightly uncoordinated.

You instinctively start to lean into the comfort he offers before the reality of the evening snaps you back. "Go and fucking touch Arin," you retort sharply, pushing against his chest, forcing some physical distance between you as a barrier to the emotional torrent threatening to spill over.

Jeno pauses, his arms still outstretched, his expression morphing from affectionate to puzzled. "What? No, it’s you I—"

"Don't," you cut him off, the firmness in your voice belying the ache in your chest. The sight of him so carefree, so unaffected, stirs a tumult of emotions within you. His shirt, slightly lifted from the motion, reveals just a hint of the abs you've traced so many times, a reminder of the many moments of intimacy now overshadowed by the night’s revelations.

"I'm here for you," he continues, his voice earnest, a stark contrast to the blithe disregard his actions have demonstrated. His eyes try to meet yours, searching for an in, but you divert your gaze, unwilling to get lost in the depths of blue that have always seemed to see right through you.

He’s beautiful, infuriatingly so, and even now, clouded by substances, there’s a sincerity in his effort to connect that makes your resolve waver. But the hurt of being forgotten, of being secondary to his celebrations, hardens your heart once more.

Your heart throbs painfully against your ribcage, a silent echo of the night’s crushing disappointment. You stare at him, the dim party lights casting shadows across his handsome features, deepening the hollows of his face, and for a fleeting moment, you see the boy you fell for, not the aloof figure before you.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turn away, leaving him in the swirl of the party, his image etched into your mind like a bittersweet photograph. The conflict between the pull of your heart and the weight of your disappointment leaves you reeling as you step back into the crowd, away from the warmth of his confused gaze.

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The house had emptied out, the noise and chaos of the party finally fading into a strained silence, only punctuated by Sunwoo’s concerned gaze fixed on you. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, his voice laced with worry as he hands you a glass of water, his gestures pointedly trying to ground you back to sobriety.

“Go to my room,” He mutters, the words slipping out before you fully register them.

Sunwoo follows, once in the comfort of his room, you spill everything and he listens, his expression a mask of patience and anger as you unravel every thread of the evening—the plans you had made for Jeno, the crushing disappointment, the despair. You tell him everything, each confession punctuated by a shared understanding of past comforts and missed connections.

He wraps an arm around you, a familiar gesture that feels like a lifeline. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs.

“Can you stay here?” you whisper, your voice small in the vast quiet of the room.

“Yeah, I can, it is my room.” Sunwoo replies, already tossing a pillow onto the floor to make himself a makeshift bed.

“I meant next to me.” The words are out before you can stop them, a raw, needy whisper in the dark.

He laughs, a disbelieving sound that fills the space between you. “Y/N—”

But you’re already moving, driven by a surge of loneliness and a desperate craving for something to fill the void Jeno left. Your lips crash against Sunwoo’s, a fierce, messy kiss that cuts him off mid-sentence. You pull him down, and he lands heavily on top of you, his body instinctively responding to yours. It’s not the first time; there’s a rhythm to your desperation, a remembered path of least resistance.

You’re moving together now, a dance of old habits as you straddle his lap, grinding against him in a rhythm that’s as familiar as it is forbidden. You start to peel his top off, caught up in the momentum, but he catches your hands, his grip firm.

He pulls back sharply, the motion almost violent in its intensity. “Y/N, we can’t—” His voice is ragged, breath hot against your face.

“I’m really hard, so please get off my lap,” he adds, a strained chuckle belying the tension in his voice. You can feel his arousal, a hard line against your inner thigh, a testament to the physical response he can’t control.

Reluctantly, you slide off him and curl up beside him, wrapping your arms around yourself against the chill that seems to seep into your bones. He notices, draping a blanket over your shivering form.

“Why?” The word is more of a sob than a question, hurt coloring your tone. “Nothing has ever stopped us before.” 

“Because you’re upset at him, and this isn’t the way to deal with it,” Sunwoo says gently, the earnestness in his voice making you look at him. “You need to talk to him instead of trying to fuck me.”

You frown, frustration and confusion mingling with the remnants of desire. “I’ve come to you crying a hundred times in the past, before Jeno, and you always used to fuck me to make me feel better, so why won’t you do it now?” Your voice is raw, each word a slice of vulnerability.

“This was our thing,” you continue, the history between you spilling out in a rush. “We used to come to each other whenever we were stressed or upset and used to fuck each other for release. Remember the amount of times I’ve sucked your cock because something pissed you off so you’d always show up at mine or call me over?”

He laughs, a sound that’s half nostalgia, half resignation. “Yeah, and why do you think we’re both shitty at dealing with emotions?”

“I’m not shitty at dealing with emotions—” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, all of the fucking is left in the past. You should know that. I’m trying to be with Yeji, and this won’t help anything. I know how hurt you are, just, let’s watch your favorite show, okay? I promise I won’t leave you alone, but I can’t fuck you, not now.”

Resignation washed over you as you nodded slowly, the fight draining out of you as the reality of his words settled in. Together, you settled under the blanket, the TV flickering on as you leaned against him, his presence a steady comfort in the swirl of your chaotic emotions.

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Sunwoo flings the door open, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep his anger in check. The air is thick with tension, every muscle in his frame poised for a confrontation.

Jeno’s eyes are pleading, and he starts to speak, his voice thick with urgency, “Please let me see her—”

That’s all it takes for Sunwoo’s restraint to snap. His hands shoot out, fingers tangling in the fabric of Jeno’s shirt, pulling him close with a jolt. He pins Jeno against the door with a force that echoes through the silent hallway. Jeno, for all his faults in this moment, offers no resistance. There’s a glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes—he knows he’s earned this.

Sunwoo’s voice is a low growl, his words like bullets. “You fucked up. I’ve never seen her this upset.” Each word is punctuated by a shake, Jeno’s head knocking softly against the door.

Sunwoo’s voice drops to a hiss, venomous and revealing. “She was serious about you. She even stopped fucking and sucking my cock when she started seeing you and trust me, she’s never done that for any guy before. But she did it for you, we both agreed to stop our meaningless fucks whenever we were horny and needed a release… and this is how you treat her? After all the patience and kindness she’s shown you? After she opened up her heart to you? You’re fucking pathetic. A fucking idiot.”

Jeno’s voice breaks through the tension, rough with emotion, “You’re the one who’s fucked her?”

Jeno had always suspected, in the back of his mind, that there was history between you and Sunwoo. He’d noticed the way you both interacted, a familiarity that went beyond mere friendship. Your closeness with Sunwoo was obvious — the personal jokes, the way you’d lean on him, the comfort in each other’s space. He’d never brought it up; after all, it was your past, and he had no place digging into it.

Yet, now, faced with the stark reality, it hit him harder than he anticipated. Sunwoo’s words, dripping with contempt and protectiveness over you, ignited a blend of anger and guilt in Jeno. He knew — he’d always known, really — that whatever you and Sunwoo had shared was purely physical, a no-strings-attached arrangement. But the raw jealousy that clawed at him now was unexpected, unwelcome.

He grappled with the images his mind conjured, unwanted scenarios of you seeking comfort in Sunwoo’s arms, just as you had in the past. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that his actions, his neglect, may have driven you back into a familiar orbit, one that he could not stake any claim over, not anymore. The mere possibility that Sunwoo might touch you again, that you might seek solace in the intimacy you once shared, stung him with a sharp sense of loss.

In a desperate plea, his words tumbled out, a mix of demand and weakness, “Please don’t touch her. Don’t fuck her.” His voice broke, betraying the turmoil beneath his usually composed exterior. He was in no position to make requests, to set boundaries, and he knew that. But the heart doesn’t heed such logic.

Sunwoo’s response was curt, a reflection of his disdain. “She’s sleeping. She’s not okay, and it’s all because of you.” The gravity in his voice was a sobering slap to Jeno’s conscience. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Sunwoo was right. It was his fault, and the road to redemption seemed like a steep climb from the abyss he’d stumbled into.

Sunwoo steps back, releasing Jeno completely, leaving him to grapple with the gravity of his missteps. In the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, Jeno stands alone, the corridor stretching out endlessly before him, a physical representation of the distance he’s put between himself and you.

There’s a pounding in his head, a relentless drumbeat of guilt, and the sobering knowledge that he’s just stumbled upon a crossroads. One wrong move has the potential to unravel everything he holds dear. And as he stands there, he knows the path to redemption is steep and uncertain, but it’s one he must walk if he hopes to make things right.

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Jeno has been different since you. 

Donghyuck watched Jeno from across the kitchen table, stirring his noodles absentmindedly. The transformation in Jeno was stark and troubling. Gone was the uplifting spirit that Donghyuck was used to; in its place sat a withdrawn figure, his eyes often glazed over with a distant, pained look.

Jeno still hung out with them, but there was a palpable distance, a barrier he had put up. He would listen, occasionally engage, but his laughter was rare and his departures early. Even now, sitting across from him, Donghyuck felt the gap, as if Jeno was miles away instead of just across the table.

Jeno sat hunched over his food, his usually sharp eyes dulled, mindlessly swirling noodles around his fork. His usual vibrant demeanor had dimmed noticeably since your departure. Donghyuck eyed him with a mix of concern and mischief, catching the drift of his friend’s mood.

“So, I heard your girl is available now, you guys broke up?” Donghyuck teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes twinkling maliciously.

Jeno’s reaction was instant; his expression turned icy, a chill settling over his features as he shot Donghyuck a look that could freeze boiling water. “No? You just said she’s my girl, didn’t you?” His voice was low, carrying a warning that was impossible to miss.

Undeterred by the serious tone, Donghyuck leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I have a master plan, do you wanna hear it?” Silence hung in the air, Jeno’s disinterest palpable, but Donghyuck plowed ahead regardless. “I’ll fuck her for you—”

“What the fuck? No. How the fuck is that for me? You’re talking about putting your disgusting dick in my girl and you’re saying it’s for me?” Jeno’s anger flared, his words sharp as knives.

Donghyuck chuckled, unfazed by the hostility. “Nah, man, I’ll be so shit in bed and I’ll purposefully not make her cum, so she’ll want to go back to you because I know you’ve made her squirt, filthy boy!!” He slapped Jeno on the back, trying to coax a smile with his twisted logic.

For a fleeting second, a smirk twitched at the corner of Jeno’s mouth, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a scowl. With a swift motion, Jeno smacked Donghyuck across the back of his head. “Your fucking plan to bring my girl back to me is by having sex with her? Fucking dumbass. Don’t fucking touch her. If you do as much as look her way, it won’t be good.”

Donghyuck’s demeanor shifted slightly, his voice lowering to a more earnest tone. “It’s not me you have to worry about.” He leaned back, eyeing Jeno seriously. “Apparently, Y/N is trying to move on from you.”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, his jaw setting tight. “Apparently she’s texting guys all over campus,” Donghyuck continued, the smirk returning as he watched Jeno absorb the information.

“Your girl is hot. She’s getting attention from a lot of guys on campus, everyone wants to fuck her, and apparently she’s actively looking for that, to move on.” Donghyuck’s words were calculated, designed to provoke, and Jeno could feel the sting of each syllable, a mix of pain and rage building within him.

“What kind of guys are chasing after her?” 

“Hyunjin, Felix, Yangyang, Yeonjun to name a few,” Donghyuck rattles off casually, observing Jeno's reaction closely.

Jeno's expression hardens at each name—each one synonymous with casual flings and fleeting interests. These weren't the type of guys he wanted around you, especially not now.

“If they touch her, I swear to God...” Jeno's voice trails off into a growl, his hands clenching instinctively.

Donghyuck smirks, sensing the protective surge in his friend. “You’d make them regret it?” he probes, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Jeno only nods, his jaw set firm, the muscles in his neck tensed with the restraint of his anger.

“Want me to warn them off?” Donghyuck offers, his smirk widening slightly.

“Don’t make it a big deal, just subtly let them know that Y/N is off limits,” Jeno instructs, his tone serious. He pauses, a conflicted look crossing his features. “But I want her to be happy, you know? Maybe... maybe get someone decent, like Soobin, to take an interest. Someone who'll treat her well,” he adds, almost reluctantly, but with a clear desire for your happiness shining through his troubled expression.

──────────────────────────────

Donghyuck had definitely made it a big deal. 

Another dry response, another guy who wasn’t interested. Frustration simmered beneath your skin as you threw your phone aside in anger. This pattern was becoming all too familiar. You’d messaged guys across campus, your intentions blatantly clear: you were looking for a quick, no-strings-attached release. Yet, each time, your openness was met with disinterest. No one seemed to want you; no one seemed eager to take you up on your offer.

“Another guy turned you down?” Nayoung asked, her voice laced with concern as she popped a pill and casually tossed it back. You both sighed heavily, the disappointment hanging heavy in the air.

Tonight, you’d both dressed in your most enticing outfits—short, curve-hugging skirts that ended just at mid-thigh, paired with matching crop tops that left little to the imagination. Your hair was done up in loose, carefree waves that framed your faces beautifully, enhancing the sultry makeup that accentuated your features. Every detail was meticulously planned to enhance your appeal, from the glossy finish on your lips to the smoky shadow around your eyes.

Despite the rejections, you couldn’t deny the power of your own reflection. Standing there, you both looked irresistible, the embodiment of desire and confidence. Yet, the night’s efforts seemed in vain, the cool rejection from your phone screen clashing sharply with the hot allure of your appearance.

Now, more than anything, you just needed someone to rip this outfit off your body. Since Jeno left, you’d been craving something—anything—to fill the void, and you hadn’t been touched in so long. You just wanted cock.

As you and Nayoung readied for the party, taking your fill of the pills she’d brought, the two of you posed for some seriously sexy photos. You were in the midst of adjusting your top when Nayoung suddenly made a noise as if she’d just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she turned to you. “I did some asking around campus, and I think I know why guys haven’t been reciprocating your want to fuck them.”

You turned to her, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

“Okay, hear this,” she began, leaning in closer as if sharing the juiciest secret. “Apparently, Donghyuck made a joke to Jeno about wanting to fuck you, and Jeno got all protective, warned Donghyuck not to ‘touch his fucking girl.’ Then Donghyuck mentioned that other guys had their eye on you since you and Jeno broke it off—like the notorious fuckboys, Hyunjin and Yeonjun, not the sweet ones like Jeno. You know, the ones that only want your pussy and once they have that, they’ll throw you to the side and disregard you. I fucked Yeonjun once, and he didn’t even make me cum; he just fucked me to make him cum.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, shaking your head as Nayoung’s gossip draws a smirk from you despite the irritation brewing inside.

“Yeah, so basically,” Nayoung continued, “Jeno told Donghyuck that if those guys ever lay a fucking hand on you, they’d regret it. And Donghyuck, being the shit-stirrer he is, spread that around campus. Jeno is scary when he’s mad—he can really make you regret doing something when he warns you not to. So, I guess they listened to him and stayed away from you.”

You hissed with anger, fists clenching as you paced slightly. You should’ve known. It had been him all along. “He’s the one behind this? I’m seriously gonna strangle him.”

Nayoung burst out laughing at your reaction. “I’m so fucking hot and sexy, and all the guys on campus know that, yet they’re not going for me because of Jeno. Fucking hell, Jeno, when I get you…” You mimed a strangling motion with your hands, your frustration palpable.

“You’re the new buzz on campus, a lot of guys want you, especially after seeing how sexy you and Jeno looked together. But Jeno scared them all away, even if he didn’t do it intentionally. That’s how much power he has,” Nayoung mused.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“He’s quite possessive, isn’t he?” Nayoung added with a smirk, popping another pill and watching you with a mix of amusement and sympathy.

“I know he’s trying to look out for me, and part of me can’t help but find that kind of possessiveness kind of hot… It's like he still cares, a lot. But it’s also frustrating that it’s scaring everyone else off.”

Nayoung's eyes flicker with curiosity as she watches you pause, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Do you think Jihoon would be scared of Jeno? I mean, he dated Winter, right? I'm sure he knows how to make a girl feel good—" you muse out loud, seeking her opinion before committing to send the message.

“Aren’t you seeing Soobin?” Nayoung interjects, her eyebrows arching in surprise at your continued exploration of options. Her voice is tinged with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Yeah,” you mumble, the word barely more than a whisper, your enthusiasm waning at the mention of Soobin.

“So, you’re messaging other guys because Soobin’s bad in bed?” Nayoung's tone is playful yet probing, as she connects the dots.

You burst out laughing, nodding in agreement, the humor momentarily easing the tension. “Exactly.”

Nayoung hums thoughtfully, tapping her lip. "It’s weird to me that Soobin wasn’t scared off by Jeno. He’s actively trying to pursue you. Does that mean he’s the only guy who isn’t intimidated by Jeno?”

Shaking your head, you reply, "I don't think so." The situation puzzles you as much as it intrigues Nayoung.

“Maybe Jeno didn’t warn him because he thinks Soobin’s too cute to be a threat,” Nayoung suggests, a smirk playing on her lips. “He probably doesn’t expect Soobin to hurt you.”

You scoff, the frustration bubbling up again. "He may be cute but he can’t do shit in bed. We've had sex but it's barely sex. He has no technique, just sticks it in and expects magic to happen. He doesn’t know how to use it. Sure, he’s got a big cock, not as big as Jeno’s, but impressive. Yet he doesn’t know how to make a girl come, and he can't even kiss properly. I’ve tried dropping hints, even suggested he watch porn, tried to get Eric to give him some tips, but nothing changes. He’s just so bad, Nayoung."

Nayoung laughs, a low chuckle. “Yeah, you don’t even make a noise when he’s over.”

“Exactly, I don’t even try to fake it. He should get the hint, but he doesn’t. And he’s too sweet for me to just outright tell him, learn how to use your cock.’ It’s frustrating.”

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “You were so loud whenever Jeno was over.”

You nod, the memories vivid and insistent. “Jeno knows how to make me feel good,” you admit, a pang of longing colouring your voice. It’s a reluctant admission, laced with the ache of missing him—the way his touch electrified your skin, the assuredness of his hands roaming over you, knowing just how to drive you wild.

“The way he used his fingers,” you continue, your voice dropping to a whisper, “and his lips… God, I miss how he made me feel.” Your body reacts just at the thought, a warm flush spreading across your skin. “He had this way of pulling me close, his grip strong yet so careful, as if I was something precious.”

Nayoung watches you, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “And his cock,” you add, your voice thick with desire and frustration. “He knew exactly how to use it, every thrust just right. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like that… touched the way Jeno used to touch me.” The words spill out, unfiltered and raw.

You lean back, your eyes closing as you allow yourself a moment to dwell on the vivid images of past encounters. “I just need that again, Nayoung. I’m so fucking horny and frustrated. I need to feel wanted, to be devoured, not just… touched absentmindedly.” Your hands clench in your lap, the physical manifestation of your inner turmoil.

“I need a release, a real one,” you say, your eyes opening, meeting Nayoung’s with a fierce, almost defiant look. “I need someone who can make me forget, even if just for a night.” Your voice is firm, the edge to it cutting through the playful atmosphere that had lightened the earlier part of your conversation.

Nayoung nods, understanding your needs without judgment. “Let’s find you that someone then,” she says, her tone supportive, ready to dive back into the night with a renewed mission, to help you find the release you so desperately crave.

──────────────────────────────

Walking into the bar, the familiar clamor of laughter and music greets you, but it’s Donghyuck’s voice that cuts through the din. “Girl, I’ve missed you!” His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace that lifts the lingering shadows of the past weeks.

“So have I!!!” Your words come out slurred, the warmth of the reunion melting the coldness of recent days. You’d been avoiding him, unfairly linking him to Jeno’s actions, but realising your anger was misplaced had brought you back to him, someone who had unexpectedly become one of your closest friends.

Soobin is there too, awkwardly waiting his turn. His greeting stumbles out, “You—woah—you—so pretty.” You muster a polite smile and murmur thanks, his gaze flickering over you with polite admiration but lacking the intensity you crave.

If this was Jeno, his reaction would be unmistakable. He’d probably gasp, taken aback by how stunning you looked, his eyes greedily taking you in. He wouldn’t be shy about it; his hands would find their way to your ass and your thighs almost instinctively, his touch bold and admiring. Whispering a stream of compliments, he’d make you feel irresistibly sexy, especially when you dressed provocatively, his appreciation both vocal and palpable.

Nayoung leans closer, her voice low. “Jeno’s here.” Her eyes flicker with concern. “He’s staring at you. Do you wanna stay or go?”

A sigh escapes you; of course, Jeno would be here. Donghyuck had mentioned it might turn into a larger gathering before moving on to Sunwoo’s party. You allow your gaze to meet Jeno’s for a brief moment, taking in his undeniable allure. He looks irresistible, the dim bar lights casting shadows that accentuate the contours of his face, making him appear both mysterious and impossibly handsome. His reaction to seeing you is palpable; you catch the sharp intake of his breath, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance.

“No, it’s okay, I can deal with him,” you assert, settling into the role of the provocateur. Perching yourself on Soobin’s lap, you make a show of laughing a little too loudly, your hand casually brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. It’s a performance, each movement calculated to draw a reaction from Jeno.

Leaning back into Soobin, you shift subtly, feeling the fabric of your top stretch tight across your chest, accentuating your curves. Every adjustment seems accidental but is steeped in intent. Casually, you gather your hair, twisting it into a high ponytail as you catch Jeno’s gaze. You know he loves it when your hair is up, exposing the slender curve of your neck and the delicate line of your shoulders. As you secure your hair, you tilt your head slightly, a silent invitation for his eyes to wander over the places he used to kiss. Your movements on Soobin’s lap are deliberate, a slow grind that suggests more, ensuring Jeno is acutely aware of every provocative shift of your body.

Was it petty? Perhaps. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

As the night progresses, you catch Jeno’s gaze locked on you multiple times, his expression a mixture of nostalgia and something darker, perhaps jealousy. He converses with others, his laughter ringing out, yet his eyes betray a distance, a detachment from the mirth around him.

You revel in the attention, the power of making him watch, unable to touch, to engage. It’s a cruel game, but after everything, it feels like a justified rebuke for the pain he’s caused.

Soobin was incredibly timid; even with you sitting on his lap, his hands hadn’t dared to explore. They remained awkwardly at his sides, as if he was unsure of what to do next. In sharp contrast, if this had been Jeno, his approach would have been entirely different. His hands would have confidently roamed over your thighs and ass, his touch assured and provocative. Jeno would have already whispered sultry promises into your ear, his fingers skillfully bringing you to climax, each move calculated to draw out the deepest moans of satisfaction from you.

Frustrated by Soobin’s passivity, you slipped off his lap with a swift, fluid motion and sauntered over to the bar to drown your dissatisfaction in alcohol. As you waited for your drink, a searing gaze burned into your back. Turning around, you caught Jeno’s eyes fixed on you with an intensity that scorched. His stare was predatory, unlike Soobin’s uncertain glances, igniting a thrill of excitement through you. His gaze traced the contours of your body so fervently that you could almost feel his touch.

You followed his stare down to your ass and realized he wasn’t even attempting to be subtle; his eyes were glued to you, unashamed and raw. You gasped, taken aback by his audacity, yet a part of you reveled in the attention.

With a few heated steps, you closed the distance between you, standing defiantly in front of him, arms crossed. Jeno met your gaze with a playful grin, as if he wasn’t just caught staring at you.

“Were you just checking out my ass?” you challenged, your tone a mix of amusement and accusation, your eyes narrowing slightly to match the teasing yet confrontational energy of your stance.

He responded with disarming honesty, his eyes locking onto yours, not even flinching as he admitted, “Not the first time and won’t be the last.”

Your frustration bubbled into a huff, and you shook your head, at a loss for words for a moment, before you pointed an accusatory finger at him and sharply said, “No!” as if scolding a misbehaving dog, the irritation mingled with an unspoken delight at his undivided attention.

You turned on your heel to walk away, but not without adding a final flair to your exit. Casually, you tugged your skirt up slightly, just enough to give Jeno a fleeting but tantalizing glimpse of more. Over your shoulder, you shot him a mischievous smirk, ensuring he caught every bit of the provocative gesture.

His response was immediate—a sharp intake of breath as he bit his lip, a classic sign of restrained desire. His eyes, dark and intent, tracked every movement you made, clearly affected by the provocatively playful challenge you'd thrown at him. The smirk that played on your lips grew wider as you savored the visible effect you had on him. Feeling bold and empowered by his reaction, you turned on your heel, giving your hips an extra sway just for him, pulling up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly as you glanced back with a teasing smirk. Leaving a visibly flustered Jeno to stew in the heat of the moment you had just ignited, you walked away, the thrill of the encounter sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

As you mingled effortlessly with his friends, Jeno's gaze held a mix of frustration and admiration from across the room. Every laugh and gesture you shared with the group only highlighted your comfort and charisma, adding to the allure that seemed to captivate everyone, including him. Despite the noise and energy around him, his attention was firmly on you, his thoughts a blend of appreciation and yearning.

Throughout the night, your vibrant energy seemed to draw more people into your orbit, leaving Jeno somewhat isolated, his eyes following your every move. The way you interacted with his friends, the ease with which you laughed and danced, struck a chord within him, a reminder of the connection you once shared. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, and you’d offer him a playful yet distant smile, a nod to your shared past and the complex feelings that lingered.

With one final glance that night, you caught Jeno looking your way. Instead of another teasing gesture, you gave him a soft smile, acknowledging the undeniable tension. Returning to the laughter and conversations around you, you left Jeno with his mixed emotions, the distance between you both more poignant than ever.

──────────────────────────────

The party was alive with energy, vibrating with the pulse of loud music that filled the crowded room. Flashing lights painted the dancing crowd in waves of color, each flash cutting through the dark like a strobe. The atmosphere was electric, everyone letting loose, their semester’s stress dissolving into a night of wild fun.

Bodies pressed close in the dim light, moving with a rhythmic intensity that pulsed through the crowded room. Flashes of skin glinted under the strobe lights as revelers danced provocatively, their movements suggestive and unabashed. Couples lingered in the darker corners, their embraces deep and lingering, lips locked in fervent kisses. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a tangible reminder of the night’s indulgence and the uninhibited release of pent-up desires.

As you entered, Sunwoo was the first to greet you, planting warm kisses on your and Nayoung’s cheeks—a customary greeting that felt comforting amid the chaos. Yeji was next, her arms wrapping around you in a tight hug, and the two of you exchanged rapid-fire compliments, each one amplifying the night’s festive mood.

While mingling, Sunwoo leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper over the music. “Jeno’s here,” he murmured with a concerned glance, “do you want me to get him out?” 

You shook your head, offering him a thankful smile. “It’s okay, I can handle him tonight,” you assured him, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

The dance floor was a whirl of bodies, and you and Nayoung were right in the thick of it, high both on the atmosphere and the subtle assistance of the night’s earlier indulgences. The two of you danced provocatively, uninhibited and playful, your hands occasionally grazing each other’s bodies—over hips, across backs, and playfully squeezing at asses and boobs. 

Soobin, on the other hand, seemed lost on the edge of the action. His awkwardness was almost palpable, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out where he fit into this display of carefree debauchery. It was becoming increasingly frustrating to watch him just stand there, not knowing how to engage with the wild energy you and Nayoung thrived in.

As the beat of the music dipped into a sultry rhythm, Nayoung’s touches turned more daring, mimicking the kind of attention you had been craving. Her fingers danced along your curves, a teasing precursor to the more intimate contact to come. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from yours. The tension between you built with the thumping bass, both playful and charged with an unspoken dare.

You could feel the heat of her breath, mixed with the laughter and shouts of the party-goers around you, creating a bubble that seemed to encompass just the two of you. With a smirk, Nayoung closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss that was more than just a peck but less than a promise. It was flirtatious, a hint of sensuality wrapped in the guise of jest, drawing a few cheers from those nearby. You both break away at the last second with giggles, unable to take the gesture seriously.

Soobin, all flushed and visibly aroused from watching you and Nayoung playfully dancing, tapped your shoulder, a hesitant offer in his voice. “Hey, can we go to the bathroom?” His attempt at sounding seductive fell flat, failing to stir the excitement within you that he was probably hoping for. Nevertheless, you agreed, hoping against hope that perhaps this time would be different, that somehow he’d find a spark of passion that matched your own urgent desires.

As you entered the bathroom with him, the reality of the situation set in quickly. There was no need to even lock the door; there was little risk of your moans being overheard because, simply put, there wouldn’t be any. Soobin’s attempts at pleasing you were lackluster and uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate what he thought was pleasurable, his movements were uncertain and ineffective, lacking the assured touch that could drive you wild. His technique was so basic and mechanical, merely going through the motions without any real understanding of how to build intensity or respond to your body’s cues.

The disappointment was crushing. Not a single man since Jeno had managed to truly satisfy you, to make you come alive with desire. Self-pleasure had been a poor substitute for the intoxicating physical connection you had experienced with Jeno, whose every touch, every kiss, was perfectly attuned to your needs.

“Please go,” you found yourself whispering to Soobin when it became too much to bear, your tone firming up when he didn’t react immediately, “Please get out!” The words were harsher than you intended, driven by a cocktail of frustration and desperation.

Soobin looked up, his expression one of wounded confusion. “What’s wrong? Was it not good?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head, softening slightly at his genuine naiveté. “I just need to be by myself for a while,” you explained, forcing a smile to lessen the blow of your rejection. He nodded, hurt but understanding, and exited quietly, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and unmet needs.

In the solitude of the bathroom, the stark reality hit you once again. No touch, no encounter had come close to what you had with Jeno. The absence of that deep, fulfilling connection left you longing, your body crying out for a touch that seemed now more distant than ever.

The reality of your unfulfilled desire weighed heavily on you. You wanted to cum, needed to feel that overwhelming rush, the kind that leaves you breathless and satiated. More than that, you longed to feel loved, to be touched in a way that made every nerve in your body come alive, igniting your senses like a firestorm.

You miss Jeno. 

Driven by a mix of frustration and raw need, you reached a decision. It might have seemed foolish or impulsive, but in that moment, it felt like the only option left. You were high, your body was tingling with a sexual frustration that couldn't be ignored, and every fiber of your being ached for Jeno. 

Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone. With each shaky breath, you navigated through your contacts until his name appeared. It was crazy, perhaps, but desperation had a funny way of pushing you to the edge. You missed him terribly—not just his touch, but his presence, his intensity, the way he made you feel utterly alive.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the message screen, your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart pounding with a cocktail of dread and anticipation. You typed out his name, a simple but loaded gesture that felt like a crossroads:

He didn’t respond right away, and you were left staring at the screen, wondering if he’d seen your message or simply chosen to ignore it. Your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and disappointment, the tension building with each passing minute. In an attempt to distract yourself, you began scrolling through old messages—a habit you had found yourself indulging in more often than you cared to admit.

Your thumb paused over a particularly enticing thumbnail, a video he had sent weeks ago during a particularly steamy exchange. The memory of it alone was enough to make your pulse quicken, but you needed more than just memories tonight. You tapped the play button, and the screen filled with the explicit image of Jeno pleasuring himself, his hard cock prominent and demanding attention.

As the video played, your eyes were glued to the rhythmic movements of his hand along his length. His cock was impressive—thick and veined, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum. It was a sight that had always driven you wild, and tonight was no exception. His moans filled the room, low and husky, each breathy sound a direct line to your core.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the sight, the sound of your own voice mingling with his from the speakers. Watching him like this, so vulnerable and unabashedly turned on, sent a wave of heat through your body. You imagined what it felt like to have him inside you, the stretch and fill of him, the way he moved with such a perfect mix of urgency and precision.

As you watched him bring himself closer to the edge, his hand moving faster, his moans growing louder, you felt a deep, aching need uncoil within you. You reached down, your fingers tracing the lines of your own arousal as you mimicked the actions on the screen. The thought of being the cause of his pleasure, the focal point of his desire, was intoxicating.

You were so lost in the moment, so caught up in the raw, palpable sexuality of it all, that the rest of the world seemed to fade away. It was just you, the flickering light of your phone screen, and the undeniable evidence of his desire for you. It was overwhelming, it was carnal, and it was exactly what you needed to feel connected to him once more, even if just through a screen.

Before conscious thought could catch up, your hands were already making their way beneath the delicate lace of your underwear. With a swift motion, you hitched up your skirt, giving yourself easier access. Your fingers slid effortlessly along your slick folds, exploring the wetness that had gathered in eager anticipation.

You dipped a finger inside yourself, relishing the warm, tight sensation that enveloped it. The feeling was electric, a direct line of arousal shooting through your body as you added another finger, stretching yourself deliciously. You mimicked the rhythm you saw on the screen, your movements becoming more deliberate and urgent.

As you pumped your fingers in and out, the slick sounds of your own wetness mixed with the visceral audio from the video, creating a symphony of arousal that echoed around the room. Each thrust of your fingers hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You angled your fingers, seeking that sweet spot that always made your breath hitch. When you found it, you massaged it fervently, spiraling towards an overwhelming crescendo.

Your breathing became labored, matching the heavy, lust-filled breaths that filled the room from the video. The tension in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the edge of release. With a few more expert flicks of your wrist, you tumbled into a powerful orgasm, your body convulsing with wave after wave of intense pleasure. As you rode out the sensations, your mind was filled with vivid flashes of being beneath him, of Jeno’s own heated expressions as he moved within you, his cock driving you towards ecstasy just as your fingers were now.

In the aftermath, you lay breathless, a sheen of sweat coating your skin, the lingering buzz of your climax slowly ebbing away. You were left flushed and satisfied, yet the ache for his actual touch—his body against yours—remained poignant, a stark reminder of the physical connection you both shared and deeply missed.

Jeno’s entrance into the bathroom is marked by a dark, mocking glint in his eyes, his gaze instantly locking onto your exposed, quivering form. The air thickens with tension and raw desire as he takes in the sight of you—fingers paused, breaths shallow, your arousal evident and inviting.

“Oh? What do we have here?” His voice is laced with a blend of mockery and unmistakable hunger, the words rolling off his tongue slow and deliberate. He steps closer, the deliberate echo of his footsteps mingling with the rapid beat of your heart, his piercing eyes devouring the sight of your exposed, slick arousal.

You try to find your voice, but all that escapes is a breathy, involuntary moan. Your eyes, heavy and lust-drunk, meet him with a plea silent yet screaming.

“Why did you stop? Keep going, show me.” he commands, his voice low and merciless, dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “Touch yourself, show me how desperate you really are,” he commands, his tone dripping with sadistic pleasure. 

Compelled by his words, your hand drifts back between your thighs, resuming the slow, deliberate circles around your clit. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure radiating through you, and you moan louder, more unabashedly. Jeno watches intently, his lips curling into a smug, satisfied smile.

As you continue to touch yourself under his demanding gaze, Jeno watches intently, his breathing growing heavier. The room fills with the sound of your moans, each one echoing off the walls, driving him wild. He bites his lip hard, a low grunt escaping him as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you… so needy, so desperate,” he growls, the raw desire in his voice palpable. He can’t help but adjust himself, his hand moving to the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing it through the fabric. His eyes never leave your trembling form as he begins to massage himself, his movements becoming more pronounced as his excitement builds in response to your unabashed display.

Your fingers quicken, driven by his gaze and the filthy encouragement falling from his lips. “Please, Jeno, please touch me,” you whimper, the frustration and need tangling into a sharp, sweet ache.

Jeno’s smirk widens, his gaze sharpening with a sadistic pleasure. “No,” he drawls, his voice low and commanding. “Beg for it properly. Show me how much you want it, how desperate you are. What’s the magic word, princess?” His tone teases, challenging you to humble yourself further in your plea for relief.

 “I need you, Jeno, please…” you gasp, your voice breaking with desperation.

With each stroke, each swirl of your fingers, you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge. His words, degrading yet oddly affectionate in their own twisted way, push you further, heightening every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink of release.

Overwhelmed by the building crescendo of your arousal, you finally shatter under his watchful eyes, a loud moan escaping as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and spent, yet craving more. Jeno’s expression, a mix of satisfaction and insatiable hunger, tells you this night has only just begun.

As your breaths begin to even out and you attempt to gather some semblance of composure, Jeno’s gaze shifts towards the bathroom door, which remains slightly ajar—an oversight you hadn’t noticed in your frenzied state. His eyes narrow slightly, the earlier amusement mingling now with a sharper, more commanding tone.

“You left the door open? Really?” His voice is both teasing and scolding, rich with disapproval. “Look at you, so desperate and whiny that you couldn’t even remember to close it. You really weren’t thinking at all, were you? Just a desperate cum slut needing attention so badly you forgot the world outside.”

You feel a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks, mixed with the residual warmth of your climax. The open door, a detail so minor yet so risky, underscores just how reckless your need had made you.

Jeno steps closer, his body nearly touching yours, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Too desperate for my cock, for my touch, to even care who might see? You’re lucky it was me who walked in and not someone else.” His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down your arm, sending shivers across your skin.

