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graceful-starker · 6 months

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Tony the Friendly Ghost

Summary: Peter's house is haunted by a very friendly, very horny ghost.

Warnings: mild dub-con for a second there, Tony is a ghost, mild come inflation, mostly just an excuse to write ghost porn ngl.

Notes: Blame @the-mad-starker for this one, ngl lol. I might add more to this AU, but I wanted to get the first installment out on Halloween. Happy Halloween!

~~~

Peter isn’t crazy, okay? His apartment is just haunted. He doesn’t care that MJ rolls her eyes in disbelief or that Ned laughs at him for believing in ghosts. There’s definitely, 100%, for sure a ghost in his apartment.

Peter winces as his ghost moves his couch loudly, the legs screeching horribly against the floor and thudding into the wall. “Okay, that’s really unnecessary!” Peter yells, walking into the living room and putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t afford to leave, you’re stuck with me, okay? You don’t have to rearrange all my furniture in protest.”

He doesn’t get a response; he isn’t sure his ghost even can. He’s never seen it, never heard it. He can only see what it does to his home. So far, at least. The couch is pulled back from the wall and slammed back into it again.

Peter sighs in annoyance, cocking his head to the side and staring at the couch. “Whatever, it looks better there anyway.”

The couch skirts across the floor, back to its original position, and Peter rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “Oh, fuck you. You’re just being annoying for the sake of it now.”

There’s no response, and Peter puffs out another sigh. “Stop rearranging my furniture, we’re going to get a noise complaint.”

There’s no response yet again, and Peter hums and turns to go back to his room. “Thank you,” he mumbles softly. He opens his door and gasps. “You asshole!” he yells, looking at his clothes flying out of his dresser. “Stop that!”

His ghost doesn’t, so he angrily grabs a towel and slams the bedroom door behind him to leave his ghost to their temper tantrum.

He locks the door to the bathroom as if that will stop the ghost from coming in and turns the shower to be extra hot. He strips and puts his clothes in the hamper, grumbling to himself under his breath.

He takes perhaps the angriest shower of his life, scrubbing furiously at his body and aggressively lathering his hair. “I should have known the rent was too good to be true,” he mumbles to himself, getting out of the shower and grabbing his towel. He’s calmed down a bit, has resigned himself to his fate of refolding all his clothes.

He finishes drying off his hair and wraps it around his hips, looking up at the vanity. He blinks, cocking his head to the side. In big blocky letters, drawn out in the steam on his mirror, is TONY.

“Tony?” he asks, and watches it be underlined. “Oh, your name is Tony,” he mumbles. “That’s a nice name.”

He doesn’t get a response, and Peter hums in thought. “I’m Peter,” he offers, feeling a bit silly. But Tony started it. “This doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know. We can get along.”

YES appears on his mirror, and Peter smiles at it. “See? This’ll be great.”

Tony likes to talk to him, Peter has discovered. He likes leaving messages on the mirror whenever Peter showers, likes to ask questions and get Peter talking for long periods of time.

It got to the point where Peter decided: why limit this? He buys three white boards, sticks them to the walls in his kitchen, livingroom, and bedroom. Tony is very happy with these purchases, and has a preference for the red marker.

Peter has decided that Tony is an asshole, but he isn’t all that bad really. He’s kind of sweet too, and a good listener. He cares about Peter’s life, asks questions about it and encourages him to talk about it to Tony.

As far as ghosts go, Peter is sure he’s lucked out.

Peter laughs as he reads the question left for him in the bedroom, shaking his head fondly. “No, MJ isn’t my girlfriend. And she doesn’t even believe me when I tell her about you, she’s a real asshole like that. She’s not coming over any time soon.”

MJ IS NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?

“No, I don’t have one,” Peter says, shrugging. “I was dating Wade for a while, but we decided to just be friends instead.”

BOYFRIEND?

Peter frowns. “Oh, god, what time period are you from? I didn’t think to ask. People can do that now, it’s fine to be gay or whatever else now.”

NOT AN ISSUE.

“Oh, good,” Peter says, grinning at the board. “Because you’ve really grown on me, it would be a shame to find out my favorite ghost is homophobic.”

YOU KNOW OTHER GHOSTS?

Peter snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. He sits on the bed, crossing his legs. “Jealous?” There’s no response, and Peter giggles softly. “I don’t know any other ghosts, it was just a joke.”

I’M ALONE.

Peter frowns, taking in the words slowly. Tony must have been terribly lonely, before Peter came around. “Well, I’m here now. And you aren’t getting rid of me any time soon, we’ve already established this.” He tries to joke, but it sounds sad.

It’s quiet for a long time after that, the marker hovering in the air as if Tony is holding it limp at his side. Then the marker is placed down, and the door to Peter’s room shuts.

Peter sighs sadly, deciding to use the privacy while he has it; since Tony is invisible, he never knows for sure if he’s watching. He only knows if Tony does something like that; closes his door, or moves stuff around in another room.

Peter hums to himself as he gets out of the shower, drying off and wrapping his towel around his waist. His toothbrush is knocked over, and he looks at the mirror with a frown.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

“No where,” Peter says, turning and opening the door. “I just wanted to get clean.” He makes his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He opens a drawer in his dresser, before he looks over his shoulder at an insistent tapping noise. The marker is tapping against the whiteboard, and Peter sighs and walks over.

NO PLANS?

“Nope,” Peter says, turning back around. “Let me get dressed, we can talk-hey!”

Tony has ripped his towel away, throwing it across the room and leaving him naked. The marker is back on the white board, so Peter doesn’t know for certain where Tony is.

“Asshole,” he mumbles starting to walk towards his towel again. “You don’t-hey!”

Tony’s never touched him before this; it’s a little unsettling. Everywhere Tony touches him is extremely cold, and it sends a rush of adrenaline through him. One hand is wrapped around Peter’s wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and the other is on Peter’s hip. He’s bent over the bed, and the position brings a blush to Peter’s face.

“Hey!” Peter says, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing? Let me go!”

Tony doesn’t. Instead, he moves his hand from Peter’s hip to his ass, petting at the flesh a couple times before spreading Peter’s cheeks apart.

Peter gasps and shivers at the feeling, trying to close his legs. “Tony! What are you doing?!”

Tony’s leg must go in between his, kicking his feet apart. Peter gasps and shivers, his legs shaking. Tony’s finger pets over his hole, and Peter whimpers.

“Tony, you can’t-you can’t! What are you-let me go, Tony!” Peter whines, trying to push off of the bed. Tony has never tried to hurt him before, not even when they weren’t talking yet and Tony was still trying to get rid of him. He’s more confused than scared.

Tony pushes his knee in between Peter’s thighs again, pushing up until his own thigh is pressing against Peter’s cock and rubbing back and forth.

Peter chokes and gasps, his hand clenching the sheets. “O-oh,” Peter chokes out, grinding down against Tony’s thigh. It feels so fucking wierd, so very cold but still so very good at the same time. Tony’s thigh rubs against him for a few minutes, and Peter continues to grind against it until he’s fully hard.

Tony pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, and Peter gasps. “Wait, don’t-oh god, oh,” Peter groans and pushes back into it, his cock leaking on Tony’s thigh. He can feel Tony’s cock hardening against his hip, and it’s so weird. This is so weird, he can’t even see Tony and Tony is about to-

Tony’s finger pushes deeper, and Peter whimpers. He can’t decide if he’s scared or not, can’t decide if he wants Tony to stop. He wants to tell Tony to wait, at least, to use lube. But then he realizes-

There is no friction. His hole is just stretching around nothing, there’s nothing really there.

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, hanging his head and arching his back. “Oh, please, more. Tony, please.”

Tony pulls his finger out and Peter whines, but then he’s pushing two in. Peter’s head throws back, and he gasps loudly. Tony’s fingers start moving in and out of him quickly, already scissoring him apart.

Peter wonders if Tony can see himself, or there’s nothing there for him as well. If he just has a view of Peter’s hole being stretched around nothing, or if it looks normal for him. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please Tony, please, more, I need-oh fuck, please!”

Tony lets go of his wrist for the first time since this started, pulling his fingers out abruptly. Peter whines at the loss, scared that Tony’s going to leave now. He worries himself for nothing; Tony simply picks him up and turns him around, and Peter lands on his back halfway up the bed.

He doesn’t like this position as much; he can see that no one is there. It’s freaking him out, making him think too much. “Tony,” he chokes, chest heaving. He gets up on his elbows, digging his heels into the bed.

Invisible hands push his thighs far apart, and Tony’s cock presses bluntly against Peter’s hole. It pushes and pushes, until it slips past and slides up Peter’s balls.

Peter gasps loudly, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. It feels so weird but so good, and if he closes his eyes he can just pretend it’s fine. “Oh, fuck, Tony. Please, please fuck me, please get inside me, I want-oh my god!”

Tony had pulled his cock back to try again, pressing insistantly until the head finally popped past Peter’s rim.

Peter’s mouth falls open, and he has to fist the sheets to stop himself from screaming. It feels so fucking good inside of him, so incredibly strange but in a pleasant way. “Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, sucking in a desperate breath.

Tony starts to slowly push forward, and forward and forward until Peter feels like he can feel it in the back of his fucking throat.

“Oh god, Tony, oh fuck, how fucking big are you?” He can’t see it, can’t know how much there is left to go. “Oh, stop, it won’t fit!” Peter cries.

Tony doesn’t listen, continues pushing in until his hips finally slap into Peter’s ass with an audible slap.

Peter groans loudly, his legs shaking, his chest heaving. “Oh god, Tony,” he gasps, opening his eyes and regretting it immediately. There’s no one there, there’s no body attached to the cock currently splitting him in half, no hands keeping his thighs apart. He’s just being filled up by nothing, his stomach is protruding with a cock that isn’t there.

Tony starts to slowly pull back out, and Peter watches in fascination as Tony’s head visibly moves down his torso. “Oh,” Peter moans.

Tony only pulls halfway out before pushing back in, his hips slapping hard against Peter’s.