“Would you have stopped if it were someone else, or would you have let them watch you fall apart?” he murmurs, his words a taunt that digs deeper into your psyche, making you squirm under his intense gaze.

The implication of his words, the idea of being so exposed, so out of control, only adds another layer to the complex tapestry of humiliation and arousal that Jeno weaves around you. You find your voice, small and breathy, “I… I didn’t mean to—”

"Quiet," he commands sharply, his hand swiftly connecting with your cheek in a firm spank. The sudden sting sends a shiver through you, causing you to gasp as a wave of blissful shock rolls through your body.

“You’re only mine to watch, remember that,” he adds firmly, the possessive edge in his voice leaving no room for argument. The door remains open, a silent testament to your oversight and his control, adding yet another thrilling element to the night’s already charged atmosphere.

"We're going to play a game," he announced, his tone commanding as he laid out the rules with a wicked grin. "We watch each other. No touching." His strokes matched the rhythm of your own hand as you both fell into a silent contest of wills, each movement more desperate than the last.

"If you lose first," he murmured, voice strained as he held back his own climax, "you’re going to suck my cock. And if I lose," he paused, a deep growl punctuating his words, "I'll eat you out right here on this countertop."

The challenge was intoxicating. You felt every stroke echo through your body, each moan slipping from your lips pushing him closer to the edge. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that passed over your features.

The game had been a torturous delight, and losing felt almost as exhilarating as the anticipation of winning.

As you moaned Jeno’s name, your hands couldn’t resist the magnetic pull toward him. Your fingers wrapped around his firm, eager cock, your touch bold and hungry, driven by an intense need.

"Baby,” he breathed out, his voice husky with arousal as he watched the slick evidence of your pleasure glisten. The sight was too much for him to simply observe passively. He unbuckled his belt, his actions deliberate, pulling out his cock swollen with need. With slow, tantalizing movements, he began to stroke himself, his gaze fixed intently on your quivering form.

Your breath caught in your throat as you lowered yourself, eyes fixed on him, drawn irresistibly to his arousal. You brushed your lips against the tip of his cock, savouring the hint of his arousal, your moans soft against his skin. Your movements were deliberate, filled with the desire to take him into your mouth, to feel him deep and completely.

But Jeno’s firm grip on your chin halted you, his dark eyes piercing yours with a commanding intensity. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and firm. “You seem eager… But remember, you only do what I say, when I say.”​

"Open your legs," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he guided you back up to stand before him. He kissed your inner thighs softly, each kiss closer to your heat, building anticipation. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine as he teased you mercilessly. 

“Climb up here,” Jeno commands, his hands gripping your hips firmly to help hoist you onto the cold marble countertop. The sharp contrast between the cool surface and the warmth of your flushed skin sends another shiver through you, heightening your anticipation. His fingers linger on your thighs, squeezing gently as he adjusts your position, ensuring you’re perfectly displayed before him.

"Tell me, who’s been lucky enough to have you since I've been gone?" he asked, his voice a deep whisper against the sensitive folds of your arousal. His words were a deliberate provocation, designed to unravel you completely. 

You shook your head, breath hitching, "No one but you,” the lie slipping out amidst your shaky breaths as you struggled to maintain composure under his intense gaze.

Jeno paused, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer than necessary, the corners of his mouth twitching as if deciding how to interpret your words. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone soft yet edged with a faint trace of skepticism, almost teasing yet earnest enough to deepen the fluttering in your chest.

You nodded, the words slipping out in a quiet whisper, shy to say it, acting extra shy and timid. “Yes, daddy,” your voice barely rose above a whisper, each word trembling slightly as if afraid of being fully heard.y” 

Jeno’s smirk deepens as his hand moves with intense purpose, each motion reflecting his hungry desire. His fingers tighten around himself, every touch deliberate and charged with raw passion. Biting his lip, his eyes never leave you, burning with a lust that’s both fierce and unabashed. “Say that again. Louder,” he commands, his voice a deep growl, thick with need and the urge to hear you once more.

Driven by the intense atmosphere, you scream out, “Daddy!!!” Your voice is louder, laden with your own undeniable longing and the palpable sexual tension that crackles fiercely in the air between you. Your call is passionate, filled with a raw, aching need that resonates powerfully in the charged silence that follows.

Jeno smiled, a knowing, wicked curve of his lips before he dipped his head. His tongue traced the delicate lines of your folds with expert precision, his movements deliberate and focused. He savoured the taste of you, his moans vibrating against your skin as he expressed his approval of your flavour. The room filled with the sounds of your wetness and his persistent licks.

Every flick of his tongue sent electric shocks that radiated from your core to every part of your body. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open, utterly exposed to his hungry gaze and eager mouth. Your hands found his hair, pushing him closer, guiding him to the spots that made your body arch and your breath catch.

"Daddy," you gasped, the edge approaching rapidly as his tongue swirled around your clit, then pressed flat against it, the change in pressure dragging a loud moan from your lips. He intensified his efforts, encouraged by your responses, his own arousal palpable in the urgency of his actions.

As you neared your climax, your voice broke, "Please, Daddy, please," your plea barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the small space, filled with the steam of your desire.

In the heat of the moment, your actions became wild and uncontrolled. Each thrust of your hips against Jeno’s face was driven by raw desperation, your body chasing the climax that tantalized you just at the brink. His expert tongue worked relentlessly, drawing moan after moan from your lips as he explored every fold with precision. The room spun around you, filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and the wet, slick noises of his devotion.

As your pleasure mounted, your movements grew more frantic. You ground yourself against him harder, each movement more urgent than the last, effectively face-fucking him in your need to reach that peak. Jeno, undeterred, met each of your thrusts with a surge of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge.

But the wildness of your actions came with consequences. In your fervor, you lost track of your balance. Suddenly, the world tipped sideways. Jeno’s grip on your hips faltered, and the two of you were sent crashing backward in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The abrupt fall didn’t dampen the fire between you; if anything, it stoked it further.

Lying on the floor now, Jeno’s expression mixed frustration with raw desire. His voice was rough, tinged with both admonishment and lust as he spoke. “Only good girls deserve to cum,” he chided, his hands steadying your shaking form. “You’re being too needy.”

Yet, the smirk that danced across your lips betrayed your enjoyment of this chaotic intimacy. His next command was a growl, thick with promise, “Sit on my face.”

Scrambling to comply, you positioned yourself above him once again, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth, his hands firmly guided your hips, setting a punishing rhythm that you eagerly followed.

His tongue resumed its fervent dance, exploring you deeply, each stroke a deliberate provocation. You rode his face with abandon, each movement more deliberate, grinding down to meet his upward strokes. The sensation of his lips and tongue, combined with the urgent grip of his hands, drove you towards delirium. The room echoed with the sounds of your mutual desperation, a symphony of slick, muffled noises and your increasingly sharp moans.

His tongue and lips worked in unison to bring you to the brink. And when he added a finger, curling it inside you, hitting that sweet spot, you shattered, your body convulsed in an intense orgasm, and you felt yourself squirting forcefully. A burst of warmth splashed across Jeno’s face, streaking down his cheeks and chin in rivulets. He maintained his position, his mouth and tongue still at work as the surge drenched him, his face slick and shining with you. 

His initial shock morphed into a broad, triumphant grin as he reveled in the wet, messy evidence of your pleasure. His eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and arousal, fully immersed in the raw, erotic display of your climax.

Jeno’s strong hands guided you down gently, ensuring your shaky legs found stability before pulling you onto his lap. Your hands, still trembling from the aftermath of your release, found his hair, gripping it tightly as you leaned in close. Your lips met the slick, wet trails that your climax had left on his skin, tasting yourself on him—a mingling of sweet and heady that made your head spin.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as your hands roamed, dragging nails along his scalp, eliciting a rough groan that vibrated against your lips. The kiss wasn’t just a clash—it was a claim, each of you hungry for dominance, for the reassurance that this connection was as unbreakable as ever.

From the intense tangle on the bathroom floor, Jeno’s eyes locked with yours, filled with a fiery determination that signaled a shift. He stood abruptly, his strong hands gripping your arms, pulling you up with him. Without breaking eye contact. Jeno’s hands gripped your hips, he forcefully spun you around to face the wall, your hands pressing flat against the cool, reflective surface of the mirror.

He hoisted you slightly, just enough so your feet barely touched the ground, your body bent at a perfect angle for him to enter. As he positioned himself behind you, his presence loomed large, and his cock teased at your entrance before he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside you with a primal urgency.

The cold glass of the mirror kissed your skin, contrasting with the heat emanating from every pore as Jeno began to move. His thrusts were deliberate and rough, designed to remind you of his control and your surrender. With each deep penetration, he grunted, a low sound filled with both satisfaction and dominance. His hands moved from your hips to your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat, which he leaned in to bite gently, marking you as his.

“Look at us,” Jeno commanded, his voice thick with arousal. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze in the mirror. The sight was raw—your body bent, his hands claiming you, your expressions twisted with pleasure. “No one fucks you like I do, isn’t that right?” he taunted, punctuating his words with a sharp slap on your ass, the sound echoing in the small room.

You moaned, the sting from the slap tingling pleasantly as he continued to drive into you. “Yes, Daddy, that’s right,” you gasped, the mirror fogging slightly with the heat of your breaths.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. Without warning, he spat directly onto your back, the sudden wetness stark against your heated skin. His hand followed, spreading the saliva smoothly across your skin, a cold contrast to the warm press of his body. This deliberate act heightened the raw intensity of the moment, each movement slick and unrelenting.

Jeno’s gaze captured yours in the mirror, his eyes glinting with fire as he turned your face to meet his. He studied your flushed, overwhelmed expression with a satisfied smirk. His hand then cupped your chin, tilting your head back as he forcefully opened your mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he spat directly into your mouth, the act bold and commanding. Quickly, he sealed his lips over yours, his kiss swallowing your gasps, merging the sharp tang of his dominance with the heat of your shared arousal.

The mirror captured every raw emotion, every hungry gaze, magnifying the intensity of the moment. As Jeno’s hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, you watched, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement. His grip tightened, and suddenly he was moving you, one hand splayed across your chest, the other gripping your hip, controlling the rhythm.

Then his hand clutched at your hair, yanking it back to arch your neck sharply, exposing your throat to the cool air of the room. The sudden, assertive pull sent a rush of adrenaline through you, heightening every sensation. His other hand encircled your throat, his hold firm and unyielding, squeezing just enough to send a thrilling rush of danger through your veins. This mix of pain and pleasure, the sharp tugs and the constricting grasp on your neck, amplified every sensation, making each thrust feel deeper, more desperate.

Jeno tightens his grip around you. His forearm presses firmly against your throat, locking you securely under his control. You feel the strength of his arm, each muscle taut and alive, as he manoeuvres you, anchoring you in place with a confident hold. His body is flush against yours, his chest heaving against your back with each breath, his movements precise and intent on keeping you precisely where he wants you.

As the intensity grew, he reached around to press a firm hand against your throat, squeezing gently, heightening every sensation. “I want to hear you say it,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Shuddering under the dual assault of his cock and his hand, you managed to reply through ragged breaths, “I’m yours, only yours.”

Satisfied, Jeno released your throat and focused on driving you toward climax. His thrusts became erratic, more desperate. He pulled you up against him, your back flush with his chest, and his fingers found your clit. As he rubbed in tight circles, his other hand wandered over your body, exploring every curve with a possessive touch.

Just as you felt your orgasm looming, he bit down on your shoulder, a sharp, sweet pain that sent you over the edge. Your legs trembled, and your body clenched around him as you came hard, your cries loud enough to draw curious looks from outside the bathroom. But the sound of your pleasure was drowned out by Jeno’s own climax, his hot release filling you as he groaned your name.

The bathroom door remained ajar, forgotten in the heat of the moment. A curious crowd began to gather outside, drawn by the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy echoing from within. Nayoung and Eric, vigilant and protective, stood guard. Nayoung’s eyes flashed dangerously at anyone who dared get too close, her stance aggressive and ready.

As murmurs and whispers filled the hallway, Nayoung turned her gaze towards Arin, who stood a few feet away, her face a mix of shock and curiosity. With a wicked grin, Nayoung leaned closer to her, her voice loud enough for only Arin to hear but with a sharpness that cut through the buzz. “You hear your boyfriend who loves you so much screaming out that he loves Y/N’s pussy?” Her tone was taunting, the words a deliberate jab meant to twist the knife of jealousy and claim.

You and Jeno have parted ways, but not before he takes you against the kitchen countertop and the walls of one of the spare bedrooms. Now, you find yourself unable to walk around properly, each step a reminder of the fervent and fleeting moments shared in the throes of passion.

As you navigate the crowded party, the weight of your recent actions with Jeno hangs heavily on your mind, but the high from the encounter keeps the reality at bay. Every step reminds you of how good he fucked you, leaving you with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort that makes it hard to walk properly.

You overhear whispers and can feel glances thrown your way—Nayoung wasn’t exaggerating when she said that the entire party heard you two. There’s a flush of embarrassment that should be creeping in, but it’s overshadowed by the buzz of the high and how vividly good Jeno made you feel.

As you try to steady yourself, your eyes catch Sunwoo and Yeji in a tender, ‘wrapped-up-in-each-other' moment. That spark of jealousy flares again. They seem to have what you long for but can’t quite grasp—genuine connection and unwavering affection. Observing them together stirs a mix of longing and regret inside you.

Your mind flashes back to the night you tried fuck Sunwoo, an impulsive act driven by loneliness and perhaps too much to drink. The guilt starts to seep in as you consider the potential fallout of your actions—how close you came to complicating their relationship. You’re relieved now, thankful that Sunwoo didn’t reciprocate your advances. They deserve happiness, the kind that’s free from the turbulence of your current state.

──────────────────────────────

Nayoung's compliments fill the room as she applies the final touches to your makeup, her skilled hands enhancing your natural beauty. She opts for a sultry look: a subtle smokey eye that makes your gaze captivating, paired with a nude lip gloss that adds just the right amount of shine, complementing your soft curls. 

As you giggle and blush at her flattery, the nervous excitement for the upcoming performance bubbles within you. The show tonight is to the biggest audience you’ve played to yet, it’s monumental,—not only for the band but for you personally as it’s the first time you’re performing a solo. 

You’re wearing a black sheer top with a plunging neckline and flowing sleeves that billow with each movement, you slip on a black mini skirt that’s both short and incredibly tight, clinging to your curves in a way that makes you sigh in pride. It's a look designed to captivate, to announce your presence unapologetically as you take the lead mic for the first time.

As Nayoung skillfully applies the last of your makeup, her hands move with a familiar ease that only a best friend's touch could provide. "You're so pretty," she declares, each word a testament to the care she's put into helping you look your best.

Her continuous compliments send a warm flush across your cheeks, the kind of bashful response that has always come so naturally to you in moments like these. "Nayoung!" you giggle.

With a grateful smile, you meet her gaze in the mirror and say sincerely, "Thank you."

Eunji strides in, a grave look etched across her face, slicing through the casual atmosphere of the room. “Hey, have you seen this?” Her voice is heavy with concern as she places a comforting hand on your back, the other holding her phone out. “I normally ignore this group chat, but Yeji insisted I check it out.”

A message flashes across the screen, a taunt from Arin: "Me and Jeno are nearly back together ;)"

A laugh, bitter and hollow, bubbles up from your throat. "She’s so delusional. She’s completely out of touch with reality, it's almost amusing," you snort, though the humour doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Look, that’s an old photo, from two years ago. Jeno would never go back to her."

"Are you sure you’re okay with this?" Eunji's voice pierces through the quiet, her eyes probing, concerned.

"With what?" Your response is automatic, faint, the words barely a whisper as you mask the turmoil beneath.

"With you and Jeno being fully done." Her tone is gentle, coaxing out your true feelings.

"Yes," you reply, a little too quickly, a little too sharply. It's a lie you tell yourself as much as you tell them, a facade to protect your crumbling resolve.

After the party, where lines blurred under the influence of alcohol and a high that made the world seem less daunting, you and Jeno crossed paths in a way that was meant to be fleeting—just sex, a declaration of it being a one-night mistake, despite the undeniable connection. You’d insisted it was nothing more, even if every touch argued otherwise. It was supposed to be just a slip, a lapse in judgment not meant to mean anything, yet the memory of how right it felt lingers, challenging your assertions with silent, persistent whispers.

Tears well up, blurring your vision, threatening to break the dam of your composure. You blink them back furiously, determined not to let them see how deeply you're cut, how raw you still feel. The façade cracks just a bit, but you shore it up swiftly, desperate to appear unshaken.

"Apparently Arin is coming to the show tonight," Nayoung mentions, tactfully shifting the topic to distract you from the lingering sadness. Both of you roll your eyes in unison, sharing a brief, knowing laugh. "I think she’s more obsessed with you than Jeno at this point," she adds, her tone light, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

"And Jeno is coming," Eunji chimes in, her smile cryptic, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that you can't quite interpret. You shake your head, dismissing the notion with a wave of your hand.

"He won’t be there," you say flatly, the idea seeming almost absurd now.

"Didn’t he promise he would?" Eunji presses, her voice gentle yet probing, reminding you of commitments made under different circumstances.

"Yeah… when we were together. We’re not anymore," you mumble. 

──────────────────────────────

You should’ve known. 

Jeno isn’t one to break promises, especially not to you. His commitments are etched in stone—unyielding, devoted. Every action he's taken, every word he's spoken to you has been filled with an honesty and depth that few can muster. And tonight, he's here, just as he said he would be, a steady figure in the flux of faces, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you from the audience.

As you take the stage, the weight of his gaze is like a warm blanket over your shoulders. It's here, in this bustling venue filled with the echoes of chords and melodies, that you feel his support envelop you. The lights cast shimmering halos around you, but none shine as bright as the look in his eyes—a blend of admiration and quiet sorrow for the distance that has grown between you, yet filled with hope.

He agreed that the two of you probably needed time away. He needed time to think, to realise what he truly wanted, and to fully understand and appreciate his feelings towards you and how real and serious they were.

Jeno stands beside Jaemin, lost in the sight of you commanding the stage, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that even Jaemin notices, chuckling softly at his friend's undisguised adoration. There's a softness in Jeno's eyes, a warmth that spreads through his chest as he watches you. He hadn't realised just how deeply he missed you until this moment, seeing you shine so brightly in your element, your confidence cascading over the crowd like a wave. 

Every note you sing, every move you make, seems to draw him in further, and he can't help but smile, a genuine, heartfelt expression that speaks volumes of the pride swelling within him. You've grown, blossomed into this magnetic presence on stage, and it fills him with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. Jeno feels a warmth spreading through him, so profound and stirring that his heart aches pleasantly with every beat. Watching you now, radiant and captivating, he realises the depth of his feelings, each one laid bare in the soft glow of the spotlight that envelopes you. 

For Jeno, this moment crystallizes everything he feels for you—admiration, pride, and an affection so deep it transcends the music and the noise. It's as if the world falls away, leaving only the echo of his heart affirming what he knows deep down: that you mean everything to him. 

You are everything to him—breathtaking, irreplaceable, deeply cherished. The curve of your smile, the intensity in your eyes, and the passion in your voice all remind him of what he's been missing. He was only here for

you, he'd do anything for you. He misses your body, the close warmth of your body against his. Your laugh, your touch, the way you move—memories flood him, vivid and stirring. Seeing you now, so confident and radiant, intensifies his desire. Only you can make him feel this way. 

As you take the stage for your solo, the spotlight casts a gentle glow around you. Jeno, watching from the audience, feels a surge of affection and pride swell within him. He sees Yeji give your hand a reassuring squeeze, and his heart echoes that support from afar.

The moment you begin to describe the song, your voice trembles slightly with vulnerability. "It means a lot to me," you say, "it’s about someone that means a lot to me. This song is what falling in love feels like." Those words, so simple yet profoundly sincere, resonate through Jeno's very soul. He can feel the emotion pouring from you as you start to sing, each note laced with the raw, untamed feelings of love you hold.

As the melody fills the air, Jeno's eyes remain fixed on you, taking in every movement, every expression that flits across your face. To him, you embody everything breathtaking about being in love. The love he feels for you is a transformative force, a tidal wave of emotion that has reshaped his world. It's a feeling that lifts him higher than he’s ever been, yet grounds him more profoundly than he ever imagined possible.

He loves you not just for who you are to the world, but for who you are to him: a source of light, joy, and endless wonder. This love makes him feel alive, every beat of his heart synchronized with the rhythm of your song, every breath a shared moment between past and promise. Watching you there, the embodiment of passion and grace, Jeno's appreciation deepens. 

As you finish your song, the applause still ringing in your ears, you turn around to find Jeno already on stage, his presence both unexpected and unmistakable. "You did so well, I’m always so proud of you," he says, his voice brimming with pride. The closeness is overwhelming, and you avert your gaze, not ready to dive into the flood of emotions his presence brings. 

Your response is muted. “Thank you," barely audible, not quite reaching him. The anger that has been simmering inside you bubbles up. "Why are you here?" you ask sharply, the words slicing through the tension between you. 

"Just hear me out," Jeno whispers, his voice soft, trying to bridge the distance your words have created. You groan, frustration evident. "I promised you that I’d come, didn’t I?" he continues, his gaze intense, causing your head to spin with a mix of irritation and unresolved feelings.

"Jeno, you’re messing with our set, you need to go—" you start, trying to maintain your composure, but he cuts you off.

"Was that song about me?" he asks directly, looking for truth in your eyes.

"No," you reply through gritted teeth, anger flaring. "Why would it be about you?" your voice rises involuntarily.

"I love you too," he says, the softness in his voice attempting to bridge the gap your arguments had built. His words are a direct answer to the emotions you poured into your song, but they hover in the air, momentarily lost to you.

"You can’t just come on stage and do this, come up to me and act as if everything is okay," you retort, your focus more on the disruption than the message he's trying to convey.

"I love you too," he repeats firmly, his declaration halting your defences.

"What?" you whisper, the fight draining out of you as the realisation of his words slowly sinks in. He grins, his confidence reaching out to you across the void of your doubts.

"I love you—" 

His words dissolve into a heated clash of your lips, an urgent collision that ignites a primal hunger between you. Your mouths meld together in a frenzy, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. There’s a raw intensity to your connection, a magnetic pull drawing you closer with every touch. You can feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the taste of desire lingering on his tongue.

His kisses are fierce, a symphony of passion and longing as your lips move in sync. There’s an urgency in his touch, a hunger that matches your own as you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. His hands roam over your body, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress.

You gasp against his lips, the sensation overwhelming as he pulls you closer, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more.

With a low groan that vibrated against your skin, Jeno lifted you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His strong arms anchored you to him as he navigated off the stage, the world narrowing to just the space between you two. The pulse of the music and the heat of the spotlights faded into a distant hum, replaced by the racing of your hearts and the shallow breaths.

The audience’s laughter echoed faintly behind you, spurred by Sunwoo’s announcement through the mic, “I guess we’re doing the rest of the show without Y/N!” 

Navigating the cluttered backstage was a challenge, with Jeno’s arms securing you and your fingers tangled in his hair. The dimly lit corridors were a labyrinth of shadows and echoes, crew members dodging out of your way with rolled eyes and knowing smirks. But you and Jeno don’t care; you haven’t been together like this in so long. It couldn’t wait; you had to have each other here and now.

“Baby, tell me where the spare rooms are,” Jeno murmured against your stomach, each word a brush of hot breath that sent shivers down your spine.

“That room on the left, I think,” you whispered back, your voice a mixture of laughter and breathless anticipation.

He wasted no time, steering you toward the indicated door. His hand found the knob without breaking the kiss. “Really?” His voice echoed slightly in the cramped room, filled with musical and stage equipment. It was less a room and more a small storage space, instruments and cables haphazardly stacked around you.

Jeno navigated the clutter with ease, his lips finding your cheek in soft kisses as he surveyed the surroundings, an amused sparkle in his eyes. Your legs, still securely wrapped around his waist, tightened as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth of his mouth against yours. Your lips met in a desperate kiss, reaffirming the connection that buzzed electrically between you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jeno held you against it, your back pressed against it, pinning you between the solid wood and his solid chest. His hands roamed with purpose, tracing the curves of your body as if recommitting every detail to memory. 

“Please, Jeno,” you whispered into the kiss, your fingers fumbling at the hem of his shirt. The tight space made it awkward, and you laughed softly in frustration, your breath hitching as you tugged the fabric upwards. He hummed, a low, vibrating sound that seemed to stir the air itself.

“I need you,” you moaned, the words vibrating through you as you ground against him, feeling his arousal firm against your core. He caught the hint of urgency in your voice, his movements becoming more deliberate. With a fluid motion that spoke of his eagerness, Jeno stripped off his shirt, then helped you shed your top, the garments discarded carelessly among the instruments.

After a playful struggle with Jeno’s trousers and your tight skirt, you both finally shed the last barriers of clothing, now standing fully exposed. The room is filled with your shared laughter and affectionate eye smiles, echoing the deep connection you both feel in this cramped, instrument-cluttered space.

You don’t waste any time, When he looks into your eyes, he sees the same desire mirrored back at him, confirming that you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he moans softly as he gently enters you, the initial connection drawing a deep, shared breath.

He’s tender with you, cooing praises and whispering words of adoration into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. Sensing your discomfort as you adjust to him, he remains still for a moment, allowing you time to acclimate to his size. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything of his size in you, and Jeno is more than understanding. “Good girl,” he praises with each careful, slow thrust, his hands gripping you securely, reassuring you of his presence and support.

Now, unlike the distant haze of the party where you were too drunk and high to truly feel anything, you are completely sober. The only intoxication now comes from the drug of love itself. You feel all of him—his love, his heart, his touch, and the profound intensity of his cock that fills you completely. This is a stark, beautiful contrast to the numbness of before, making every moment, every movement, deeply significant.

“You’re so big,” you manage to say, your voice a mix of awe and overwhelmed pleasure, your eyes slightly unfocused from the intensity of the moment.

Looking down together at the place where your bodies meet, you both take in the sight—the profound intimacy of the connection. It’s almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so closely joined, and it brings tears to your eyes, not just from the physical sensation but also from the emotional depth of the moment.

“You’re barely in me,” you whisper, the slow stretch a sharp contrast to the deep need you both feel.

“It’s okay, my love. We’ll go slow. I just wanna take my time with you,” Jeno responds, his voice full of love and patience. His every move is calculated and tender, designed to reassure and pleasure you, making every second a slow, beautiful dance of intimacy.

He sighs in bliss, his eyes rolling back as the pace intensifies. His hips rock into yours with a steady, building rhythm. Each powerful thrust pushes deeper, aligning perfectly as your bodies move in perfect sync, rising and falling in unison.

The room fills with the sound of your ragged breaths, intermingling with the unmistakable slap of skin on skin, a primal melody of desire. With each thrust, he delves deeper, his movements precise and skillful, hitting all the right spots. Waves of pleasure radiate from where you’re joined, cascading through your body in a relentless tide.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight. I don’t ever wanna leave again,” he groans, the raw need in his voice vibrating against your skin.

You reach up, pulling him down for a soft, deep kiss. “You never left me,” you whisper against his lips, breathless and smiling. 

He chuckles softly, kissing your nose. “I meant my cock in your pussy, beautiful.”

“Oh,” you reply with a light laugh, your cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and affection.

His hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you as he thrusts deeper, each movement deliberate and profound. “You take me so well, don’t you, baby? Like you were made just for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, breathless. “Made just for you,” you echo, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. This pace, slow and patient, carries a warmth that fills you completely. It’s different for you and Jeno, it’s slower, allowing you to savor each moment, to actually talk and maintain eye contact with the man you love as you make love to him.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he drives into you relentlessly, each thrust deep and meaningful. “I’ve missed this so much,” you whisper, and the two of you can’t hold back your grins, your chests and mouths aching from smiling so much.

He nods, his eyes alight with affection. “I haven’t had sex since you,” he admits, and you gasp, thinking he’s joking at first but soon realizing he’s earnest.

“You — you — really? You haven’t slept with anyone but me?” you question, your surprise evident.

“I haven’t even wanted to. You’re the only girl I’ve had sex with ever since meeting you. Why would I have sex with anyone else when I’m in love with you?” he responds, his voice soft yet resonant, clear and full of truth. His straightforward honesty leaves you speechless, overwhelmed by the simplicity and depth of his feelings. “It’s always been you, it’s you,” he clarifies, each word punctuating the space between you with its significance.

“I love you so much.” His declaration comes easily, filled with an earnestness that wraps around you like a warm blanket. He continues, his words a caress to your soul, telling you how much he cares, how beautiful you are to him, and how deeply he desires to make you feel cherished and adored. The intimacy of the moment, enriched by his heartfelt confessions, deepens the connection, transforming a physical act into an expression of love and commitment.

As you murmur your reciprocation, “Mmm, and I love you,” his movements grow even more focused. His cock slides deeper into you with every thrust, stretching you deliciously, making you feel every inch of him. 

“You feel so perfect,” he groans, his voice low and husky. The warmth of his breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine as he continues to move within you, slow but intense.

Each thrust pushes him deeper, your body eagerly welcoming him, adjusting to his size and the depth of his penetrations. Your intertwined legs enable him to reach angles that send waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body, each push a testament to his words of devotion.

Your response to his movements is instinctive and unrestrained, you smile back, meeting his thrusts with your own. The room is filled with the sound of your connected bodies, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin punctuating the air with the reality of your physical and emotional union.

Your laughter and whispers mingle with the warmth of your breaths. “We’re going to have so much sex now,” you laugh against his lips, feeling his smile in the kiss as you add, “we have a lot of making up for lost time.”

He pulls back slightly, locking eyes with you, a gleam of excitement and affection in his gaze. “I’m sorry you’ve gone so long without having sex. I’m gonna make it up to you though, don’t worry,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

He shakes his head, his smile deepening, filled with a sincerity that tugs at your heart. “It’s all worth it. You’re worth the wait, and you don’t need to make anything up to me, you’ve never done anything wrong,” he assures you, his hand gently caressing your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, your voice laced with the desperation of nearing climax. The vulnerability in your tone makes his heart swell.

“Say it again,” Jeno breathes out, his voice rough with his own need. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts. The sound of your bodies moving together in desperate rhythm fills the room, a testament to the depth of your connection.

“I love you, Jeno,” you repeat, louder this time, each word punctuated by his thrusts. “I love you so much.”

He moans in response, his forehead resting against yours as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but the raw emotion reflected back at him. “And I love you, more than anything,” he says, his voice breaking with emotion. “You’re everything to me.”

The pace quickens as you both near the brink, the pressure building to an almost unbearable intensity. You feel him swell inside you, and you know he’s close. His eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as if to memorize every detail in this perfect, fragile moment.

Your back arches against the wall, pushing you even closer to him. “Jeno, I’m—”

“I know, baby, me too,” he whispers, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. His movements become erratic, a sign he’s lost in the sensation, driven by the overwhelming love and desire he feels for you.

With a final, deep thrust, you feel him tremble, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his climax. The warmth of him spills inside you just as your own climax washes over you, a wave of intense pleasure that leaves you clinging to him, moaning into his mouth.

As you both ride out the waves of your climaxes, soft whimpers and sighs fill the air, each breath a whisper of the love you share. Gradually, your breathing slows, and Jeno’s embrace softens around you, holding you as if he could shield you from the world forever

The room is filled with a charged silence, broken only by his earnest words. "I'm sorry about everything," he says, his voice thick with emotion. 

You shake your head gently, your hands finding comfort as they run through his hair. "You don’t need to be," you reply softly, feeling the weight of his apologies and the sincerity in his eyes.

He meets your eyes, his own filled with a raw sincerity. “But I do need to be. I’m so incredibly sorry for standing you up. I should have been there, and I wasn’t—no excuses,” he confesses, the honesty in his tone underscoring the gravity of his apology.

He holds your gaze, his eyes earnest and filled with a quiet intensity. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to make this right," he begins, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not going to make excuses or try to justify my actions—there’s no point in that. Instead, what I can do is promise you that I'll be better from now on. I won’t hurt you like this again." His commitment rings clear in his tone, showing his determination to mend things and move forward.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you lean in, eager to seal your understanding with a kiss. But he just chuckles softly, evading your lips with a playful ease that only heightens your affection for him.

His hands cup your face, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he continues, "I just wanna explain myself to you, baby, so you know where I’m at, so you know how serious I am. I’m over Arin—completely. There’s no part of me that still wants her; every beat of my heart is for you now. You don’t need to worry about me feeling attached to her anymore."

Your heart swells with his words, and you lean in to press your lips against his in a reassuring kiss. "I believe you," you whisper against his lips, sealing your trust in him with the warmth of your embrace.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, vulnerable yet hopeful. "I was hurt after what happened with Arin, I had never experienced heartbreak like that. I just pushed down the pain and I didn’t deal with it. But then I met you... you changed everything. You were so magnetic, so perfect in my eyes. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do, not even Arin. I knew that you were someone important and that I had to keep you close."

Listening, you nod, understanding more of his past and feeling the depth of his revelation. His voice grows softer, "But the entire thing with Arin still made me doubtful, not of you or our love but a part of me wasn’t over what she did, a part of me hadn’t healed. But every second I spend with you, being loved by you, I feel that part of me healing. I don’t know why I was so scared to become official with you but all I know is that I’m ready to be yours, I want to belong to you. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I’m here now, yours for a lifetime. I want to love you forever, in this universe and every other one we might find ourselves in."

Tears stream down your face as you grin, touched by his declaration. "You’re so romantic," you giggle, your voice shaky with emotion. His presence, the gravity of his words, and the love in his eyes—it all makes you feel a rush of shyness and excitement.

Despite the deep connection you share, he still has this incredible ability to make you feel giddy, as if every encounter with him is like the first. His gentle touch, his soft laughter in response to yours, it reassures you and intensifies the butterflies in your stomach. And you don’t see that ever going away; it’s a part of the magic that makes your relationship feel perpetually new and thrilling.

He smiles, his own eyes glistening, and then he begins to kiss every inch of your face. Each kiss is soft, affectionate, a silent promise, and a whisper of his love. He kisses your eyelids, each one a gentle blessing, then down to your nose, making you laugh with a light peck that tickles. His lips travel over your cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth, before brushing a kiss on your chin. Finally, he returns to your lips, this kiss deeper, more punctuating. 

“So, what now?” you ask, your hands moving to cup his face, drawing him close enough that you can feel his breath mingle with yours.

“I wanna take you everywhere,” he responds with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

You hum, a sound filled with contentment and anticipation.

His eyes light up with excitement as he continues, “I want you to meet my parents, my family. I wanna take you on so many dates, getaways, holidays. Every experience I can think of, I want to share it with you.”

"That sounds like a good idea," you start, a glint of excitement and curiosity lighting up your eyes as you lean in a little closer. "And anything else?" you ask, your voice a playful whisper, inviting him to reveal more of his dreams for the two of you.

He shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he pretends to think hard while scratching his neck. “I don’t think so,” he whispers playfully, drawing out the moment just to tease you a little more.

You tut, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Ask me to be your girlfriend,” you whine, your voice carrying a mix of playful sternness and impatience.

He softens, his eyes locking with yours as he replies earnestly, “I want it to be romantic. I wanna make you feel like the most special girl in the world; I want it to be memorable. It’s what you deserve.” His words flow warmly, filling you with an indescribable feeling of love and anticipation.

Looking into his eyes, you find all the romance and significance the moment needs. “Looking into your eyes is all I need, that’s romantic enough for me,” you admit, your voice soft and sincere.

He chuckles, his hold on you firm and reassuring. “Are you sure? Right now, I’m holding you against the wall, my cock is still in you, and we’re surrounded by drums and guitars.”

You smile up at him. “And I can’t think of anything more romantic,” you wink, affirming that every aspect of this moment—unconventional as it may be—is perfect in its own right.

He gives in, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. “I want to be yours, I want to be your boyfriend,” he declares, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready for that?” you ask, the seriousness of your question tempered by the excitement in your tone.

“I’m more than ready,” he responds in a heartbeat, his assurance unwavering.

The sound you make is girlish, bright, and brimming with hope—a sweet giggle that speaks volumes of your love and excitement. You nod giddily, your hands reaching out to pull him closer, longing to seal his words with a kiss. But as you lean in, he gently pulls back, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. 

"I need you to ask me. I wanna hear it coming from your lips. You're going to be my first girlfriend, after all," he says, his voice a tender mix of nervousness and anticipation

“You’re so annoying.” You huff.

He ignores you. "And am I going to be your first boyfriend?" he teases further.

You nod, your eyes locked on his, filled with affection and a deep, unspoken promise. "My first and last," you whisper softly, finally closing the small distance between you to press a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. The kiss is a mingling of smiles and slight laughter, light but filled with the depth of your feelings.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching for his answer.

"I’d want nothing more," he smiles, his voice warm and resolute. Finally, he leans in to give you the kiss you've been waiting for, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, firm embrace that feels like a sealing of everything you've promised each other. His hands gently caress your back, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your heartbeats. The kiss deepens, fueled by the joy of his acceptance and the shared eagerness for what lies ahead.

His touch is gentle yet eager, exploring the curve of your back, tracing the lines of your shoulders as you deepen the kiss, reveling in the closeness. It’s a kiss filled with the promise of new beginnings, of adventures to come, and the silent vow of being each other’s first, last, and everything in between. As you pull away slightly to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against his, both of you smiling, breathless and exhilarated by the shared affection and the thrilling prospect of your future together.

──────────────────────────────EPILOGUE

──────────────────────────────

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the campus as you finally step out, the last of your exams behind you. Your mind is still buzzing with residual stress, but as you spot Jeno waiting nearby, a smile breaks across your face. He hasn't seen you approach yet, his attention momentarily caught by his phone.

"Hi," you whisper as you close the distance, slipping your arms around him from behind and pressing a gentle kiss against his cheeks. He's momentarily surprised but recovers quickly, his arms encircling you in a warm, welcoming embrace. You giggle softly against his mouth, breathing out, "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," he replies, his voice soft, a wide smile spreading across his face as he turns to pull you closer. You pull back just enough to look him over, biting your lip as you take in his carefully chosen outfit, perfect for the celebration you've planned. "You look so good," you say, letting your eyes roam appreciatively.

He chuckles, a sound that fills you with warmth. "Let’s celebrate your special day," you suggest seductively, your voice low enough only for his ears. Hand in hand, you start walking, his arm finding its way around your waist, drawing you into his side. You feel as though you're in your own little world, the campus around you blurring into the background.

As you pass by Arin and Jiwon, you notice their sharp glances. They seem unable to hide their disdain, but today, their reactions don't touch you. They're nothing more than background noise. Today is about Jeno, about celebrating all that he is, and nothing, especially not petty jealousy, can detract from that.

As you and Jeno walk towards the car, the quiet of the sun wraps around you, enhancing the intimacy of your connection. His arm is draped securely around your waist, pulling you close as your bodies move in sync. Each step seems to draw you even closer, his warmth radiating against you, his fingers occasionally tracing small, comforting circles on your hip. When you reach the car, he maintains that tender contact, his other hand reaching to open the door for you, his eyes locking with yours in a look that makes your heart skip a beat. You slide into the seat, the soft leather cool against your skin, and he closes the door with a soft, deliberate thud that seems to echo the quickening of your pulse.

No sooner does he slide into the driver’s seat than the atmosphere shifts palpably. With a fluid motion, he pulls you across to straddle his lap, his movements confident and filled with intent. His hands settle back on your hips, his grip firmer now, decisively possessive as he draws you flush against him. The soft leather of the seat embraces your sides, and you can feel the strength of his body beneath you, solid and reassuring. You look down at him, a smile spreading across your face, and he mirrors it, his eyes alight with desire. The space between you crackles with electric tension, your proximity eliminating any barriers as you lean in. The kiss you share is deep and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His hands roam your back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss to a fervour that speaks volumes of the night ahead.

As you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes remain locked on his, shining with a mix of affection and residual excitement. “The exam was intense,” you confess, your voice a breathy whisper that only he can hear, “like, really draining. But right now, it feels like a distant memory.” Your hand gently caresses his cheek, the touch light but loaded with meaning.

Jeno listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands steady on your hips. He smiles reassuringly, squeezing you a little closer. “I’m just glad you’re here now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His concern is palpable, making you feel cherished and safe. As you settle deeper into the moment, Jeno leans over slightly, reaching into the backseat. He pulls forward a bouquet, his movements smooth and practiced. Your curiosity peaks as he hands them to you with a proud grin.

"What's this for?" you ask, your smile broadening as you take in the surprise. Gently pulling the bouquet closer, you breathe in the scent. The roses are lush, each petal velvety and richly colored in a deep, vibrant red that speaks of passion and careful selection. Their fresh, sweet aroma fills the car, enveloping you in the essence of nature and romance. "My favorite," you giggle, still grinning as you admire the thoughtful gift. Jeno has a habit of surprising you with such gestures, each one unexpected and delightful.

"I know," he replies, his smile wide and genuine, pleased with your reaction. “It's your birthday, why are you giving me gifts?" you question playfully, pressing your lips against his in a tender, loving kiss, savoring the moment before pulling back just enough to speak.

"Just happy and grateful that I’m spending it with you," he admits, his voice sincere and filled with warmth. The intimacy of his confession adds a special depth to the atmosphere in the car. "So am I," you respond, nudging your nose affectionately against his. "Don’t worry, I got so many gifts for you waiting back at home."

He shakes his head, a laugh escaping him. "You didn’t need to, you don’t think the expensive New York trip is enough?" he teases, his tone light yet touched with appreciation. Smiling, you look into his eyes, filled with affection. "You're my boyfriend. You deserve all the gifts and love in the world." The statement hangs in the air, a testament to your deep feelings for him, sealing the exchange with a promise of continued devotion and celebration.

The drive home was urgent, the need between you palpable; you both were desperate to fuck. But, constrained by time, you had to improvise once you arrived home. As you rushed inside, you made a beeline for the bedroom, where Jeno took a seat, ready and waiting. You didn’t waste a moment—immediately, you slipped out of your clothes and gently eased back onto Jeno, taking him inside you. This wasn’t the wild ride you both craved, but the intimacy of cockwarming, sitting down slowly, feeling every inch as you adjusted to his size, created a different kind of intensity.

As you gently settle back onto Jeno, easing down onto his cock, the connection deepens with the controlled intimacy of the act. The heat between you amplifies as you adjust, sinking slowly until you’re fully seated, enveloped by the warmth of his body. His breath hitches, a soft, involuntary sound that mirrors the slow-building tension. His hands, warm and reassuring, glide over your hips, securing you against him. This isn’t just a momentary touch; it’s an extended embrace, maintaining this intensely personal connection as you start your routine at the vanity. Jeno’s gaze through the mirror is intense yet tender, a silent dialogue of looks and subtle smiles that says everything words cannot.

As you started applying your makeup at the vanity, Jeno's presence was a constant source of warmth behind you. Perched comfortably with him inside you, you could feel his gaze on you, filled with admiration and affection. His compliments flowed freely, making the corners of your mouth turn up in a constant smile. While brushing on a bit of blush, you caught his eye in the mirror and flashed him a meaningful look.

“I promise we will go on a proper date sometime soon,” you said, extending your pinky towards him in the reflection. “I’ll take you out someplace really nice, and we can celebrate your day just the way it deserves.” He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating warmly against your back, and he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, his hands on your hips squeezing gently, reinforcing his words with tender touches. Each compliment he uttered only deepened the flush on your cheeks, not just from the makeup, but from the glow of being so cherished and adored. This intimate setting, underscored by his loving words, made the moment feel like a delicate pause in time, filled with the promise of all the evenings to come. Reluctantly, you slide off Jeno’s lap to finish preparing for the night’s plans. The room is set perfectly: the bed is decorated with rose petals and flowers, creating a romantic ambiance, and his gifts are all carefully arranged, each one chosen with care to celebrate the occasion. As you stand to lay out your lingerie—a final touch for the evening—he watches you intently. His gaze is full of desire as he follows every movement, his appreciation evident in the way his eyes widen.

The lingerie, delicate and inviting, is spread across the bed. You pick up a piece, running your fingers over the silky fabric, then glance back at Jeno with a playful challenge in your eyes. Returning to his lap, you settle back down onto him, feeling his arousal distinctly as you resume the intimate contact. Your hands roam over your curves, accentuating each line as you lean closer to him and whisper suggestively,

“Want me to wear it now?” Your voice is low and teasing, your lip caught between your teeth as you tilt your head towards the lingerie. Jeno’s response is immediate and filled with raw desire. “Mmm, I’d rather take it off from your body,” he growls softly, his hands gripping your hips more firmly. The promise in his words sends a shiver of anticipation through you, setting the tone for a night that promises to be as intense as it is intimate.

As the evening approaches, the anticipation is tangible. Jeno's presence is magnetic, the way his shirt hangs open just enough to reveal the contours of his muscled chest, each line accentuated by the dim lighting. Notably, a tattoo graces his chest—one of his new ones, it’s a design that echoes the one inked on your own body, a silent testament to your love and commitment. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, stirs a deep desire within you. You're drawn to the strength evident in his biceps, traced under your fingers, feeling the solidity of his presence. Overwhelmed by his allure, and unable to resist the pull of your attraction, you press him against the wall in a quiet corner before you leave. There, in that secluded space, you sink to your knees, driven by an intense desire to be even closer.

The moment is electric, his hands finding their way to your hair, guiding you gently yet fervently. As you take him into your mouth, the heat between you deepens. His response is immediate, his breath catching in sharp intakes as he encourages your movements with a subtle, appreciative pressure that intensifies the intimacy of the act.

The drive to the venue is charged with an electric tension, the confined space of the car making every touch feel more intense. Once again, you lean towards him, your actions marked by an intimate familiarity that only deepens the connection. As you dedicate this moment to him, his sharp intakes of breath and the low, appreciative sounds he makes are muffled only by the soft hum of the engine. Each motion is a celebration of his birthday, a personal tribute that makes the night unforgettable, your dedication clear in every deliberate touch and whispered vow of affection.

As you step out of the car, Jeno's lips find the back of your head, planting a soft kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. He murmurs a compliment on how beautiful you look tonight, his voice a warm whisper that wraps comfortingly around you. But before you can respond, he produces a blindfold—the very one you both use during sex. Surprise flits across your face as he gently places it over your eyes. The world goes dark, and a thrilling shiver of anticipation runs through you. Guiding you silently by the hand, Jeno leads you forward. Your heart beats a tad faster, fueled by a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Jeno, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice tinged with both amusement and slight apprehension. He only smirks in response, his silence intriguing and mysterious.

"Just trust me, baby," he breathes softly into your ear, his words tingling down your spine as he reassures you once more. A few moments later, he carefully removes the blindfold, and you're greeted with a sight that takes your breath away. Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your lips as you take in the scene before you. He's rented out your favourite bar and transformed it into a personal celebration space. The room bursts with your favorite colours and decorations; soft music that you love fills the air, creating a perfect backdrop. The bar is stocked with your favourite drinks, and tables are laden with dishes you adore.

The warmth of the surprise envelops you, and as you cover your mouth with your hands, a wide grin spreads across your face. Turning to Jeno, your eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy. He stands watching your reaction, his own smile mirroring your happiness. "Jeno!!! What is this for?" you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, holding him close. You look up into his eyes, seeking an explanation for this unexpected celebration.

"Celebrating your end of exams. I’m so proud of how hard you’ve worked," he says simply, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. You lean into his touch, feeling utterly cherished.

"But it’s your birthday," you giggle, a playful note in your voice.

He shakes his head, his eyes soft with affection. "I don’t mind. We’re going to celebrate that eventually. I just wanted to make this day special for you. I’d rather show love for my girl on my birthday anyways," he confesses, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. First, Nayoung and Eunji greet you with open arms and bright smiles, their laughter mingling with the soft music in the background. The hug you share is tight and warm, a testament to the countless days you’ve spent together, supporting and enjoying each other’s company.

Nearby, Sunwoo and Yeji stand together, hands intertwined, sharing a look of contentment. You join them with a gentle tease about their new official status, and their happiness adds a joyful note to the atmosphere. Eric waits with a knowing grin, ready with a supportive embrace. His steady friendship has been a cornerstone of your college life, always there through thick and thin.

Everywhere you look, it’s a manifestation of Jeno’s love and thoughtfulness—a night dedicated not just to your achievements but to the joy of being together. The entire evening is a celebration of your hard work and his unwavering support, a beautiful testament to the depth of his feelings for you. As you take in the surroundings, filled with everything and everyone you love, you realize just how deeply Jeno understands and cherishes you, making the end of your exams an unforgettable milestone.

As you rest your head against Jeno's shoulder, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, a soothing pulse that syncs perfectly with the hum of voices and laughter around you. His arms wrap around you, a secure and comforting embrace that makes the rest of the world fade away. Jeno leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "You make everything complete," he whispers, each word a soft melody that dances along your nerves, sending shivers of delight through you. His lips brush lightly against your earlobe, a tender gesture that makes you melt further into his embrace.

You tilt your head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes are deep pools of affection, reflecting a love so profound it seems to envelop you entirely. The way he looks at you, with such admiration and care, fills you with a warmth that radiates from the inside out. Jeno's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your cheek softly. He leans down, closing the small distance between you, and his lips meet yours in a slow, purposeful kiss. It's a kiss that speaks of years of love and promises yet to be kept, soft and sweet yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart swell. As you kiss, the noise of the bar fades into a distant murmur, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

As he pulls back slightly, he smiles, that heart-stopping smile that always seems to say so much more than words could. "I love you," he murmurs, so softly it's almost lost beneath the swell of music and laughter, but you hear it clear as day—a vow, a declaration, a truth shared between soulmates. You nestle closer, the simple joy of this moment encapsulating everything wonderful about your life together.

As the moment lingers, you nestle closer into Jeno's embrace, feeling the contentment and love that fills the air. "I'm so happy," you whisper, the words a soft exhalation against his skin. The simple admission feels like the most profound declaration, carrying with it all the weight and wonder of your shared journey.

Jeno's response is immediate and tender, a reflection of the feelings that shimmer palpably between you. He nudges his nose gently against yours, a playful yet intimate gesture that draws a light laugh from you both. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy," he says, his voice low and resonant with emotion. His words echo the depth of his commitment, each syllable reinforcing the bond you share.

He gazes into your eyes, his look intense and full of promise. "You make me happy.” he continues, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw softly. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice envelop you like a soft blanket, comforting and secure. The connection you share deepens with these small exchanges, each touch and word weaving a stronger fabric of intimacy. The world around you—the chatter, the clinking glasses, the laughter—blurs into a background soundtrack to the profound scene unfolding between you and Jeno. Here, in his arms, surrounded by friends and the echoes of shared laughter, you find a profound sense of belonging and happiness. His presence is a steady pulse in your life, the heartbeat that syncs perfectly with your own.

You watch everyone, all your friends who you love and cherish so much—some slightly swaying, others boldly singing along to the music, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic beats pulsating through the space. They're all here, each person delightfully lost in the celebration, some drunk, some high, all radiating sheer joy.

You turn back to Jeno, drawing closer to him, feeling the secure embrace of your loving boyfriend. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a world that feels separate from the chaos around. In his eyes, you find a home, a safe haven where you can let go of everything else. The noise, the music, the jubilant shouts of your friends fade into a soft backdrop to the silent conversation held in his gaze. "I love you," slips easily from your lips, a simple truth that resonates deeply between the two of you.

"I love you more," Jeno replies, his voice steady and sure, echoing the commitment in his eyes. He leans in, his nose gently nudging yours in an affectionate gesture, his breath mingling with yours, drawing a gentle laugh from your lips. "Thank you for this," you add, gesturing subtly at the joyous chaos he orchestrated just for you, making the night unforgettable.

The night deepens, and the atmosphere thickens with more than just smoke and laughter; it’s heavy with the intangible, yet palpable, love that you share with Jeno. He holds you closer, each beat of the music enhancing this intimate connection. As you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the rhythm of his heart, you think about how profoundly he has shaped your world. In the midst of friends who are celebrating with abandon, your focus remains tethered to him, the architect of your happiness.

Lee Jeno, the maker of your universe, stands with you in the center of a whirling storm of joy, his presence a constant force, grounding and uplifting. And as you lose yourself in his embrace, you realize that this is exactly where you belong, in the arms of the love of your life, surrounded by friends who share your joy. This realization isn't just comforting—it's a declaration of your shared future, bright and promising, under the watchful eyes of the stars.

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it’s over :((( i feel emotional. this was my baby fr and i loved writing every single second of it. i feel so heavy with love, thank you so much for all of your support with this part <3 i cannot tell you how much it means to me. the love i’ve gotten for this in such a short amount of time will never fail to blow my mind. i love you and thank you. 🫶🫶 hopefully you stick with me in the future and i can impress you with my other work <3 

please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah. also had to format the epilogue in big para’s or else it wouldn’t have posted

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[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 27.5k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, hopeless romantic!oc. shirtless jk in almost every scene ijbol he needs to get locked up, jk thigh tattoo 😔 a dash of sexual themes (ie: making out, grinding) and violence, this is pretty much MED SCHOOL LORE GALORE bcs boy, was there so much history mentioned here, 3/4 of this is in jk pov, so ladies.... prepare yourselves 🤔so much fluff, and we counter that with not major but not minor either ANGST, so many conversations and dialogues in this one lol, this hopefully offers every answer youre looking for from part one, when ur done reading the chapter this is how the keyring looks like

NOTES hi!! this chapter was supposed to be longer but i was like.. fuck that 😭 its getting too long. anyway. hope u guys enjoy this one!! this is my most favorite thing ive ever written i think n im weirdly very proud of this one idk. scream into my inbox and the reply section if u have #thoughtss 😄😄 [ important: pls make sure to read the note below ]

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You take your sweet time trying to right your wrongs.

After that day, you were the one to initiate a call with Mingyu which he answered thankfully (you were a little skeptical about him calling you that night). You went over to his place after your shift, apologizing to him for lying about your roommate situation. Admittedly, Mingyu still doesn’t seem to be wholly okay with it – but he doesn’t really say anything more about it. He kissed you better that night, his lips making you forget all about the stress that you’ve went through for the day, convincing you to stay over.

The night bled into two when he said he couldn’t let you go. Mingyu was persistent and you were unwilling to go in the first place. Partly because who didn’t want to spend more time with their significant other? But it’s also because of a certain someone that is no other than Jeon Jungkook.

Those two nights are going on four – which means that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook for the past three days now.

It doesn’t seem like a difficult task though because Jungkook seems to be doing the same. That was your hunch. He replies to you with dry-ass “okay”s when you text him about not going home because you’re staying at Mingyu’s. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Which is unusual of him. Sure, in your almost decade-long friendship, you’ve fought a bunch of times. But it usually gets resolved in a day or two. And Jungkook wasn’t ever cold like he is right now.

See, the regular Jungkook would find you anywhere on your floor at the hospital just to annoy you. When your time allows it, you eat together with your friends at lunch.

But now, he seems to always have something to do – which, okay, fair. He’s a surgeon, after all. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance whenever you two meet halfway in the hallways. Yesterday, you coincidentally scrubbed in together for the same surgery but he did not say a word to you other than, “Scalpel”.

The rest of your friends are already asking about it. Doyeon told you he had lunch with Jungkook this afternoon, but when she mentioned that maybe you were free to go with them, Jungkook suddenly had to look over a patient’s chart.

It’s not just a hunch anymore. He really is avoiding you.

And to be honest, you’re tired of the whole pussyfooting around. He’s being childish – and you’ll be the better person to come and talk to him about it. Granted, you’re three days late. But at least you’re doing it.

You texted Mingyu earlier this afternoon that you’re coming home to your apartment tonight. He was bummed about it, you could feel it through his message, nonetheless he replied saying he’ll miss you, which put a smile to your tired face from work.

When you went home from your shift at 9pm, Jungkook wasn’t anywhere in the house. Which was a shame – because you were planning to talk to him.

Well. Maybe you’d wait for him.

But it seemed like you underestimated your exhaustion for the day because as soon you finished showering, dressing yourself with your bed clothes which consists of comfortable flimsy camisole and panty shorts, you went straight to bed and passed out – forgetting about Jungkook.

It’s past 2 am when you feel yourself waking up from your deep slumber, stomach grumbling at the emptiness, and you realize you did not only forget about waiting for Jungkook but also about eating dinner.

Walking out of your room, you head straight to the kitchen where you immediately go to open the refrigerator to see if there’s something in it you can consume. There are boxes of Chinese food take-out which makes your eyes light up. When you open to smell them, it seems that they’re still new.

You deduce it must be Jungkook’s.

That gives you the predicament of whether you should eat it or not. You take you’re not exactly on good terms as of the moment – therefore you can’t eat his food. But you’re really hungry.

Throwing away your inhibitions, you open one of the boxes, not even bothering to heat the food.

“Hey,”

You almost jump upon hearing another voice. Looking to your side, you see Jungkook approaching, with only his boxers on, upper half naked.  

“H-hey,” you say, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are these yours?” You point to the take-out box in your hand.

Jungkook nods and heads straight to your direction. Taking one of the boxes, he hauls himself to the kitchen island, twisting his body so that he can face you.

“Yep.” he responds, dipping his fingers inside the box and taking out strands of noodles from it.

You wince at the sight. “Look like worms.”

“Just like worms.” Jungkook grins, chewing on them in that obnoxious way because he knows you don’t like noisy eaters.

Frowning, you decide to follow him to the island and haul yourself on top of it as well, sitting beside him. Jungkook scoots to the side to give you more room.

“It’s kind of like eating naengmyeon, I don’t like naengmyeon.” You tell him, opening another box and feeling delighted to see untouched stir-fried rice. “Did you just buy this earlier?”

Jungkook nods. “Left them in the fridge when I realized I wasn’t too hungry.”

“Then you woke up feeling hungry?” You smile at him.

He chuckles. “Yeah. When did you get off work?”

“Nine. You?”

“Twelve am.”

You grimace at that, but nod in understanding.

There’s a beat of silence before Jungkook speaks up again.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“Just wanted to remind you I’m still your housemate…” you joke, brushing your elbow against his arm in a teasing manner.

Jungkook laughs as he shakes his head. He picks up another batch of noodles in his fingers and then offers it to you, prompting you to arch your brow at him. “Try it.”

You shake your head. “I hate cold noodles.”

“Just try,” He insists, placing it closer to your face. You scrunch your nose, skeptical. It makes Jungkook chuckle lowly. “Head back.”

Hesitantly, you tilt your head back and open your mouth as Jungkook puts the noodles inside it. You almost choke on it when Jungkook laughs mid-way, making you laugh as well, but thankfully, you were able to chew all of them just fine.

“What the fuck.” You frown, slapping his arm good-naturedly.

“Wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“It was bad.” You say, going back to eating your fried rice. Jungkook gives you a look that says he’s not convinced. Looking at his face, you roll your eyes, “It’s like eating–” you stop mid-sentence as Jungkook quickly wipes off something on the side of your lips. It’s so quick though that you brush it off just as instantly and continue, “—literal worms.”

“Imagine if worms tasted like noodles. Wouldn’t that be sick as hell?” Jungkook muses, stretching his arm over you to reach for another take-out box on the counter. It’s so sudden that your immediate reflex was to stretch your upper body backwards, feeling a little taken aback when Jungkook’s face gets a little too close to your stomach, with his arm rubbing over your bare thighs.

He seems like it doesn’t move him, though. Just goes back to his position casually and opens another box. As he does, you can’t help but take a quick look at his bulging thighs, the short length of his boxers letting you get a brief view of the tattoo that peeks out of the expanse of his skin. You’ve seen that before many times, but not the entirety – of course not. It looks like it goes up from way above. Anyway, it’s sort of like a flower, but you’re not sure. You never really asked him about it. He never brings it up either.

“Oh, man, the dumplings got cold.” Jungkook picks inside his box as if he’d miraculously find one that’s not cold.

You roll your eyes at his antics. “You stored them in the fridge for like how many hours now?”

Ignoring you, Jungkook takes out one dumpling, trying to eat it, and you watch as he visibly winces. In a moment, he shoots one straight to the trash bin across from you.

“Oh, that’s real mature.” You say dryly.

With that, Jungkook throws another one, giving you a cheeky grin when it lands in the bin successfully for the second time.

Pursing your lips, you sarcastically say, “Wow. Two points to Xavier from Jeon Jungkook.”

That makes Jungkook look at you instantly.

“How the hell do you know that?” He gives you a look of confusion but there’s amusement written all over his face at the same time.

“Well… Mingyu told me you both played for the basketball varsity team back in undergrad, so,”

Jungkook stops. There’s look of something in his eyes that you can’t quite point out, but then suddenly, he nods.

“He told you how good I was?” He says with a teasing tone, a contrast to his sudden and quick drop of mood a few seconds ago.

You throw him a tissue. “Don’t be cocky. He just mentioned it.”

“I was captain. Two-time MOP, 2018 and 2019 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.”

You look at him with silent reverence. Well, Mingyu didn’t tell you all that, that’s for sure. It’s a bit surreal to picture Jungkook wearing a basketball uniform, though. You’re so used to seeing him in scrubs and lab gown and his usual casual, occasionally suits when you attend formal conferences. You’ve only ever seen him sweat it out whenever he works out in the living room.

“Impressive.” You say. Jungkook grins proudly. “It’s strange I only know about it now, though.”

“You never asked.” He shrugs. “What ‘bout you? I only know you’re little miss summa cum laude.”

Huffing, you jab at his arm when he mentions it, rolling your eyes at him which only earns you a chuckle. Regardless, you tell him, “2018 NCA College Nationals. We won Coed Division One.”

Jungkook arches a brow. “NCA… National Cheerleading Association?” You nod, eating from your take-out box so as to avoid Jungkook’s look after you do so.

“No fucking way,” He says incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. You never really get to share this part about you with a lot of people. To quote Jungkook, they never ask. It’s funny when they do get surprised by it though, like he is now. When Jungkook stares at you – you don’t know if it’s just in disbelief – longer than necessary, you realize he’s staring at your face and that makes you consciously fix a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go big blue, go big blue, show ‘em what wildcats can do.” You sing a in fast tempo, chuckling about how silly it sounds.

Jungkook utters a sound of amusement. “That’s… wow. Right now, I’m just picturing you cheering but it’s a bit hazy and shit.”

“You’re saying you can’t picture me cheering?” You playfully accuse, but you know exactly what he meant. Even you still don’t believe that you actually did cheer in undergrad. When you signed up for it, it was just because you had to choose a club, and you weren’t interested in anything other than that. You thought cheering would be fun and it was fun.

“No, I’m just—” Jungkook cuts himself off and looks at you. “Okay, now I totally deserve a cheer for that two-point shot I made just now.”

You laugh loudly at that. Covering your mouth, you look at him to see if he’s joking but he seems to be serious.

“No.” You say, your eyes widening, body stiffening.

“Come on,” Jungkook chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “You have to do more than a two-point shot to get a cheer.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Jungkook eagerly presents a challange. You stifle a laugh when he gears up for something. “I can shoot dumplings further from here with my left hand.”

“Ten feet away,” You muse, giggling when Jungkook suddenly gets off the counter, carrying the box of dumplings, and positions himself further away from you. Laughing, you shake your head before you say, “You can’t do it.”

“Try me.” He says as he begins to pick out a dumpling and concentrate on the trash can. Before he shoots, he tells you, “This one’s for you.”

You watch as the dumpling misses the bin.

Jungkook beats you to speaking first. “I admit. I’m a bit rusty.”

Sneering, you eat your fried rice, not straying your eyes from him. “You have to shoot, like, three dumplings.”

“That was a trial shot.” he insists, eyeing you playfully, before he gears up for another again. You watch closely when he makes a move to shoot another dumpling.

It goes in. Jungkook smirks at you when you look at him, impressed.

“Not bad.” You cock your head to the side.

“Tss.” He shoots another shot again and it’s successful for the second time. “That’s two.” Jungkook shows you his fingers and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Let’s see if you can get the third.”

Jungkook nods, and you cover a snicker again at the way his stance suddenly turns serious, as if he’s really taking the whole thing seriously.

In a few seconds, he shoots the last dumpling straight to the bin just as successfully as the last time.

“What did I say?” Jungkook brags as he goes over to the island across from you, sitting on the high chairs this time. You turn your body to look at him, containing your smile. “Your turn now.” Jungkook says with a smirk.

Your purse your lips. “I’m a bit rusty.”

“So was I!” Jungkook claims which prompts a chuckle from you.

You look at him for a while, unsure. You close your eyes, bobbing your head side to side, covering your face as you suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at the thought of dancing in front of him.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You say after Jungkook tries to remove your hands off your face.

He raises his right hand and fixes his sitting posture upright. “Promise.”

“If you show your teeth I’ll stop and so will this friendship.” You threaten as you bring your legs over the island to his direction.

Jungkook chuckles while saying a series of “Yeah”s, holding your hand to help you hop off the counter safely.

You take a few quick strides to place yourself in the space between your counter and dining area and look at Jungkook who settles himself comfortably in the kitchen island chair, watching you with relaxed position and crossed arms.

Feeling uncharacteristically shy, you stand upright, suddenly aware that you’re only wearing a pair of panty shorts and a fitted camisole. You don’t work out so you’re a bit conscious in front of Jungkook who looks really good in his natural form. You don’t even understand how he finds time to go to the gym or do his little work-out sesh during some nights or weekends, but you shake away the thought and smile at him coyly. He has the better body, sure, but you know well enough he’ll never judge you for yours… besides, it’s just Jungkook. He makes you feel safe and secure, no matter the context of the situation.

Off the top of your head, you do whatever it is you remember from your college routines and begin your yell.

“Wildcats, get up and shout! We’re the team that’s gonna take it out! Give it all you’ve got, let’s hear you roar!” You chuckle mid-way, forgetting a step. “Sorry,” you apologize quickly, but then continue right away, trapping your bottom lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from completely losing it. “We’re the Wildcats, and we’re here to score! Go Big Blue! Go Big Blue—" You make a mistake again and skip a beat with your finger snaps, and when you look at Jungkook, you can’t help but give in to the laughter that’s been bubbling up inside you. “I can’t do it!” You say, cutting your “performance” short.

“What? It was good!” Jungkook says, encouraging you to continue further.

You stifle a laugh as you go back to the top again but then your mind forgets the next step and you’re messing up the choreography again. At that point, you start mindlessly cheering; jumping around and flapping your arms to make it look like somewhat of a cheer but none of the coordination. You know it looks messy, so you run over to Jungkook shamefully, plopping on the chair beside him. Bringing your legs up to the seat and covering your face in your thighs, you can’t help but giggle in embarrassment.

“Woah,” Jungkook says, but you can say there’s a hint of laughter in his tone. You know it’s not out of mockery when he lifts your head up and boop your nose. “That was cute. Best cheer I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re pushing it.” You hiss, kicking his knee slightly.

Jungkook captures your leg, and you squeal when he pinches your thigh. You both laugh at that and you thought Jungkook’s gonna let go of your leg but he keeps it on his lap.

“My stomach hurts from laughing.” You tell him, taking a deep breath, trying to regulate your heart. Everything feels funny. Your cheer was funny. You must’ve looked so stupid.

Jungkook chuckles. “Wildcats, get up and shout—”

“Jungkook!” You cut him off, removing your leg from his lap to kick him again on the thigh this time. That only prompts him to laugh louder.

When the high of the moment fades, Jungkook looks over at you.

“Do you feel sleepy?”

You shake your head. “Not really. At least not yet.”

He hums, and then takes your box of fried rice to eat from it.

There’s the silence again, but it’s quiet and comfortable. No weird tension sitting in the air.

“Jungkook,” You call him after a while.

“Hm.”

You clear your throat. “I meant to talk to you,” Jungkook stops eating and looks at you to acknowledge you. “I’m sorry.”

He stares at you for a moment. Then, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? I was gonna talk to you yesterday to say I’m sorry but then you didn’t talk to me at all in the OR. I thought you were still mad at me.”

With furrowed brows, you tell him, “I thought you were mad at me. You only said “scalpel” in the OR and then that was it. No hi’s or hello’s in the hallways for the past three days.”

“Me? Mad at you?” He says, as if he can’t believe you would even think that. “I mean, you piss me off sometimes, but I don’t think I was ever mad at you.” You pout. Jungkook smiles. “I can never be mad at you,” His look is gentle and warm that you feel a little flustered for a reason unknown. It just ticks a little something in your brain, tugging something at your heart. Then, Jungkook sighs. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I went about it. The “bringing boys here” comment was out of line.”

There’s a wince on your face when you hear that.

That comment did hurt a little.

But you know it was just a heat-in-the-moment type of thing, and he just wasn’t able to think through his words well enough when he was… well, pissed – and rightfully so. Because you did something offensive to him, and you can’t blame him for feeling the way he felt.

You nod at Jungkook. “Thank you for saying that. I’m saying sorry because I realized what you said. I should’ve informed you I was bringing Mingyu home, and I should’ve told him about you being my roommate. We really could’ve avoided that situation.”

“You can just tell me beforehand if you’re bringing him to our place.” Jungkook shrugs.

You chuckle. “No. That won’t happen again.” And it’s true. It’s awkward and it’s rude when you have a roommate.

Jungkook looks at you. “Okay. I won’t do it as well,” You shake your head, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “I’m guessing you settled it pretty quickly with him?” He gestures at your neck and you realize he’s referring to the necklace you’re wearing – the one Mingyu gave you the very same day you fought.

You want to point out it’s not really new, but you settle with, “Yeah. Fortunately.” as a response.

“I really am sorry for what happened.” Jungkook says and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.

“It’s fine,” Touching his arm, you give him a small smile. “Have you and Mingyu talked?”

Jungkook shakes his head. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you think about how that’s… not good. They were friends before you and have just met each other again after so many years – you do not want to be that kind of person who gets in the way of some other people’s relationship.

And you really can’t have Jungkook not liking your boyfriend or your boyfriend not liking Jungkook, either.

But as much as you want to suggest that they talk it out, you know you can’t. Besides, you trust that they eventually will. They’re grown men.

“So…” you trail off. “Are we okay?”

Jungkook’s lips tilt upwards. “Are we okay?”

“Come on,” you roll your eyes. “Do we hug it out or like – I don’t know – handshake on it?”

“Let’s hug it out like we’re twelve.” Jungkook grins and in a moment, he scoots closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest.

The angle is a bit awkward with Jungkook crouching too much you don’t doubt his position is anything but comfortable, but it works, and it gives you the opportunity to pat his head as you say, “I missed hanging out with you, buddy.”

“Can’t say the same thing.”

That earns him a slight pinch to the ear easily accessible to you.

“Ow!” Jungkook says and then add, “I hate to ruin the moment but… you’re not wearing a bra.”

You quickly grab both sides of his head to get him off your chest. He comes back sitting upright on his chair, laughing.

“Fuck off—” you flip him off and then look over your box of fried rice, but then you remember he was also eating it earlier. “You ate all of it!”

“Finders keepers.”

“I hate you.”

“Hm.”

You shake your head, standing up and starting to grab all the boxes to take them to the trash bin.

“By the way, I just got my approval from HR for our trip the next two weeks. Have you?” You ask him across the room. You can see Jungkook’s face light up at the mention.

“Yeah, of course. Got approved yesterday.” Jungkook grins. You watch as he stares at you a bit longer, his face showing a hint of confusion.

You arch a brow. “Why does your face look like that?” Jungkook shakes his head, obviously ready to dismiss it. But you’re persistent. “What is it?” You say, walking towards his direction and stopping in front of him.

“Nothing…” he trails off. Then he rubs the back of his head. “I just really thought that you…” You squint your eyes at him. Then he chuckles lightly and swipes his fingers through his hair. “I just thought the trip would be cancelled.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Frowning, you nudge at him. “What? Of course, not! We planned that trip like six months ago. I’m not backing out.”

Jungkook gives you a shy smile.

“Okay.”

You can’t help it. You bring your hands to his cheeks and pinch them.

“He’s so excited for his birthday trip!” You say, intentionally talking like you would to a toddler.

Jungkook predictably forces your hands out of his skin and holds your wrist a bit tight as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Knock it off.” He glares at you. But you’re not done with your fun, so you poke your finger to his waist, knowing that’s his weak spot, and tease him some more. “Seriously.” Jungkook huffs out and your laughter becomes louder because he looks like a grumpy child right now.

“Sorry.” you say, still giggling. He furrows his brows, and you can’t help it, you poke at his waist again. When you do it, though, Jungkook captures your wrist, effectively stopping another one of your juvenile assaults. Suddenly, you start noting the mirth in his eyes.

You’ve seen that look before and it always ends up with you almost dying from too much laughter because he always—

“You’re gonna regret that.”

You let out a squeal as Jungkook takes ahold of your waist, and before you can even voice out a protest, he easily hoists you up against his body, bouncing you up until you're hanging around his shoulder like a sack bag.

“What the hell, put me down, you prick!” You complain, slapping the rugged muscles on his back. But Jungkook just responds with a series of clicks of his tongue, carrying you across the living room.

You know he’s about to put you on the couch to tickle you to death, so you do what you could and bite down on the skin of his back.

“Ouch!” Jungkook immediately reacts, stumbling a little in his stride. You snort at that, but you immediately frown when you feel a slap to your ass.