“Oh, fuck,” Peter gasps, throwing his head back again as Tony sets up a brutal pace. He feels like he might actuall die, like Tony is actively fucking him to death. He’s so fucking big, and the pace is brutal, and he’s fucking Peter so hard he’s being pushed up the bed.

Tony’s left hand leaves his thigh, after moving Peter’s leg around to grip around his waist. Instead it presses down harshly against Peter’s stomach where his head reaches when he goes as deep as possible.

Peter moans, almost screams, watching his torso with dark eyes. It’s the only visible proof he has, the only thing proving that he isn’t batshit crazy. He’s being fucked by a ghost; a ghost hung like a horse besides. “Tony!”

Tony somehow speeds up, slapping his hips so hard against Peter’s that it hurts, and he knows he’s going to be feeling this for days.

“Please,” Peter moans, moving one hand to wrap around his cock. “Oh god, please, I want it. Please! Please Tony, please come inside me, I want it so bad!”

Tony’s right hand tightens on his thigh, enough that the skin goes white and he’s sure it’s going to leave a mark. His hips stutter, and he fucks into Peter a few more times before burying himself balls deep and grinding there.

It feels so fucking weird. It’s still cold, but it’s definetly real and wet inside of him. Peter’s eyes go lidded and he strokes himself quickly, enjoying the feeling of being stretched, of how deep Tony is, of being filled up.

Peter almost doesn’t notice at first, but Tony hasn’t stopped grinding into him and filling up for longer than a human would have. His eyes widen as it hits him, his hand stilling on his cock. “Oh, god, Tony?”

Tony pulls half out and slaps his hips back in, grinding again. The hand on Peter’s stomach leaves to start stroking Peter instead.

Peter’s stomach starts to distend, and his jaw drops as he realizes just how much Tony is filling him up. “Oh, fuck, Tony! Tony, it’s too much!”

Tony speeds his hand up on Peter’s cock, and Peter whines loudly. He finishes to the strange feelings, hands gripping the sheets desperately and head thrown back. He comes so hard that it hits his chin, and Tony wrings every last drop out of him.

Peter pants heavily once it’s over, groaning at the sight of his come painting Tony’s fist white. He can kind of see it now, see the outline. He already knew from the way they felt inside of him, but Tony’s fingers are thick.

He’s still buried to the hilt inside of Peter, and Peter whines as his stomach continues to grow. He feels some being fucked out of him as Tony grinds, and he’s so overstimulated at this point. “Tony, ‘s too much!”

Tony finally finishes filling Peter up minutes later, when Peter’s stomach is pudged and he looks like he has a small baby bump. Oh, and isn’t that a new idea? He grinds into Peter once more, keeping him plugged up apparently. He really wishes that Tony could talk to him.

“I’m too full,” Peter complains, nudging at Tony’s torso with his knee. “Get out of me.”

Tony pets at Peter’s stomach, and maybe he’s just as turned on by the sight as Peter is. Peter’s spent sock twitches, but it’s way too soon for him to go again.

“Tony,” Peter whines, clenching around him. “Out.”

Tony hesitates once more, but finally pulls out slowly. He leaves his head insides, teasing Peter’s rim with the widest part.

Peter moans at the feeling, before whimpering again. “Tony, please, it’s too much!”

Tony finally takes mercy on him, popping his head out but keeping Peter’s thighs spread open.

Peter whimpers, face red with embarrassment, knowing that Tony is staring at his hole. He wonders what it looks like right now; wonders how much of Tony’s come is leaking out of him, how gaped open he is.

He reaches around himself, ignoring Tony squeezing his thighs, and stuffs a few fingers into himself. Tony squeezes tighter, before finally letting him go.

Peter pulls his fingers out, eyes lighting up when he realizes he can see Tony’s come on his fingers. Physical proof of what Tony did to him.

He clenches around nothing, winces when he feels some more of Tony’s come slide out of him and onto the bed. “Fuck, Tony,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking curiously. It tastes about the same as normal, it’s just cold. A little gross.

Peter pulls his fingers away and gasps when Tony’s hand cups his cheeks, and he thnks Tony is kissing him because his lips are cold. He tries to kiss back, closes his eyes so he doesn’t feel like he’s kissing air. It’s much easier when his eyes are closed for his mind to accept this.

Tony finally pulls away, and Peter falls back on the bed with a final pant. “Fuck,” he whispers to the room.

Peter looks when at the tapping noise against the board, snorting when he sees it. “Now you ask?” he snarks, rolling his eyes.

CAN WE DO THAT AGAIN? Stays on his board, unerased, even the next time they do this.

#starker #my writing #fanfics

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horseshoegirl · 3 months

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Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You

📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.

#4.8 k words

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee?

Yeah. It got worse.

Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.

All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.

It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.

I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.

But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.

You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.

It was making everything that much worse.

As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.

The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.

Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.

You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.

You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist.

If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.

Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.

Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.

But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.

Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.

It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?

As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.

They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you.

"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.

You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great.

While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own.

The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.

No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.

And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.

There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.

Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.

Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?

In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall.

He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.

Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.

Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.

Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.

The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.

He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then.

You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.

The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag. After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.

After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.

The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.

By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.

With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.

While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.

Or, so you thought.

Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.

Then, she screamed.

You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.

The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face. Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened.

You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.

As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.

But were you sorry for how that turned out?

Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.

Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.

She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben.

It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.

Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.

You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.

It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.

"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."

You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"

Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.

You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."

He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."

Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.

Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.

Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way.

She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.

As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.

All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.

"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."

God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!

Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.

You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.

He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.

"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"

Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.

You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.

Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.

And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."

As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin.

You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."

News flash - You're not.

"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."

"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.

Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.

It's a stupidly optimistic thought.

"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"

He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?

"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"

"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"

"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"

He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."

"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.

"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"

"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."

But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.

"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"

You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"

"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"

You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.

Fuck.

Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.

Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.

She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.

But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.

You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.

"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"

You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.

"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."

Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.

You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.

"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"

Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.

"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.

"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"

Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.

"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.

"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."

"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.

You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”

This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.

They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.

Or worse... Someone would confirm it.

Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.

The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.

"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.

You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.

"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."

Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"

"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.

You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.

"Bradley... I didn't..."

"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."

He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.

Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.

He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.

He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.

There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?

But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.

Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.

So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @trickphotography2 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30

Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress

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hopelessrromantix · 2 years

Text

Content: religious themes, choking, degredation, f-slur, internalized homophobia

It was supposed to be a calm day. Nothing but the usual glances at the school freaks and maybe a rude comment from the basketball team.

But of course, Eddie and Jason were at each other’s throats. Again.

Jason had attempted to pick on the younger members of Hellfire, annoying both you and the group’s leader. Naturally, Eddie was furious. It resulted in a lovely marker drawing of a dick on Carver’s locker. Washable, yes, but enough to piss Jason off.

“You want somethin’ Munson?” Jason questioned, glaring at a very smug looking Eddie.

He’d managed to catch the group as they left that day’s session. He’d likely gotten out of basketball practice with the rest of his goons, most of which were trailing behind him.

“Of course not good sir!” Eddie smirked, giving the most sarcastic bow he could manage. You rolled your eyes. You’d much rather diffuse the situation, but Eddie was always one for dramatics.

“Don’t make it worse, Ed.” You crossed your arms over your chest “Just walk away, he won’t follow.”

Eddie hummed softly, as if he was considering your advice. You knew he wouldn’t take it though.

“Didn’t know you freaks had brain cells,” Carver chuckled, the comment clearly directed at you. You raised a brow. He had nerve.

“A lot more than you,” Eddie quipped. “Listen, I’d love to chat about sports or girls or whatever it is you gossip about in the locker rooms, but I actually have plans.”

Eddie Munson did not have plans.

“You aren’t leaving that easy, freaks.” Damn he was testing you today.

Eddie only laughed. “I know what you’re thinking and no, Chrissy isn’t at my place.”

The way Jason’s eyes widened was almost laughable. Fists clenched at his side, he strode forward, grabbing Eddie’s collar. You stepped behind your friend instantly, getting ready to push Jason off. The only reason you didn’t, is because Eddie gave a small wave, gesturing for you to back off.

“You stay the hell away from my girlfriend, you hear me?”

It was almost sad. How scared he was of losing Chrissy to Eddie. All the while spending most nights crying into your mattress.

“Loud and clear, big boy,” Eddie mumbled, patting the hand holding his collar.

You glared down at Jason, eyes boring into him. With one glance up, he dropped Eddie, taking several steps backward. He tried not to show his mild fear, keeping his expression cruel.

“Whatever,” He huffed. “I better not see you anywhere near her or me.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead walking past you with his group. He mumbled something to the rest of his friends before walking a different way.

“Well that was eventful,” Eddie said, sighing. “I’m probably gonna get my ass kicked, but I’m absolutely gonna find some excuse to talk to Chrissy.”

You shook your head fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” He gave you a half-assed wave, walking toward his van while you went toward your car.

You weren’t very surprised to see Jason sitting on the curb on the other side, out of view from Eddie or his jock friends.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the car and unlocking it. After making sure the parking lot was clear (save for Eddie who was blasting Metallica so loud he was sure to go deaf), he hopped in the passenger seat, sinking down.

Most of the drive was silent, your attention focused on the road ahead of you. Eventually he sat up, his knee bouncing and fingers tapping nervously against the car door.

“You know I--”

“If you’re smart, you’ll shut your mouth.” You said, cutting him off. His mouth opened again, but he quickly thought better of it, going back to looking out the window.

You pulled in your driveway and got out of the car just as silently, whipping open the door to your house and leaving it open for Jason to follow. He did a second later, following you to your room.

No one but you was home, your parents on a week long vacation. Originally you were going to surprise him, let him know he didn’t have to sneak around this week. But now, you were just happy you wouldn’t have to gag him.

“You’ve got some nerve, Carver,” You said, smirking. He looked nervous, dropping his book bag by the door. “Comin’ after Eddie and me like that.”