“You asshole!”

“You just lowered your chances of being spared,” Was his last words before you feel yourself getting put down on the surface of the sofa. Soon after, Jungkook’s poking his fingers to your waist and stomach, prompting you to erupt in fits of giggles and laughter, thrashing beneath him like a caged animal.

“Pl—stop—oh my god!” You say, weakly reaching for his arms. When Jungkook doesn’t relent, you continue wriggling under him, laughing and choking, saying a variety of, “Stop! I’m —” giggle, “gonna—” then another snort, “—die!”

Jungkook chuckles. He torments you some more before finally stopping his fingers in their ministrations.

“You deserve that.” Jungkook says when you both came down from the high, laughing at the messy state of your hair and the way you try to catch your breath like you just ran a triathlon.

You breathe in and out deeply, clutching your stomach that still hurts from laughing.

“Fuck you.” You hiss, giving him the finger.

Jungkook bursts into laughter, and from his position in between your legs, he lets himself fall on top of you.

“Jungkook, no!” Pushing him off you, you try to get away from him but the goof just forces himself beside you instead, sticking his much bigger build in between you and the back of the couch. It makes you scoot near the edge as a result, and you hold onto his arm so that you don’t fall off, tangling your leg against his own for added support. Pinching his waist in which he lets out an ingenuine “Owe!” to, you face him as you say, “You are so annoying.”

Jungkook just gives you a shit-eating grin. “Who started it?”

“You almost killed me.” You say dryly.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, you realize the position you are both in.

Your bare legs are intermingled against each other, Jungkook has one arm wrapped around your waist, and from the lack of clothes on both sides, you can feel pretty much everything.

There’s a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach upon the epiphany.

Jungkook’s looking at you with a playful grin, but as he notices you staring at him, he stills. From such close proximity, you can almost trace out the lines of his features. The scar on his cheek, the mole under his lip, and the pimple scar that was probably from a week ago. At that thought, you think about: if you can see him so close like this, he can also probably see you, and that’s when you break away from the contact.

“Shit.” You hiss as you let yourself fall off the floor by rolling around, away from his hold and touch and him in general.

Jungkook immediately scoots to the edge of the sofa to look down at you with confused eyes. “The hell?”

“Don’t worry,” you wave your hand at him.

He snorts. “Did you just fall?”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’d think that. But you let him, standing up from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

You hear Jungkook’s boisterous laughter as you walk towards the kitchen again, stopping in front of the fridge to get some water.

“You’re going to bed now?” Asks Jungkook, following you to the fridge and mirroring your activity.

Nodding at his question, you peer from the rim of the glass as you answer, “Yeah, I don’t want to be sleeping at the hospital later.”

“Fair.”

Soon after, you both decided to clean up a bit in the kitchen and when you finished, you two headed towards the direction of your bedrooms. It’s located just near the kitchen, with the doors located beside each other.

When you turn the knob open to your own door, Jungkook calls you, catching your attention.

You arch a brow at him, waiting.

“Good night,” Jungkook says. You drop your kitted brows and smile. You’re about to greet him the same but then he adds, “Also– that was a really great cheer.”

“Ugh, Jungkook!”

You look across the bed to see Mingyu still on his laptop on his worktable, working on something. An hour and thirty minutes have passed since you arrived at his place, but you’re still not getting the least bit of attention from him.

You get it, it’s work, but he asked you to come over… isn’t it only fair to expect a little bit of something?

Getting up from the bed, you trudge over to his direction.

“Hi,” you say, ducking down to wrap your arms around his neck from the back of his swivel chair and kissing the spot below his ear.

“Hi,” Mingyu meets the kiss you give him on the lips. He reaches for your hands resting on top of chest and holds it there, looking at you. You delight at the hint of attention. “I’ll just be in a few minutes. You’re staying, right?”

You grin. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Rolling your eyes, you take your hands off him and stand upright once again. Mingyu rotates his chair so he can look at you with his undivided attention, voicing out a low whistle when he takes in your outfit – or lack of it thereof.

You arch a brow, knowing well he’s ogling you only in your bra and panties, squinting your eyes at him. Slowly, you glide your leg over his waist and plop yourself down on his lap, waiting for any protest from him. It doesn’t come, and so you give him a grin before planting your lips against his.

The kiss turns heated in a matter of seconds, with Mingyu squeezing over your bra and taking in your soft moans against his mouth, feeling the delicious roll of your hips against his crotch where you feel a semi growing already.  

“Sweetheart,” Mingyu grunts. When you don’t answer that, he cups your jaw, making you look at him. “__.”

“What?” You say, more like a whine, looking at him with hooded eyes. You’re starting to feel sticky in your underwear and you need him to do something about it.

“Not now, sweetheart. I told you, I’m working.”

You frown. There’s a beat of silence before you let out a sigh. “Okay.” You say, getting off his lap.

“I’ll take care of you when I’m done.” He promises, taking ahold of your wrist, looking up at you.

Pursing your lips, you look away. “It’s fine.” When Mingyu lets go, you look at the direction of the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” you tell him. “You’re free to join me if you want or whatever.”

You know he can’t and that he won’t.

“Alright.” Was the last thing you heard before you walked towards the bathroom door.

You’ve been over at his place too many times to count now, and you’re slowly building your shower essentials in his own bathroom. Your body wash, your face cream, your shampoo, your conditioner – even your moisturizer and your eye mask are already placed inside his bathroom cabinet.

As you step out of the shower box, all clean and fresh, you go over to the lavatory to brush your teeth. At the sight of both your cups sitting beside each other, you smile.

You look in the mirror – noting the way your lips can’t stop from curling up at the thoughts running inside your head.

Shaking them off, you grab Mingyu’s robe and put it over yourself, turning the knob around to step out of the bathroom.

You see Mingyu on his bed this time around, but his laptop’s still perched on his lap.

He looks up when he sees you. “Ready to sleep?”

You nod, feeling at home the way you automatically go towards his closet to pick out a shirt and some panties you left over the time.

As you’re in the process of dressing yourself, a phone’s ding rings in the room.

Looking at Mingyu, you watch as he checks his phone, assuming it came from him. When he puts it down, he looks at your plugged phone on the bedside table.

“What is it?” You ask, now properly dressed, walking to the bed.

You note the way Mingyu’s gaze changes as he hands you your phone.

“It’s Jungkook.” He says with a weirdly clipped tone. Then another ding comes. A beat, and then your phone rings.

Your brow shoots up, taking the device from him and checking it yourself.

Jungkook’s face is plastered over your screen – a picture of him wasted in his room two years ago, taken from your Thailand trip with the rest of your friends. He’s sleeping with his mouth open, shirtless in the middle of the hut, only covered up with his trunks. You remember setting it as his contact photo because it was funny back then. Jungkook hates the photo, and your friends always made fun of him for it.

Right now, though, it doesn’t feel the least bit funny. Not when Mingyu’s certainly saw it. Not when he looks a little put off as soon as he sees a glimpse of it when he was passing your phone to you.

“I’ll just answer this.” You say, standing from the bed again.

You don’t expect Mingyu to suddenly shoot you a question, “You can’t answer here?”

Brows knitting together, you give him an uncertain look. “It’s just Jungkook.”

“Yeah… so, why not here?”

You relent, seeing the point he’s trying to make. Plopping yourself on the bed again, you answer Jungkook’s call and put the phone over your ear.

“Jungkook,”

“__,” he sighs out your name, sounding relieved. “Thank fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, growing a bit concerned at his tone.

You can hear some shuffling from the other line as Jungkook tells you, “Did you see me with my pager in the locker room earlier?”

“Oh, uh… let me think…” you trail off, trying to remember the events earlier. As you do that, you notice Mingyu’s fingers trailing his hands to your bare legs, but you ignore it as you answer Jungkook, “I think I didn’t, yeah. I didn’t.” Jungkook hisses. “Did you check your car?” you ask, trying to help out.

“Already did. It’s not in there, either. I really think I accidentally threw it out in the bin along with some trash in my pockets.” He says, sounding a little distressed now.

“Well… you can always just go to the operator, you know? Get a new pager?” you offer. There’s a drop of kiss on your shoulder that makes you shudder, and you look at Mingyu with furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything, though, just let his fingers trail upwards, his hand sliding under your shirt, gripping your thigh. Your boyfriend just gives you a sly smile, and you squint your eyes at him, confused at what he’s playing at. 

“I know. But, ugh, you know I lost two pagers already this year. Sungkyun hates me at this point—”

Jungkook’s answer suddenly drowns out when Mingyu grazes his thumb on your clothed clit.

“Oh.”

“—what?” Jungkook halts, asking about your abrupt reaction.

You bite your lip in an effort to shut yourself up, and when Mingyu’s hand makes another move again, your free hand shoots up to stop him.

“Hold on a second, Jungkook,” you say, quickly pressing mute.

Mingyu looks at you with a smirk, playful smile painting his face. “You know you can continue, right?”

At that, your brows furrow even further.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t mean to sound curt but with the way Mingyu’s expression changes, it may have sounded that way.

You… couldn’t help it.

“I wanted to touch you,” Mingyu tells you after a beat of awkward silence. Then, his hand retreats to himself. “Do you not want to?”

There’s guilt that springs up inside you when you see the look on his face as he says those words.

“No, I’m sorry— it’s just… I want to. I just… not with somebody on the phone?” You put it out like a question, unsure of yourself.

The room is quiet for awhile and suddenly there’s a thick tension that hangs in the air.

You reach out for Mingyu but then drop your hand to your sides when he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

He turns his head to you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is it because it’s Jungkook?”

You frown at his tone.

It sounded accusatory.

“Excuse me?” You say, taking immediate offense. When Mingyu shrugs, you feel a bit of annoyance bubble up inside you. “I would’ve still stopped you if it was anybody else on the phone, Mingyu.” you say, tone firm and leveled.

“I’m sorry, then.”

But he definitely doesn’t sound like it. His sarcasm makes you snap. “What’s up with you?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it again. You watch him with confused eyes, completely at loss of context where he’s at. The night was going fine as usual and suddenly, there’s this.

After a few seconds, Mingyu sighs. “What are you even talking about right now?” He glances at your phone.

“It’s—” you take a glance at it too. “It’s just his pager.”

“Pager?”

“Yes.”

“He asks you about his pager in the middle of the night, knowing full well you’re with me?”

“I—” you stop yourself, words suddenly getting lost in your tongue. Not because you don’t know the answer to his question, but because you hate the way he phrased it – and honestly, you’re starting to feel icky about how he’s going with it. What was he trying to do? Pin you down with accusatory notions?

You don’t fucking get it. Jungkook’s his friend. It’s so bizarre to even think about how Mingyu is seemingly acting jealous over his supposed friend.

“You know what?” You say instead, not wanting to discuss it further with him anymore. It’s just gonna lead to an unnecessary fight – and frankly, you don’t want to deal with his jealousy. It seems so… futile. “Can we just sleep this whole thing off?”

Mingyu looks at you and for the first time, his eyes don’t look gentle. He looks at you with a bit of a frown, and you get it. You do. You’re not exactly happy, either. Not right now, with the way he’s acting.

“Do you want me to go?” You ask, ready to step out of bed.

“I didn’t tell you to.” Mingyu says, voice equally strained.

You sigh. “What do you want me to do, Mingyu? Are you jealous, is that it?” You meant it to be completely rhetorical, not at all expecting him to say anything.

But he answers instantly. “What if I say I am?”

Your lips part. You’re surprised at the confirmation, but you shake your thoughts off it.

“Then it’s completely unnecessary,” you tell him, as genuine as you can sound. When Mingyu doesn’t move in his position on the edge of the bed, you crawl towards him. Testing the waters, you touch his arm to see if he would avoid your touch, but when you do rest your hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t stray. “I like you, Gyu.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watch as his face still sports a cold expression. But he says, “I like you too, you know that,”

“But…?” you try to get out the words from him, because you knew there’s more.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being irrational about this whole thing,” he starts, and you nod your head, trying to show him that you get it. Mingyu licks his lips before he continues, “I just… I guess I just want you to put boundaries around your friendship with Jeon.”

That makes you stop. Nevermind the strange way he called Jungkook by his surname.

“How do you mean by that?” You ask with furrowed brows.

“You’re just really close with him. And you live in one apartment together.” He points out.

“Mingyu…” you say, suddenly feeling tired all over again. “I thought we already talked about that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a hundred percent comfortable with it, you know?”

It feels like you got electrocuted by his words the way you quickly retreat your hands. “That’s…” you trail off, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully, though, Mingyu interjects before you can slip into a dilemma.

“I know, I know about why you’re living with him and all that stuff. We talked about it. It’s just…” he reaches for your hand. Entangling your fingers together, Mingyu brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss there. “I want you all the time. And I guess I really am just jealous – even though it’s juvenile. I’m jealous that he’s known you far longer than me.”

“But— I’m here thrice a week. I make time for the both of us. And it doesn’t really matter how long you’ve known me for, Gyu,” you respond truthfully.

He nods.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I just— I got in way over my head that I also forgot to take your feelings into account,”

Mingyu smiles, and there goes his soft gentle expression again.

“I know. It’s fine. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s me who’s being unreasonable.”

“No, it’s not unreasonable,” you tell him. “I get it. Boundaries, Mingyu. I know what you’re talking about.”

Mingyu scooches closer and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You gladly bask in it, smiling against his lips, keeping your gentle gaze towards him as he breaks away.

“I’m sorry for being a bummer.”

You kiss him again and the way he inserts his tongue in your mouth distracts you a bit but you manage to break the contact. Soon, he’s lying down beside you and when you check your phone, your call with Jungkook has already ended, but there are two messages from him on your notifications.

[12:35am] jaykay🤠: are you still alive [12:38am] jaykay🤠: ok nevermind i’ll hang the call i actually found my pager just now 😭 [12:38am] jaykay🤠: it was in the kitchen counter LOL [12:45am] jaykay🤠: ok bye. night

You were going to reply but decide against it for some reason.

Putting your phone down to the bedside table, you follow Mingyu under the sheets and as usual, you face against his direction just like he does.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t really like cuddling that much. He’d share his space to a certain extent, just like how you got into his bed in the first place, but not the lengths of cuddling together in bed. Mingyu didn’t tell you why – and you don’t want to come off as clingy, so you don’t bother asking.

It’s strange, though. Now that he told you a while ago that he, apparently, “wants you all the time”. Shouldn’t he like to cuddle you in bed, then? But you don’t want to dwell in it too much, afraid that you may be digging yourself a hole if you were to keep it up.

As you lay your cheek on your folded hands, you play back the events of the night and think about how you’ve seen this film before.

When you were in med school, Eunwoo always had something to say about your friendship with Jungkook. He wasn’t direct with it, but with the way he never bothered to make friends with Jungkook or always had a grimace on his face when you mentioned him in passing, it was enough for you to conclude that Eunwoo was always… wary of Jungkook – and definitely in a jealous type of way.

He said almost the exact same thing as Mingyu – that boundaries should be built; that Jungkook and you are too close, why is he calling you in the middle of the night to ask about mundane things, why does he know too much about your mother’s preferences, and why is he buddy-buddy with your dad who otherwise always had an uninterested expression on his face?

It wasn’t even just Mingyu. Your past flings for the past four years you’ve been single always got put off when they heard that you’re rooming with a guy – even more so when you mention that he’s your bestfriend.

You’re not stupid to not see how it looks like from the outside perspective – and you’re not dense to not ever consider the possibility of something romantic brewing within the friendship. You have thought about it before – had an instant crush on him the first time you met at the law library back in post grad school. But it was fleeting at best, especially when Eunwoo came into your life a few weeks later.

Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung have also hinted at it. Sometimes – most of the time, really, teasing you two, especially Taehyung. Even the most mature one among your friends – Yoongi – once told you both to get married at forty. He was joking, though he looked way too serious for someone who was just supposed to be joking.

And there was that one dreadful time in third year of med school when Jungkook almost kissed you.

You buried that memory in the very depths of your mind – not ever wanting to revisit it again. It was a bad time, and it was just not a good thing to look back at. Jungkook acted irresponsible, and you stupidly let yourself be complicit in it, even though you knew better.

Nothing even happened – but that memory was just that. A mere memory. You doubt Jungkook even remembers that himself.

Here’s the thing: you’ve just never seen Jungkook past the person you consider as a friend. You’ve never been weird about the women he dated – or if he dated, at all. He’s also always been supportive of your relationships… as far as you’re concerned. Regardless of what everybody says, you both seem to agree that you’re just better off as friends. You work better that way.

Jungkook’s a good guy, though. He does have tons of flings – but he’s just conventionally attractive and works hard for a body that is to die for. Women like that. Additionally, he has a stable job and even though he annoys you about splitting the delivery fee when you do take-out, he’s actually quite rich – or, his family is – he’d always insist.

You get it though. As a co-resident, you both don’t really make that much (for the work that you do) – at least not yet.

But he was indeed born in generational wealth, coming from a family of doctors, which is why it’s quite impressive that he knows how to handle his life by his own hard work. His intelligence and perseverance are some of the things you admire about him, his drive to make a name for himself and never leeching off his family’s name. Jungkook doesn’t ever brag about how his neurosurgeon dad is one of the best in the country and how his mom is a legend in cardiac surgery – even though sometimes, he could use it a little. He’s playful yet charming; quiet when you’re just knowing him, but he’ll eventually talk a lot when you get close.

As a friend, he’s quite the best you’ve ever had.

And even though you don’t really see him past that, you know in your heart that whoever ends up with him romantically will be a very lucky person.

“You’re a pussy.”

“Doyeon.”

Doyeon huffs, rolling her eyes so hard at Taehyung’s reprimand and then goes back to glaring at Jungkook again who just looks at her with a pathetic expression.

“What? I’m right. He’s a pussy and you’re an even bigger pussy for defending him being a pussy.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows angrily.

“Why are we talking about pussies?”

Nayeon suddenly enters the on-call room and Jungkook nearly has a heart attack.

“What the hell, you should at least knock. Jesus.” Jungkook says, clutching his chest, looking at Nayeon with an almost offended expression who closes the door behind her.

“Were you scared it was __? See!” Doyeon sighs out in frustration. “Such a fucking pussy.”

“Such a fucking pussy,” Jungkook mocks, using a higher pitch to imitate Doyeon poorly.

“And a child too.” She rolls her eyes and throws him a pillow. It misses Jungkook and hits Taehyung instead.

“Seriously, what are you so mad about today? You have that mood. Did you and your secret boyfriend fight?” Taehyung spits out.

Everybody stills in the room when Doyeon gives him a sharp glare. That pretty much makes everyone shut up, especially Taehyung who makes a show of physically zipping his mouth.

Nayeon fakes a cough and trudges towards Jungkook sitting on one of the beds. She throws her heavy hands on his shoulders, more like slaps, and then looks at Doyeon as she asks, “What are we calling this man a pussy for?”

“Oh, ask him. Or his dumber best friend.” Doyeon rolls his eyes and looks at Taehyung, crossing her arms and leaning her back on the chair she’s sitting on from across the room.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings and I hate you.” Taehyung says from the other bed.

“Why?” Nayeon ignores their banter and furrows her brows at Jungkook curiously.

Jungkook hisses under his breath. “It’s nothing. She calls me a pussy for literally everything.”

Doyeon butts in. “Yeah, are you gonna cry?”

“If __ was here, she’s gonna be on my side, you know that?” Jungkook rebuts.

“If __ was here, you’d be panicking because she’ll know about your little secret.”

“Oof.” Taehyung comments.

“Oh, Jungkookie…” Nayeon looks down at him with worried eyes. When he looks up with a sad look, she starts rubbing his shoulders as some sort of comfort, already knowing about what this might be about. “This is about… the thing?”

He nods weakly. “Yes. And no. Uh, well, this is… you know about the birthday trip in the next five days, right? So, she asked me if she could bring, uh, Mingyu along.”

“Oh.” Nayeon utters, looking at Doyeon for confirmation.

Doyeon nods, and then nags, “Ask him what he said.”

Nayeon looks at him. “What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook looks down in slight shame at Nayeon’s reaction. She completely stops her hands’ ministrations on his shoulder, indicating that even she could not believe what he just did.

This makes Jungkook even feel worse.

Leaning his elbow on his thighs, he runs his fingers through his hair as he says, “I mean, how could I have said no? I would’ve looked like an asshole. Besides, Mingyu and I are college friends. There’s no reason for me to prohibit him from this trip. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, you and Mingyu are college friends but, ultimately, it’s our trip, right? __ would’ve understood if you said no.” Doyeon says, still not over her justification from a while ago.

“I know, I know. But still… I didn’t want to say no to her.” Jungkook tells Doyeon, not having a lot to say more than that.

It’s the plain truth, anyway. He truly, simply does not want to say no to you. Not ever.

“But Jungkook…” Nayeon interrupts. “Would it be okay for you? We know how you feel about the whole – er – Mingyu thing. Can you really take them being close together? Especially on a trip for your birthday?”

Though Nayeon’s voice is soft and her gaze gentle, her words hit him like a ton of bricks.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to feel about the whole thing. You dating Mingyu is one thing, but you bringing him along on your trips is another. It means that he’s it.

That you’re getting serious.

He hates himself for hating the idea. Jungkook’s always wanted to be nothing but supportive of you. He’d done it perfectly well with Eunwoo before, and your flings in the past four years have never upgraded past to being solely flings so he never worried about them, but now with Mingyu… it’s hard to pretend like it’s not killing him when you talk about how much you like him.

You have that lovestruck look on your face when Mingyu comes up in a conversation. For the first time in a while, you look genuinely happy. Jungkook always thought that your feelings for Eunwoo still lingered over the past few years – and how could it not, when you were literally engaged to him for a year? You told him one time that he may have been your greatest love… and he fears that it might be the same with Mingyu.

Where does that exactly leave him?

“What I think doesn’t really matter. And it’s just for week.” he murmurs, but the others hear it anyway.

“An excruciating week, you mean.” Doyeon says. She stands up from her chair. “You know what, I’m over this whole thing. I’ve witnessed you pine over her for whole eight years – and I’m just – I’m moving on from this. And I have a surgery. I’m going out.”

Jungkook grimaces when Doyeon heads towards the door.

“Doyeon, don’t be mean to Jungkook. He’s trying his best, you know? The timing is just not right and—”

“What timing?”

As soon as Doyeon twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open to completely head out, you came barging in, cutting off Nayeon’s words.

Her eyes widen a little at your sudden arrival. And Jungkook scrambles to think of an effort to swerve the subject, but Taehyung beats him to it.

“__, heyyy,” he prolongs the word quite unnaturally, chuckling at the end of it for no reason. Jungkook internally notes to tell him later never dare try to save anything ever again.

That makes you furrow your brows in confusion. Directing your look to Doyeon who stopped on her tracks, you ask her instead, “What’s going on? What about Jungkook trying his best?”

Doyeon looks at Jungkook and then you. You wait, but then she just rolls her eyes – just completely done about the whole thing. Like she said earlier.

“He’s trying his best not to be a pussy – well, allegedly.” At that, she goes out of the room, ignoring your calls to pull her back in.

“Uh… I think I have a surgery in twenty. See you guys around. Gotta scrub in.” Taehyung jumps from the other bed and Jungkook makes sure to extend his leg forward so that the older guy trips on it as he walks. “What the fuck, man.” Taehyung looks at him, offense written all over his face.

Jungkook gives him a glare. Taehyung chooses to ignore it rather than prolong it and walks past you at the door.

“Bye, fuckers.”

“Don’t call me a fucker!” Nayeon chimes in but Taehyung’s already out of the room.

“Hey, seriously! What was that?” You head towards the bed where Jungkook and Nayeon are, situating yourself on the far end of the bed to lean on the frame. You take off your sneakers in one swift move and lay your feet on Jungkook’s lap.

“It’s nothing. You know how Doyeon always bullies me…” Jungkook says, ignoring the tingling sensation that starts to creep up his spine at the way you casually initiate physical contact.

He needs to get a grip. You most probably don’t really mean anything by it.

“She does not bully you.” Nayeon rolls her eyes beside him.

“You probably deserve it.” you say, pulling out and eating some strawberry yogurt.

Nayeon laughs at your remark, but then it’s cut short when a pager suddenly beeps. Instantly, all of you take out your own and check if it was yours.

“Alright, that’s my call.”

“Bye. Good luck.” You say, offering your cup to Nayeon, but she only shakes her head. Meanwhile, Jungkook gives her a pair of thumbs up.

When Nayeon leaves the room, you nudge Jungkook with your foot.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at you with a brow raised.

“Can you rub my foot? Please rub my foot.” You say, making the best rendition of puppy face, extending your sock-cladded foot in his direction.

He scoffs. “Do you think I’m a pushover?”

You gasp dramatically. “I do not! I think you’re a cool person who’d totally give me foot rubs.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not a cool person who would give you foot rubs.”

You groan. “I gave you a massage weeks ago.”

“That was, like, two months ago.” Jungkook says drily.

“It counts because you didn’t do anything to repay me for my kindness.”

“Oh, you need your kindness paid back?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You pout at him and then whine. “Please, just three minutes, I swear. I’ll even put up a timer.”

Indeed, Jungkook is a pushover. Pushover to your cute pout and every request. Again, he could just not find it in himself to say no to you. Not even in his wildest dreams.

But it’s never not fun to tease you before he relents. “Fine. Two minutes.” He says, pretending to begrudge the thought of giving you a foot massage, even though inside, he’s quite thrilled to be doing so.

It would be a lie to say that it isn’t one of his favorite past times in the quiet evenings of your apartment. Jungkook loves the weight of your leg on his lap, loves the way you thank him in between groans, and loves that he just gets to be close to you in almost such an intimate way.

“Your feet stink.” Jungkook decides to tease, scrunching his nose, feigning disgust.

“Don’t lie. Also, your feet stink even more, don’t try me.”

“My feet do not stink.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” You grin. “I’m starting a timer.” You say, grabbing your phone, pressing some stuff on it before you put it on the mattress.

“Let me see, for all I know, you set it to five instead of three.”

You look at him with widen eyes, stiffening.

“It’s three minutes.”

“Your nostrils are flaring, you’re lying.”

You groan. “Please. Dinner is on me later.”

That obviously catches Jungkook’s attention.

“You’re staying at home for the night?”

You look at him weird. “Yeah, of course. What’s with that face?”

Jungkook shakes his head, hides a small smile as he looks down to your feet on his lap and takes a hold of one. He takes off your sock for you and begins massaging the tendons of your foot, noting the way you immediately lean back and relax.

“Nothing. I just thought you’d be staying at Mingyu’s again.”

“Ah,” you nod your head. When Mingyu's name is mentioned, you visibly frown. It’s the kind of face that you make when you’re deep in thought. “I was supposed to. But I don’t know… we fought this morning.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shrug. “Not really. It’s a weird argument. I don’t know.”

He wants so badly to poke around and find out… but somehow, there’s something in him that tells him not to bother.

Anyway, you’re going home tonight so that’s all that matters. Jungkook begins to think about what to eat for dinner… he’d love to cook something, nevermind that he’s tired from his overnight shift yesterday. He also only got around four total hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, and that was not even consecutive hours – just the sum. That is why he was in the on-call rooms, until Taehyung suddenly barged in, followed by Doyeon, Nayeon, and then you.

“Oh– there, that’s so good, Jungkook,” you say after a particularly hard press against the ball of your heel.

Jungkook knows better than to let his mind wander upon hearing that from you. He’s massaging you, of course that was gonna be the natural reaction.

It’s also quite pathetic to be even thinking about it in the first place – considering that your mind might most likely be weighed by yours and Mingyu’s argument – your boyfriend.

“Hey, about what I said a few days ago,” you started to speak again, breaking the momentary silence. Jungkook hums to acknowledge you. “I know you said yes to me bringing Mingyu along, but, uh, I’m not sure if he still plans to.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. Was the argument that bad? “Okay.”

“Yeah. He has to fly over to Arizona for something that week. Told me he may be able to arrive and join us on the second day, which is the exact date of your birthday, but honestly, I’m not sure. His sched changes a lot.”

Deep down, Jungkook wishes Mingyu just opts out of joining in altogether.

But he doesn’t have to tell you that.

“That’s a shame.” he comments, not really meaning it. He massages your other foot with ginger hands, which has you letting out soft sighs again. Jungkook buries them in the back of his head, lest his mind goes to territories that are absolutely humiliating.

“I know…” you trail off. You look like you have more to say as well, but then the door to the room opens. Again.

“Forgot my pager.” Doyeon announces, crossing the room with quick steps to reach for the forgotten thing she left on the table.

When Doyeon’s gaze falls back to the both of you, she raises a brow, and then her eyes direct their way towards Jungkook’s hands on your foot.

You’re about to say something when Doyeon rolls his eyes at Jungkook. Then, without giving you the opportunity to speak, she heads out of the room quickly, leaving Jungkook to look in another direction in quiet shame.

“What was that?” You comment, confused at what just happened.

“Eh, she’s in a sour mood today. It’s regular Doyeon.” Shrugs Jungkook, trying to swerve the subject.

You pout. “Are you two fighting again for real?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No, it’s not serious. You know how Doyeon and I get.”

You squint your eyes, but say nothing nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Jungkook hisses internally.

Jungkook gets Doyeon. You all have been friends since freshman year of med school – the founder of your study group – and she was also the first one to find out about Jungkook’s little crush. He didn’t even have to say it explicitly, she just knew. Eventually, Jungkook told Taehyung. He has quite a big mouth, unfortunately, so when you started your internship at the hospital – he lets it slip in a conversation with Nayeon who was just becoming your friend that time – leading the situation to where it is right now.

Out of all of them, though, Doyeon got it pretty hard. She’s witnessed the early stages of Jungkook’s infatuation towards you in the first semester of med school, had to keep quiet during study sessions. She was even supportive that time, telling Jungkook to just go for it – but then Eunwoo happened, and the confession never saw the light of day.

When they broke up, Doyeon became hopeful again, just as Jungkook was. But you were showing no signs of moving on and Jungkook had no choice but to step back for a bit.

The past two years, though, Doyeon became more insistent, telling him you’re single and it’s the fattest chance Jungkook can ever get.

But she’s right, after all. Jungkook’s a pussy. He hides his feelings well – a pro at the sport, really, at this point.

When Mingyu happened a few months ago, Doyeon’s just over it. She told Jungkook one time in a drinking session that the ship has sunk and he’s going to be in his sixties regretting not ever confessing to you. Sometimes, he wakes up at night in sweat from a nightmare that involved Doyeon murdering him because of his emotional constipation.

Jungkook knows she just wants the best for him – even though she’s more on showing him tough love instead of a gentle one. Doyeon’s always been like that, but she’s a good friend. When things went haywire, she was there to genuinely sympathize with him and console him – together with Taehyung and some of his other friends.

But in Jungkook’s defense, Doyeon just also doesn’t get it.

It’s so easy to just say fuck it and make a confession already, so easy to think about how things could turn positively – but she’s not – they’re not – in Jungkook’s shoes. They will never be.

So many things could go wrong if he ever were to listen to his heart. Sure, he’s had the chance over the past four years – most would say that. But it’s not a chance when you’ve spent half of it moving on from Eunwoo. It’s not a chance when you spent the other half trying to go on dates and fail – each one making you more miserable about your love life, as you told him so many nights ago in those rare special moments in the balcony of your apartment.

Those four years you were single was never a chance – not when you never showed any bit of interest.

It’s the reality that his friends always somehow miss when encouraging him to confess his feelings.

You’re friends for almost a decade now – eight years to be exact – but not once did you ever hint at wanting to be in a relationship with him. Your reaction to that always involved a disgusted expression and a variation of “No way!”. Might be a joke just to tease him – but also might be rooted in something genuine deep down.

Jungkook likes to think that physically, he doesn’t look so bad. He’s nice when he wants to be, especially towards people he cares about. He’s a resident surgeon who makes enough. Could be funny, charming… whatever.

Most of all, he likes to think he could deserve you one of these days. That he could be the man that you’re searching for.

But it’s been eight years and you’ve never once looked at him like how he surely does at you.

God knows how many times Jungkook has tried to move on – how many sleepless nights he has trying to erase the feeling of so much longing for you. Sometimes, it works, when he’s on his casual dates and hook-up with all those women that thankfully fancied him enough. He momentarily forgets about your laugh and your hair and the crinkles on the sides of your eyes when you smile and your soft hands and your gentle voice – but it cracks when the sex is done and he’s staring at the blank ceiling of his date’s apartment, hating himself for yet again seeing your picture in his memory when he’s buried in somebody else, wishing it was you instead.

It hurts so badly. Especially when you seem to look at everybody else except him. You wanted to weed out someone for you – meanwhile, he’s just right under your nose, and yet you don’t see him. It’s at this point, when you have Mingyu as your boyfriend now, that Jungkook is starting to realize that you don’t see him not because you can’t, but because you choose not to.

Regardless, he knows you love him. Knows you care about him on a deeper level. Would probably sacrifice a bit of your time to tend to him if he needs it. But it’s the kind of love that’s not comparable to the one he has for you. Jungkook’s feelings encompass every single kind of love a human could have for another being – but you only have one kind for him. The platonic kind.

And even though it’s painful to face the reality of that very idea, Jungkook thinks that maybe… just maybe… Mingyu’s actually it.

Mingyu wasn’t exactly a saint the last time Jungkook saw him, but people change and the way you seem so genuinely happy these days tells Jungkook that maybe Mingyu’s another version of himself now – the better one who will never hurt you or make you cry.

Maybe this is what love’s all about. You’re content with seeing them happy, even if it’s not with you.

Jungkook thinks that as he steals a glance at you looking at your phone – most probably playing that landlord game on your phone you’ve been obsessed with the past few weeks – and you’re so beautiful like this. Even when you’re probably running on limited hours of sleep just like him.

Your hair is put up in that tulip hairclip you have a lot of, stray hairs framing some parts of your face. But he sees your features just fine – notes the way they are structured so perfectly it truly awes him that men and women didn’t beg for your attention whenever you went out in public.

Because he would. He did. He does. He always teases you for the purpose of your reaction… because Jungkook likes it when you pay attention to him. So much that it kills him to think that maybe, that attention will die soon as you and Mingyu get closer as another week passes by.

The timer that goes off on your phone snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts, and you look at him with widened eyes.

“Don’t st–”

“It’s my turn now,” Jungkook cuts you off and gently places your legs on the mattress, bringing his own on the soft surface as well.

You jut your bottom lip out – and Jungkook feels himself wanting to give in.

“Five minutes is so quick.” You say, but nonetheless takes his shin to your lap.

Jungkook tries hard to sway the butterflies in his stomach at your touch.

“Favor for a favor, remember?” He teases, lifting one of his foot to your direction.

You pretend to gag. “I hate you.”

Jungkook laughs, quite boisterously. Because he knows you don’t mean it. I hate you basically just means I love you but you’re annoying me right now in your own little dictionary – and he always gets giddy whenever you tell him that – as weird as it may sound.

But Jungkook likes this, though.

Sure, it would be so fucking great if he could just confess and lay out his cards all at once, but the chances of you not taking it well is too big – and even though Jungkook’s usually a risk taker, he couldn’t ever risk you all over his dead body.

He can keep his hurt to himself over you feeling anything but romantic towards him – because if he confesses and you don’t feel the same way, he knows damn well that he’ll lose you completely.

And the thought makes him shudder.

That probably catches your sight, so you ask him about it.

Jungkook tells you it’s the AC.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:04am ]

The beating sun feels uncomfortable on Jungkook’s skin, but there’s no way he’s wasting a day like this holed up in the villa he and his friends chipped in to rent. It costed you all a shit ton of money – might as well enjoy every waking day he gets to spend here.

It’s why he decides to goad Taehyung and Nayeon into coming with him along the shore where sun loungers are lined up to accommodate the few visitors who were also at the resort. He tried to convince Doyeon, but she goes straight to sleep as soon as the rooms were assigned.

He gets it – you all did travel by plane instead of car (because that would've taken you twelve hours) and Doyeon gets airsick whenever she rides in a plane. Jungkook also tried to talk you into it, but you said you were just going to lounge about by the pool at the villa and follow after a while.

Your “after awhile” takes about thirty minutes, and Jungkook thinks you’re missing all the fun, especially when Nayeon and Taehyung are starting to strip off their clothes to submerge themselves in the ocean.

With his loaded watergun, he goes straight back to the villa, and it doesn’t take much time to spot you by the terrace, lying down on a sun lounger with your big hat and sunglasses on, a book opened in your hands.

Unsuspecting, you let out a sudden squeal when Jungkook presses the trigger of the toy in his grip, a spring of water meeting your bare legs. Jungkook obviously tries hard to ignore that you’re wearing a flimsy pair of white bikinis. He saw you pack it two days ago… and he remembers taking too long to move on from the image he’s conjured up in his head upon seeing it.