“Just wanted him to stop messing with Chrissy,” He explained quietly, trying not to make things worse for himself.

“Want him to leave her alone, huh?” You asked, sympathetically. He nodded slowly, not sure where the kind tone came from. “Y’know, I think she’d hate it a lot more if she found out you were getting fucked stupid by those ‘freaks’ you hate so much.”

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was unable to meet your eye, looking from the walls to the floor.

“I just don’t want--”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Jason.” Your hand moved quickly, gripping his jaw.

It was tight enough to leave red marks, though you knew he wouldn’t complain. “If you think you can talk however you want to me and get away with it, you’re dead wrong.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t move with your hand in the way.

He was a sinner, that much he knew. God was surely frowning on his actions, on the way he shivered when you glared at him. But he couldn’t imagine himself stopping.

No matter how loud the voice in the back of his head was, all he wanted was to be good for you.

“Clothes off, on the bed.” You order, finally letting his jaw go. The reddened prints of your fingers stuck around.

“Bu-”

“Did I ask your opinion, bitch?” You watched as Jason shook his head, shedding his letterman jacket and shirt. He took off his jeans soon after, nearly tripping over them with how eager he was to sit on your bed. He was slightly slower taking off his boxers, eyes flicking to watch your expression.

Already twitching and all you did was call him a bitch.

It was always like this. He’d mock your friends then come home with you and get fucking railed. It was some sick fetish for him, not that you were mad about getting to make a pretty boy cry.

He felt sick at how eager he was. His eyes traced your every move, anxiously watching as you stepped closer to the bed. Your hand gripped his chin, much gentler this time. He refrained from leaning into your touch.

Fucking you was one thing. Showing up at your house or begging you to come over to his when his parents were out. Pleading until he got one of Hawkin’s resident freak to fuck him so hard he had to fake an injury in gym the next day.

But loving you? Loving you was something else. Something he couldn’t even consider, not when he was abandoning so many of his morals.

“So pretty like this,” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty boy?”

He nodded fervently. He could feel himself twitch, a bead of precum trailing down his dick. He knew you noticed, you always did. Eyes gleaming as you held back a laugh, knowing you could torture him like this.

He slid off the bed, undoing your belt and pulling your boxers down just enough to free your half-hard length.

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, instead completely throating your cock, shoving it as far back as he could. He could feel you getting harder in his throat, forcing him to gag the longer he went.

“Aw, so eager to get a dick down your throat that you choke yourself, huh?” You smirked, voice dripping with false sympathy. He tried his best to nod, tears gathering in his eyes. “Slut like you probably likes it, though.” He tried and failed to nod again, giving a low moan of agreement.

The vibration made you sigh, placing both hands on either side of his face. “I think I like you better when you’re quiet.”

He didn’t want to admit that he twitched at that, thrusting his hips up into empty air. You took hold of his hair, dragging him up and down your cock. He let out a mix of gags and moans, his face tinted red as he struggled to breath.

A few thrusts later you dragged his head fully down, burying his nose against your pelvis. You let out a sigh, relishing in the feeling of his throat contracting around you.

He looked so pretty like this, tears streamed down his face, gagging around your cock as he pushed against you. Of course, if he wanted to stop he only needed to tap you a few times. But he never did, no matter how long you choked him on your dick. You were almost certain he’d enjoy passing out, as long as you fucked him afterward.

His eyes rolled back, stuck swallowing helplessly as he ran out of air. Eventually you pulled him off, smiling as he coughed, inhaling as fast as he could.

“On the bed,” You ordered, gesturing your head toward the bed. It took him a second to react, eyes too glazed to process your statement. “Now.”

That got his attention. He moved slowly, sitting himself on the sheets anxiously. He was hoping you didn’t notice the cum dripping from his stomach. He knew you would, though. You always did.

The second you took in his full appearance you outright laughed. “Don’t tell me you came just from that?” He looked away from you, shifting slowly on the bed. “You really are a whore, huh?” He barely processed the insult, nodding along in agreement.

You scoffed at the action, putting one hand against his side. You flipped him over, making him gasp at the sudden manhandling. None of the girls he could date would treat him like that. None would want to rail big strong Jason Carver until he cried. But you would. You always did.

And everytime, he felt worse about himself. He knew the town would turn on him the second they knew he was a faggot, much less the one getting fucked. It was odd that way. As if him topping would make it all better. But he didn’t want to top, he’d never even asked to. He enjoyed the way you treated him too much. Like he was nothing more than dirt beneath your feet.

You gripped his neck, leaning down to meet level with his ear. “I’d go nice and slow to prep you, but I know you want it rough.”

And he did. He always did.

You spit roughly on his hole, chuckling at the soft moan he let out. You held your hand in front of his face, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, listening as you used it to cover your dick.

“Imagine if your little team could see you now,” You laughed, pushing passed the tight ring.

His mouth fell open, head collapsing against the mattress. It probably would’ve hurt more if he hadn’t fingered himself to this exact scenario in the showers after everyone had left.

But he loved the pain, he loved how you laughed behind him, mocking his constant moans and mumbling. He could barely get a word out, the noises a jumbled mess of “please”, “sir”, “stop”, and “more”.

Naturally, if he really wanted to stop, he could. Just one word was all it would take. But no matter how far you went, he never used it. Not once. Not even when you left him tied up in your closest, vibrator shoved half way up his ass while you went to dinner. He probably could’ve gotten out of it if he really tried. But he hadn’t even thought of that.

His head was clouded, barely registering his second orgasm for the night. The only thing that brought him back was the sound of your mocking coo.

“Fucking whore came again so fast?” You didn’t slow your thrusts, speeding up slightly as he attempted to answer you. All that came out was an extended whine, voice breaking with each harsh thrust into him.

“Think I should call your little friends? Party at L/n’s, right? Let them fuck their ring leader ‘til he passes out?”

He shook his head rapidly, barely realizing he was chanting “nonono” on repeat.

“No? Don’t want your friends knowing you get fucked by a freak?” You questioned, giving a harsh slap against his ass, reveling in the whimper he let out.

“Just want you,” He managed to say, the words slurred. “Just want you using me like this.”

You froze for a second, nearly cumming right there. He whined at your lack of movement, thrusting himself backward.

“You reall are a fucking slut,” You punctuated the sentence with a thrust, earning a loud moan. “My slut.”

And that alone was enough to make him cum again.

#letters to stranger things #jason carver x reader #jason carver #jason carver x male reader #jason carver x top male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #sub character #stranger things smut #kinktober #jason carver smut #eddie munson #male reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader

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daniwolf9005 · 4 months

Text

Sorry this came so late- but Merry Christmas @part-time-pixie !! I was your secret Santa for the @mlsecretsanta 2023 event! This piece went through a lot of complications because I was so unsure about a lot of things! Let me run down the process!

I knew it had to be your AU since that’s a lot more personal and I myself am a big fan of personalized stuff! So I actually never knew anything about Winx before this so I researched- about 6 episodes for context of the fairy and specialist relations- so that’s one reason why the startup was slow but then!! I needed to figure out a setting- originally I was going with Magix City- but the color palette was more green and I wanted a more warm palette- but for the life of me I couldn’t find a place that screamed romance- eventually I gave in and just looked up “date in Winx” or something like that- and boom!! This place showed up- so heavy inspiration of the setting from this screen shot (lots of details were forgotten waaah-)

And then it was little things- from my research I realized they only transformed when battling so I needed a casual outfit (note for some reason I forgot to apply this logic to Luka’s fit I’m sorry 😭) for Adrien that wasn’t his powered up form for a casual setting- I ended up just asking- and I hope that didn’t clue you in but nonetheless I hope it was still somewhat a surprise! I’m so glad I did though because at that point I could finally finish the sketch- which was around the end of December so I was stuck on that for a while 😭

I finished the line art and coloring in a rush and man you can tell ;v; I went through a lot in coloring stage- I tried finishing this piece during a family outing and my markers (about 80+) fell out of their holders and went everywhere- also learned coloring over my white pen did not in fact keep it solid and the white began to get washed away from the marker on top, revealing the line art I messed up on beneath- one of the things that made me glad I was late is when you made this piece and I realized his gem clasp was teal- I was gonna make it yellow since that was the last red fountain specialist color not used and I assumed he’d just take it lmao! Though in short I went through all the stages of grief when doing the coloring ;v;

All to say though I hope despite all the flaws you still like it! I was really happy with this around the line art stage and even now- I’m just harsh on my own work but this is actually the biggest piece in my art book (I’ve been working on this book since Summer 2022!) so I suppose that is to say I’m glad I was able to try something new with this one!

(Also small note but I realized the quality turned out really fuzzy on here- if you want @part-time-pixie I can send a zip file to you in dms?)

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maxybabyy · 4 months

Note

literally losing my mind over your frat boys au klllllljkkljkllkklljll

please know it has been living in my mind since yesterday, so here's part two, aka what i actually thought about when i saw the original ask (@gaycrunch) ...

part i (re: this)

He finds him outside, hunched over on the porch with his phone in his hand and a half-full bottle of vodka open between his thighs.

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing out here all by himself?” Daniel asks, teases as he drops down to sit next to him. “If only there was a party somewhere, with like, good people and shit.”

Max grunts, barely moves as Daniel hooks his knee over Max’s. He brings the bottle to his mouth, swallows a mouthful of vodka as his free hand comes to rest on Daniel’s knee. “You know already probably, this is why you are here,” he says, digs a finger into the scar on his kneecap, the faded line from when he cut himself on a beer can.

Daniel does, was pulled aside by at least five different dudes who told him where Max had gone, “But I’d rather you tell me, Maxy.”

Max pours another shot into his mouth, keeps the bottle by his lip as he talks. “What even is a rose? This makes no sense, Daniel,” he says, and to his credit, he does sound frustrated. He’s a little drunk too, always is these days when the night falls, but Daniel doesn’t know if it’s cause or consequence.

“It’s an old school thing,” Daniel relents. He steals the bottle from Max’s hands and takes a tiny sip just so he won’t keep drinking. “Reckon I’m plenty sweet for the lot of us, yeah? Don’t need a lady to tell me how to act.”

He didn’t know frats still did this kind of shit, thought they were all past it now, that men could be graceful and charitable too. Hadn’t even thought to mention it to this year’s pledges, but then maybe, Max could have used the lecture anyway.

“Did you really tell her to go suck a bunch of dicks? Because if so, Maxy –“

Max huffs. His leg shakes underneath Daniel’s knee, jostles loose the slide he wears on his foot. “I of course did not say this,” Max says, snappish, taut. “She said she was the best at sucking dick, and I said, ‘this probably is not true’. She showed me this thing she did with her tongue, with her straw you know, and it did not look good, Daniel.”

Daniel chokes down a laugh, relents easily when Max reaches for the bottle again. He watches with unbridled want as Max pretends to suck off the lip of the bottle, interrupted too frequently by his own commentary on the technique.

Daniel reckons he’s right, the tongue is too much, barely touches the bottle at all. Not like Max had done that night, lips heavy around his dick, his tongue firm against the underside of the head.

“So like, you didn’t tell her to suck a dick?”

Max jams his elbow into his side, jolts when Daniel clams his hand around the top of his thigh to keep him in place. “Always this was not – Daniel, I would not say this,” he says, glares at Daniel when he doesn’t relent. “I said maybe that she had to practice more. I have of course sucked a lot of dicks, if she wanted to be like me, then.”

Daniel laughs, loud and surprised, and suddenly Max laughs too.

The Kappa Alphas are dicks anyway. They wouldn’t lose anything if Daniel took them off the social calendar, isn’t really a party if the entire frat can’t go, is it?

“Why didn’t you go home?” He asks after a while. The lid has been put back on the bottle of vodka, and Max has been fed whatever was left in his cup of water.

Two weeks after officially becoming a pledge, Daniel had found Max passed out in a pool of tub juice, white tee soaked in sticky sweet alcohol. He hadn’t vomited – Daniel doesn’t know then if he wouldn’t have just left him there – but Daniel had dragged him upstairs and into the shower. Had scrubbed the marker off his face but left the blue marker in his hair to watch the botched, fucking dip dye his hair had held onto for almost a week.

Max had slept in his bed that night, does it at least every two weeks now, cuddled up between Daniel and the wall. They haven’t fucked since that first time, since Daniel realised Max would be pledging the frat. But sometimes they kiss, and it’s. It feels nice, feels easy, breezy even.

“I have to wait for Carlos,” Max says, shrugs.

Daniel had elected not to pair himself with Max, chose instead one of the legacies who seemed to find power in whatever fucking hazing ritual Daniel threw at him. He kinda regrets it now, knows how shit Carlos must be at this big brother stuff. Knows he left more than an hour ago with Max’s friend from the lacrosse team, apparently without saying shit to Max.

“Nah, Maxy. You’re fine,” he says, squeezes his thigh again when Max hesitates. “Let’s go back to the house, yeah? Maybe Carlos is waiting for you there or like, we can send him a text or something.”

Max doesn’t look convinced, sceptic, like he’s the one who’s on his third year in the frat. But he takes his hand when Daniel gets up, pulls him to his feet. “Lando has the dorm tonight,” he says, shows him a picture of a sock on a doorknob.

It looks fake, but Daniel hasn’t actually seen it for himself ever. Like with the rose, doubted it was even done anymore. But then, Lando’s always been an odd guy.

“There’s always the couch if you want,” Daniel offers, shivers. “Or like, there’s also my bed. Probably the best if you don’t wanna wake up when Scotty gets home.”

Daniel doesn’t hold his breath, he doesn’t, listens instead to the crunch of the road underneath them. It’s no more than ten minutes until they’re home, Greek row almost condensed down to one block.

“Okay, Daniel,” Max says, quiet in the dark night. His hand brushes against Daniel’s, and he tries not to jump, stays still in case Max does reach out. “I think that would be very lovely.”

#get ready for the next part where max doesn't have a date for the *mumble* ceremony #daniel: that's okay! (it's not) you don't have to :) (you literally do) it's more of a frat bro thing anyway (it's literally in the bylaws)#in an alternate universe max is the frat's rose #disclaimer: am not american. do not know this 'frat' thing you keep talking about :|#i've watched maybe one episode of greek but that's enough right?#if i keep writing at this speed my thesis may be done on time!!#frat bro au #maxiel #maxiel fic #max/daniel #my fic #my writing #fic #answered #.arturleclerc #frat bros au

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harlowcomehome · 6 months

Text

Pumpkin carving contest:

October fics!

Requested by @jackmans-poison

Jack yanked your arm, guiding you through the crowded street as four security guards surrounded you both.

“Jackman, slow down!” You stressed, trying to keep up with his pace.

“Sorry babe” he slowed down, smiling at you as he softly positioned you in front of him.

“Guide me instead” he kept his hands on your hips as you walked through the crowded Louisville street.

The security guard in front of you led you to a building where you met Neelam and Urban.

“What took you guys so long?” Neelam was always in a state of stress but you really couldn’t fault her for that, Jack loved to push her buttons.

“I’m here now” Jack smirked, greeting Urban with their handshake and Urban greeting you with a hug.

Andy Beshear, the governor of Kentucky was there. He quickly said hello to Jack and the rest of you before instructing you, Neelam, and Urban where to sit for the pumpkin carving contest.

Jack went with Andy to the podium to introduce himself and officially announce the start of the contest.

“This is really serious stuff” You leaned into Urban whispering so nobody else would overhear.

“Yeah, and you know Jack, he doesn’t like to lose” he warned you, but you already had a clear understanding of that.

Jack stood at the podium, clearing his throat before speaking, he was always nervous public speaking it just felt very different than performing.

“As many of you know this is the 35th annual Pumpkin carving contest!” The crowd cheered and Jack paused for them to finish.

“When I was a young kid I remember coming here with my parents and I was so excited when we would take home a win. Now I’m not saying I’m going to win again this year, but I’m letting everyone in this building know to watch out” Jack chuckled as the crowd did too.

He hurried down the stairs and back to the table where you sat with Neelam and Urban. There were pumpkins and all the tools necessary for carving set down in front of you.

Jack wasted no time, picking a pumpkin quickly and starting to make a design on the outside with a marker.

He used his phone to compare the design he was drawing to what he was looking at.

“You’re going to take this extremely serious, aren’t you?” You teased, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he was fully distracted by what he was doing.

“Oh, absolutely” he blushed as your lips softly touched his cheek.

Urban pointed to the timer sitting at the front near the podium, you had two hours to carve a pumpkin worthy of a ribbon.

You started mimicking what Jack was doing, outlining the eyes and mouth of your pumpkin in marker.

It took you a while to get the hang of it, but you eventually had a clear idea of what you wanted to do.

Jack was carving a Louisville Cardinals pumpkin, which didn’t surprise you in the slightest.

Neelam was attempting to carve a cat and Urban was carving a spooky pumpkin face.

When the buzzer went off, everyone was instructed to step away from their pumpkins.

Jack had already been done for the last twenty minutes but was still making final adjustments.

Staff came by and picked up the four pumpkins from your tables, assigning you each a number as the pumpkins were to remain anonymous.

“That was fun!” Neelam nudged you and you nodded, enjoying it more than you originally thought you would.

“What now?” You smiled, grabbing Jack's hand.

“Now we walk around and enjoy the festival until they announce the winners” he squeezed your hand as he waited for Neelam and Urban, as well as the security that had stayed close by.

You weren’t able to walk but three steps before a group of girls came giggling by wanting Jack's autograph and to take pictures.

You stood back, talking to Urban and Neelam before security helped get you all out of the building.

Jack found you quickly, grabbing your hips as he did earlier.

“Did you have a good time?” He whispered, against your ear.

“I’ll have a better time when I win” you teased him knowing he would chuckle at that.

You walked around the festival for an hour, eating and stopping every so often before heading back to the building for the results.

Jack stood with Andy, and you stayed back with Neelam and Urban.

You weren’t paying much attention until second place was called, it was your pumpkin. You had never won anything in your life, let alone a pumpkin carving contest.

The look of pure shock on your face made Jack laugh with his entire body. You walked over to him, getting the ribbon and mouthing to him “What the heck?”

He laughed as he gave you the ribbon, asking you to wait there with him. He gave you a kiss that was quickly captured by the many phones in the room, making your face grow warm.

Jack was sure he was going to win first place, and when he did the room cheered. He of course made a show of it, making you giggle as you watched him jump up and down.

He got his ribbon and the two of you took a photo with the third-place winner for the newspaper.

When you were both walking back to the car, you couldn’t help but giggle as Jack continued to brag about his win.

“Be honest, did you pay them to win?” Urban shouted from behind you.

“I thought the same thing!” You turned to Urban and laughed out loud.

“That cardinal was looking a little crazy!” Neelam chimed in as everyone got into the car.

“You guys are just sore losers” Jack rolled his eyes as he opened the car door for you.

When he got in the car, you were trying your best not to laugh anymore but you were looking at his expression, and he was smiling to himself.

“Baby- how much?”

“I didn’t pay them!” Jack let out a boisterous laugh, but you still weren’t too sure.

“Did you pay for me to win?” You started to question your ribbon.

“Paying to win a pumpkin contest? Does that sound like me?” He clicked his tongue as he put the car in drive.

“Yes!” You, Neelam and Urban said in unison, as the entire car filled with laughter.

#Jack Harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #Jack Harlow fic #fic requests

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starlightandfairies · 1 year

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Leg injury -Austin Butler~

Description: Reader injures leg filming a scene and Austin takes care of you.

Warnings: Broken leg, fluff, implied female

Key: POV = Point of view, Y/N = your name

Word Count: 989

*Please send through requests!*

2nd Person's POV

Austin had met you at a photo shoot, you weren't originally meant to be the model standing in with Austin but the other model had dropped out and chose that she didn't want to do the photoshoot. So going through the books, looking for anyone that they thought could be a good match against Austin, they found your headshot. At the time you were an actress trying to get any sense of work. So, you ended up doing the shoot with Austin, the two of you finding an interest in each other and that created the pathway for your relationship.