“Jungkook!”

He chuckles at your reaction, poorly hiding the watergun behind him. “What?”

“I’ll kill you.” You seethe, your body coming forward to sit upright, hastily taking your sunnies off so he can see the cute glare on your face.

“What are you going to do? I have this,” He points to his weapon. “Are you challenging me into a hand-to-hand combat?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrow.

You groan. Then, you lay back on the lounger again, opening your book, deciding to ignore him.

Jungkook can’t have that, of course. So, he walks closer to your direction, stopping beside you, effectively blocking the sun and in turn, dimming the light source of your book.

“You’re blocking my sun.” You say, looking up at him.

“You’ll get all the sun you want if you haul your ass off to the shore. Come on, we’re all swimming in there,” he tries to convince you, nudging your thigh with his knee.

You give him a pout. You sound whiny when you say, “But it’s too hot.”

“That’s why we’ll get in the water.”

“Don’t be sassy.” You roll your eyes. “I meant the water would be way too hot.”

“It’s not, Nayeon said so.”

You glance at the pool across from you. “Why can’t we all just swim in here?”

Jungkook deadpans. “Because this is a five-foot pool and absolutely no one will enjoy it.”

You frown at him, quietly telling Jungkook he’s right.

“Ugh,” you groan. “But I’ll have to reapply SPF first…” You grab the bottle of lotion that’s just placed on the small table on the side of the lounger. Then you look at him with squinted eyes, “Did you wear sunscreen?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but nonetheless says yes, knowing how you always nag him about it whenever you guys are at the beach. It’s not even just him. It’s also with your other friends.

He watches as you rub lotion over your body, but when you get to the back, you look up at him and extend the bottle towards his way.

“Can you help me with this, please?” You say.

Jungkook automatically takes the bottle but it takes him a full five seconds to understand what you’re getting at.

You’re asking him to put sunscreen on your back. You’re very naked back that sports nothing but the tiny strings of your bikini holding your chest.

Of course, you don’t notice his dilemma. Twisting in your seat so that your back faces him, you gather your hair to the side, obviously waiting for him to do your request.

But Jungkook’s distracted behind your back. He’s distracted at how smooth it looks under the scorching sun and how easy it would be to paint it with something other than the natural color of your skin.

It’s not even the first time he’ll do this – you’ve been to trips before and putting on sunscreen over your friend is about as natural as it gets like how he would do it as well to Taehyung or even Doyeon or Nayeon if they ask to.

But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him one bit when it comes to you.

Needless to say, his mind is pre-occupied as he sits down behind you where you left some space for him to sit, squirting the lotion into the palms of his hands, gingerly spreading it over your back once he got it.

“Be sure to cover everything,” you say, obviously not aware about Jungkook’s mental crisis behind your back.

He thinks it’s worth the crisis over though, as you’re so soft under his touch. Jungkook kneads the span of your back, squeezes your waist lightly to even out the cream, and makes sure to put it over your shoulders as well. When his hands fall, he hesitates.

“Should I – uh—”

“Yeah, just go under the strings.” You tell him before he can even finish.

There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows before he goes under the strings of your bikini top, his heart doing funny somersaults against his ribcage as he spreads the lotion over your skin. It guilts him to no end that his mind thinks about how he’s just inches away from your breasts.

He retreats his hand right away. “Done.”

You turn back to him. “Thanks. You want me to do yours?”

“Sure.”

Jungkook sits on the edge of the lounger and lets his back turn to you. He hears the cap of the lotion bottle being opened again and soon your hands are lathering the cream over the expanse of his back.

It’s embarrassing the way he lets himself savor the seconds of your every touch. Embarrassing the way his mind zeroes in on the way your soft hands caress the tendons of his back muscles. He thinks about the weight, how good this feels; your hands on him. Suddenly, there’s a zap of electricity that goes through his spine, and then he feels it.

The twitch in his dick and the blood that he feels rushing to it.

“Okay, you’re done.” You say, tapping his back twice so he can turn to you.

It snaps him out of his thoughts, but his dick is thinking about something else and as he subtly looks down, there’s already a growing semi on the crotch of his trunk shorts.

Jungkook curses himself internally, shutting his eyes close in slight frustration.

Fucking uncooperative dick.

He stands up from the chair when you nudge his back with your foot, thinking that he’d see you coming along in a few seconds. But you don’t, and as he turns his heel to look at you, you’re back in your cozy lying position on the lounger, with your book opened, just like how he saw you when he came in a while ago.

Jungkook parts his lips in disbelief, but also finding the whole thing funny.

“You minx.” He muses, playfully squinting his eyes at you upon realizing the trick you just pulled.

“Enjoy the beach, Jungkook. Send my regards to Taehyung and Nayeon.” You say, giving him a taunting flying kiss. “And thank you for reapplying my sunscreen.”

Jungkook chuckles at your remark, and just like that, he forgets about his stubborn dick, and goes over back to you, blocking your sun once again.

“You’re blocking my sun again— Jungkook!”

It’s predictable the way you hurl a series of creative curses at him as Jungkook forcefully picks you up from the chair, knocking your hat and your book on the ground as he hoists you against his shoulder, carrying you upside down like a sack of potatoes.

“Jungkook, I swear to god!” You squeal, repeatedly slapping his back as he walks to the direction of the shore, but Jungkook’s nothing but a solid muscle, firm over his hold on the back of your legs.

“Be quiet.” He says, chuckling at your sounds of opposition.

“I hate you, you’re such a prick, ugh!”

He picks up his walking pace and you scream again when you see the ocean water from your view.

Jungkook chuckles as you continue to plant your fists on his back, and when the water reaches his knees, he throws you in it.

“Fuck. You!” You say, glaring at Jungkook in the middle of his uncontrollable laughter.

“Come on, Taehyung and Nayeon are over there,” he points to the deeper part of the ocean a few feet from where you are, and when you turn your head, you see Taehyung and Nayeon with their floaties.

“Ugh…” Jungkook hears you groan before you follow behind him. When Jungkook looks back, he sees you paddling around the water like some puppy, and he snickers to himself. That earns him a splash on his way, with you rolling your eyes at him.

“Jungkook! __!” Yells Nayeon over their direction, waving her hand around. Taehyung and her are perched on the big floatie they fought over with at the villa earlier.

“Jungkook,” calls you behind him.

You’re starting to cross the deeper part of the ocean and it’s within Jungkook’s chest now. Meanwhile, your friends are still about a few feet away, so the level would definitely be on his neck by the time. You’re considerably tall, but Jungkook’s still half a head taller than you, so when he looks back at you, the water’s already reached your shoulders.

“This is way too deep!” You complain.

“Don’t be a pussy, __!” Comments Taehyung from afar.

“Fuck off,” you murmur and then beckons Jungkook to you. “Help me a bit here.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling as he moves a few steps back to get to your direction.

“You big baby, you never learned how to swim, have you?” He teases, playfully clicking his tongue.

“What for?” You say when he gets near.

Jungkook feels pleased with himself about you asking for his help to cross the deeper part of the ocean, but he’s met with surprise when you heavily plant your palms on his shoulders, causing him to be out of balance and tripping over his feet under the water.

It causes a misstep and he nearly chokes as he comes back up for air again only to see you laughing your ass off. Nayeon and Taehyung are also laughing along, even from afar, and Jungkook wipes the back of his hand over his eyes to see clearly.

“That’s for throwing me in the water earlier,” you say in between your snickers and Jungkook’s just about to say something back when you suddenly wrap your hands around his neck from the back, your legs locking around his waist. “Carry me to the floatie, pretty please,” you say against his cheek in a sing-song voice.

With that, Jungkook feels your whole entire body against his back, your breasts pressing against his skin. He ignores the way the physical contact makes his body tingle, and he hopes you don’t notice his blush when he raises his arms to hold the back of your legs.

“Only because you’re annoying.” He pretends to sound annoyed, but the laugh that comes out of you at the remark makes him smile anyway.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:35pm ]

Your daytime activities at the beach included jetskiing – one that knocked Taehyung off the water way too many times that he just gave up halfway through it. When Doyeon woke up a little later in the afternoon, all of you decided to get food from the dining hall and ate your hearts out at the buffet.

The day ended with all of you back in your assigned rooms again. Since you rented a two-bedroom villa, Jungkook’s rooming with Taehyung in the secondary bedroom while Nayeon, Doyeon, and you are all inside the primary one since it’s bigger.

It’s past thirty minutes to eleven in the night when somebody knocks on Jungkook’s shared bedroom with Taehyung. When Jungkook looks at him from across the room, he’s knocked out on the sofa, soft snores coming out from his mouth. Him and Jungkook decided to take turns with the bed itself throughout the whole vacation. There’s an extra cushion Taehyung could’ve laid on the floor, but he was way too tired to set it up and to even care – looks like he doesn’t really need it, though, since he looks so peaceful in his position.

Grumbling, Jungkook gets out from the sheets, scratching his bare chest and rubbing the back of his head as he walks over to the door to open it.

When he does, he’s welcomed by the sight of you in your big grey hoodie and some shorts.

“Wear something.” You say as soon as you take in his appearance.

Jungkook’s habit of going to sleep with only his boxers knows no bounds. Even when it’s below 20 degrees Celsius outside, he always opts out of his pajamas, choosing to go bare in his sheets instead. In his defense for now, the duvet is thick and it provided him with enough protection against the cold of the AC and the summer night.

“What are you doing here?” He says as he trudges back inside the room to wear a pair of sweatpants hanging from the chair.

“Rude.” You comment, following him in the room. You look at Taehyung’s passed out state in the couch. “He’s going to wake up in the evening tomorrow and miss your birthday.”

That makes Jungkook smirk, remembering Taehyung’s high energy in the morning.

“No consequences. It’s vacation week.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, what brought you here? It’s almost midnight.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. That’s when Jungkook notices the black plastic you’re carrying in your hand. “It’s not that late. Let’s head out for a bit.”

He raises a brow, confused. “Where to?”

“You’re going to find out. Wear a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside.” You say as you stand up from the bed again, heading for the door.

Jungkook’s confusion just grows with passing seconds. Nonetheless, he can’t say he’s not intrigued.

Unsure, he goes for his small luggage and takes out the only hoodie he packed. It’s grey as well, matching the one you have on. Jungkook tries to shake that thought off his head as you both quietly head out of the room.

It’s late into the night and when you head out of the villa, there’s not many people hanging along the shore anymore.

“Follow me,” you tell him, and Jungkook does.

It may have been his drowsiness that kept him quiet throughout the whole walk – just quietly following along with you, your rented villa no longer in his line of sight. Jungkook couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you currently are, but this side of the beach is a bit rocky, and much, much colder. He feels it even through the thick material of his hoodie.

“We’re here.” You announce, a proud lilt to your voice. Jungkook bumps with your back when you suddenly stop on your tracks. It prompts a chuckle from you, turning back to him so Jungkook sees the crinkles on the sides of your eyes as you do so.

It makes his lips curl. “What’s this?” He curiously asks, looking around.

Your grin grows wider. “We’re gonna take those stairs and it’s gonna lead us to some pretty view.” Jungkook looks to the direction you pointed at, seeing the stairs you just referred to. Still unsure, he glances back at you. You laugh. “You remember when Doyeon and I went out for a walk earlier for a bit? We found this place.”

Jungkook nods. “I see. Thought for a second there you found a place to dispose my body at.”

You snort as you take Jungkook’s wrist to hold on to as you climb to the stairs.

“I won’t do it as such a public place.”

“So, you really are thinking about it in the first place.” Jungkook nods his head, guiding your back up the jagged stairs. You manage to get to the smoother surface and Jungkook’s quick to follow you towards the straight path of the narrow walkway.

“It’s my favorite past time, really.” You look back at him cheekily, a playful grin painting your lips. Jungkook scoffs.

The hallway is colonnaded with some flags, and there’s an edge where the concrete stops, the ocean water splashing against the big rocks beneath the broken bridge.

You set aside the black plastic you’ve been carrying around and Jungkook realizes they’re Smirnoffs. Sitting on the concrete, you let your feet hang on the edge.

“Hey, be careful,” Jungkook comments as he sees you do that. This part of the ocean isn’t necessarily far – where you were earlier when you were swimming was far deeper, but still, it could be dangerous if you make a mistake. Jungkook wonders what the designers of the beach thought about when they made this plan.

“Come on, don’t be fussy. Sit here with me.” You say, patting the space beside you.

Jungkook follows, of course, and you scoot to the side a little to give him more room.

“It’s nice, right,” You look at him, cocking your head to the side.

Jungkook feels the breeze of cool wind passing, and it’s a bit strong that it moves his fringes and yours as well. You put your hair up as usual in that big metal clip you always wear, but some strands of your hair escape and they frame your face.

With your big hoodie on and smile, Jungkook thinks you look extra cozy. He may have been hot and bothered by your bikini ensemble earlier, but now he’s bothered for another reason. He can’t stop thinking about cuddling you under the night sky full of stars at the very moment.

“Feels good.” Jungkook comments. He plants his palms on the hard surface of the concrete behind him, leaning back as he looks to your side. “You wanted to drink here?”

“Oh, yeah,” You say, twisting your body a little to pick up the plastic cellophane. You take out two bottles of Smirnoffs and offer one to him which he gladly takes. Taking a bottle opener out, you’re about to open your drinks when Jungkook offers to do it for the both of you. You don’t protest, just let him do his thing, smiling when he hands you your Smirnoff.

“This is really nice.” Jungkook sighs after he takes the first sip, looking straight ahead to the mountainous view in front of you.

You hum, seemingly enjoying the moment as well. Jungkook takes a quick glance at your side profile and then quickly looks back ahead when he feels you do the same.

“Why’d you bring me here?” He asks.

“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I could bring you here. So.” You shrug.

Jungkook nods.

“I’m turning thirty-one tomorrow. Or, in an hour, actually.” He says, automatically looking at his wrist but then realizing he took off his watch and left it at the bedside table. He didn’t take his phone with him either.

“I know. You’re so old now.” You tell him with a teasing tone in your words.

“Fuck off,” he snorts. “I’m only a year older than you.”

“Hmm… still old. Imagine, you turn fifty, I would still be forty-nine.”

Jungkook laughs at that.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, babe.” He lets the pet name slip, and he did not mean to. It just rolled off his tongue for some reason. Quite easily, too.

You don’t seem to care – or even notice – as you chuckle.

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs in the air again when Jungkook decides to break it.

“Hey, I really appreciate you for coming along. You and the gang, really. This is a really good trip so far.”

You give him a smile as you look at him. It’s one of those pretty ones that are a bit small but there’s a certain shine to your eyes and Jungkook just really loves looking at you with a smile on your face. You’re so pretty, he thinks he’s so lucky to even get the chance to look at you.

“You know we all need this trip, right? I think it’s all our first time vacationing in two years.”

He nods, chuckling to himself. It’s true. The last time was the Thailand trip and it felt like eons ago. Being a resident surgeon means less free time for leisure – and so you always make sure to spend your days off wisely. Even this trip took a lot of pre-planning to be possible just so all of your schedules would match.

“It’s crazy, though…” you say suddenly.

Jungkook cocks a brow at you. “What’s crazy?”

“That we’ve known each other for like – what? Eight years?”

Eight years and four months to be exact. Jungkook’s not keeping count – he just will never forget the exact moment he met you for the very first time.

It’s truly one of his core memories – knowing you. He remembers having to pass by the law library to meet Jimin – one of his closest friends who was studying law at the same grad school as him at the time. They were planning to eat out for lunch, but then he saw a woman at the individual study areas with a reading material that’s familiar with his. Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy. You wore that maroon hairclip you loved so much during first year (Jungkook remembers you losing it in the second semester and how he bought you another one in your birthday), and when you looked up from your book for awhile, taking a break from taking notes on your iPad, that was when Jungkook saw your face and he nearly falls over back then.

It’s common knowledge among your mutual friends and acquaintances that you’re pretty. It’s the first thing that Jungkook noticed about you, the reason why he harbored an instant crush. That pretty much turned into… well – something deeper as the years passed by and he got to know you more than just your beautiful physical appearance.

He found it strange at the time to find somebody who was obviously a med student studying at the law library, but he soon found out it was because you didn’t like studying at the med lib, said you felt too much pressure being among your fellow med students. Jungkook understood that in a spiritual level, and so when you became friends, you studied a lot at the law lib, until you met Doyeon and she formed a study group. It wasn’t long before Taehyung joined the equation.

Looking back at it, Jungkook thinks it’s surreal. How knowing you led to him knowing more people that would soon be important in his life up until the age of thirty-one.

“Almost a decade.” He says, can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Right? It feels so surreal sometimes that we all knew each other at, like, twenty-three and twenty two. And now we’re in our thirties.”

“When you put it like that…” Jungkook trails off, laughing at how young you actually were eight years ago.

“Yeah, I know!” You giggle. You look ahead, then you laugh again to yourself. Jungkook looks at you in confusion, giving you a questioning look at your sudden burst of laughter. Looking at him, you shake your head, “This is a bit of a TMI, but I was twenty-two when I entered med school, so I just lost my virginity three years ago. You know what’s funny? I’ve always thought I would lose my virginity, at like, thirty. Or twenty-seven. But that was even way too early for me.”

Jungkook almost splutters at the way you casually bring it up. He takes the bottle of Smirnoff away from him and looks at you with a chuckle. “Losing your virginity at nineteen is common.”

“Well, did you? Lose yours at nineteen?” You arch a brow.

“Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head, tipping his head back to drink again.

“Younger?” You ask again.

Jungkook chuckles at your curiosity. Much to your surprise, he shakes his head again. “Nah. Junior year. I just turned twenty-one. Lost it with my first girlfriend.”

Your lips part and Jungkook meets your shocked stare, brow cocked upwards.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“What? No, I’m not.” He laughs. He gets your surprise, though. Taehyung couldn’t believe it either when it came up in a random conversation.

You still look incredulous as you say, “You mean, like you never dated until junior year of undergrad?”

Jungkook shakes his head once again. “Yes, and no…? I mean, I had a… sort of girlfriend? Back in highschool, yeah, but it was more of like a mutual crush thing rather than an official relationship. But yeah, never dated and never had sex ‘til I found my first girlfriend in third year.”

You look at him suspiciously still, and Jungkook can’t help but laugh even more at your reaction.

“I really don’t believe you.”

“What’s so surprising about that?” Jungkook knows the answer, though. He sleeps around, and you know that. It’s probably why you can’t believe he’s only started having sex until third year of college.

You’re quiet for a bit.

“So… you and that girlfriend broke up, and then…” you trail off, letting him finish the pieces.

Jungkook chuckles, recalling some memories that he thought were already hidden well at the back of his head.

Jiyeon. Her name was Park Jiyeon, his first girlfriend. He was the one who ended things – and not because he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the other way around.

“Yeah,” Jungkook fills in. “Didn’t date seriously after that.”

“Uh… was it a bad break-up?” You say, and there’s hesitance in your voice. When Jungkook looks at you, you open your mouth to take your question back, probably, but Jungkook just gives you a warm smile.

“Yeah. It was bad. But I don’t really think about it now.”

You nod. “I see.” You say, looking ahead at the ocean again. “You dated… quite seriously again in our last year of med school, though.”

“Sora?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook nods, remembering the only one-year relationship he had. Min Sora was a fashion magazine director at the time. Jungkook liked her as she did, but they had too many differences that lead to too many arguments. Sora ended things before the relationship dragged out. Jungkook was grateful for it. They’re casual as of now… good friends, maybe?

“I always wondered why she broke up with you.” You say quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t expect that. “You wondered about that?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seemed like you were both really into each other, so I just thought… you know,” you shrug.

“Ah. That,” Jungkook looks afar, recalling the day when she ended things with him. It had been because of the stress that the last year of med school brought – he likes to think that. But it was also during the time when Eunwoo proposed to you and what he thought was feelings forgotten for you came back resurfacing and Sora just… figured him out. She told him he loved you, and she’s got no spare time to compete with that. Denying it at the time was futile – Sora was smart. A wise, independent woman. She ended the relationship herself before she got deeply hurt. Jungkook has always felt sorry about how things turned out. No, he doesn’t regret the break-up – just regrets the way he hurt her – unintentionally – even though she didn’t show it.  “Just didn’t work out, I guess.”

You nod again.

Silence sits in the air.

It feels a little strange to talk about these things now. It’s not that you both never share these aspects about your lives to each other, but it’s the first time you ask him about Sora. He never really bothered to share, though, for the record.

From his periphery, he sees you taking your phone out from your pocket, then gasping.

Jungkook immediately looks at you to see what’s wrong. You show him your phone and he notes nothing of significance first before you say, “It’s 12:01 am. It’s September first!”

“Oh.”

“Happy birthday, Kook.” You say, smiling at him, and it’s an underestimation for Jungkook to say he nearly gets blinded by it. You look so gorgeous in your happy smile, so genuine, so warm, so cozy in your big grey hoodie.

Jungkook wants so bad to plant his lips on yours right then and there, but he reminds himself that he can’t do that. He reminds himself that you’re taken. That you like somebody else. The somebody else arriving tomorrow, as per your words earlier this day when he asked about Mingyu.

Still, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from mirroring your smile.

“Thank you.”

“And, before I forget,” you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie and Jungkook watches as you take out a small rectangular box. As he pays you a glance, you’re a little bit shy, not looking straight into his eyes as you say, “Uh. I saw this somewhere, and I thought you’d like it.”

You extend your hand to him and Jungkook lets go of his beer to take the velvety green box from you.

He feels jittery as he takes it in, caresses the ribbon first before opening it altogether.

What’s inside surprises him.

“It didn’t cost much so don’t throw it away,” you say, uncharacteristically defensive. Jungkook can’t see your expression, but he bets your thoughts are going haywire as it takes him awhile to say anything about your gift. You always get nervous when it comes to gifts. “... and anyway, it’s not even my real gift. My real gift is a hairdryer, so I’m sure you’re gonna like that better. But it’s cute, right? You can hang it in your keyholder or something—”

“__,” Jungkook cuts you off, his eyes still on the keyring laying on the box. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Y-yeah. It’s… uh… cute, right? I thought it was cute.” You say, and when Jungkook looks at you, he sees the adorable way your brows furrow.

He chuckles, looking at the keyring again. It’s a silver Claddagh.

“Do you know what this means?” Jungkook asks.

“The what?”

Jungkook points to the Claddagh. “This symbol.”

You look away as you say, “No, not really. I just thought it’s a cool keychain. You told me you like keychains, but I don’t ever see you with a keychain. So.”

With your nostrils flaring a little, he knows you’re lying. You definitely know what the Claddagh symbol means.

But instead of goading you about it, Jungkook takes the keyring out of the box and hangs it over his finger, admiring the item.

“Thank you. This is really cute, and I love it.” Jungkook tells you, giving you a soft smile.

You stare at him and then cave into a smile of your own. “I’m glad you do.”

Jungkook looks at the Claddagh again and smiles heartily.

His heart aches with so much yearning and longing when you go back to the villa that night, spending about three minutes staring at the Claddagh you gifted him that he immediately hangs in his key holder. Jungkook thinks he’s going to transfer it to his work bag or the back of his rearview mirror, but his keyholder would do for now.

You love him alright, certainly not the way he does, but it’s enough for him.

[ DAY 2 | September 1st, 11:55pm ]

It was not a secret among Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung that Jungkook’s mood considerably plummeted down as soon as Mingyu called you early in the morning that he’d be landing in the afternoon.

Afternoon came, and he tried to suck it up like a grown man – and because as far as you know, they’re both friends. And Mingyu’s your boyfriend. He should be nothing but supportive.

But it was especially hard when you gushed about being excited that he was finally here. It’s been four months since you started seeing each other, two months since you officially dated, but somehow, Jungkook still could not process it.

He knows he’s being unfair. To you and to himself. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the feeling of ugly bitterness that sat in his heart as you told him about how Mingyu rented another villa so you both could room together, effectively taking you away from the rest of your friends.

Of course, you all spent his birthday together – doing tons of water activities in the ocean, eating at the dining hall, and roaming around for some more leisure time, but Jungkook could not help but think that ever since Mingyu’s arrived, you’ve been sticking with him, even taking the time away from the gang to show your boyfriend around the resort.

Even at the villa’s porch where all of you took out your foldable chairs to drink outside, you were with Mingyu, perched on his lap, laughing at the jokes getting thrown around in the circle.

He tried not to look too much at how Mingyu comfortably wrapped one arm around your waist while the other held a drink, how you leaned into his touch, and how easily he blended with the group with his charm.

“Where’d you get the ice cream?” Doyeon asked as Taehyung sat down on his chair with a small bowl of the sweet treat.

“Fridge. Nayeon and I bought it earlier.”

“There’s ice cream?” Mingyu asked, in which Taehyung nodded to. He turned to you. “Do you want it?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion. “__’s lactose intolerant.” He noticed everybody suddenly looking at him. Feeling cornered, he drank from his beer to avoid their gazes.

Mingyu, obviously surprised by the declaration, glanced back at you. “Baby, you didn’t tell me that?”

You winced. “It’s not really a big deal.” you waved him off and when you laugh.

“Yeah, she’s stubborn about it. She can inhale five cones in one sitting.” Taehyung said which made everybody laugh. Jungkook knew it was to lighten the mood. So, he laughed as well, even though from his periphery, he could see you giving him daggers through your eyes.

Jungkook doesn’t know why you had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, Taehyung’s right about you not taking your lactose intolerance seriously sometimes, but you’ve also gotten into a lot of trouble because of it, hence why you’ve been making conscious efforts to not eat dairy.

The whole day leaves a sour impression on him with Mingyu around. Quite a shame, really, since he started his birthday so well with you taking him to the far-end of the beach to drink and give him a Claddagh.

When the night becomes much darker, Jungkook sits on the terrace near the pool all by himself. Everybody’s fast asleep at this point. He doesn’t know about you, though, ‘cause you’ve probably transferred all your stuff to the other villa Mingyu rented around.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at the embodied voice that suddenly calls. He sees it’s Doyeon.

“Hey,” Jungkook smiles, taking the other bottle of beer on the coffee table and offering it to her.

She waves his hand. “Nah, I’ve had enough for the whole day.” Doyeon situates herself on the folding chair next to Jungkook.

Jungkook nods, looking straight ahead to the pool. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Doyeon speaks.

“Hey, I’m sorry for the last week,”

Jungkook glances at her with a small smile. “What for?”

“For calling you a pussy. And just… being harsh. Had a tough week and your emotional constipation just pissed me off more. You’re still a pussy, but I shouldn’t have rubbed it off your face.” She says.

Jungkook stares at her with parted lips.

“Wow. I don’t know if that’s an actual apology.”

“It’s an apology with a hundred percent realness, you know I don’t baby anybody.”

“Hah,” Jungkook scoffs, amused. “Yeah. Well, you’re right, though. Today’s been…”

Doyeon sighs. “It’s hard on you, right?”

Jungkook can only give her a meaningful smile.

“But you don’t exactly have the right to get jealous… she’s not your girlfriend and you two are not anything,” Doyeon says, and it tugs at Jungkook’s heartstrings. Meanwhile, she looks ahead and continues to speak. “It’s hard when you have all these feelings for someone, but you have to hide it. You just want to show everybody they mean so much to you, but you can’t. It sucks.”

Jungkook thinks she’s still talking about his situation with you but then as he glances at her, she seems to be deep in thought. As if she’s actually speaking from her own experience.

He’s intrigued by that, of course.

“Woah, are you still talking about me?”

That seems to get Doyeon out of her trance.

She rolls his eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something. You guys have always had the theory that Doyeon has a secret boyfriend. It’s silly at best but sometimes, he thinks it’s true. Doyeon has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, though. She’s tough and she’s frank a lot of times. But she’s the kind of friend who’d call you a bitch in your face but then would go to all the lengths to defend you from everybody.

“Okay.” Jungkook nods, dropping the subject.

“Has she told you yet?” Doyeon asks suddenly.

“What?” He mirrors back, knowing exactly who the she Doyeon’s referring to.

“She’s planning to move in with him some of these days.”

“I…” Jungkook stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in water. To say that he’s stunned is an understatement. Obviously, you haven’t told him anything.

“You don’t know.” Doyeon says upon realization.

Jungkook shakes his head. “She didn’t tell me.”

Doyeon lets out a loud sigh. “It’s not really set in stone, though, that’s what she said. But they’re discussing it.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods and looks ahead at the pool. Another beat of silence, a sip of beer, and then he scoffs. “I really should’ve confessed even way back then, huh?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it.

Doyeon stares at him. “I didn’t tell you about that so you can regret not telling your feelings for her earlier.”

“I didn’t—”

“I told you that so you can move on, Jungkook.”

Jungkook closes his mouth shut.

She looks away. “You remember the time I liked you in med school?”

“Doyeon…” Jungkook’s lips part, not at all expecting for her to bring that up. It’s been so long ago and ever since… Doyeon’s confession, they never really talked about it again.

“Oh my god, look at your face,” She laughs. “God, do you think I still like you? I moved on the day after you rejected me.”

“I didn’t reject you.” Jungkook defensively says.

She rolls her eyes. “I asked you if you were interested and you didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like this,” Doyeon stiffens her body and widens her eyes in a comical rendition of Jungkook’s famous OJO face.

Jungkook can’t help but scoff. “That was the strangest confession that happened to me, though. You told me you liked me in the straightest face ever, I still think it was a cruel prank of some sort.”

Doyeon bursts into laughter, and Jungkook follows along, recalling that time.

“Yeah… that was funny. But… it was real, not a prank at all. I don’t remember why I liked you, though.”

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “Okay, but that’s actually the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips still. “Anyway, I brought it up because that was the same day when I realized you like __. I mean, I had my suspicions, but I confirmed it around the time.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Was really surprised when you told me that. I thought I hid it pretty well.”

“Yeah, but not to me. You know, I don’t even know how __ didn’t figure it out herself. You’d always follow her around and in our study sessions, you always stayed up late with her and was overly attentive. Whenever Taehyung asked you too much, you sort of like reached a point where you just told him to suck it up. But if it was __, you were so patient,” Doyeon giggles. “She had a really hard time with Biochem. I remember you tutoring her all the time.”

“That was…” Jungkook bows his head down, a bit embarrassed at being read like that. “She cried a lot during first year.”

Doyeon purses her lips. “Yeah…”

Both stare ahead again, with nothing to say for a few more seconds. Jungkook continues to sip his bear while Doyeon quietly sits.

“I have this biased notion about Mingyu,” Doyeon speaks up. Jungkook looks at her she continues, “I keep on telling myself, he’s probably gonna fuck up anytime soon – and that’s because deep inside, I still want you and __ together. You know I’ve always wanted you both to be together. It’s hard to see __ struggling with her love life. She almost failed the internship when Eunwoo broke up with her, and I don’t want her to go through that again as her friend. It’s hard, because I can’t do anything about it. I think of you, and how much you love her, and I think you’re good for her… but at the same time, I feel bad for thinking that. Because I can see that Mingyu makes her happy. It’s different with the other guys she dated before him. She’s truly happy with him, and I find it hard to think that Mingyu’s gonna break her heart. He seems… nice… and that he’d be good for her, you know what I mean?”

Jungkook’s quiet, processing her words.

Doyeon sighs before she speaks again. “But that hurts you in the process, doesn’t it? Seeing her happy but not with you. You’re both my friends and I’m in the position where it’s hard for me to situate myself in a certain place. Because I want __ to be happy, but I also want you to be happy – but your happiness is interconnected and it’s… tricky. It’s a tricky situation.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the neck of the bottle quite tightly at Doyeon’s words, but he listens.

“I don’t normally say things like this, Jungkook, but I’m your friend so I’m just gonna let this go,” Doyeon finally looks at him, and he meets her gaze. “It hurts me to see you hurting like this. It hurts Taehyung and Nayeon as well, but they won’t say it. Just… just be… just be okay, please?”

Jungkook exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

He knows what Doyeon meant by that. She’s asking him to… find happiness on his own. Happiness that doesn’t lie on __’s reciprocity because with the way things are going, that’s impossible. She’s planning to move in with Mingyu, and most of all, she seems genuinely happy.

“I… I know. Thank you.” Jungkook says, not really knowing what to say.

Doyeon chuckles. “Do you want a hug?”

He looks at her with a smile. “I could use one right now, yeah.”

Doyeon laughs before standing up and going over to where Jungkook sits on his own sun chair. When she steps in front of him, Jungkook wraps his arms around her waist and lets himself rest the side of his head on her stomach, closing his eyes when Doyeon pats the crown of his head.

“Belated happy birthday, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks. You’re unusually mushy today.”

Doyeon pinches his ear slightly which earns her a groan.

The two stay like that for a few more seconds when suddenly, Jungkook hears a familiar voice.

“Oh, h-hey guys,”

Jungkook immediately looks ahead to see you standing from the other side of the terrace, looking at him and Doyeon. At that, Doyeon lets go of him, twisting her body to look in your direction. Jungkook retreats his arms back to his side and smiles to acknowledge you.

“I thought you were sleeping already.” He says.

“Yeah, what brought you here?” Doyeon asks.

You approach them with unusually slow steps, as if reluctant. “Left my wallet here. Just realized it a while ago,” you say. After that, you stop on your tracks. Your gaze falls between them with an unsure smile on your face. “You two drinking?”

“Nah, Jungkook is.” Doyeon says, pointing to the bottle of Smirnoffs on the small table beside Jungkook’s chair. Then, she looks under her own. “Where’d you leave your wallet?”

“Over my chair earlier.” You give her a smile again. But somehow, it looks a bit awkward. A little forced. Jungkook knows you well enough to identify your smiles.

And as he looks at you longer, he realizes you have a certain color on your face, but it’s one of those expressions he can’t read.

“Well,” you blurt out after a beat of silence. Looking around, you go over to where you were sitting earlier then duck. “I think I left it here…” you trail off. Jungkook’s just about to stand up to help as well when you suddenly pull up a brown leather, grinning at both of them. “Yay.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That would’ve been the third wallet you’ll lose this year.”

You mirror his laughter, and Doyeon joins in.

There’s another pause and then hesitantly, you ask, “Did I… uh… disturb something? Or…”

“What?” Doyeon asks with furrowed brows. “No,”

“Ah, okay,” you smile at her and then insert your wallet in your shorts. “Anyway, I’m heading back to Mingyu. The villa he rented is just at the back of ours, so… feel free to visit anytime or whatever.”

“Sure.” Jungkook says. He didn’t mean it to sound clipped and short but he must have unintentionally let the tone slip, as you and Doyeon immediately give him a look. He clears his throat. “I mean, of course. Tomorrow?”

You nod.

You look at him. And then, you point between him and Nayeon. “Are you two staying up here late?”

“Nah, I’m heading to bed actually.” Doyeon says, picking up her phone from the sun lounger.

“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook puts the beer to the coffee table and stands up.

You nod. “Okay, then. Well, good night to you two.”

“Alright, good night. I’ll head out first.” Doyeon says before disappearing into the sliding door that leads straight to the villa’s living room.

You soon turn your heels back to head out as well, but Jungkook calls after you. Turning around, you hum, acknowledging him. “Hm?”

“Good night, stinky.”

You deadpan. “Night, fucker.”

Jungkook laughs, watching your retreating back as you leave.

[ DAY 4 | September 3rd , 3:05 am ]

Jungkook likes to work out when he has a lot in his mind. But sometimes, he opts for jogging or walking around to clear his head.

With the turn of events since Mingyu’s arrival and Doyeon informing him about your plans on furthering your relationship with Mingyu, he finds himself along by the shore at three am with high hopes to clear his mind. It doesn’t give the solution, but it temporarily does the job.

Inserting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, he looks ahead at the view of the ocean, trying so hard to shut his head down with overbearing thoughts of you. It’s no use, though, it’s always filled with thoughts of you and you alone.

Jungkook thinks about the time in med school when he thought he was completely over you. It had been after you made it official with Eunwoo two months into seeing him. He thought it would be a “bigger person” thing to do, moving on, that is, after you announced that you got a boyfriend – but then later on, when he slept with other women or had his casual dates, you suddenly popped up in his head randomly, and his heart suddenly ached when Eunwoo would drop by the university to fetch you. He felt ugly bitterness when you smiled too much whenever Eunwoo was brought up in the conversation. He found himself wishing it was him instead – the guy you thought of buying shirts for, the guy you randomly thought of when you saw something at the mall or the park, or the guy you called when you needed anything.

It was that winter break in freshman year when he realized that he loved you, after trying hard to brush his feelings off for you as a mere infatuation because you were gorgeous and smart.