Across the next three years later your friendship turned into a romance, and you started to gain more roles as a guest in tv shows, having a couple of episodes before being written off as there was no longer any use for your character and had also been placed in movies for ten minutes before your character was either or you were playing the younger version of the main character so once you had filmed your scenes you were sent off.

So, over the last two months, you auditioned for a movie, got the lead role and began filming with the others that had also been cast in the movie. You didn't do some of your own stunts, some of which made you uncomfortable. This current stunt was not meant to be a difficult one, you had been strapped into a harness, a suspension-like bungee wire hooked onto the back. All you had to do was stand on the edge of a tall platform, jump to a lower one and then switch with the stunt double who would be thrown off and onto a crashmat.

Normally, Austin would be there, watching you perform your scenes, however, he had to do some interviews that he had been requested to attend. After the whole process of being hooked up to the wire, getting into position and making sure everyone else was ready. Getting into character, you ran and jumped where the marking previously was. You had no clue how it happened or what happened to begin with.

The wire snapped before you could reach the other platform, you fell and just missed the crash mat, a scream escaped your lips as pain raced up your left leg.

You had been raced to the hospital, an obnoxious plaster cast placed on your leg, resting in bed while you waited for Austin to come home. Austin raced into the hospital room, looking panicked and worried.

"Sweetheart, how are you doing?" He whispered, sitting at your side as he placed a hand on your face and rested a couple of kisses across your face.

"I can't feel the pain, I'm on a lot of painkillers." You explained, smiling at him and holding his hand, Austin was glad to know that besides the broken leg, you were otherwise okay. Austin rested a kiss on your lips, holding your hand and looking over your form.

"They won't be mad at me?" You asked, Austin shot you a look and brought your hand to his lips and rested a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

"No, sweetheart, they won't be mad, if they are I'll yell at them. Y/n you're the one that should be mad at them for not checking that wire." You nodded at his words, taking a breath and smiling as he handed you some water.

"Thank you." He nodded and grabbed a marker out of his pocket.

"Can I draw on it?" You nodded happily at his words, Austin chuckling as he moved the chair he had been sitting on closer to your leg and lightly began drawing over the plaster. You watched some sitcoms on the tv, ate the food that was brought in for you and talked with Austin as he drew cute little pictures on his new canvas. Austin placed the marker down, moved back to you and rested another kiss on your forehead.

"The doctors were saying that I would need to be in a wheelchair for a while, then be placed on crutches and then I'd also need physical therapy in the end." You explained sighing at how drastic it all sounded. Austin caressed your cheek, resting loving kisses on your forehead and gave you a caring smile.

"I'll be there with you, all the way. I promise." He reassured, grabbing something from his bag and smiling at you before showing you a teddy bear.

"You brought me Cookie!" Your teddy bear from your childhood was named Cookie, it normally sat on your bedside table and Austin didn't call you childish for keeping the childhood comfort. You cuddled the sentimental item close to your chest, smiling happily at the boy and rested a kiss on his lips.

"I love you."

"I love you too." He whispered, sitting back in the chair and watching as you fiddled with the ears of the loved but well-maintained toy.

"They're talking about returning to filming two weeks after I'm out of here, they just film me from the waist down or do scenes where my leg isn't showing. They don't want to use CGI unless they have to."

"We'll see how that goes. We don't want you pushing it too much." He stated lightly, standing up and closing the blinds as the sun was pouring in violently. He switched the lights on, smiling as you looked more relaxed from being able to see properly.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"Always. I'll look after you. You're my girlfriend and I'd be a pretty shit boyfriend if I didn't." Austin reassured, resting a kiss on your lips and tracing patterns on your arm. Austin discovered it to be a way to soothe or calm you whenever you needed it.

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themummersfolly · 4 days

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Nonverbal Art

alt. title: Art Nerd's Origin Story

Anyone else ever wonder why Thrawn's interest in art focuses so heavily on sussing out the backstory of the artist? Yeah.

I have no idea how pediatric therapy works in real life.

-----

Vurawn doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s different.

There’s the whole talking thing, for example. Vurawn doesn’t remember learning to talk, even though he remembers Vurika and Mom says he didn’t start talking until after that. A lot of people still think he can’t talk, apparently, because he doesn’t do it very often. He’s not sure what the point is. He understands just fine, and besides, half the time when he does talk people get mad or start acting funny.

A lot of grownups think that not talking means he doesn’t hear either; even Mom and Dad forget sometimes. He overhears them talking about him. For a long time Mom thought he was stupid. It seemed to make her happy, for some reason. He doesn’t feel stupid; but then, he’s not sure if stupid and smart are things you can feel like. Vurika was smart, and they took her away and Mom was sad. Maybe if he’s stupid, he’ll get to stay and make Mom happy.

The army man said he was smart, when he gave everybody that test-thingy at school. But then he got into a fight with Teni the next day and afterward everybody said he was stupid. At least until the teacher made them stop.

No, he doesn’t need a doctor to tell him he’s weird, but here he is anyway.

He kicks his feet back and forth under the chair while he waits and thinks about the marker set Dad said he’ll get if he’s good for the doctor. He hopes there’s lots of orange markers. Orange is his favorite color right now. At school, there are fourteen different kinds of orange marker in the marker bin; he knows because he counted. First he lined them all up in order, then he put them in groups of markers from the same set and lined those up in order. Or he tried to, before the teacher yelled at him for hogging the orange markers.

He hopes he can be good enough to get the markers. Even when he tries to be good, he always does something wrong without meaning to.

“Kivu’raw’nuru?”

That’s his name. He hops out of his seat and follows Mom into the back office.

He likes going to this doctor, honestly. She never gives him shots or gets mad when he does the thing with his hands to feel better. There are toys, and neat pictures to look at, and lots and lots of markers.

He wanders around the room, looking at the toys while Mom talks to the doctor.

“-test scores are high, but the teacher says he’s behind in his social development. He rarely talks, he never looks me in the eyes-”

Dad thinks Mom wants there to be something wrong with him, at least he said so last night. Vurawn doesn’t know why everyone wants him to look at their eyes; it makes him as uncomfortable as when he has to not fidget.

The grownups finish talking and the doctor comes over to where he is.

“Good morning, Vurawn.”

It takes him a moment, but he remembers there’s something he’s supposed to do when people greet him.

“Hi.”

The doctor asks him questions; he’s supposed to answer with his big kid words, and he does. The doctor is happy, he’s doing it right. Maybe he will get that marker set.

“Vurawn, I’d like you to draw your family for me. Will you do that now, please?”

He’s not sure why she needs him to do that, but then he’s not sure why she asked all those questions, either. He does like to color, though.

It doesn’t take him long to draw everyone who’s important to him. When he’s done, the doctor sits down next to him.

“Tell me about your picture. Who’s that?” She points at the picture that is pretty obviously Mom. One by one, she points to each figure he drew and asks about it. Mom. Dad. Himself. The neighbor’s tooka. Vurika. He doesn’t know why she wants him to talk about them; most of the time when he talks about things he likes, people act like he’s doing something wrong and he doesn't know why. But the doctor lets him talk, so he does. It feels good to talk about things he likes.

When he’s told her all about his drawing, she picks it up and takes it over to Mom. He listens to them talk, and with no one to tell him not to, dumps out the markers and begins sorting them.

“-normal cognitive development for a child his age. But I think part of the issue is he misses his sister.”

That gets Vurawn’s attention. He’s not supposed to talk about Vurika; whenever he does, Mom gets sad and all the other grownups tell him he should be happy she gets to serve the Ascendancy. The doctor keeps talking.

“You see how much detail he put into her portrait; he clearly still remembers her, and remembers her well. Even as young as he was, her removal had a profound effect on him. That might be why he’s having difficulty adjusting socially.”

She can tell all that from his drawing?

“And here- this is your neighbor’s pet. She turns up in a number of drawings he’s done for me, so she’s clearly an important figure in his life. He may benefit from a therapy animal. If you can’t have one where you live, there are programs you can sign him up for-”

Every time he talks about Flower the Tooka, people look at him like he’s crazy! But the doctor had looked at his picture and understood immediately. Is that the secret? Can he really get people to understand him by drawing pictures for them?

And if it works that way, maybe it works the other way around, too. Maybe if he looks at pictures other people draw, they’ll seem less weird. Maybe the world makes sense if you draw it.

It’s like he’s spent his whole life in a dark, scary hallway, and suddenly, someone in a room nearby turns on a light. He decides to move toward it.

“Mom, I’d like you to draw a picture for me. Will you do that for me now, please?”

He’s been good all day, not just at the doctor. When Dad comes home, he has the marker set in hand, and the first thing Vurawn does is take it over to Mom.

She looks surprised, and he’s not sure she’ll go along with it. But then she takes the markers and flimsi and starts drawing. To keep himself busy, Vurawn picks up the pieces of the gadget she was working on and starts arranging them in order. They’re all very different, and it’s hard to figure out what order they should go in. Vurawn likes puzzles like this.

He’s just figured out where the big shiny piece should go when Mom slaps a marker down hard, puts her face into her hands, and starts shaking. Vurawn jumps. At first he thinks she’s mad at him for playing with her project. Then he sees that she’s crying.

“I’m sorry, Vurawn- it’s ok. I just can’t. You’re ok.” She doesn’t look up from her hands. Vurawn stands on his chair to look across the table at what she’s drawn.

It’s a grownup kind of drawing, much more complicated than his sensible stick figures. The face that stares out from the page is that of a little girl, about his age. It’s unfinished; Mom put the marker down before she colored it in.

“I’m sorry I got upset, Vurawn, I don’t know why I did that.” Mom wipes her eyes. Vurawn is still looking at the picture.

“It’s cause you miss Vurika.”

Mom freezes. He’s not sure if that means she understands, so he tries again.

“You’re sad cause Vurika had to go away. You’re scared that I might have to go away, too. But if I’m stupid, I get to stay with you, cause stupid people don’t have to serve the Ascen’a’cy.” He frowns at the tabletop, choosing his next words. “I can be stupid for you, Mom.”