He finds himself thinking about the time when he almost let out his heart when you had a fall-out with Eunwoo during your third year. Thinks about how pathetic he was for thinking that he finally had the chance. It had been when you called him at midnight, crying onto the phone as you asked him if he wasn’t busy. Jungkook had been studying for a Clinical Skill Assessment at that time, but he’d have been a fool to make you feel lonely when you already seemed like you were not fine. So, he had set aside his studying that night and went right over to your place. You told him about how Eunwoo was going cold, how Eunwoo was getting too close to the senior architect at his firm which you’d been having huge arguments about during those days – Jungkook remembered feeling broken at the sight of you crying, could feel himself building up hatred for the guy who was fucking up his chance with the woman he did not deserve. He thought about how he would never do that to you, thought about how he could be better for you – the envy bubbling inside his heart too big to ignore.

Jungkook remembered thinking how he would never fuck up any chances with you, and how Eunwoo was a fucking idiot for even making you feel that way.

That night, he almost kissed you. And the day after that, you avoided him like the plague.

Doyeon told him he was just as much of a big fucking idiot as Eunwoo for doing that. And Jungkook remembered regretting that night, and swearing off to never, ever make a move on you ever again because your avoidance of him made him feel like the biggest fucking piece of shit to ever exist on Earth.

He remembers you didn’t talk to him for about a month. And he remembers fearing that that was finally it.  

Of course, you made up – you’re still in his life. You let him still be in your life even though he betrayed your trust. The trust that lies on the fact that he was your best friend. Someone who was not supposed to take advantage of your vulnerability, someone who did not suddenly try to kiss you when you were at your worst.

It was a memory you two weren’t fond of. Heck, you’ve never ever brought it up not even once since it happened. When you finally talked to him again after that, you did not let him apologize for what he did – just shut him down by saying that you two should just forget about it and never mention it again. You made it clear that you did not want to talk about it – not at all, not in a million years.

Again, Jungkook has had a million attempts to move on. Especially when you got back together with Eunwoo. He did temporarily, when Sora came into the picture. He genuinely did like her, even more than his first girlfriend in college, and he thought he could eventually love her the same way he does you, but Eunwoo suddenly proposed… and his defense came crumbling down. The fear of losing you once again was too overwhelming that he ruined the relationship with Sora because admittedly, he had always been pathetic like that.

Even now that you’re with Mingyu, he’s still pathetic. He still thinks that one day, you can finally look at him. Like, really look at him and feel anything but friendly towards him. It’s extremely pathetic that he keeps on telling himself that your friendship will be enough, but then deep down, it’s not.

Jungkook shuts his eyes close when he feels the cool breeze of the wind hitting his skin under the hoodie. He lets himself stand there for a while, just trying to bask in the surroundings, ignoring the heavy feeling that sits in his heart.

But then he smells a sudden waft of smoke, and he knits his brows as he opens his eyes back again, turning to the direction of the smell.

When he turns back, he sees a familiar figure of a man.

“Mingyu?”

Mingyu glances back at him with the same surprised look on his face, but it disappears just as quickly. Pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he blows smoke in the air and inserts one hand in his shorts.

“Jeon.”

“Still Jeon to you, huh?” Jungkook sneers, walking over to where Mingyu is. “Why are you here?”

Mingyu arches a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Woke up a few minutes ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Taking a hit of his cigarette again, Mingyu shakes his head. “That’s tough.”

“Same with you?” Jungkook asks.

“Nah. Had a discussion with my girlfriend. Just wanted to clear my head.”

Jungkook nods, not saying anything to that. It’s weird that you’ve been fighting a lot lately. He wonders if you’re okay.

Pulling out a pack of Marlboro and a lighter, Mingyu extends them to Jungkook.

He looks down at it and thinks about how this exact thing happened in college. Mingyu always had the pack of cigarettes and the link to the best weed man in college. He used to think they would be fond memories.

But Jungkook shakes his head, looking ahead.

“I quit years ago.” He says. And it is true. He wasn’t much of a smoker and only did it occasionally when he was extremely stressed, but it took him awhile to stop the habit completely, only dropping the cigarettes during second year of med school. Jungkook would say it was due to his own concern about his health – but there was an incident in the same year where you caught him smoking at the uni’s park after a particularly taxing exam, and how you did not hesitate to tell him that you hated – absolutely abhorred – smokers. You said you didn’t care if he smoked, but as a med student he should’ve known better.

He never touched that shit again.

“Changing your ways now?” Mingyu says with a teasing – more like mocking – tone, inserting the pack and lighter back in his pants.

Jungkook shrugs at that, which earns him a scoff from Mingyu.

“Do you smoke around her?” Jungkook suddenly asks.

“Who?”

“__.”

A beat of silence. And then Mingyu laughs.

“No. She doesn’t know I smoke. She doesn’t have to.”

Good. Jungkook thinks. Good that he doesn’t smoke around her. But what did he mean by saying she doesn’t need to know?

“She doesn’t like smokers, you know.” Jungkook tells him.

From his periphery, Jungkook sees Mingyu glancing at him. It takes a while for him to say something.

“You’d know that, huh?”

The dip in his tone makes Jungkook meet his gaze. Suddenly, the smirk on Mingyu’s face is gone, and there’s something behind his eyes that he can’t quite put a finger on.

Jungkook tries to ignore that. “I’ve known her for a long time. The others can also tell you that.” He says, referring to the rest of your friends on the trip.

“You think I don’t know?”

With furrowed brows and growing confusion, Jungkook stares at Mingyu.

“What?”

“That you like my girlfriend.” Mingyu spits the words out like venom in his mouth, but it’s in a way that tells him it’s been sitting with him for far too long. Jungkook’s surprised at the declaration, feels himself being taken aback by the blunt way he said it as if he’s so sure.

But Jungkook doubles down, to Mingyu’s surprise.

“So?”

That obviously wasn’t the answer the other man wanted to hear. So, what? He can dish it, but he can’t take it?

“You’re goddamn pathetic, then.” Mingyu says after awhile, taking a hit on his cigarette again.

It itches the bubbling anger Jungkook has had for him for the past ten years.

“I like __, and I’m not gonna deny that to you,” Jungkook faces him. “But you don’t have to worry about that, because unlike you, I have enough self-respect to not sleep with my friend’s girlfriend.”

It’s another response that Mingyu does not expect. Jungkook also did not mean to let that out. But his tongue glided with the words and he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, memories of junior year in undergrad comes back flashing to him; Jiyeon and Mingyu, fucking in his goddamn bed, his girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend.

Jungkook’s already moved on from that. Jiyeon was not a loss, even though she was his first girlfriend – heck, first love even, but she cheated on him. And not just with anybody but his best friend at the time. The worst thing was that Mingyu was completely in on it, and Jungkook doesn’t think he ever felt remorse about what happened back then. Mingyu gave him a half-assed apology the day he walked in on them, even had the gall to “explain” Jiyeon’s side, that apparently, she just wasn’t “feeling it” with Jungkook anymore, and that Mingyu and her had been hitting it off. Jungkook realized it was why Mingyu suddenly came over way too often over at his apartment.

It’s exactly why he never bothered to meet with Mingyu after graduation. Why he was not enthusiastic meeting him at the engagement party.

But that happened so many years ago that he thought Mingyu’s changed. He didn’t want to burst your bubble and tell you what happened between them back then because he’d be the one to ruin the happiness you’ve wished for all these years.

“I see you’re still hung up on that.” Mingyu says after a while. He throws the cigarette away and steps on it with his heel.

Jungkook’s jaw ticks in what he feels is growing rage. “I’ve moved on. I’m just letting you know that even though I like __, I’m never doing what you did back then.”

“You’re such good guy, then?”

“If not cheating makes me a good guy, then maybe I am.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Jiyeon was a bitch. She was never gonna be good for you.” Mingyu suddenly says.

It makes Jungkook seethe. “And so you fucked her?”

“She liked me better than you. Women always liked me more, that’s why I was going through them while your goody-two shoes virgin prude ass was daydreaming about dating to marry.  You remember that, right?” Mingyu looks at him with a mocking stare. “And Jiyeon was smoking hot. She offered, I just delivered. Said you couldn’t make her cum properly. We could have shared her, you know?”

“Fuck you.” Jungkook spits out. He feels enraged and pissed and disgusted all at the same time.

“Are you getting mad?” Mingyu levels him with an infuriating smirk. “You always got a stick up in your ass, Jeon. Kyungmi told me you’re just a regular playboy these days, said it was the effect of your first girlfriend cheating on you. Right now, though, is that just a front to hide your feelings from my girlfriend? A pathetic boy best friend just wanting to be noticed by his hot girl best friend? You play that role so well. Telling me she’s lactose intolerant, she doesn’t like smokers… you want to fuck her so bad it’s laughable because you know you can’t.”

“Don’t… fucking talk about her like that.” Jungkook growls, and he feels blood rushing through his veins.

Mingyu shakes his head. “You know what I thought when I first met her? I was completely interested right away, but when you showed up…” He chuckles in the way that makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. “It just made me want her more.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

“This fucked in the head guy got the girl you want wanting to commit to him. I don’t know if she told you, but we’re moving in together.”

Jungkook pokes his tongue to his cheek. “You think I won’t tell her about this?”

“You think she’s gonna believe you?” Mingyu fires back. Jungkook closes his mouth, doesn’t really know if he’s confident enough to say yes. That earns him an arrogant smirk from Mingyu. “That’s right, she won’t. I have no doubt she’s gonna choose me over you. Jiyeon has had before. And if you’re gonna fight the same battle again this time, you’ll lose.”

Jungkook regulates his breathing hearing his words. He’s starting to not see clearly, his fist clenching on his side and he knows better than to resort to violence, but Mingyu’s testing his patience.

He’s completely wrong for thinking that he isn’t the same asshole he was back in college. He’s completely wrong for not telling you about him sooner. He’s completely wrong about everything.

Glancing at his hand, Mingyu looks him in the eyes, leaning forward. “You wanna hit me just like how you did back then? You almost fucking killed me when you gave me that head injury that kicked me out of the fucking team.”

The head injury. That fucking head injury. Jungkook was so mad when he found out that he just saw pure red. It wasn’t his best moment – he knows. He lost control and just… went for it. He still regrets doing it – not punching Mingyu – but for losing it when he could’ve shown him that he’d always be the bigger person between them both.

He’s quiet and Mingyu takes that as a win. Scoffing, Mingyu says, “I could’ve reported you to the admin and you could’ve been expelled, and if that happened, you couldn’t have gone to med. You are where you are right now because of me, so don’t fucking show that animosity towards me because you fucking owe me one.”

Jungkook can’t help but laugh. But he does so humorlessly. “You really think that?” He stares at the other guy. “You’re just as delusional as you were back then, Gyu. You think everybody liked you – but that was just because you were a touch-deprived loser who would fuck anything that breathed near him, and I wasn’t. I only entertained women I liked. You thought you were smarter, but I was always the one who got the better and higher grades, even though you studied way harder. Is that why you went with law? So you won’t have to compete with me in the med field? I also know you were pissed as fuck when the captain title was passed on to me instead of you,” Jungkook leans closer as well. “You’ve always thought of yourself so highly, but deep down, you were just an insecure little boy trying to compete with another guy that didn’t even see you as competition because you were that irrelevant.”

Mingyu, in his own fir of rage, grabs Jungkook’s collar, but Jungkook stays in his place, face stoic as Mingyu snarls, “You keep running your mouth while you cry yourself to sleep because those don’t mean anything when I’m the one fucking the love of your life,” Jungkook visibly recoils to that, and when Mingyu notices, he smirks, adding, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna know how __ is in bed? Because you’ll never see her sopping wet when you give her cock. That angelic face of hers… you’ll never know she’s a slut the way that filthy mouth asks me to fuck her harder because I am that goo—”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Jungkook’s heavy fist suddenly lands on his cheek.

That effectively gets Mingyu to let go of Jungkook’s collar as he loses his balance and steps backwards limply, thumbing the side of his mouth only to see blood.

Whisking away his fist, Jungkook looks at Mingyu with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice when he says, “Don’t you ever fucking dare talk about her like that, you fucking piece of shit.”

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery white glow over the beach, but the comforting sound of waves and the calm of the surrounding is a contrast to the rising tension between Jungkook and Mingyu.

When Mingyu doesn’t say anything, Jungkook turns on his heel, ready to leave, but suddenly, he feels the back of his shirt getting pulled and being met with a fist right on his cheek, close to his nose. He barely dodges the hit, taken aback by the unexpected attack.

“Fuck you.” Mingyu grits, eyes blazing.

With that, the fight intensifies, with Jungkook throwing a quick jab back. Mingyu retaliates with as much fury, the two of them grappling, their bodies colliding with violent force. Soon, the sound of their grunts and the occasional crash of a punch against flesh is drowned out by the crashing waves.

And then a familiar voice calls their names.

“Jungkook! Mingyu!”

“Oh my god!”

Jungkook’s suddenly being taken away by somebody by his arms, and he realizes it’s Taehyung when he speaks up again once he and Mingyu are off each other.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Taehyung asks incredulously, rightfully shocked at what he’s seen. Jungkook forces his way out of Taehyung’s hold in frustration, wiping the side of his mouth. Mingyu’s on the other side a few inches away being hesitantly held down by Nayeon, who looks at all of them with deep worry in her eyes. Turning to her, Taehyung says, “Call Doyeon and __. They’re sleeping in the same room together at the villa.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook says, glaring at Taehyung.

He looks at him angrily. “You’re fistfighting with somebody at fuck o’clock in the morning. We’re going to get run off by the police, be thankful we saw you.”

“I-I’ll call Doyeon and __.” Nayeon stutters, reluctantly pulling away from Mingyu and going to the direction of the villas.

When she leaves, Taehyung looks between the two beaten up men, not believing their busted faces. Rubbing his own with his hands in frustration, he looks back at them again, saying, “What the fuck happened to you guys? Why were you fighting?”

“It’s none of your business.” Mingyu says.

Taehyung glances at him with irritation. “None of my business? Fuck off, Kim Mingyu. You joined in on this trip. Everything that happens here is quite literally each other’s business.”

“Tae.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Taehyung shakes his head, ignoring Jungkook. “Fighting like goddamn immature teenagers… are you not embarrassed?”

Looking away, Jungkook decides to sit on the sand and let Taehyung’s words go from one ear to another. His energy is waning and the rage he had a while ago is just simmering down to… nothing. He feels absolutely empty.

“Jungkook?” He doesn’t realize the steps that were coming towards them were you and Doyeon. It’s obvious that you’ve both been sleeping, still in your pajamas as you rush towards their direction. He looks at you when you call his name, but then suddenly, you turn to Mingyu. “Ming— what happened?”

Jungkook feels his heart break when you come towards Mingyu’s direction first. He knows why you did. He’s your boyfriend, of course you are going to tend to him first.

Suddenly, he remembers what Mingyu said. About you choosing him over Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t doubt that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little to see it fully realized.

“Jungkook– Jesus Christ,” Doyeon comes over to him and quickly checks his head. With knitted brows, she casts him a look.

“I’m fine.”

She’s about to say something, but then she closes her mouth and then glances at you.

Sighing, she turns to everyone and announces, “Look, let’s just get them back to the villa. Treat their wounds before they get infected.”

“Right.” Taehyung says and then comes over to Jungkook to help Doyeon guide him in walking. He relents first because he doesn’t need their assistance, but Taehyung looks at him and he knows he’s pissed. So, he lets them.

As he tries to subtly look over to where you were, you have your arm around Mingyu’s waist while Nayeon helps guide him as well.

It takes a tedious few minutes to get back to the villa where Doyeon and Taehyung decide to take care of him in his room while Nayeon and you tend to Mingyu back in your room.

Doyeon nor Taehyung doesn’t say anything the whole time. Just let the silence fall in the room as they clean his wounds and put bandages around the cuts on his face and treat his busted lip.

He knows they’ll talk to him in the next few hours. It’s inevitable. But at least they’re sparing him for tonight – or today, since it’s almost four am.

Jungkook regrets not seeing the sunrise.

[ READ BELOW ]

this chapter is not over yet! tumblr has a 1k paragraph/block limit in a single post and so i can't put the whole thing in this. please look thru the reblogs to read the last scene and the continuation of this chapter!

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 10 -

M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Words 3.1k

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

It was a turn back to normal after the long conversation between the two of you. Tears sliding down your faces, majority yours but you saw a couple fall from his. It was a necessary conversation. He opened up about his quirk and apologized for ditching you. You apologize for the same.

Easily enough, the two of you moved on from it quickly. Talking about the past two months when all the overwhelming emotions passed. You blabbed about how many new offers you were getting and he talked about how he was hiring more and more people to his agency.

Despite not being able to ignore the last two months, it was easy to move past.

Growing past it within the night, having everything off your chest. It still didn't make things go back to normal.

You continued to share a bed, but changed your schedules around again to see more of each other. Flipping back into your old routine as much as possible. Not without a few changes though. Lunches would only be once a week rather than daily, and you'd be working for another hour or two after he got home. Since you wanted to sleep in still.

But it still improved your relationship again. Building it back up slowly. You were able to eat a late dinner together each night and share an off day. Sharing your off day made it easier for you anyway. After the break-in it was hard to be home without him, so the last two months were rough. Your therapist said you were doing great though, so that helped.

The first days of going back to normal was rough, having to adjust to seeing each other daily again. Conversations between the two of you felt awkward, mainly on your side. You grew so much in those two months, no longer relying on him. It shifted the dynamic.

"Y'good?" Katsuki's gruff voice broke your train of thought. Your eyes flickered up to him.

"Huh?"

"Been fuckin' playin' with your food," he points his fork at your plate, "Don't like it or some shit?"

"No, I like it," you looked back down. It was definitely not your favorite meal he made, but it was good.

His silverware claddered roughly against his plate, his arms crossing, "The fuck has been wrong with you?"

"Do you have to swear with every sentence?" you avoided, taking a bite of your food instead.

You could feel him roll his eyes along with his heavy sigh, "You've been off since."

"A relationship doesn't heal just like that," you pointed out.

"Will you look at me?" he asked annoyed. A glance up at his expression made you cut your attitude. He was trying, that much was obvious. And after all your talk of communication, you were doing nothing.

"Sorry," you set your fork down, engaging in the conversation, "I'm just lost? I guess. Hard to place it. I've changed a lot in the past two months-"

"How?"

You glared at him for interrupting you. "I've stopped prioritizing you. I'm more focused on myself now. It's hard to go back to normal when the 'normal,' was me running circles around you."

He shuffled in his seat, "That's fine. I'm glad you've moved on in that sense, done you good."

"You're not worried how it'll change us?" you asked softly, it's been all you were thinking of for the past few weeks.

"I'm always fuckin' worried," he admitted, eyes drifting to look at the wall instead of you, "But we'll work it out."

You were glad he still viewed the two of you as a 'we,' heart melting slightly as you reached your hand across the table. "I'm not going to tip-toe around you anymore, Kats."

"Good," he gruffed out, uncrossing his arms and grabbing onto your hand. Changing his focus onto that, "I don't want you to."

"Good," you agreed, smiling at how he let his thumb trace over your knuckles.

"You, um," he fumbled for a minute, eyebrows furrowing, "You're still okay with us not doing shit right?"

"I'd never push that," you confirmed, shocked he even thought you would complain about that.

"Don't get me wrong, I would, just-" he pulled his hands back wiping them on his pants before running them down his face, "my dumb fuckin' quirk."

"You love your quirk," you pointed out.

"Yeah and I'd fuckin' love to touch my girlfriend but no, I gotta be a horny virgin 'cause of it," he groaned, crossing his arms again.

Stifling a laugh was difficult, but you managed, "Maybe we can just work up to it? Get you used to the baseline first before, that."

His quirk went off suddenly, "Can't even fuckin' think of it," he groaned, standing up to go wash his hands off.

"It's cute." You followed behind him to place dishes in the skin, having cleared your plates a while ago.

"Fuck you."

"Hey," you laughed, "At least you can tell Denki and Sero that you beat them at No Nut November. And have for the past 19 years."

He shot you a glare from the sink, "The one challenge I wouldn't want to beat, great."

"It's what makes you number one to me, baby," you teased, kissing his shoulder as you moved past him, wanting to pester him while the mood was light and he was already flustered. It was nice how easy it was to move past something with him. But you wanted to test how much he'd react to you not tiptoeing around him anymore.

With success, his quirk popped off again.

"Fuck off."

You let out a crackle of laughter, "You're too easy."

"Die."

He finally stopped washing his hands, turning to dry them off. You watched from the counter, plotting. "Your back looks nice," you commented, his muscles have been more defined lately and you only got to appreciate it now. His tank top showcases his shoulders nicely.

He froze for a moment, side-eyeing you. "Do you want to get blown up or something?"

"No, do you want to get blown?" you asked back, letting Denki's crude humor influence you.

Like a charm, his quirk sparked off. "Quit it."

"Nah, it's too much fun," you smiled at him, kicking off the counter you were leaning on and moving to leave the kitchen. Hand squeezing his bicep when you walked by.

He didn't let you get even a step away before he grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. His hands grabbing at your hips and moving to push you into the counter. "Where do y'think you're goin'?" he smirked down at you.

Your face bloomed a deep shade, blushing harshly at how close he was. He hasn't been that close since you argued two months ago.

"Nothin' to say?"

You blinked up at him, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart with the way he was tracing circles onto your hips.

"Might like you but that doesn't mean I'll let you say shit and get away with it," he crowded you closer to the counter.

"What happened to your quirk?" you whispered, losing your voice at the proximity.

"You offered to work up to it, right?" he brushed his hands clean on his shirt briefly before going back to your hips.

"Yeah," you looked down at his hands, trying to make sure the watch was off.

"It's off," he confirmed, twisting his wrist so you could see. When you looked back up at him, he held his gaze deeply, "What happened to that smart mouth?"

"Want me to show you?" you placed your hands on his chest, running over the span of his shoulders. Your body was on fire, the two of you flirted, sure, but this was different. His quirk was fully there. He was fully there.

His eyes lidded slightly, zeroing in his focus on your lips, "Fuck yeah I do."

Your lips closed the gap between the two of you. It wasn't as soft and nervous as all the past kisses, it was something you just threw yourself in. Stomach crazy with butterflies as your mind started buzzing. His hands tightened their grip on your hips as he stepped even closer to you.

Bodies curled into each other to get closer. Your hands digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you deepened the kiss. Full of passion and sexual tension. There was hardly any innocence to the kiss, and if there was, it faded within seconds.

A sigh of relief falling from your lips when his hands slipped under your shirt, brushing over your skin roughly. Fingers being callused and dry from work.

As soon as his hands met your skin he pulled away frantically. Pulling his body from yours completely before his quirk started popping off.

"Fuck me," he groaned in frustration, grabbing a dish towel and wiping his hands off.

"I wish I could," you teased.

He shot you a glare, blush flaring all over his face and coating his neck with a red. "Stop," he grumbled.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that," he shied away, washing his hands in water for a moment.

You paused for a moment, considering how you looked. With how flushed his face was you could tell you were no better. Lips plumped and freshly kissed red as your shirt was ruffled up from his hands as you leaned back into the counter. "Why would I? You clearly like what you see?"

The confidence within you came from nowhere. There has been sexual tension between the two of you before, many times before. Even before he had the watch. But normally you had to be drunk as hell to make such obvious jokes towards him, especially ones about sex. Maybe it was the fact that it was on the table, when before it wasn't. You knew he wanted it as much as you did.

"Fuck off," he grumbled.

"Come on, Kats," you pushed your luck.

"I love you, but please stop whatever the fuck you're doing before we need a new apartment," he spoke without thought, freezing the second he realized what he said.

You barked out a laugh, he spoke so plainly. You didn't want him to get wrapped up in his head, so you ignored the rushing butterflies over his admissions. "Fine, fine," you gave in, smiling happily at him, "Hug?"

He looked at you, untrusting of you before he opened his arms, gesturing you near.

Taking the moment, you threw yourself in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his waist he pulled you in fully. Letting you rest your head on his chest as he rested his on yours.

Everything felt secure in your relationship, you'd move one step at a time together. With a lot of teasing between, but that was common between you and him, despite the lack of it lately.

"I love you too, by the way," you mumbled into his chest, having a happy feeling travel through your body at the small number of times he's actually said it.

"I know."

You moved slightly to look up at him, his eyes fell on yours before you spoke, "Are you hard?"

He glared sharply, embarrassment covering his features as you felt him grow hot. You were going to ignore the feeling of him pressing into your lower stomach, but decided you wanted the chance to rub it in his face that you have the upper hand here. He tried to pull away, only for you to keep your grip.

"Stop," he warned, his hands raised away from you.

"It's only a little spark, Kats," you tried to comfort.

With a roll of his eyes he smiled evilly down at you, "You asked for it," before you could protest, he wiped his sweaty hands on your face before rubbing the rest of it off on your sweater, down your chest.

"Katsuki! That's gross," you pulled away from him, using your sleeve to wipe away the damp residue of his sweat off your cheek before you pulled the bottom of your shirt out, seeing if he got sweat marks on it. "You just used that as an excuse to touch my tits," you glared at him, seeing the faint marks of his handprint on your shirt, right over your tits. It surprised you that he sweat enough to leave a mark.

He laughed sharply, walking out of the kitchen, "Got no proof, Brains."

"I literally have the proof of your hands on my tits," you called out to him.

He looked over you, "How do I know those are mine?"

"Really? Cause I'd let a random guy grope me and he'd be sweaty enough to leave a mark like you do," you snarked.

"No way to know," he shrugged.

"You're such an ass," you groaned.

His phone buzzing loudly cut off his laughter.

"This late?" you asked as you eyed his work phone.

"It's PR," he said as he furrowed his brows, answering the phone, "Dynamight."

You heard mumbling for a moment before he huffed and put his phone on speaker. "Can she hear me now?" the lady's voice rang through, the same manager you've spoken with before.

"Hello," you answered for him, "What can I do?"

"You've done quite enough," she spoke abruptly. It took a lot to get her mad, so to have pissed her off five words was a record. "People are spreading pictures of you crying in the middle of the street."

Katsuki's eyes shot to you, concerned.

"They also claim to of heard you talking to Deku, saying you said his name several times."

His concerned look turned to a glare quickly.

"I can explain that," you said quickly before Katsuki added his two cents, "I was having a rough time and decided to call a friend, simple."

She laughed, "It's not the simple. It was the night of your party. And with the lack of social outings between Dynamight and you, people are saying the two of you broken up."

"Why does this matter?" you asked annoyed. It was still a sore subject.

"It matters because bad things are being said about the two of you. It's not just Dynamight's image anymore, but yours too. They're saying he's abusive while also saying that you're sleeping your way to the top."

You've heard that said too many times to count. Both things. So filled with anger, you grabbed the phone from Katsuki's hand and hung up.

"The fuck?"

"I don't know! I'm annoyed," you huffed, tossing his phone onto the couch before pacing, "I'm sick of people talking."

"I get it's annoying but you're gonna hear it-"

"Not helping," you glared at him.

"PR helps get them to knock it off," he pushed.

"She hardly says anything but the obvious," you rolled your eyes, "We can just post a picture of us or something."

"How does that prove I don't hit you?"

You paused your pacing, "Under a truth quirk I said the worst thing about you was your socks. I think if you abused me I would have said that."

He gave up his fight with a shrug, moving to sit on the couch instead.

"Don't get me wrong, it pisses me off that they say that. There is just no way to prove otherwise. Nothing is ever enough for them," you corrected, not wanting him to get the idea that you were only concerned for yourself.

"If you think that, why are you so pissed right now?" he crossed his arms.

You shook your eyes off the flex of his arms, throwing your hands up in frustration, "Because everyone says that, I hate hearing it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone thinks you hit me or some bullshit," you huff.

"Everyone?"

"Like people that don't know you," you changed, "you're a softy and they ignore it.

"Who you callin soft?" he sat up straight.

You smiled at him, "Kats, you can't even look mad at me."

He glared at you, eyebrows being the only thing supporting it. His eyes were soft. "Die."

"Let's just forget about it," you sighed, not wanting to talk about the press or your relationship. Nothing stressful.

"Why were you even cryin' to Deku?"

"You," you admitted shamefully, looking away. Talking about this would be stressful.

When he said nothing, you turned back to him. He was staring out the window. The view was filled with city lights.

"I only called him 'cause I couldn't call you," you comforted, stepping closer to him.

"Could always call me," he spoke softly.

"Kats," at this point you were standing right in front of him

"Yeah?"

You swallowed quickly, "We don't need to do everything together."

He took a deep breath, "I know, just want you to know you can call me, no matter what."

"I already know that," you smiled fondly at him. It was one of the best things about him. No matter how mad he was at a friend or family, he would never ignore them if they needed anything, even a random call. He might ignore a stupid text, but he never missed a call from someone close to him.

"Good."

"Maybe," he looked up at you, "We don't do anything publically? If they think I'm dating you then good, if they think I'm not, I don't care."

"If you want," he shrugged.

"You don't mind?" you step closer to him, him making space for you by manspreading further.

"Not really, just don't go making 'em think you're dating that damn nerd."

"Okay."

"Want somethin'?" he looked at you with a brow up. His eyes flickering from your chest to your face.

"Seems like you do," you smiled, inviting yourself more into his personal space by straddling him, both knees by his side.

"What are you doing?" his hands were pushed outwards, far from you.

"It's fine," you hushed him, sitting your weight on his lap.

"We didn't even do this stuff with the watch," he hissed at you, face flushed.

"Yes we did," you looked at him confused, "I made you cum y-"

"Shut it," he huffed, hands popping with the sound of his quirk, "Get off."

"Look, if you really want to, I will, but I don't think you want me to," you didn't want to force him into anything.

"What even put you in this mood?" he glared at you.

"You looked at my tits," you shrugged.

"Cause you still have my handprint on em," he smirked proudly.

You looked down at them quickly, "Bakugo."

"What? It's how it should be."

"Will it stain?"

"Shouldn't."

"I hate you," you glared at him.

"Sure, cause one glance at your tits makes you wanna jump me, cause you hate me," he was too cocky.

"Shut up you can hardly kiss me without losing your mind," you fought back.

"Kissed ya earlier didn't I?"

"Barely, come on, kiss me like a man-"

Forgetting his prior reluctance, he pulled you into him. Connecting your lips in a messy kiss as his hand held you to him by the back of your neck. Slowly losing its grip before sliding down to your waist. Losing himself into the kiss just as you were.

You were shocked he was even kissing you, cherishing the win regardless. Moving more onto him. Wrapping your arms around him, scratching at his scalp as you pulled on his hair.

The groan that left his lips encouraged you to push down more in his lap, wanting something more. You could never get enough of him. Anything he'd give, you'd take.

A rough push of yourself onto him caused his quirk to go off, not just a small spark either.

It singed your top, burning your skin.

You jumped off his lap once he let go, holding your sides.

His hand was placed right over your old scar.

Posted late cause I forgot to finish the chapter, and the tag list is being a bitch rn. (phone is glitching and laptop is weird) if it's fucked up mb.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

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[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant partner? Neuvillette

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/companion is ecstatic. But how will he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader, NSFW.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Warning: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Neuvillette.

Note: This chapter contains Fontaine story spoilers. I advise you to finish Archon's quest before starting to read.

Ps: Sorry for my long absence, I've had a lot of health problems since the start of the 2023 school year...

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

Part 6 Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus

Part 7 Itto, Heizou, Lyney.

1. The moon was lighting up the night sky when you reached the door of Neuvillette's office. Silently, you gazed at him from the doorway, waiting patiently for him to take his eyes off his work and meet yours. Knowing that he had already noted your presence, his dragon senses being far more acute than those of mortals, you found a particular charm in watching him devote himself in earnest to the last files of the day.

"It's getting late, my love. "

At these words, Neuvillette raised his reptilian-glinted eyes to you, a tender, affectionate smile lighting up his face.

"You should have waited for me at home. I get worried when you walk alone at this hour."

Dropping his pen, he stood up and walked over to join you. Arriving at your height, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"I know, but... there was something very important I had to tell you. And as lately you've tended to neglect your wife for your work..."

Your words floated through the air, laden with gentle rebuke and nervous anticipation. As you spoke, Neuvillette, with obvious tenderness, gently pushed a lock of your hair back behind your ear, his gesture emphasizing the closeness and deep affection he felt for you. His attention was entirely focused on you, as if he were trying to read in your eyes the importance of what you had to reveal to him.

With a gentle gesture, you took Neuvillette's hand, guiding his palm until it lay flat on your stomach. A silence fell, heavy with anticipation, as Neuvillette watched your gesture, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Then, slowly, a flash of understanding lit up his gaze. He sensed, through the touch of his hand, the subtle but undeniable aura of a new life beginning to form within you, the existence of a little being yet to be born. A dragon.

Your husband's heart raced as he finally realized what was growing inside you. Neuvillette, usually in control, was overcome by a wave of emotions: surprise, happiness, a touch of anxiety in the face of the unknown, but above all, a deep and unconditional love for you and for this new life you were carrying.

Without a word, his other hand joined the first, as if gently but firmly enveloping the precious treasure you now shared. His gaze, filled with infinite tenderness, lifted to yours.

In this moment of shared intimacy, words seemed superfluous, replaced by tender caresses and kisses, heralding the start of a new chapter in your lives together.

2. Neuvillette's draconic nature permeated every fiber of his being, making him extremely protective and territorial, especially where you were concerned. His perception of mortals had certainly evolved after the fall of the hydro archon, but his role as supreme judge of the Fontaine court left him little room for easy trust, especially when it came to unpredictable and often cruel human nature.

Your pregnancy only exacerbated this aspect of his personality. The prospect of becoming a father, of protecting and looking after an even more vulnerable being, amplified his protective instincts. Even when you remarked to him, perhaps hoping to mitigate this tendency or channel it in a way that seemed more appropriate...

But you soon realized that it was difficult to change the profound nature of a dragon over a thousand years old...

3. The evolution of your pregnancy revealed hitherto unknown and deeply endearing aspects of Neuvillette. This new facet manifests itself in a surprising way: a soft, soothing, purring-like sound emanates from him when he looks at you or caresses you gently. This sound, unexpected from a dragon, proved to you that he was happy and at peace in your presence…

4. Neuvillette's trust in the protection of you and your child during his extended absences was a privilege he bestowed on very few people. Clorinde and Wriothesley stood out as the pillars of this trust, each with their own role and ability to look after you. Wriothesley, despite his responsibilities anchoring him to the Meropide fortress, was a devoted protector whose friendship with Neuvillette and you never wavered.

The Melusines also held a special place in Neuvillette's esteem. Their joy and zeal in protecting you and your unborn child was not only a testament to their loyalty to Neuvillette, but also a recognition of the importance of your role by his side.

5. The relationship you forged with Furina was marked by an affection and trust that transcended the past of the former archon of Fontaine. Her daily visits became special moments, when the joy of sharing sweets and laughter brightened your day. Discussions about the baby's name, possible traits, or who he or she might most resemble, were moments of pure complicity.

The arrival of Neuvillette, which often marked the end of these afternoons of sweetness and laughter, added another dimension to the family picture. His reaction to the mess left by Furina, oscillating between severity and underlying affection, reflected his deep concern for your well-being. His ability to scold Furina without raising his voice, while reminding her of the importance of your rest, demonstrated a delicate balance between authority and tenderness. To you, this was undeniable proof that Neuvillette would be an exceptional father to your child.

6. During your pregnancy, you showed worrying symptoms of depression. With Neuvillette often absent during the day and sometimes even all night, he only became aware of your condition belatedly, when he found you in tears in the kitchen. Crouched against the cupboards, overwhelmed by deep sadness, you didn't immediately notice his return.

The sight of your distress deeply affected Neuvillette, who at first thought you'd been the victim of an assault by a local seeking revenge after being tried for his crimes by the Supreme Judge. However, he soon realized that your emotional state was largely influenced by pregnancy hormones, exacerbated by the fact that you were carrying a half-human, half-dragon child.

With a heavy heart in the face of your grief, Neuvillette has vowed to stay by your side as much as possible, adjusting his schedule to be more present by your side. He has taken steps to ensure that he can spend weekends with you, actively engaging in preparations to welcome the baby into your life. "Don't cry anymore mon amour. From now on, I'll stay by your side."

7. As night fell, it became customary for you and Neuvillette to embrace tenderly on the living-room sofa. Positioned comfortably across his legs, with one of his arms warmly embracing you, Neuvillette would take pleasure in reading aloud to you one of those sentimental novels you so cherished. Neuvillette's soft, melodious voice enveloped you in a feeling of well-being, as you gently brushed your rounded belly, lulled by the sound of his reading.

Each time you dozed off against him, he cherished these moments deeply, placing kisses on your face as he whispered sweet nothings to you. Releasing his hand from the weight of the book she was holding, he gently slid it over you until it rested gently on your rounded belly. His tender, loving gestures, as he touched your skin, seemed to awaken a response in his child, who pressed himself against your belly, as if to draw closer to the warmth of his father...