He expects her to be happy at the offer, but instead she starts crying even harder. Vurawn feels the panic start to well up in his chest. He’s done something wrong again. Mom is upset, and Dad will be mad, and he doesn’t know how to fix it because he doesn’t even know what he did wrong-

Mom leans over and scoops him up in a hug.

“You’re not stupid, you’re a brilliant, brilliant little boy. I love you so much!” Her tears are getting his shirt wet, and now they’re both crying. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re stupid! I just- I just want what’s best for you, even if you have to go away. My brilliant little boy!” She takes his face in her hands and makes him look at her. “If they chose you- I need you to remember. I love you so much, I’m so proud of you, and I don’t want you to ever look back.”

Vurawn doesn’t understand, but he nods his head because Mom needs him to. Then he leans into her shoulder and cries.

#i was trying to write something cute and then That Happened #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #grand admiral thrawn #kivu'raw'nuru #vurawn #thrawn/art #cw: child loss #grief #child character #thrawn is autistic coded

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thelovelymissbigbadwolf · 2 months

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The RPG disaster

Cloud always wanted to play RPG with his friends (if he were to have any) and he decided to go the simple way, something that he felt more safe leaning towards such as 7th Sea.

So he talks to everyone and explains that the system allows for a more theatrical kind of battle and that combat isn't the focus of it all, but rather their fun.

Sephiroth is interested, he's already been through combat enough daily and feels like it could be a break to not think too much about combat.

Genesis is DELIGHTED in the possibility of showing off his theatrical abilities.

Zack is super excited and supportive of his buddy.

Angeal isn't as thrilled as the others, as he never was a theater kid like Genesis for example nor have he ever had much interest in it at first, but decided to join them anyway.

Cloud then marks a day they can all have a session zero so he can help out with their sheets.

He sends each a copy of the playerbook and tells them to read about the nations and jobs and just think of something simple. Again, simple. It backfired horribly.

The session zero day came and Genesis has a total of 20 pages on his character's lore. Front and back.

Cloud: I am not reading this.

Genesis: What do you mean you're not reading?! It's your job. You have to know my character's lore.

Cloud: Genesis, I told you guys to make it simple. In what universe are 20 pages front and back SIMPLE?!

Genesis: Oh, PLEASE! I didn't even made his family tree!

Cloud: YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO!

At that moment, Zack had arrived with some energy drinks.

Zack: Heeeee-ey, what's going on?

Cloud: You see this?! *Flips the twenty pages* THIS is Genesis' character lore!

Genesis: It's just twenty pages! You read over four hundred pages of a RPG book just to deny my twenty pages?!

Zack: But he said it was supposed to be simple.

Genesis: IT IS!

Zack: Why twenty pages of lore, then?!

Genesis: I could've written a book on my character, but NO! I got soft and did something simple!

Cloud: UGH WHATEVER I'LL READ IT! But I'm gonna cut what I find useless, understand?

Genesis: Fine.

Cloud takes a marker and marks 95% percent of everything. Genesis is appalled.

Cloud: Alright. The ones that aren't mark, write it down somewhere.

Genesis: You've butchered him, my poor Jacques!

Cloud: I've improved it. Alright, lemme see yours, Zack.

Zack: On it! *He gives him a picture of Dante from Devil May Cry*

Cloud: ...? I don't get it, is this what your character looks like?

Zack: Nah, I'm gonna play as Dante!

Cloud: *sighes* Alright, that's something you can do. But, I'd REALLY rather you'd just do it from scratch, Zack.

Zack: Oh, okay.

Zack shrugs and borrows Cloud's book to check nations and jobs.

At that point, Angeal and Sephiroth had arrived, the two with the physical copies of the books in hands.

Cloud: What the hell? I sent you guys a digital copy, when did you... You know what, whatever. You guys came up with your characters?

Angeal: Yes, his name's Gerald and he's gonna be the healer.

Cloud: Oh, okay. Quite simple, what about the lore?

Angeal: What does a Star Trek character has to do with it?

Cloud: Oh god... Sephiroth, PLEASE, tell me you have something we can work with.

Sephiroth: Yes, my character is Trevor, he's from Inismore, a duelist, decided to focus on finesse since it'll serve lots when doing acrobatics on a boat. He was born on the capital, but moved to the coast. *Hands it over a character sheet PERFECTLY done*

Cloud: Oh! That's more like it! Simple, original and you even took into consideration the secret arts! Nice going.

Sephiroth: I also studied the rules and other nations and jobs. I can help correcting them.

Cloud: Oh, okay? Well, you got the character sheet right, why don't you go ahead with helping Zack with his character? I'm gonna help Angeal and Genesis is grounded because he overdid himself.

After that, Cloud sat down with Angeal and started to distributing the points. Angeal started arguing over his characters age affecting his points, because no matter the age, he had a good training routine and diet will help lots on a old age.

Cloud argues that affects jack shit in an RPG and they started yelling at each other.

Zack asks Sephiroth about Inismore and he started explaining the lore.

Genesis: You cut uncle Archibald?! He's the reason Jacques learns piano in the first place!

Angeal and Cloud are STILL arguing over the fact that his character can use magic and fight at the same time.

Cloud tries to explain that his character can't learn Hexe because he isn't born in Eisen.

Angeal argues that he fought in the war for thirty years and he can.

Cloud refutes that he wasn't born in Eisen. And thus, can't learn their magic.

Zack asks Sephiroth about Eisen, of which he starts explaining.

Genesis: How dare you cut my clarinet lessons out?! They were the therapeutical relief Jacques needed after his grandfather felt from his horse!

Now Angeal is arguing over not wanting to leave his mother behind and wanting to take her along so he can heal her illness.

Cloud refutes that it's gonna be a unnecessary drag for their session, since that would distract him too much.

Angeal counter argues that he won't leave without his mother.

Cloud tries to explain how much of a dead weight a ill relative would be at their one-shot.

Sephiroth tosses his book at Cloud.

Sephiroth: Do not talk like this of his mother!

Cloud gets pissed, but Angeal stops him from tossing the book back at Sephiroth.

Angeal: Thanks, Seph, but I can handle myself.

Sephiroth: You better be.

Angeal: ... You're not gonna romance my mother.

Sephiroth: WHY NOT?!

Genesis: NO! WHY CUT LITTLE LISA?! SHE'S JUST A BABY!

Cloud: EXACTLY! A BABY THAT, QUOTING YOU, IS A SEVENTH GRADE RELATIVE THAT YOUR CHARACTER DOESN'T EVEN KNOW!

A huge fight ensues, Zack is drinking his energy drink and eating chips as he just sees chaos ensue.

Sephiroth tries to hit Cloud, but punches Genesis.

Genesis pulls Angeal's hair.

Angeal tries to hit Genesis, but hits Sephiroth.

The trio started fighting and Cloud sneaked out of there, seating by Zack's side. He takes a energy drinks and the two share potato chips.

Later that night, the five are called in Lazard's office.

Tabletop RPGs are now forbidden in the SOLDIER floor.

#ff7 #ff7r #zack fair #ccff7 #ccff7r #cloud strife #ffvii #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #rpg #7th sea #crisis core final fantasy vii

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Coquet, Part 9 | JJK

Coquet, Part 9

\ kō-ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.

✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: ANGST(!!!); pining; vulnerable confessions; some sexually-explicit conversations; cussing; self-deprecation; very slight hint of sexual tension; some medical terminologies

Word count: 11.8K+ words

Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had to sit in my feelings--just like my loves here. I also had a terrible case of writer's block while working on this. I was constantly questioning the direction that I was taking the narrative in. In the end, I went with the more realistic, sensible approach rather than going for instant gratification. And while the latter is easier and seems more satisfying, I wanted to maintain my core writing style--and that's making my characters earn the ending that I am setting them up for.

A/N2: Multiple POV switches occur here. I've tried to add headings to serve as a marker as to whose "headspace" you're in. Hope that helps! 😬

A/N3: The 'medical' portion here was directly lifted from an episode of House (love that show!). Just slightly paraphrased (for the dramz)! Also, if you've read my other works--let me know if you've picked up my not-so-subtle easter egg here 🤗

Needless to say, no wedding occurred the following day. Taehyung calmly explained things to your parents last night when he got back to the hospital. They were rightfully disappointed and extremely confused, but he didn’t leave them much room to complain about it.

There was no sign of Jennie or her family this morning either. Auntie Dahlia may have let slip that they left around dawn–before everybody else.

You wait patiently in the lobby with your suitcases as different groups board shuttles. Some were headed to the airport whilst others headed to a separate dropoff area where most local guests and relatives parked.

You were headed to your parents’ house to pick up one of their cars to drive back to the hospital so you could be there when your dad gets discharged. Instead of rebooking an earlier flight, you decided to spend your last night in your childhood home and leave on the day you had originally planned.

Too many thoughts, feeling so many emotions, you sighed and checked your flight’s confirmation email for the nth time.

You still had notifications turned on for any changes and last night you received an alert about one of the itineraries that you booked–Jungkook’s. Your phone pinged indicating that he flew out at 6:30 this morning.

Your fingers hovered on the text window’s keypad for a few seconds before closing out of it. You did the same thing last night after finding the envelope containing the money that you had given him at the beginning of the week. You didn’t care to count it.

You regretted lashing out at him. He was the unwitting recipient of your rage. Not to mention that you said the most awful words to him. Words you couldn’t take back.

It was not how you envisioned this trip ending.

Had you actually made plans to go out on a date with him? The last few days seem like a fever dream now after how things went down last night.

Haru was gone and you felt nothing. Jennie left but not before apologizing last night, trying to make things right. It counted for something but didn’t make their betrayal hurt less.

And now Jungkook was gone. You hunch over your knees and bury your head in your hands. That seemed like a harder pill to swallow.

You are pulled from your thoughts when you hear someone clearing their throat. Lifting your head slightly, you flick your eyes sideways and spot the tips of a pair of Chelsea boots. When you glance up, you see Jimin smiling at you. You force a smile in return.

He nudges your leg playfully, prompting you to scoot over so he could settle in the empty space next to you. You sit side-by-side in silence for a minute until you feel his arm curl around you, pulling you closer to him. You instinctively rest your head on his shoulder, releasing a deep, shaky breath so your tears wouldn’t fall.

Jimin could run his mouth if and when wanted to. You had a feeling that he had plenty to say about everything that happened last night, but he seems to settle with rubbing the side of your arm. It was comforting.

He finally breaks the silence with a mundane question. “Need a ride to the airport in a couple days?”

You sighed. “Will it be a quiet ride?”

“As quiet as you want it to be,” he promises.

You nodded. Straightening out, you look around the lobby, as if expecting somebody familiar to come walking by. “Is Mindi still up in her room packing?”

He closes one eye and squints, as if weighing his answer. “Sort of? She says she needs time to psych herself up before she sees you.”

You gave him a look of confusion. “Why would she need to do that?”

Jimin shifted in his seat. “She kind of feels guilty. By association.”

You groaned at the sound of that. “Chim, you know I don’t see it like that.”

“I know. I talked to her about it last night and this morning at length. She felt that she should have known–with her and Jennie being attached at the hip and all. And if she had known, she’d be the first to sound the alarm.” He simultaneously reasons with you and defends his sister’s emotions.

You tilted your head back and sighed. You rubbed your eyes, completely drained of life. You didn’t want all of this guilt floating around you, not when you had guilt of your own that you had to deal with.

“Jennie seemed like she was ready to take that secret to the grave,” you say, sounding distant.

“Mm. That’s the thing with people who seem too good to be true. They’re overcompensating for something,” he replies cynically.

Your eyebrows quirked and you glanced sideways at him. You wondered if maybe he had your secret figured out.

He lifted a shoulder, continuing. “But…sometimes, there are things that seem dubious but aren’t. You spend enough time being a skeptic, it makes it hard for you to tell whether something or someone is actually being genuine.”

“What if a person is just too gullible?”

He smirked at you. “Gullibility has its pros and cons. For one, people think you easily fall for something without even thinking it through. On the other hand, it means you believe that there’s inherent good in the world and that you’re not a complete cynic.”

You exchanged quiet looks. You felt guilty about keeping this secret from him. You were always very close, even when you were kids. Although you and Mindi played together more often, it was Jimin whom you spent the most time talking to.

“I don’t think you’re a cynic. Far from it. You just got dealt a bad hand. But you know what we always say after all those trips to Vegas? If you bust on this hand, you can either bet again or walk away. And nine times out of ten you bet again.”

You gave him a crooked smile. “I don’t know, Chim. I think you overestimate me too often.”

“I don’t overestimate you. I’m just somebody who wants to root for you.”

You stared at him for a minute, unaware that tears had pushed their way through. You hugged him tightly. “What would I do without you, Jiminie?”

He hummed. “Yeah. I love you, too.”

******

Jungkook

“‘Hello, Dr. Sakai!” A pair of nurses greet one of the residents checking in for her shift.

“Hi!” She responds cheerfully as she walks past them to proceed to the lockers. As soon as she crosses the threshold, she is stopped dead in her tracks.

“What the–what are you doing here?”

“Hello to you, too, Mayumi.” Jungkook chuckles as he shuts his locker and adjusts his lab coat. “I work here, remember?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I thought you weren’t due back for another couple days?”

He shrugged. “Trip ended early.” His tone is clipped, with a slight edge to it. He stretches his shoulders and his neck–as if getting ready for battle. After landing an hour ago, he picked up a shift at the hospital and jumped right into work. Thankful for the time difference, at least he could keep his mind occupied for a few hours.

“Oh-kay,” Mayumi said slowly as she stared at Jungkook suspiciously.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Nothing!” She says dismissively. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple minutes for rounds, yeah?”

“Yep,” he says wryly before walking away.

******

After rounds, Mayumi and Jungkook hang out by the nurse’s station to finish up their patient notes. Mayumi keeps glancing at Jungkook, who was deeply invested in a patient’s post-op tonsillectomy.

“You’re being very detailed about that case,” she remarks.

“Oh you know, just making sure we cover all the bases. Wouldn’t want a medical malpractice suit because we had sparse notes,” he says dryly.

“Riiiiight,” she drags out. “Because our legal department is teeming with suits from tonsillectomies that have gone awry.”

He sighed briefly, nose still buried into his notes. “You know, there was a fairly recent case from this state–it was supposed to be a simple, routine procedure–and then the patient fell into a coma. Well…not on my watch!”

Mayumi rolls her eyes. “By the way–thank you for the consult a couple days ago. I’m sorry I kept bugging you with calls during your vacation.”

“I didn’t mind at all. Did the additional heavy metal tox screen turn up results?”

She nodded. “You were right. I really thought it was lupus but we went back to your heavy metal poisoning theory. We only kept ruling it out before because none of the initial tests came back with useful results–at least, nothing on the usual heavy metal suspects: lead, cadmium, mercury. Then I did as you suggested–expanded the test to the other metals.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Gold sodium thiomalate, if you can believe it? It was from their arthritis medication.”

He looked up, chuckling softly, pleased with himself. “Hm, interesting. That ingredient is not even approved to be used in arthritis medication in this country so…they must have acquired it from somewhere else.”

“Yep! They eventually confessed that their insurance wouldn’t cover the prescription so they went by other means.”

He nods vaguely. Happy that he was able to get a diagnosis correctly–even from afar. He turned back to his notes.

“You know–I envy you so much. Out of our cohort, you have the best instincts,” Mayumi remarked.

He scoffs. “Sure. Instincts,” he repeats blandly.

“Yeah. You take one look at a patient and your mind’s already running through a list of potential diagnoses. You already know what to do.”

He hums, turning back to his notes, not really having anything else to offer Mayumi. Tired of his standoffish attitude this morning, she finally shuts the clipboard flap of one of her patients’ records and turns her full attention to him.

She asks him point-blank. “Okay, dude…do I have to ask?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Yumi,” Jungkook says without lifting his eyes off his clinical notes.

Mayumi snorts. “Seriously? You’re going to try and deflect now? After your moping and pouting during rounds?”

He sighs heavily, “I was not moping or pouting,” he protested quietly. He scratches his head, intent on remaining distracted.

Mayumi wouldn’t let up. “Did you not get laid this week or—“

Still not looking up from his notes, he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Judging by his reaction, her mouth grew into a wide grin. “Ahh…so you did. But something else happened…and that’s why you’re back early, throwing yourself into work so you don’t have to lick your wounds for long.”

He exhales sharply and finally turns to her. “Yumi, it doesn’t matter, okay? Now come on, help me clean up the notes here. Your handwriting is shit, by the way.”

She laughs and stops teasing him but makes a mental note to bring it up again later. Just then, their attending rounds them up again to discuss an ongoing case.

******

Back at the hospital, you were just waiting for all paperwork to be signed and the doctor to give his final sign-off before your dad was free to go.

As you exit your dad’s room, you find Taehyung sitting in the hallway, scrolling through his phone. He looks up and gives you a small smile when you sit next to him.

He looked tired–like he had been up all night. You knew because you barely got any sleep too. You basically just laid in bed, with your eyes closed but still fully aware of your surroundings.

“How are you?”

He chuckled bitterly then sighed. “I’m alive. How ‘bout you?”

You smiled sadly. “I’m alright.”

His smile faded. “Are you, really?”

You shrugged. “It’s not like I can change the past, Tae. But at least I got answers to my questions,” you say wryly.

He lowered his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. “What a mess I’ve made, huh?”

Your eyebrows knitted at him. “Oh Tae,” you say sympathetically.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry for…not fighting hard enough for you. For not… choosing you.”

You sighed. “Taehyungie, I did not make you choose. I made the choice. I knew how much Haru meant to you. I didn’t want to put you in a tough spot.”

“Still…I feel bad about it. My best friend and my fiancée…I…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. After a long beat, he wonders, “You think she lied to protect Haru?”

“Oh God, no!” Your reaction was instantaneous. “But…if anything? I think that she was protecting your friendship with Haru.” You moistened your lips before continuing. “He was there for you when your mom died. Dad told me back then that he was the only one who could get you talking and playing again. Jennie knows how special that connection was and didn’t want to come between that. And…neither did I when I decided to move away.”

He sighed heavily. “What she did…you know, lying about it? I think what hurt more wasn’t really the betrayal, but it was more the idea of her thinking that I couldn’t handle the truth…or that I didn’t have the emotional capacity to manage my feelings if she had told me about it.”

“Would it have changed your mind about pursuing a relationship with her if she had just told you from the outset?” You asked him.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “I mean…I don’t know. I obviously can’t answer that now,” he says vaguely. “But…I still would have liked to be given the opportunity to make that decision for myself–instead of her deciding for me.”

You exhaled deeply, silently agreeing with him. “Have you talked to her?”

He shook his head slowly. “She’s texted me some but–I don’t know what to say to her. I…don’t know if I should even talk to her.”

“How come?”

“It just feels wrong,” he says quickly.

“What feels wrong?” You pressed him. As his sister, who loved him unconditionally as if you’d shared the same DNA–you understood that he would stew, go in circles and beat himself up about this unless you made it clear to him that he would not be disrespecting you in any way if he chose to make things work. All you wanted was for Taehyung to be happy.

He shrugged, not wanting to answer the question. “Is it because–you’re worried about how I would feel if you tried to patch things up with her?”

He raised his head and looked at you with sad eyes, confirming your theory.

“Tyeongie…” You tilted your head gently and faced him. “Listen to me. Whatever happened to Haru and I–that’s all done. We were over when I arrived at the beginning of the week and it has remained that way even after the truth came out.”

“But Jennie–”

“Jennie did what she thought was right at the time.” You cleared your throat and decided to tell Taehyung that you spoke to her. “She…sought me out, you know…last night. And we talked. She apologized and…I’ve made peace with it.”

His expression softens.