8. The last few weeks of your pregnancy proved to be particularly trying, forcing you to spend most of your time in bed, suffering from intense back pain that made any movement painful. Aware of your condition, Neuvillette chose to take a few days off work to stay by your side, ensuring your well-being and safety.

The approach of childbirth was causing him growing anxiety. The idea of a human giving birth to the child of a sovereign dragon was unprecedented, and the absence of any references or testimonials to such a situation fueled his fears about the potential risks to you and the baby. This fear, which became almost palpable as the days passed, plunged him into a state of nervousness he had never experienced before.

Neuvillette had considered going to Natlan, hoping to find information or help to assist you during the birth. However, the idea of leaving you alone for several weeks was unbearable.

9. Neuvillette, faced with the unknown of this extraordinary situation, was overwhelmed by a multitude of emotions. Deep inside him, a tenacious hope persisted, that fate would preserve you and the child from any misfortune. The very idea of losing you, of seeing you torn from him too soon, was unbearable. With each passing day, he watched over you with redoubled attention, doing everything in his power to ensure your comfort and safety, while trying to conceal his own fears so as not to add to your stress.

As you waited, every shared moment took on priceless value, every smile, every tender gesture turned into a treasure trove of memories to cherish.

10. Your delivery turned out to be an ordeal of an intensity and complexity you'd never imagined, your cries and tears breaking your husband's heart. The pain and loss of blood plunged you into a state of vulnerability you'd never experienced before, causing you to lose consciousness on several occasions.

"It's going to be okay , mon amour, you're strong and brave. You'll make it. Just a little more effort and our child will soon be here with us."

Despite the fear and anxiety, Neuvillette's presence by your side was an unwavering pillar of support. His hand clasping yours, he enveloped you in his love and encouragement, his voice soft and reassuring.

The intervention of Baizhu, Liyue's doctor recommended by the traveler, was crucial. Thanks to his expertise and professionalism, he managed the complications with remarkable efficiency. Neuvillette, using his hydro authority, played an equally vital role, treating life-threatening wounds and using his powers to stabilize your condition. The synergy of their efforts was the determining factor in your survival in this bitter struggle.

The birth of your child, despite the circumstances, marked a moment of pure happiness and relief. When you heard his first cries, a sense of peace and fulfillment came over you, allowing you to finally surrender to rest, your exhausted mind and body taking refuge in sleep.

11. Neuvillette had delicately placed your child beside you, gently brushing your sweat-dampened hair, while his free hand gently enveloped his baby in a peaceful sleep. His gaze was lost in the infinite tenderness he felt for you, a wave of happiness and pride emanating from his whole being. How could he ever make the whole universe understand the beauty he saw in you? The fullness he felt watching you and his child, so serenely asleep under his protection? How could he articulate the immense joy of this deeply human experience of being part of a family? He, the sovereign hydro dragon, was discovering a new and profound humanity, all thanks to... Thanks to your presence in his life.

Somewhere in your dreams, you could hear the gentle sound of a purr...

12. Neuvillette will embody the figure of a father with an exceptionally gentle approach to education. Firm only when necessary, his child will be just like him. With a calm, collected and sometimes distant temperament, the child will learn the essential lessons of dragon heritage from his father. This transmission will be carried out with subtlety and wisdom, enabling the child to understand not only the value, but also the responsibility of his ancestry.

NSFW bonus:

The moment Neuvillette crossed the threshold of the house, returning from a grueling day at court, he found you fast asleep on the sofa, a soft light illuminating the room and a book resting carelessly on your belly, which was getting rounder by the day. He immediately realized that you'd been up most of the night waiting for him to return. Heaving a weary sigh, he shed his coat, gloves and scarf, then carefully placed your book on the table before lifting you gently into his arms. However, the mere touch of your husband, his warmth, his breath, his presence, was enough to awaken your senses. Blinking against his chest, a sigh of contentment escaped your lips as your gaze met his, imbued with a gentleness and warmth that contrasted so sharply with the man he was when you first met him.

"Ah, there you are at last, my dragon..." A tender smile lit up his face, as he adjusted your position so you could throw your arms around his neck, your lips seeking his in a burst of love.

"I asked you not to wait up for me. You need to rest... Why are humans so stubborn?" Your laughter, light and joyful, invited him to silence as you placed another kiss on his lips, which he received happily.

This one was deeper, more languorous. You needed him. Now... The absence of your dragon weighed so heavily on you that it aroused extravagant thoughts. Neuvillette could feel it... Your growing excitement knotting your belly and moistening that secret place between your thighs...

A rumble vibrated Neuvillette's chest as he deposited you on your bed, lips still linked, tongues struggling against each other for dominance. Your husband's instincts were stronger than anything, and since his companion wanted him so much, then he'd give her anything she wanted...

Who'd have thought it? Beneath this cool, aloof facade lay a passionate lover, expert in the art of thrilling the senses. Neuvillette loved to prepare you for him, burying his face tenderly between your thighs, his tongue fervently caressing your most intimate parts, while your fingers lost themselves with delight in his hair, leading you to heights of voluptuousness.

Dragons, creatures whose mating rituals were rare and dictated solely by the heat cycles of their females, contrasted sharply with humans when it came to sexuality. This discrepancy had initially confused Neuvillette, who couldn't understand why his physical reaction was so spontaneous at the sight of you. Besides, the fact that you were already pregnant should, in theory, have tempered his ardor during this period, shouldn't it? Why, then, did his desire for you intensify at the sight of your round belly? Your condition triggered a deep instinctive response in him...

To demand you. To make you his, even if you were already carrying his offspring...

His ardent thoughts set him ablaze, making him more passionate. He wanted nothing more than to melt into you, claiming your body as his own. His tongue worked you ardently as his fingers explored your innermost recesses, seeking to make you shiver with pleasure. Your moans were a song to his ears, the sound of his name, his true name, slipping between your exquisite lips.

Her eager mouth seized your quivering clitoris, savoring it with exquisite sensuality, while her deft fingers guided you to ecstasy. Your pregnancy amplified your sensitivity, allowing your beloved to lead you with infinite tenderness to the gates of rapture. His phalanges guided you to the end of your orgasm, his mouth tenderly kissing the bulge of your belly. When he brushed his lips against your skin, it was with a gentleness and affection that contrasted with the real urges driving him.

"Darling, I need you... Please..."

Neuvillette, his heart pounding, took a deep breath to calm the ardors that consumed him, eager not to harm you or your child, even if this one was an unborn dragon.

With infinite gentleness, his hand lovingly caressed your body, his lips tracing a tender path from your belly to your breasts, which he covered with kisses and delicate sucks before moving up to your neck and finally your lips. His kiss, at first filled with tenderness, gradually became hot with passion. His teeth nibbled delicately at your bottom lip, begging for more, and when your mouth opened to offer him what he desired, his tongue tasted you with fervor, as if you were the most delicious food in this world.

When he finally unites with you, he takes great pleasure in contemplating you in your entirety. Although your state of pregnancy forces him to deviate from the postures he loves, he knows how to find ways of satisfying his devouring thirst for you. Often, with his back arched in a throbbing motion, he will watch with rapt attention the undulations of your body as his hips fall delicately against yours, eagerly taking in the soft moans that enchant his sensitive hearing. His silver hair cascaded gracefully over you, sublimating the beauty of your beloved dragon. They allowed you to tenderly draw him to you, once again uniting your lips in a passionate kiss.

Neuvillette, moved by a passionate ardor, didn't stay attached to your lips for long, the rhythm of his hips intensifying as your orgasm approached. It was so easy to read you, he thought, as your expressive features and burning moans betrayed the intoxication that overwhelmed you. With a movement tinged with lust, Neuvillette grabbed your thighs and wrapped them greedily around his hips, before rising with a confident gesture, his palms ardently kneading your plump buttocks to give your bodies a more sustained rhythm. His member, coiled deep inside you, caressed that special place that made you lose all composure... He was right: your pregnant state made you undeniably more receptive to his ardors, and certainly more inclined to claim his.

As your orgasm gripped you, your walls fervently embracing his fiery member buried inside you, a guttural growl erupted from Neuvillette's chest. Mating with a dragon could be brutal, and Neuvillette had to do everything in his power not to be overwhelmed. Without your pregnancy, he would have given in to his deepest impulses, sinking his teeth into the delicacy of your neck, his pelvis jerking wildly against yours in search of his climax. But he knew how to curb these impulses, contracting his jaw to better contain his desire, until it poured into you in a guttural roar.

Neuvillette was rarely satisfied with a single turn, and your embraces often dragged on until sleep overtook you. When exhaustion drove you into unconsciousness, Neuvillette would tenderly cleanse you, kissing your bruised flesh while murmuring words of apology to you and the being growing inside your womb. He'd allow himself time to admire you, his fingers grazing the soft nakedness of your body nestled against his. And as his hand caressed the surface of your abdomen, a light tap struck against his palm, tugging a smile from the supreme judge's lips.

"As stubborn as his mother..."

[stormhearty]

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[little-hermit-crab56]

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

[azsazz]

Severance

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Idk if you’re taking requests and it’s okay if you aren’t but I was rereading Feysand bonus chapter and it mentions that Feyre’s libido was heightened due to pregnancy and really wanted a fic where we see that with Az and reader bc I LOVE LOVE your daddy!Az fics and it would be funny seeing Az being a dad but also finding time to pleasure his pregnant mate due to hormones that man’s schedule would be jammed pack hahaha

Warnings: Smut, reader is pregnant, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2061

Notes: This req is literally from a year ago today 😳 now that's some sort of fate (or mad laziness lol) Also, it's been a hot minute since I've written some smut hopefully it's good.

Bat Babies ages in this fic: Wren, Nyx, Gid 8, Baz 6, Zuzu 3, Jax 2, Knox and Malos in the womb.

_________________________________________

“Wren,” you sigh exasperatedly at your eight year old, “Please go play with your siblings. Mommy just needs a few minutes to herself.” 

It’s hard to keep your tone cool and level while your core is burning, dripping for the mate who’s stepped into the shadows whilst you bargain with your son. The both of you had snuck off for a few quick kisses that turned into something more, and it’s the first time you’ve had any time to yourselves in weeks. You don’t know if it’s being pregnant with two babies this time around making every single one of your senses heightened, but you don’t recall being this horny for your mate during your first four pregnancies.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

“It’s a promise, sweetheart.”

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 3

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

A/N: Steve Rogers is older than Bucky here.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You arrived at the new apartment, feeling a small sense of relief for finally being under a different roof than Caroline’s. The thought of enduring the same torture as before made your skin crawl.

As you settled in, you broke the silence. “Your mom offered the attorney to us.” You remembered how you had insisted the divorce attorney make it as quick and painless as possible. “Why didn’t you finalize it?”

Bucky’s gaze remained steady. “Not once did I think you were actually going to leave me.”

“There’s no marriage between us,” you shot back, your voice sharp. “If you’d finalized it, you could’ve easily married a woman your mother approved of.”

Flashback Start

You recalled every time Caroline mentioned another woman’s name as if they were more suited for Bucky. “You know, Rachel just graduated summa cum laude from Harvard in social politics,” she had said at the rehearsal dinner.

Then, on your wedding day, as you and Bucky sat together, trying to enjoy the celebration, Caroline approached, holding hands with a stunning woman. “Bucky, look who’s here? Katherine just arrived from London.”

Caroline’s voice dripped with approval. “Both of them went to the same law school.”

You clenched the fork in your hand so hard you thought it might snap.

Why the hell was she introducing another woman to you on your wedding night?

Did she expect you and Bucky to have a threesome with Katherine?

From that moment, you knew your place—an outsider who didn’t come from the pedigree Caroline so desperately wanted for her son.

When you finally left the house, you remembered her raising her champagne glass with a smirk. “I always knew you weren’t the one.”

Flashback End

“They need someone with a spotless record,” Bucky said, breaking you from your thoughts.

You stood there, your emotions a mix of anger and disbelief.

“I’m not making excuses for you. I know the old me wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t be the man you could rely on,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret.

He looked at you with a desperation that caught you off guard. “You could poison my drink, stab me in my sleep. I wouldn’t fight it. I’d let you.”

His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a deep, pained sincerity. The weight of his guilt seemed to crush him, and the shadows of remorse darkened his features. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. How could he say that so casually? What kind of twisted love was this?

“That’s how much I need you,” he confessed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re using me,” you accused, your voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness.

Bucky didn’t deny it. “Like I said, it’s a business relationship. But I’ve trusted you from the beginning. Put my faith in you.”

He reached out, taking your hands in his, holding them together like a prayer. “And I hope we can work together. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to work in the White House.””

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The following day, you met Steve, the future Presidential candidate. He greeted you warmly, his genuine smile easing some of the tension you felt. You’d met Steve and his wife, Peggy, a few times before—honest people who never treated you like you didn’t belong. Steve had even defended you whenever Caroline or others looked down on you for not being in the same league as them.

"I’m so glad you’re here," Steve said, clasping your hand. "When did you arrive?"

You chuckled softly. "Well, when three Secret Service agents showed up at my door, who was I to say no?"

Steve chuckled too, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly. "Let’s talk."

You walked together, the air thick with unspoken words. "I know it’s difficult for you to be here. I owe you big time," Steve began sincerely. He had witnessed your marriage crumble, and despite his and Peggy’s best efforts to support you and Bucky, things had fallen apart.

You sighed. "What confuses me is, why me? He could’ve chosen another woman, someone way more qualified."

Steve leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To be honest, I think you’re the best option. He probably won’t show it, but Bucky was happy when he heard you were coming."

You scoffed, glancing over at Bucky, who was watching the two of you from a distance. "Impossible."

As you scanned the room, you spotted someone familiar—your brother, Tim. Excusing yourself from Steve, you made your way over to him.

"I’m glad you’re here," Tim said, his voice filled with warmth, though his eyes carried a weight of their own.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I can’t believe you. You knew what I went through, and yet you’re working with him? You sucked up to him."

"Look at me," Tim said firmly.

You glanced down at him, seeing the determination in his gaze.

"Who’s going to hire a disabled person like me?" Tim who seated on his wheelchair, his voice wavered slightly as he spoke. He had been born with both legs, but when bone cancer struck his left leg, the doctors recommended amputation to stop it from spreading. That surgery had shattered his dreams of becoming a professional tennis player.

"It was James who offered me a job," he emphasized, "with a high salary."

Tim continued, "You can keep your anger, but face it, Y/N—they won’t pay the bills. For people like me, I need more money to survive in this world."

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky appeared beside you.

"Hi, Tim."

"Hey," Tim replied.

"I'm going to steal your sister for a bit." Bucky turned to you. "Our next schedule is couple’s therapy," he said, his voice calm but authoritative, cutting the conversation short.

You hated this part. The thought of attending therapy with Bucky made your stomach twist with unease. You shot Tim one last look, a mixture of concern and frustration in your eyes, before following Bucky out of the room.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

As you and Bucky sat across from Aiden, the therapist, the atmosphere was thick with unresolved tension. The room was simple yet comfortable, with soft, neutral tones that were supposed to be calming but did little to ease the storm of emotions swirling within you. You could feel the weight of Bucky's presence beside you, a familiar heaviness that both comforted and suffocated you.

Aiden leaned forward, his expression neutral but attentive. "So, what are you feeling right now?"

You hesitated for a moment before speaking, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. "I don’t think I have the courage to live another day in his family. His mother is the devil spawn. Even seeing her shadow triggers me." The words spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, a reflection of the years of pain and resentment you'd kept bottled up.

Aiden nodded, his gaze shifting to Bucky. "And what about you, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on a spot on the floor, his voice steady but lacking its usual conviction. "I didn’t think that way. As long as we stick together, we can get through everything." There was a hint of desperation in his tone, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You turned to look at him, disbelief and anger simmering beneath your calm facade. "From the beginning, we should’ve never gotten married. You only focus on yourself, never bothering to look behind you. Me, trying my best to fit into your circles."

Your voice wavered, the painful truth of your words cutting through the silence like a knife. You had always known you were out of his league—young and innocent, believing that love could conquer all.

But you had been wrong, and the reality of that mistake was too much to bear.

His mother’s voice echoed in your mind, the countless times she’d told you that you weren’t good enough, that you didn’t deserve him.

"Your mother was right. I don’t deserve you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s expression tightened, his guilt etched into every line of his face. "I’m sorry. I really am sorry." His voice cracked, the weight of his regret finally breaking through.

He had never wanted this—to see you hurt, to see you broken because of him and his family. But the damage was done, and the guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving.

Aiden observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. "I see that you’re the victim here, ma’am. And your former mother-in-law is the main reason why." He glanced at Bucky, his voice firm. "Mr. Barnes, your mother hurt her deeply, and now you must do everything in your power to make amends."

Bucky nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I'll do anything to erase the hurt you’ve received from her." The sincerity in his voice was palpable, but it was clear that the guilt weighed heavily on him. He had failed to protect you, to shield you from his mother’s venom, and that failure haunted him.

Aiden’s voice softened, but there was a steely resolve in his words. "Use this pain, both of you. Let it fuel you to confront Caroline, to reclaim your strength. Don’t let her win. Turn this pain into power."

As you sat there, the enormity of the situation began to sink in. You had been through so much, and the path ahead was uncertain. You had expected to loathe the couple’s therapy, but surprisingly, it turned out to be a beneficial experience.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After the couple's therapy, the silence between you and Bucky was palpable, each of you grappling with the raw emotions that had surfaced.

The therapy had stripped away your filters, leaving you both exposed—your anger and frustration flowing freely. Bucky remained stoic, absorbing your harsh words with an almost resigned patience.

Returning to the Barnes household, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The room was filled with Bucky’s family: his parents, Julius and Caroline; his brother, Shawn, who struggled with cocaine and felt diminished by his inability to meet Caroline’s lofty expectations; and Hazel, Bucky’s sister and Nate’s mother.

Hazel, having felt overshadowed as the spare child, had chosen a career in fashion to escape the constant comparison to Bucky, who was seen as the golden child.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Shawn and Hazel, both of whom shared your misery under Caroline’s disdain. But that sympathy was tempered by their enjoyment of watching you suffer, thanks to their mother’s contempt.

Greg, a family friend, was the bearer of the news that the whole family would attend the upcoming convention event.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said firmly, your tone clipped.

“Why… why?” Greg asked, confused.

Caroline rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Bucky tried to interject, “Don’t…”

You cut him off with a steely gaze. “After that consultation, you still want to continue this?”

Caroline's eyes narrowed. “I knew we couldn’t trust her.”

Shawn chuckled, and Hazel remained indifferent.

“Quiet,” Julius commanded, his voice brooking no argument. The room fell silent.

With a sense of finality, you approached Caroline. “You’re so jealous of me,” you said, your voice dripping with disdain.

Caroline’s eyes widened, a mixture of anger and shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Because you know I’m going to get what you can’t have,” you smirked, savoring the moment. “Being the wife of the Vice President.”

“You bitch,” Caroline spat, something snapped inside her. Deep down, you were right—she was jealous of you. You were younger, smarter, and luckier. It was her dream to be in your position, but now it seemed like she had paved the way for you instead. What’s worse, you didn’t fit her criteria at all. She felt you didn’t deserve this.

Without warning, Caroline lunged at you, grabbing your hair. The two of you were soon locked in a fierce struggle, yanking each other’s hair and grappling with a fury that left no room for remorse. The physical confrontation was liberating, an outlet for all the anger you had been holding back.

You felt no fear and no guilt towards the seventy-year-old woman. At last, you could release all the anger you had been holding in.

Waiting for karma takes too long, and you can’t expect God to do all the work. So you took this chance to give her a lesson she won’t forget.

“Stop! STOP!” Bucky and Julius’s voices cut through the chaos as they tried to separate you. Shawn and Hazel, their faces a mix of curiosity and apathy, slowly backed away from the scene.

It was a struggle to pry you apart; Caroline, in her rage, was more unruly and disheveled compared to your own controlled fury.

“Hufft,” you adjusted your disheveled dress and hair, glaring at Caroline with a fierce, triumphant look. “You know what? I hope your son wins, so I can rub my new position right in your face.”

Caroline’s expression was one of shock and fury, her face a portrait of someone who had been dealt a blow she wasn’t prepared for. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“You’re absolutely right,” you looked at Bucky, your voice steady. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance to live in the White House.”

Caroline’s gritted her teeth.

“If the world wants to see us as a happily married couple,” you said with a cold smile, “I’ll give them the most blissful marriage they’ve ever seen. It’ll be the kind of marriage everyone talks about when they mention a perfect union.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise at your cold declaration. For a moment, he was stunned, but as he processed your words, admiration and pride flickered across his face. He straightened, a hint of a smile forming, clearly impressed by your bold resolve and newfound strength.

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[austinbutlerslovers]

Benny Cross: The Bikeriders Fantasy

Label Mature 18+

Chapter 1 Handsome Stranger 🔗 Chapter 2 🔗 Chapter 3 🔗 Chapter 4

Summary Heading out late to help spot a friend for cash at a local bar leads you into a den of wolves. Bikers frequent the place intimating you and sexually harassing you as you try to enjoy the evening with you friend. As she gets your drinks leaving you momentarily alone you become so frightened you want to cut the night short and leave. That is until you see the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. Benny, the handsome alluring biker that takes your breath away. The night is filled with wild twists and turns as you navigate your newfound feelings for this attractive stranger in your contrasting worlds.

10k word count

♠️ Passionate Smut ♠️ Slow burn • savior/hero complex•independent female•propositioned by Benny •Benny claiming you•Benny wants to be yours •stimulating make outs• nipple play• oral fem • fingering fem• body worship•extreme orgasms •missionary• raw• creampie • after care

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia 💭 Plot Consultant @austinbutlerfly

Heavily Based on The Bikeriders Movie 🏍️ Inspo: anonymous requests combined 🏍️ •Benny strong silent type •Benny a wanderer/ nomad -reader stable home •Benny submissive to reader •Benny love obsessed w reader •Benny being nurtured/cared for by reader •Recreate meeting Benny + smut •Benny as a gentle/passionate lover *more requests in upcoming chapters*

Handsome Stranger

It is late night and you are at home, alone in the house willed to you by your parents. There is an eerie silence as you do the dishes only hearing the splash of water and the clunk of the plates submerge in the water and hit the basin.

The house is a large two story brick and mortar in the suburbs of Forest Glen, Chicago surrounded by a lush green lawn that you played on as a child. You grew up your entire life here, each room filled with memories of laughter and warmth.

It was a happy home, filled with the smell of your mother’s cooking at supper and the sounds of your father’s music playing softly in his office in the evening as he worked.

Your parents worked hard to create a nurturing environment, and their love was evident in every room of the house.

The day they’re perished was the day your world stopped. You quit your job at the local bookstore and began relying heavily on your friends for emotional support during your time of grief

The house, once a place of joy, became a silent reminder of your loss.

Your parents, both hardworking upper middle class, were dedicated to ensuring your future was secure. Setting up a trust fund and a life insurance policy.

As their only child, you inherited everything after their passing: the family house filled with memories, the cars they had carefully maintained, and your dad’s rental property in the next town over.

With your father being the former Director of Operationsfor Ford Motors and your mother being an accountant they had always prioritized your well being, wanting to provide you with a solid foundation for a successful and stable life.

No longer having their reliable guidance and without needing to work, you found solace in reading books about franchising and exploring potential business ventures, like owning several local laundromats in town, something your father had always wanted to do.

The idea of managing a business intrigued you, offering a sense of purpose and structure in your otherwise free and unoccupied life.

However, your friends, seeing you single and often too invested in your books, worried about your sanity and social well being. They frequently pulled you out to mingle, encouraging you to enjoy yourself and meet new people.

They wanted you to remember that there was more to life than just moping alone with your inherited wealth, they wanted your to find happiness and fulfillment with a husband.

Though you had dated a few men in town, they couldn’t get over the fact that you wouldn’t submit to traditional gender roles. Having your own finances allowed you to readily dismiss them at the first signs of male authority, decideding quickly you would no longer submit to any man.

The times were changing during the late ‘60s, and women were prevalently rebelling against domestication becoming in charge of their own lives. This cultural shift resonated deeply within you, sparking a fierce independence.

As you place a dish in the drying rack, your phone rings in the kitchen. You pull the receiver and press it to your ear and shoulder as you answer. It’s one of your close friends Donna in distress, you can barely hear her above the loud music playing in the background of her location.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to bother you so late. You know I wouldn’t unless I really needed to, but I’m at a bar and I’m short on cash. It’s about five bus stops from your place. Can you come spot me? Maybe have a beer with me? I can pay you back with my check on the first.”

You smile, your friends constantly ask to borrow money here and there, and you are never one to deny them. You understand how hard it is to work nonstop only to have spare change for fun. You balance the phone on your shoulder, the cord stretching across the kitchen as you place the last dish in the drying rack.

“Of course, don’t worry about it,” you say warmly. “I’ll be there in a bit. Which bar are you at?”

She gives you the name and address and you quickly jot it down on a notepad by the phone. It’s in seedier area of town but your friend has always had a knack for finding the hippest places around, so you think nothing of it deciding to join her.

“You can hold off on the beer. I think I’ll have a pop though,” you correct her. Your friend laughs.

“Not at this bar, dress up. The guys are having a meeting here tonight.” she informs you.

“Sure, alright, I’ll dress up,” you say, not entirely sure what she means by the guys meeting up but assuming it’s the usual locals.

You hang up, a small smile playing on your lips. Helping out your friends always brings you a sense of fulfillment. You pull on a lilac colored sleeveless form hugging top with white jeans and platform sandals. Nothing too fancy, but it would definitely draw the male gaze. You check your reflection, admiring your attractive features as you brush your hair, letting it cascade over your shoulders in soft waves.

You pull out a wand of mascara, carefully applying the dark, thick formula to your lashes, enhancing the depth and allure of your eyes then framing them with eyeliner. Next, you glide a rich shade of red lipstick across your full lips, the color making them look even more inviting. You then take a brush and apply a touch of rouge to your cheeks, blending it in for a natural, rosy glow.

Satisfied with your appearance, you give yourself one last approving look turning to check your form in the mirror. You would never head out this late for your safety, but because the bar is nearby and you are meeting a friend, you grab your purse and head out into the midsummer night of Ohio.

The air is warm and filled with the sounds of crickets. The sky is clear, stars twinkling above as you make your way to the bus stop. The bus is still running, and you hop on, finding a seat near the back. The city lights blur past the window as you ride through the familiar streets, your mind wandering to the night’s possibilities. You exit the bus a few stops later, the bar just a short walk away.

The brick building is lit up, neon signs flickering, casting a colorful glow on the sidewalk. You can hear the faint sound of music and conversation from inside. Tons of motorcycles are lined up out front, their chrome accents glinting under the streetlights. The air is filled with the mingled scents of cigarettes and gasoline. The atmosphere is charged, alive with the energy of the night

You take a deep breath and step through the door, scanning the loud crowded bar for your friend. The atmosphere hits you immediately this is not the usual crowd. The bar is filled with rough looking bikers, their leather jackets adorned with patches and insignias. Their faces are rugged, some sporting thick beards and tattoos snaking up their arms and necks. It feels as if the room falls silent for a moment as you walk in, all eyes turned to you, scrutinizing you with a mix of curiosity and predatory interest.

You feel their stares, some of the men openly leering.

“You need a man?” one of them calls out, his voice ripping with insinuation just above the music.

Another smirks and gives you a once over, “Looking for some fun tonight?”

Your heart begins to race, worry creeping in, it’s as if they can sense your unease, like predators sensing prey. You scan the room desperately, searching for your friend. Finally, you spot her waving at you from a corner table, looking both relieved and slightly apologetic.

You make your way through the crowd, the bikers parting reluctantly. Some of them brush against you, while others continue to watch you, their gazes and unwanted touches making your skin prickle.

You reach your friend Donna’s table and slide into the seat next to her, trying to steady your nerves. She is sitting across from a biker who is nursing a beer, his rugged appearance adding to the intimidating atmosphere.

“Hey,” she says softly, clearly aware of the tension in the bar. “Thanks for coming. I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t realize you were gonna dress up this nice…that’s gonna make things a bit more… interesting for you tonight.” She reveals with a grin.

“It’s okay,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Let’s just get you sorted and I’ll head out of here.”

“You should stay a while. These guys are something else,” Donna says as you hand her the money she needs. “You’re the best,” she adds, smiling as she counts it but you can’t help but feel the weight of the bikers’ stares.

This night has turned into something far different than what you expected, and you can’t shake the feeling of being a rabbit in a den of wolves.

The biker across from Donna leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “Name’s Cockroach,” he introduces himself, his voice cheerful and welcoming.

You give him a wary eye, trying to gauge his intentions. “Nice to meet you,” you manage, your voice steady despite the unease swirling inside of you.

Cockroach’s eyes flicker with amusement as he looks you over, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Don’t worry, we don’t bite… much,” he says with a chuckle, his gaze never leaving yours.

Two more bikers approach. One is wearing only a vest, his bare chest exposed, while the wears a heavily stained t-shirt. They both look drunk, their eyes bloodshot and their steps unsteady. They reek of stale beer and cigarettes, clinging to each other as they sway slightly, propping each other up.

“Hey, you-as wants-ta go home with me?” The one in the vest slurs to you, his words barely coherent.

“What about me you wanna live with me? The other chimes in with a grin before taking another swig of his beer. He leans in too close, the overpowering stench of alcohol heavy on his breath

You slightly recoil at their statements, trying to keep your composure.

“No thank you, I’ve got a date. I’ve gotta be home by midnight,” you quickly lie, feeling extremely uneasy and not wanting to engage with either of them.

Cockroach lets out a hearty laugh, the sound rough and loud. “You hear that, boys? Cinderella’s got a date and she’s gotta be home by midnight or else she’ll turn into a pumpkin!” The group erupts into laughter, the sound echoing through the bar.

Cockroach gets up and slaps the shoulders of the two bikers and they wrap their arms around each other as they head to the bar. You watch as they stumble away, their laughter still ringing in your ears.

You look around and begin to notice several of the bikers gathering together, casting glances your way and sharing whispers with one another. Already on edge, you lean towards Donna to warn her. “Look at them, it’s like they’re planning something over there.” You say trying to keep your voice steady but your panic is evident.

She shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about them,” she says trying to reassure you.

“I gotta go,” you say abruptly, the unease becoming too much.

Donna laughs. “Just sit tight. I’ll go get you a drink,” she says and stands up.

You watch her walk away, completely at ease among the bikers, she moves with a casual confidence, even giving a friendly pat on the back to one of the bikers as she passes by. It’s clear she feels comfortable in this environment, blending seamlessly with the rough crowd.

Feeling even more exposed now that you’re alone, the atmosphere feels thicker, the air heavy with the scent of beer, smoke, and something else you can’t quite place.

You glance around nervously, noticing the bikers’ eyes still lingering on you, their whispers becoming more apparent.

You can see them watching you now, their gazes more intense and predatory, their eyes following your every move, making your skin prickle with unease.

You quickly stand, clutching your purse, scanning the bar for your friend to head out to leave, and that’s when you see him the most physically stunning man you ever laid eyes on.

He is at the pool table, standing stoically with his hands resting on the edge. His broad shoulders and muscular frame are hard to miss, accentuated by a sleeveless black shirt. His presence commands the room, and despite the rough crowd around him, he stands out with an air of calm authority.

For a moment, everything else fades away. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooding your senses. You watch him, mesmerized by his effortless confidence and the magnetism.

He gazes down, seemingly lost in thought, and when he looks up, you get a full view of his handsome face in every detail. His piercing blue eyes that look like they could see right through you, a head of thick tousled sandy brown hair, a rugged goatee surrounding his full enticing lips, and a strong, chiseled jaw . You feel a thrill shoot right through you, his looks take your breath away.

His eyes slowly lock onto yours, and it’s as if he can sense every bit of your attraction for him. His gaze intensifies, showing a clear desire for you in return. He straightens up, revealing his towering height and makes his way over to you with determination in his stride.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you feel a rush of excitement and nervousness as you sit back down, almost in a daze, watching the confident way he approaches your table.

He turns the chair across from you around backwards and slowly sits revealing every detail of his chiseled muscular arms as he casually rests them on the edge.

“I’m Benny,” he says, his voice soft and rich like honey.

Your voice comes out weaker than you intend as you respond, “hello…”

He stares at you intensely and though you try to meet his gaze, your eyes keep wandering down to his chiseled muscular arms and back up to the handsome features of his face.

He studies every detail of you in return his blue eyes slowly trailing over your body. His eyes tracing the line of your neck, lingering on the delicate skin there, before moving to your full, red lips. He continues up to your eyes, his stare deep and inviting, never breaking contact in a testament to his desire for you.

The intensity of his gaze makes your skin begin to tingle and your heart race. You’ve never been stared at in such a way. Despite your nervousness, you find that you like his unwavering attention, it makes you feel desired and alive in a way you’ve never felt before.

Summoning all of your courage, you finally regain the ability to speak.

“What are we doing here, just shooting the breeze?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. Your voice wavering, betraying the nervous excitement inside of you.

Benny’s smile widens, a beautiful smile that captivates you entirely. “I guess so,” he answers, his eyes never leaving yours.

When Benny doesn’t continue the conversation, a thick silence settles between you two. His eyes gaze into yours with an unspoken longing that makes your heart race and the intensity of the moment becomes overwhelming.

“Benny… I’ve gotta go home,” you relent, watching as his demeanor changes.

“Oh…okay” Benny responds the sadness flickering in his beautiful eyes, his deep voice tinged with disappointment.

His gaze lingers a moment longer before he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright,” he says, a knowing smile on his lips, his voice still that soft, intoxicating murmur. “You gotta go,” he echos.

When he rises from the chair and walks away, your heart is pounding as your eyes follow his every move. You know you won’t forget your encounter with Benny anytime soon.

Just as Benny leaves, another biker sits down in front of you, taking his place. His presence is commanding and intense, exuding seniority.

His appearance is cleaner than the others; his black hair is slicked back neatly, and his stern face exudes authority. He wears a neat black button up tee with white etching along the seams, giving him a polished yet intimidating look. His sharp eyes, slightly narrowed, survey you with a calculating gaze.

“I’m already spoken for,” you announce,knowing in your heart you are already drawn to Benny.

The biker gives you a knowing look. “Don’t worry,” he says with casual confidence.

“Don’t worry about what?” you shoot back, wanting to deter any of his advances.

“I’m Johnny, the president of this club,” he says beaming with pride before continuing. “The guys, they just want t’have some fun. But I’m not gonna let nothing happen to ya,” he says with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“What’s was going to happen to me?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

Johnny leans back, his eyes steady on yours. “Nothin’,” he reassures you but his eyes shift.

As he studies your demeanor you realize it must be very late and excuse yourself.

“It was nice to meet you, Johnny, but I’ve really gotta go,” you say politely , and look around the bar for Donna to say your goodbyes. When you are unable to find her a slight panic sets in, and Johnny watches as you hurriedly leave the table the rise in your nerves evident.

Leaving is more difficult than coming in. More bikers have come to the bar, making you have to weave through the crowd. You are groped several times, slapping a hand or two away on your way out as they yell sexually suggestive advances.

“Hey, sweetheart, where you going in such a hurry?” one calls out, his eyes raking over you.

“Don’t be shy, honey, come sit on my lap,” another one jeers, reaching out to grab your wrist.

“Why leave so soon? The night’s just getting started,” a third biker says, his hand grazing your lower back.

“Let me show you a real good time,” one whispers in your ear, making your skin crawl.

You push through the throng of men, your heart pounding and your breath coming in short, panicked bursts. As you finally make it to the door, the catcalls and whistles follow you out into the night.

You don’t stop moving until you are a safe distance across the street at the bus stop. You look down at your white pants, now covered in their dirty black handprints,

“Disgusting!” you scoff, trying in vain to wipe the grit of their handprints off.

The bus is taking longer than usual, and you feel an uneasiness settle in. The street lamps and the distant sounds from the bar offer some comfort, but you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

That’s when you see Benny leaving the bar, his calm commanding presence exuding an aura of confidence. He focuses on lighting his cigarette as he walks, moving with a fluid grace that makes you stall, looking at him in admiration.

His leather biker jacket accentuates his strong shoulders, and his jeans highlight his confident stride. As he lights the cigarette, smoke billows from his mouth. He walks to his bike a short distance in front of you, seemingly unaware of your presence.

He swings his leg over his bike and kick starts it, taking a pull of his cigarette before looking over his shoulder at you, revealing that he knew you were there the entire time. You smile, but it quickly fades as your eyes are drawn the group of loud bikers leaving the bar. They immediately see you standing alone at the bus stop.

That’s when it hits you, and fear rushes in. The bus isn’t coming anymore; it’s too late.

“Oh no,” you mutter, walking quickly down the pavement. But they bound toward you, surrounding you almost instantly, pressing you around you and jeering as you walk.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” one of them sneers, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“Come on, darling, don’t be shy,” another says, his hand reaching out to touch your hair.

You slap his hand away, your heart racing with fear. “Alright alright !” you respond to knock their lewd advances, but your voice wavers, betraying your terror.

The night air feels suffocating with their laughter echoing in your ears.

Just as your situation seems dire, you catch a glimpse of Benny on his bike, watching the scene unfold, the cigarette hanging from his lips.

His eyes lock onto yours, and he gestures for you to come to him. Summoning all your courage, you push through the men, ignoring their jeers and grabs, and rush towards Benny. You climb onto the back of his motorcycle and hug onto him tightly as if your life depends on it.

Benny flicks his cigarette away, the ember glowing briefly before fading into the night. The bikers begin hollering and shouting.

“Looks like Benny’s got himself a prize!” one yells, his voice ripping above the others.

“Yeah Benny! Take her! Take her!” another yells as they begin to holler and cheer. The rest of the bikers and their ladies spill out of the closing bar and into the street, joining in, their voices rising in the night air with whistling and hollering.

Benny’s demeanor remains calm and composed, but you can feel the tension in his muscles as he revs the engine. The powerful roar of the motorcycle drowns out the bikers’ voices, but you can still hear their laughter and shouts in the background. Benny’s hand reaches back to gently squeeze your arm, reassuring you.

“Hold on tight,” he says, his voice steady and firm.

You cling to him even tighter, pressing your face against his back, the leather of his jacket cool against your cheek.

Benny kicks the bike into gear and peels out onto the street, leaving the jeering crowd behind.

You’ve never been on a bike before and find it exhilarating as the wind rushes past you as the motorcycle accelerates, making the street lights blur into streaks of light.

With each passing second, the distance between you and the bar grows, the noise of the bikers fading into the night. Benny maneuvers the bike with skill and precision, navigating the streets effortlessly. You begin to relax slightly, the fear slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of safety and gratitude.

After a few minutes, Benny slows down and turns onto a quieter street. He eventually stops the bike in front of another bar, this one open later into the night. The neon sign casts a warm glow on the pavement, inviting you inside. He turns off the engine and looks back at you, his intense eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

You nod, “Yes, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”

Benny helps you off the bike and stands by your side, his presence comforting.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, his voice calm and reassuring.

You nod again, feeling a wave of relief. “Yes, that would be nice.”

He leads you into the bar, the dim lighting and the low hum of conversation providing a stark contrast to the dark, tense night you’ve just escaped.

The air is filled with the scent of beer and the soft strains of blues music playing on the jukebox. You follow Benny to a booth in a quieter corner, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude for your unexpected savior.

As you sit down, Benny signals the bartender for a couple of drinks. He sits across from you, his gaze steady and reassuring. “You’re safe here,” he says, his voice calm. “Just take a moment to breathe.”

You nod, taking a deep breath and trying to steady your nerves. The warmth and relative quiet of the bar help you start to relax, the events of the night slowly fading into the background as you focus on the present, feeling grateful for Benny’s timely intervention.

The bartender brings over two cold beers, placing them on the table. Benny takes a sip, then looks at you with a smoldering gaze.

“Those guys back there, they’re my crew,” he says casually. “and you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve ever laid eyes on.” He admits.

You blush, feeling both flattered and a bit wary. “Well, they have an interesting way of showing it,” you reply, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

Benny chuckles softly. “Yeah, they’re rough around the edges, but they know not to mess with someone I’m looking out for.”

You take a sip of your beer, feeling the cold liquid soothe your nerves. “Thanks for that. I was really scared back there.”

Benny’s expression softens. “You don’t have to thank me.“

You both sit in silence for moment until you come up with a question you’ve been curious about.

“What’s it like being a biker?” You ask.

Benny leans back, considering your question. “It’s freedom,” he says, his voice thoughtful. “No schedules, no bosses. Just the open road and my bike. I go where I want, when I want. There’s nothing like it.”

“Where do you live?” you ask.

Benny smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “Wherever the road takes me,” he replies. “I’ve got places I crash, friends’ houses, motels, sometimes just under the stars. Home is the ride.”

“What about you?” he asks, looking you over with curiosity in his eyes.

“I’m from Forest Glen,” you admit with a bit of hesitation.

“Fancy,” he says, lifting his eyebrows with a grin.

The heat rises to your face as your cheeks blush, feeling self conscious from his correct assumption.

“Well, your life sounds very entertaining, Benny,” you admit, taking in his rugged charm, admiring his sense of freedom and independence.

Benny’s eyes soften as he looks at you. “It can be. But it’s not for everyone. It’s rough and unpredictable. You have to be ready for anything.”

You nod, taking another sip of your beer. The differences between your structured life and his free spirited existence fascinates to you, drawing you even deeper into irresistible allure.

You share two more beers together, talking about your vastly contrasting interests. You, fascinated by his wild, unpredictable life, while he listens intently as you describe the comforts of home, your love for quiet evenings with a good book and the security of a routine. Hours go by, the conversation flowing easily between you two, until you glance at the clock above the bar seeing its 4am.

“Oh wow, Benny, we’ve been out all night. I didn’t even notice the time until now.”

He glances at you with a hint of reluctance, “You gotta go?” he asks not wanting the night to end.

You nod reluctantly. “Yeah, it’s really late Benny.”

“Let’s get you home, then,” he says, standing up and signaling the bartender. He pays for the drinks, and you follow him out of the bar, feeling a mix of contentment and excitement.

Outside, the night air is cool and refreshing, as Benny leads you to his bike. He stands next to it for a moment, adjusting his gloves and giving the machine a once over. With a swift, practiced motion, he swings his leg over the seat and settles in.

He grips the kick starter firmly, and gives it a powerful thrust. The engine roars to life, the sound reverberating through the quiet night. Satisfied, he looks over to you and extends his hand, helping you climb onto the back. “Hold on to me,” he says gently.

This time, as you wrap your arms around him you let your hands wander down, marveling at the strength and solidity of his body as you hold his waist. As the engine roars to life you imagine that he’s yours and that this connection between you is something real and lasting.

You press close against his back, feeling the warmth and firmness of him. The vibrations from the engine travel through you, heightening your senses. Soon you’re off, the streets blurring past as Benny navigates the quiet roads to your home. The city lights twinkle above, as the wind rushes past you, carrying a newfound sense of excitement for Benny.

The ride is exhilarating, the powerful machine beneath you and the feeling of Benny’s solid form in front of you providing comfort. The journey is smooth, and you feel safe, trusting Benny completely as he takes you home.

Eventually, he slows down, pulling up in front of your house. He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is almost startling. You reluctantly let go, dismounting from the bike.

“Thank you, Benny. For everything,” you say, looking to him.

He smiles, his eyes warm and genuine.

You linger for a moment, neither of you wanting the night to end. Finally, you turn to head inside, but before you go, you look back at him one last time.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” you suggest, feeling a bit bold.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his smile widening.

With that, you head inside, a sense of warmth and excitement building within you. Once in doors you watch from the window as Benny starts his bike and rides off into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance. As you lock the front door you realize that tonight was the beginning of something new and unexpected in your life.

Do You Want Me?

Just as you hang your purse on the entry rack you hear the familiar sound of Bennys bike retuning. The loud rumbling suddenly cutting off.

You pull back the curtain of the front door window and notice he’s parked himself across the street. Confused you watch him pull off his riding gloves and dismount from his bike, taking a carton of cigarettes out with his lighter sparking one up, sitting calmly against his bike to smoke it.

You assume he’s waiting for someone and head upstairs. Once in your bedroom you click on the lamp and begin to unwind from the night. You take off your platform sandals one at a time, placing them in the shoe rack, feeling relief as your feet touch the cool floor.

You remove your crop top, letting it fall to the floor, then shimmy out of your white jeans, revealing your panties and bra. With a quick motion, you slip off your bra and step out of your panties, placing all the items in the hamper.

You turn on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up, then step inside. The hot water cascades over your body, washing away the stress and grime of the evening. You let the water soothe your muscles, closing your eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

After a moment, you step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a soft towel. You brush your teeth, the minty freshness a stark contrast to the taste of beer lingering from the bar.

Feeling refreshed, you slip into a comfortable nightgown and lie down in your soft bed. You can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, especially the moments with Benny. His charm and protective nature leaving a lasting impression on you.

Suddenly you sit up, curiosity getting the better of you and walk over to your bedroom window pulling the curtain aside, half-expecting to see an empty street. To your surprise, Benny is still there, leaning casually against his bike, his gaze fixed on your house.

“He’s still here?” you whisper to yourself, a mix of surprise and confusion flooding your thoughts. “What is he waiting for?”

You watch him for a moment, feeling a mix of curiosity and excitement. His presence outside your home feels both unexpected and oddly reassuring. You look at the clock on your dresser seeing it’s 5: 50 am and wonder why he hasn’t left yet and what he could be thinking.

Unable to resist, you throw on a robe and quietly make your way downstairs. The cool night air greets you as you open the front door and step outside. Benny looks up, his eyes locking onto yours, and a small, knowing smile spreads across his lips.

“Benny, what are you still doing here, are you guarding my house all night?” You tease and he chuckles before pulling a drag from his cigarette.

“I guess so,” he says, smiling as he exhales. His smile is so beautiful that it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Do… you have some place your supposed to be?” you ask, curiosity mingling with the undeniable attraction you feel toward him.

“Not till later,” he responds casually, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes you smile.

The first light of dawn begins to creep over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the street.

“The sun’s coming up, Benny,” you observe and he glances over, squinting as he takes in the view of the rising sun.

“How about I make you breakfast?” you suggest with a grin.

Benny looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours as his smile widens. “I’d like that,” he says.

He stands and flicks his cigarette as he approaches your house, and you watch his confident stride as he stretches his arms relieving his sore muscles from sitting on his bike for so long.

He stops just in front of you, his presence commanding yet comforting. He looks you in the eyes, a hint of something playful in his gaze.

“You want to go to a meeting with me today?” he asks.

Surprised, you blink. “A meeting? What kind of meeting?”

“It’s just something with my club,” he says, his tone casual but inviting. “Thought you might like to see what it’s all about.”

You feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of experiencing his biker lifestyle firsthand. Your earlier interest in him only intensifies. “I’d like that, Benny,” you say with a grin,

“Good,” he says, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

You invite Benny inside just as the sun starts filling your kitchen with early morning light. Benny looks around your place, impressed, his fingers trailing along the countertop in the kitchen, taking in the affluent atmosphere.

“You’ve got a great setup here,” he remarks, his eyes wandering over the well kept place.

“Thanks,” you say, grinning as you gather the items to make him breakfast. “It’s been a lot of work to keep it this way, but it’s worth it,” you admit.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” he murmurs, his eyes wandering over the curves of your body, knowing you’re too focused on your tasks to notice his provocative gaze.

You smile from his remark as you start your routine, putting on a kettle of water for tea and beginning to make scrambled eggs.

You crack two more for Benny and retrieve the bacon from the fridge setting it in the second skillet, the sizzle filling the kitchen with a the delicious aroma. Grabbing a loaf of bread, you pop a few slices into the toaster to make him a full meal.

As you move around the kitchen, Benny rests back against a counter, admiring you work. His presence is both comforting and intriguing. You can feel his eyes following your every movement, adding a layer of warmth to the room.

The eggs fluff up nicely in the pan, as the smell of bacon wafts through the air

You look back at him and see he has a grin on his face clearly enjoying being made a hot meal.

“Go in the dining room Benny and I’ll bring your plate when it’s ready,” you say sweetly and he shyly smiles happy to do as he’s told.

The kettle whistles, and you pour the hot water into a set of cups, letting the tea bags steep. The toast pops up, and you butter the slices, placing them on a plate alongside the bacon and eggs. You bring everything to the table, and set his plate down in in front of him arranging everything with care.

He looks up at you with admiration in his eyes, and you respond with a warm smile. His gaze then shifts to the food you’ve prepared, his expression softens with deep gratitude as he takes in the sight of the meal you made for him.

You step away momentarily to bring the tea cups, carefully placing one beside him and then setting yours down next to your plate.

He waits for you to sit across from him and, only after you take your first bite of food, does he begin eating. His fork scrapes the plate several times as he hungrily eats.

“This is one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time,” he compliments, and you smile, watching him continue to enjoy each bite.

You begin to study him closely noticing he must be starving and tired. His scent is heavily tinged with cigarettes, his hands are calloused, his fingernails are covered in grit and his sandy brown hair is heavy with oil.

Noticing his rugged appearance, you suddenly realize that Benny doesn’t have a place to call home, a place to be cared for and comforted and your heartstrings tug for him.

“Benny “ you ask softly watching him eat his last bites of foods. “Would you like to shower here? Maybe have a rest on the sofa before we go to this meeting of yours ?” you offer gently.

Benny looks up from his empty plate, a mix of gratitude and surprise in his eyes. “That would be great actually,” he admits, his voice softening.

You smile warmly, feeling a sense of satisfaction being able to care for him.

You clear the table and he takes his jacket off draping it over his chair, revealing the definition of his strong, muscular arms in his sleeveless shirt.

Seeing him getting comfortable sets you at ease, and you smile as you make your way over to him. “Will you follow me upstairs so I can show you to the shower, Benny?” you ask, and he slowly grins, his face lighting up in the way that sends a warmth through you.

“Yea I’ll follow you” he says his voice carrying a mix of gratitude and anticipation.

He follows you up the stairs, his heavy footsteps behind yours, and you lead him down the hallway, your own footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house.

Stopping at the linen closet, you pull out a fresh set of towels and hand them to him. He takes a moment, bringing the soft fabric to his face and inhaling the scent, appreciating the clean, comforting smell of fresh laundry.

You pull a toothbrush and a bar of soap from the closet, placing them on top of the towels as he lowers them slightly.

“The bathroom is just on the left,” you say, pointing the way. “I’ll be in my room tidying up and getting ready. If you need anything, just knock.”

“Thank you,” he says, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. “I really appreciate this.”

You smile, touched by his appreciation. “It’s no problem at all, you’re my guest.”

He glances down, then back up at you, his eyes softening. “You really didn’t have to any of this.”

“I wanted to Benny” you reply softly.

You give him a reassuring smile, and he returns it with a grateful look before heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You head to your bedroom and close the door. Hearing the shower start you feel a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing you’re able to care for him.

You tidy up your room and begin to get dressed, choosing a loose fitting shirt and denim jeans, assuming you’re going to be with the same rowdy group of bikers he was with yesterday. Before you put your socks and shoes on there is a knock at your door.

You open it to find Benny standing in the hallway, half naked, wearing only the towel. His well defined physique catches you off guard, and your breath hitches at the sight of his muscular body.

His defined abs glisten, and his broad chest rises and falls with each breath, his hand gripping the towel beneath the deep v-line of his waist. He looks refreshed and more relaxed. His hair, now clean and slightly damp, falls in soft waves around his face that radiates with a newfound vitality. You momentarily lose your voice, captivated by how attractive he looks.

“What would you like me to do with my clothing?” he asks gently, helping you refocus.

“Y-you can bring them to me, Benny,” you say,still in shock at the perfection of his body. He collects his clothing and brings the pile to you. Quickly grabbing a hamper, you place his clothing inside.

“Let’s go down and get these washed for you,” you announce, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“Thank you,” he says smiling again, and as you walk downstairs, he follows you. Still in the towel, holding it at his waist. As you reach the base of the stairs, you can’t help but look back and notice how the towel clings to his muscular form, each step emphasizing every contour of his physique.

You sigh dreamily and gesture him toward the living room. “Why don’t you relax on the sofa while I head to the laundry room,” you offer.

Benny nods, and you watch as he enters the living room looking the place over. He sits down on the sofa, adjusting his towel before resting back, his muscular arms outstretched against the plush cushions, enjoying the comfort.

“Do you need anything?” you ask kindly, wanting to ensure he’s comfortable.

“No, this is perfect,” he says, giving you a grateful smile.

You nod and head to the laundry room, feeling a sense of satisfaction being able to help him. As you start the washer, you can’t help but think about how different your lives are and yet how connected you feel to him in this moment.

As you pour the detegent in, the morning sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room and it dawns on you, you’re falling deeply for Benny.

When you head back to the living room, you find him studying a framed picture of your family on the mantle. “These your folks?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer slowly.

“Where do they live?” he asks.

“They passed away Benny,” you say, your voice somber. His face falls in shock, realizing his mistake.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stammers.

“It’s alright. It’s been some time, but I do miss them terribly,” you admit, your voice softer.

His eyes gloss over with sadness for you. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories,” he says gently.

“Benny it’s fine, I’ll be alright .” you say with a reassuring smile.

He looks around at the living room, taking in his surroundings.

“You live by yourself in this big house?” he asks, his eyes scanning the place, noting the quietness.

You nod. “Yes, it’s just me now. It’s a lot of space for one person, but it’s home,” you say, offering a small smile.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze returning to yours, filled with a mix of admiration and concern. “It must get lonely sometimes,” he says softly.

“It does,” you admit, and then you fall silent, lost in thought realizing that you’ve willingly let Benny—a man you just met tonight— into your home and now he’s standing in your living room, nearly naked, wrapped in a towel.

The reality of the situation hits you hard and you are surprised by your own actions, you would never willingly allow a handsome stranger into your home, let alone someone you barely know, but with Benny somehow its different.

His presence reassures you. The way he looks at you with genuine care and concern, the kindness in his eyes, his gentle yet commanding demeanor, all make you feel safe with him in a way you have never felt before.

He captivates you with his powerful presence, a mix of beauty and raw strength exuding a sense of protection and confidence that is impossible to ignore. As you watch him, standing nearly naked in your living room, you can’t help but feel a surge of admiration and desire.

You look at his perfect body again, your gaze lingering on his broad, chiseled chest, his heavily defined muscular arms, and finally settling on his ridged abs, each one perfectly sculpted, narrowing down to his sculpted waist. His entire body exudes strength. The sight of him standing in your living room takes your breath away.

The truth of your motives comes to the surface as your eyes linger on him longer than you intended and you feel a surge warmth spread through you, a magnetic pull that makes it hard to look away anymore . Feeling a mixture of desire and curiosity that you’ve never felt before you begin to realize you invited him in to do more than just to care for him.

Benny catches your lingering stare, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and you can see the spark of desire in his eyes as he takes a step closing the distance between you.

“What do we do while we wait for the laundry?” he asks, his voice low and sultry. Your heart flutters, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the desire building between the two of you.

“I-I hadn’t thought about that,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

As he steps closer you instinctively move back, bumping into the bookshelf behind you. The sudden movement causes a book to tumble off the shelf and hit the floor with a soft thud.

He kneels down to pick it up, and you catch a glimpse of his cock, sending a thrill straight through you. It is long and thick, the biggest you’ve ever seen, stretching impressively down his thigh. Utterly impressed you quickly cover your mouth.

He doesn’t take notice and reads the title of the book he’s picked up.

“Business Franchising,” he says, grinning as he stands. “Is this yours ?” He asks and you slowly nod, slightly trembling unable to form words from what you just witnessed.

“You’re smart .” He confirms looking into your eyes with a satisfied grin.

His muscular arm extends to push the fallen book back into the slot next to your head and his closeness is intoxicating. He sees your hesitation, your head lowered as you avoid looking at him in such close proximity.

He doesn’t back down, instead, he gently tilts your chin up with his fingers, guiding your eyes to meet his. His gaze is intense and unwavering, filled with an unspoken understanding and desire. As you stare into his eyes, he searches deeply into yours, making it impossible to look away.

“I never thanked you properly,” he says softly, his eyes darkening with a mix of gratitude and longing.

The heat radiating from his body and the scent of him, fresh from the shower, fills your senses. He’s intoxicating to you, and the longer you stare into his beautiful, mesmerizing blue eyes, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, his voice deep and filled with emotion. The intensity of his gaze is magnetic, drawing you in completely and his breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting as his lips move closer.

The world around you falls away as his full lips slowly brush against yours and you feel the spark ignite between you, a deep and passionate connection that sends waves of heat through your body. He kisses you slowly and deliberately savoring every moment of his lips on yours with an unspoken desire.

His hand gently cups your jaw and his fingers trace the contours of your face as you feel the warmth of his palm against your skin.

His other large hand grasps your waist pulling you flush against him making you feel as if your heart will explode from the overwhelming mix of emotions.

Bennys lips move against yours slowly devouring you as you lose yourself in the sensation, feeling an incredible sense of connection to him. His kiss is filled with a longing and desire that promises so much more.

Feeling a firmness press against your thigh, you break the kiss, peering down to see his substantial erection hard against you. Looking back into his eyes you see his intent.

“Benny,” you shakily whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment. “We should take it slow,” you manage to say, but as the words leave your mouth, he stares at your lips with a fierce longing before looking back into your eyes. His breaths are heavy and uneven, his desire for you is intense, as if he’s fighting to hold himself back but wanting to give you more.

You slowly place your hand on his chest, trying to calm him, but his eyes search yours, filled with lust his need is evident and the intensity of the moment is fierce as you fight your reservations.

Quickly, you turn from his grasp and walk to the kitchen, creating a distance between you to force the thought of stripping the towel off of him from your mind. You want to date Benny properly, not get swept away in a moment of passion.

“I want you,” Benny admits following you closely.

“You make me feel differently than anyone ever has,” he reveals, not even giving you a moment to cool down.

“When I’m with you, it’s like everything else fades away and I’ve never felt this way before.” He confesses.

Your mind is overwhelmed with desire for him as you listen to his words, your eyes looking around the kitchen, frantically searching for anything you can do to preoccupy yourself.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says closer, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much.”

You reach the sink and grip the edge, feeling Benny’s presence behind you, and he presses himself against you, his strong arms encircling you, trapping you between him and the counter. The firmness of his hard body pushing against yours makes a gasp of pleasure escape your lips, and he gently turns you around to face him, his eyes searching yours.

His eyes fall to your lips, then lift back to meet your gaze. “I need you,” he confesses, his voice soft and genuine, filled with a depth of longing and desire that takes your breath away.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you process his words. The desperation in his eyes, the way he stands so close, everything about him in this moment is charged with a raw sexual energy and without a second thought, you reach up and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a rush of heat and need.

His body responds immediately, his large hands gripping around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. His lips meld with yours full of passion as all the pent up tension between you two finally falls away.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a mix of gratitude and desire. “Since I first… laid eyes on you.” He admits between kisses.

You nod, breathless, your hands exploring his muscular chest.

“..Yes….Benny ” you pant, feeling his strong arms envelop you knowing that this moment, this connection, is something you both desperately need.

He kisses you deeply, tilting his head and roughly capturing your mouth, his strong hands wandering down your back making you feel cherished in his arms.

Each caress and press of his lips deepens your connection flooding you with emotions you’ve never felt before.

His towel falls away, and you feel his hard length press against you making you softly moan.

He pulls his lips from yours and kisses down your neck, holding you firmly yet tenderly as you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your throat.

“How do you want me?” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with desire as he continues his trail of soft kisses. Your heart pounds with longing and nervous anticipation.

“..Benny,” you say, breathing heavily, feeling the hardness of his full erection pressing against you.

“W-we should wait,” you gasp.

He leans back to look at you, his eyes filled with a serious depth of devotion. “I want you,” he says with unwavering conviction, “and I want to be yours.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your reservations. “I want you too, Benny,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His hands travel up tenderly pushing under your top and pulling it over your head before he discards it to the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on the sight of you undressed for the first time. His large hands cup your full breasts with reverence, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

His lips brush over your sensitive skin, kissing your soft nipples making you ache with desire. His tongue slips out, gently flicking and swirling around the buds until they are hard and sensitive.

Then, his mouth descends, lavishing attention on them and you gasp as he alternates between each breast, sucking and kissing gently, his hand continuing to caress and knead the other. His rough touch contrasting perfectly with the softness of his mouth.

When he pulls back, his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. His hands holding your waist as he slowly lowers down on his knees in front of you, making your breath hitch.

His hands slide up your thighs unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them all the way down, the cool air contrasting sharply with the heat of your skin

His lips trail soft tantalizing kisses up your thigh.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against your skin stopping shy of your panties. He slowly pushes his hand between your legs feeling you already soaked through for him and hums in satisfaction.

“Benny.. I haven’t done anything like this before …” you pant growing more overwhelmed by the second knowing he’s going to perform oral on you.

“I’ll go slow“ he promises and delicately slides your panties off, trailing kisses down your navel to your wet heat.

“I want to please every part of you,” he vows, his voice deep and filled with satisfaction as his hands grip your hips, holding you steady. “I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin as his mouth descends.

The first touch of his wet tongue against your clit sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you gasp.

“Oh god, Benny!” you cry out, the softness of his mouth latching sending jolts of pleasure directly to your core. His warm slick tongue begins to lick expertly, exploring every inch of your folds as his facial hair grazes against your thighs making you clench. You look down at him, your breaths hitching as you watch him devour you with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

“F-feels so good Benny” you whisper, your voice shaking with pleasure.

His tongue explores deeper into your folds, and you moan desperately, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The new experience is overwhelming, the sensation heightening to a level you’ve never known.

His tongue flicks circles of precision on every stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body unraveling you under his skilled touch.

He laps at your clit, alternating between gentle licks and firm flicks, driving you insane with lust. His eyes, dark with hunger, suddenly lock onto yours, and the sight of him dedicated to giving you such pleasure makes you tremble, becoming completely undone.

His hands grip your hips tighter, anchoring you in place as his tongue delves deeper, tasting you, exploring your inner walls. You can feel the vibrations of his satisfied hums against your most intimate parts as his facial hair brushes roughly against you. The intensity of the moment takes your breath away, and you begin moaning uncontrollably, surrendering completely to the ecstasy he’s giving you.

He brings his hand from your hip, slipping one long, thick finger inside of you. Feeling the roughness of his fingertip against your soft sensitive inner walls makes you clench as an intense moan to escape your lips.

Chills cover the expanse of your body as his tongue and lips, swirl and flick against your clit with precise timing as his finger slips in and out of your sensitive inner walls.

“Benny…please…Benny“ you moan incoherently losing control of your mind, the arousal completely taking over as you lose yourself to him.

He adds a second finger inside of you and the stretch is deliciously overwhelming, your walls contract around his fingers as they move in and out with a steady rhythm. He curls his fingers inside you, hitting a perfect spot that makes you gasp and arch your back.

“Benny oh god! ” you cry out your hands trembling as you grip his hair painfully. He moans loudly against your folds and you savor the vibration of his voice sending a jolt straight through your core.

You begin to high-pitch moan, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as your orgasm builds.

His tongue licks broad strokes and quick flicks against your clit while he fingers you making you see stars.

“Benny your… gonna…make me come like this” you relent your thighs trembling as you try to endure every powerful sensation.

Your walls rhythmically contract around his thrusting fingers and the pleasure becomes too much to bear. You let out a desperate cry, your hips bucking softly against his mouth as your orgasm crashes over you. You moan, your voice trembling in ecstasy,

“Benny you made me come!” you cry out as waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you light-headed and breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

He continues to gently lick your clit, deliberately slowing the movements of his fingers inside of you, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure until finally, you collapse back, catching your breath as your body tingles with the aftershocks of your intense release.

You pant, staring down at him in awe as he slides his fingers from you and into his mouth, tasting your wetness. He smiles and the sight of him savoring you sends a shiver through your body.

“Benny you’re incredible,” you say in astonishment.

He rises and stands to look at you, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he confesses his voice thick with emotion as his hand trails along your waist. “I will do everything to satisfy you” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto yours with an intense longing to please.

You feel warmth spread across your body at his words. “Take me the bedroom,” you say breathless, eager to see more of what he can do. You want him to take all the time in the world on you, feeling every part of you. His intense gaze remains locked on yours as he smiles at your request taking your hand and guiding you to the staircase.

As you walk up the stairs, you continue to steal glances at him. His strong, chiseled physique is mesmerizing, every muscle perfectly sculpted and radiating raw strength. The sight of his impressive erect cock heightens your anticipation even more.

His hand remains intertwined with yours, the roughness of his calloused fingers a stark contrast to the tender way he holds you.

Entering your bedroom, the morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Benny closes the door behind you, and you can feel the charged atmosphere enveloping you both. He turns to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

He leans in, capturing your lips with his, as his hands begin to explore your body. You feel his warmth, the firmness of his muscles pressing against you, as he gently guides you toward the bed. He lays you down carefully, his touch both tender and possessive.

Benny’s lips trail down your neck, planting soft kisses along your collarbone and further down to your chest. His hands caress your sides, memorizing every curve your body. The feeling of his touch, combined with the lingering sensations from your previous climax, sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

He takes his time, his lips and hands worshiping your body as if it were sacred. You feel his breath against your skin, the warmth of his kisses, and the gentle firm pressure of his hands. Your mind is clouded with desire, every touch and caress heightening your need for him.

Benny grabs your hips, pulling you to him with a roughness that sends a thrill through you.

As he finally positions himself over you, his eyes meet yours, and you see a mixture of lust and something deeper, a connection that transcends words.

He looks over your body, his gaze lingering on your curves, taking in every detail with a mix of admiration and desire until there is a moment of pause, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“My condoms are in my bike,” he realizes, his voice thick with need and before he can move to retrieve them you gently touch his wrist.

“I’m on Enovid,” you smile softly.

He blinks, confusion flickering across his face. “What’s envoid?”

“It’s a pill, I can’t get pregnant,” you explain

“Not ever?” he says and you smile gently as you see the initial panic in his eyes. You reach up, touching his face tenderly.

“If I stop taking it, I can easily become pregnant Benny.”

His eyes widen in realization. “I can… come in you?”

“Yes, Benny,” you affirm, your voice low and sultry, your eyes showing a dark seduction that makes his breath catch.

He stares at you in astonishment.

“This will be my first time… without a condom,” he confesses, a slight vulnerability in his eyes that makes your heart swell.

You smile reassuringly, caressing his cheek. “It’s okay, Benny. I trust you.”

His expression softens, and he leans down to kiss you deeply, his lips pressing against yours with a newfound intensity.

He positions himself at your entrance and the anticipation is almost unbearable. You can feel the heat of his body, the weight of him above you, and the hardness of his cock poised to enter you.

Slowly, he pushes in and you moan feeling every inch of him, the feel of his cock is intense as he deeply stretches you full of him.

He feels your tight walls taking him in, the sensation is a blend of pleasure and intimacy, he’s never experienced before making his breath hitch.

“You feel…. -So …good,” he groans, his voice filled with pleasure and awe as his eyes close immediately. His brows furrow in concentration as he savors the feeling of your slick, tight walls surrounding him. Every inch of him feels alive, every nerve ending tingling with the raw, powerful sensation of being inside you.

The warmth of his body against yours, the rhythm of his breathing, and the way he opens his eyes looking Into yours all combine to create a profoundly intimate moment.

He begins moving with slow measured thrusts, savoring the feeling of being inside you without any barriers

“Benny you’re …so deep” you gasp your voice trembling with pleasure feeling every inch of his hard cock thrust into you completely.

Benny’s eyes lock onto yours, his expression filled with raw desire and tenderness.

“I want you to feel all of me,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion.

You moan from his words, the connection between you deepening with each thrust as he picks up the pace, his cock sliding in powerfully driving into you with a rhythm that leaves you breathless. His eyes never leave yours and you can see the raw emotion in his gaze.

“Am I making you feel good?” he rasps, his voice filled with a mix of desire and tenderness.

“Yes Benny, yes,” you moan, your voice trembling with pleasure.

His eyes darken with passion as he breathes, his movements becoming more intense.

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” he confesses. “I can’t get enough” he rasps. The warmth of your slick, walls grip his cock tightly, the skin to skin sensation, sending intense waves of pleasure through his entire being.

“Am I yours?” he questions, thrusting harder,“Do you want me?” he asks, his eyes desperately searching yours as you get lost in the overwhelming sensation of his large cock driving deep into your tight walls.

“Yes, Benny yes!,” you cry out, your body arching against his. “I’m yours, I want you!” you moan, clenching around him, the pleasure intensifying with every thrust of his large cock.

“I’m yours then,” he pants as he continues to thrust into you, his pace quickening the sensation of his size is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Without a condom, your wet walls glide against him and he can feel every pulse, every contraction, the raw intimacy of it almost too much to bear.

The connection feels so intense and primal he drives faster, thrusting harder, and pushing deeper, each motion fueled by the exquisite pleasure coursing through him.

His hips begin softly clapping against yours as he grunts thrusting into you at a forceful pace driving you both toward a powerful climax.

“I can’t hold back,” he groans, his voice raw with need. “You feel too good, I’m losing control,” he admits .

“Benny, come in me” you desperately moan, your body arching against his.

He responds with a deep, primal groan, his thrusts becoming urgent and powerful, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge.

“…-I want to feel you come around me first ” he breathes and brings his large hands to your waist pulling you forcefully to meet against his thrusting cock. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back leaving marks as you ride the waves of ecstasy, your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Yes Benny, yes… oh my god, yes!,” you cry out, your voice filled with raw pleasure as he roughly thrusts into you satisfying the tightness of your core. You begin gasping, your walls contracting around him as you orgasm.

His eyes squeeze shut from the sensation of your fluttering walls and he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure.

His cock pulses hard inside of you, his hips stuttering as he loses control. Finally both reaching the peak your loud cries mingle together as you come simultaneously, the climax sweeping through you like a tidal wave.

He releases his cum deep inside of you, his desperate cries rattling your brain as you rhythmically contract around him, absorbing each other’s pleasure. The orgasm is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, a wave of pure ecstasy that leaves you breathless.

He slowly collapses onto you, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding against your chest. He holds you tightly in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared passion, knowing that this moment has forged an unbreakable bond between you.

As the waves of pleasure subside, his hand gently caresses your shoulder as you both catch your breath. His face resting in the nook of your neck as his body grows heavy.

“I don’t want this to end,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and reluctance. “I’ve never felt anything like this and I want to stay like this forever.”

You stroke his hair gently smiling, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck. “I don’t want it to end either, Benny,” you whisper back, your voice tender and filled with emotion.

He smiles at your words and reluctantly sits up sliding his large cock back until the heavy tip slips out of your entrance leaving you momentarily empty. He rests his head against your chest, his breathing gradually slowing as he tries to hold onto the connection you’ve just shared.

You continue to stroke his hair affectionately, your fingers weaving through the soft strands, watching his eyes grow heavy as he tries to fight the comforts of sleep.

“It’s alright, Benny,” you soothe him softly. “Just rest now.”

His eyes slowly flutter closed, and you feel his body relax completely against yours as he drifts into a deep sleep. You watch him for a moment, as you hold him in your arms. His face soft and serene, the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest, and the scent of his him all combine to create a profound sense of connection with him.

Continuing to stroke his hair you feel a deep attachment to Benny, realizing he has become so much than you ever expected. The rhythm of his steady breathing lulls you, and your eyes grow heavy, surrendering to the pull of rest. The last thing you feel is the comforting presence of Benny in your arms, as you drift into a deep and satisfying sleep.

🏍️ To be Continued 🏍️

🔗 Benny Cross Part 2: The Vandals 🏍️

Benny brings you to a Vandals biker meeting and introduces you to his club members and their old ladies. Everyone is surprised by your contrasting natures and pokes fun at Benny for dating a ‘fancy girl’.

They privately cast bets on how quickly you’ll use him for a thrill and ditch him once the fun’s over. Little do they know you both are in it for keeps.

You find out more about his rough biker lifestyle and his club leader, Johnny, who has Benny at his beck and call.

🏍️ Benny Cross Tag List 🏍️ @finley-08 @ashleybutler-26 @ifuckindontknow @landlockedmermaid77 @jvanilly @oceanablue @12joeywheelerfangirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @presley1992 @rose-deathman 🏷️ Always Tags Me List 💌 @burnthheparaphilia @purejasmine @lindszeppelin @abswifey @faegoddessog @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @magicovento @thegabbyh @fallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @unicoreads @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @meetmeatyourworst @rougegenshin @avidreader73 @jkdaddy01 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @pearlparty @depressedfairie

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th 

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass. 

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs. 

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.” 

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles. 

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed. 

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.” 

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you. 

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him. 

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around.  “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze. 

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night. 

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back. 

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten. 

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you. 

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again. 

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung. 

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top. 

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him. 

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips. 

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him. 

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex. 

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural. 

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely. 

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend. 

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours. 

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words. 

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper. 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment. 

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further. 

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you. 

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body. 

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him. 

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently. 

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident. 

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly. 

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?” 

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod. 

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

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Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

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