“You know, you and Jennie–what you two have is the real thing. What she did hurt me, yes. But neither you, me, nor she can change that fact. I see how much she loves you; she takes good care of you; and I see how happy she makes you. I understand that you’re conflicted–she hurt me but you still love her–those are both valid feelings.”

He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed, chewing at his bottom lip. You reached up to him and squeezed his cheek gently, making him smile a little.

“Do you feel differently than when you did back when you made that whole speech about your love for her growing and evolving?” You asked him.

He shook his head quietly.

“Okay so…talk to her,” You urged him. “Answer her texts and her calls. Because trust me,” you clutched your chest, “It would absolutely rip me apart if I took your happiness away from you. What kind of a sister would I be?”

He chuckled. “You know, it’s funny–Jungkook said something similar to me when we spoke, after I dropped him off at the hotel last night. About–feeling torn between two polarizing feelings.”

You forced a smile. The topic of Jungkook was still a sore spot for you. “Well, I guess great minds think alike,” you joked.

He nodded. “Have you talked to him yet?”

You start to internally panic. “Uhm, n-no. He’s…he’s dealing with a complicated case so…I’m waiting for him to come off that. I don’t want to stress him out.”

“I really like him for you, you know. He’s different–I can tell. It’s like…all he wants is for you to be happy. He’s the perfect guy for you. In fact, he couldn’t be more perfect if you’d picked him out of a catalog,” he chuckled.

You gulped, feeling a pang of guilt. You suddenly feel the urge to come clean to your brother.

“Tae–I need to tell you something about Jungkook and I.”

“Hm? And what’s that?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Uhm…J-Jungkook is–

“Freedom!” You are both startled when your dad yells triumphantly as he is wheeled out of his room by your mom.

Taehyung beams as he stands up to approach him, seemingly forgetting about the last thing you said.

You smiled warmly, approaching your dad and crouching down to kiss him on the cheek. He wraps you both in a tight embrace–as if you were still little kids–kissing the tops of your heads.

“Let’s go, kiddos! I’ve been itching to get out of here.”

********

Jungkook

“So…did she not pay you enough or—“

“Geez, Mayumi!” He whispered harshly through gritted teeth, trying to shush her. “Someone could hear you.” He glanced around the cafeteria. It was a few minutes after the lunch rush so it was relatively quiet.

“Dude, I’ve told you before, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure a lot of people here have done crazier, possibly worse things than being an escort to put themselves through med school,” she mutters, before they settle into a table in the corner. She takes a bite of her salad.

//FLASHBACK

Mayumi and Jungkook have spent many nights together during their early med-school years. Jungkook took night classes while he moonlighted as an escort. Some nights, he’d show up to class out of breath, as if he’d just run a marathon–with his hair all brushed up, cologne in full-force. His first question was always, ‘What’d I miss?’

Jungkook wasn’t a slacker. In fact, he was a very diligent student and she didn’t mind filling him in or lending him notes sometimes. She just noticed that he sometimes had poor time management skills. At the time, she didn’t think it was her place to criticize him. She wasn’t his mother. After a while, she really didn’t think much of it until he showed up to class in a suit. She thought it was an isolated incident until he did it two more times.

It was a little jarring for her, to say the least and being inherently curious, she finally asked him about it while they were at the library trying to figure out an assignment.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh–sure,” he answered tentatively.

“Do you have, like, another job or something?”

“W-what makes you think that?”

“Oh, you know–you always seem like you’re rushing into class. Sometimes, very formally dressed,” she states.

He chuckled nervously. “I’m sure a lot of us work while we go to night school,” he mumbles.

“Riiight,” she drags out. “Your job seems very high-end, though.”

He scoffed again as he looked up from a medical journal that he was perusing. “Just because I’m in a suit, I’m high-end? I could be working a catering job.”

“Not with those Gucci lace-ups you had the other day, you’re not.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow quirks ever-so-slightly, trying his best not to give anything away.

“What do you know?” He says quietly.

They stare at each other in silence. Mayumi, with a smirk playing on her lips. “I also saw you the other night at the parking lot getting dropped off by a town car.”

“I could have just asked someone for a favor.”

“Mm-hm. How would you account for your thousand-dollar shoes?”

“Consignment store, for all you know,” he argued.

He had a point. Living in a city with a high cost of living rate, if you are patient enough to search, you can find a treasure trove of bougie designer digs. “‘Kay,” she says sarcastically. “What about that Cartier trinity bracelet you have on now?” Her eyes flick downward at his wrist.

He mirrors her action and tries to cover it up with his shirt sleeve. To the untrained eye, it looked like a cheap, plain, nylon corded bracelet. But the metal rings that held it together were gold, platinum, and rose gold–worth way beyond the means of a med student on ‘financial aid’.

“Oh yeah…I like nice things, too, you know,” she smiled. Mayumi may be on financial aid, too–but she appreciated looking at fancy things.

He glared at her and lowered his voice. “It’s not what you think,” Jungkook mutters dismissively and turns his attention back to his medical journal.

They fall silent again. Mayumi’s wheels turning at Jungkook’s answer for each of her queries. ”I have a theory,” she declares.

“Oh yeah? Congratulations,” he says sarcastically.

“My guess? Is that you have a sugar momma.”

Jungkook snorts. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” He tries to sound dismissive but shifts uncomfortably while he turns back to the article that he was reading about ‘palliative care.’

Mayumi sees his discomfort and puckered her lips. “But I’m close, aren’t I? Come on…we’re clearly in this for a few years. I need some sort of excitement in my life other than memorizing a list of infectious diseases alphabetically.”

“Can’t you just pick up a hobby or something? What are you picking on me for?” He says, getting irritated.

“I can keep a secret,” she says to him point-blank. “And…if you want to bum off my notes on the intrinsic cardiac nervous system–complete with detailed illustrations–you have to pay the piper first.”

Honestly, Jungkook didn’t need the detailed illustration–he knew he had much better anatomical drawings than Mayumi. But…he was desperate for those notes. He missed that lesson because one of his dates ran longer than expected so he couldn’t leave in time to make his class. And nobody else cared enough to lend him their notes except for Mayumi.

He shuts the medical journal and looks around to make sure that nobody was listening in. “Fine. But I need you to have an open mind about it, deal?”

She stuck her hand out and he clasps it in a handshake.

//END FLASHBACK

“I’m not ashamed,” Jungkook says as sets his tray down. “I just don’t want my business out there for everyone else to pick apart, you know?”

“Seriously though, how many people can say they barely have any student debt at this stage, huh? You did that,” she points to him. She drags a third chair towards her to prop her foot on it while she continues to dig into her lunch. “I wish I could make a dent in my student loans,” she chuckled humorlessly. “I’m sure Hyunjung is regretting buying me a ring instead of making a loan payment.”

Jungkook snorted. “Please. That guy would move heaven and earth for you. And don’t pretend you don’t love said ring,” he points out before taking a bite of his lunch.

She sighed dreamily. “It is a pretty ring,” she admits. Mayumi and her fiance had just gotten engaged a couple weeks before Jungkook left for his trip.

After a moment of silence and a few bites, Jungkook asks, “Was it everything you hoped for?”

She looks up from her phone at the sound of the question. “What do you mean? Getting engaged?” She regards him curiously.

“Well…that and,” he gestures with his hand vaguely, “…Your relationship in general. I mean, how did you know that Hyunjung was the one? What made you say ‘yes’?”

She takes a moment to think about it before answering. “I mean, I love him, obviously. But—was our relationship everything that I hoped for? The short answer is ‘no,’ if I’m taking your question literally. It’s not everything, because that’s just impossible to achieve and completely unrealistic. I only hoped to find someone who’d love me enough to want to be with me for the rest of their natural life. And if you’re the religious kind, possibly the next life, too.” She answered.

He nods vaguely then chugs his water down, wishing it was a beer or something stronger instead.

She watched him carefully, waiting for him to open up further about how this week went.

“You ever think someone could see past…my past? Like, forget all that existed and just see me for who I am now?”

She smiled sympathetically at him. “Kookie, your past is a part of you. It’s part of your present and will still be part of your future. When you start separating a person from their experiences, that’s when they stop becoming whole. So, if someone can’t accept the whole you, then, maybe they don’t deserve you.”

He pursed his lips and turned pensive.

“I thought she was picking up what I was putting down,” he muttered.

Mayumi smiled triumphantly. “Did you actually tell her how you felt?” She asks.

“I mean…I asked her out,” he answers.

She let out a laugh. “So? That doesn’t mean anything!”

“What do you mean? Asking her out meant that I was showing her that I was interested!”

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Jungkook, unless you explicitly tell them how you feel–despite how obvious you are–an invitation to a date is a prelude. Just enough to garner expectations. Expectations…that may or may not even get fulfilled!”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes at her but lowered his voice. “Don’t you think I know how to fulfill women’s expectations? Shit, I did it for years! And I have actual written testimonies that prove it!”

She scoffed at his arrogance. “Those were jobs. You were obligated to do it! Now, you’re talking about something in a completely different setting and context.”

“I thought I was being explicit about how I felt,” he argued strongly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you actually been in a serious relationship before?”

“Yes, I have!” He countered.

“And how long ago was that?”

He thought back to his pre-escort days, sighing in defeat. It was quite a while ago.

“Like I said,” Mayumi makes her point in between bites of her lunch. “Is that the reason why you left? I thought you wanted, quote-unquote, ‘one last ride,’” she says, mocking his voice.

He grimaced. “I thought it was going well at first…seemed like we were on the same page.” He balled up his napkin and lobbed it right into the garbage bin.

“And then–I don’t know what happened. It’s like, everything that I had done and told her–it all went to shit. I let my guard down, got all vulnerable, only to have it all thrown at my face in the end.”

Mayumi cocked her head slightly and gave him a sympathetic look. “Have you two talked since?”

He shook his head. Emotions were running high that evening. YN was reeling from her ex and her friend’s betrayal. It was a lot to take in. He knew within him that her anger was misplaced…and he was willing to put that aside until she called him names.

That’s what you are. A liar.

“Our last day ended in chaos, to say the least.”

He goes on to give Mayumi highlights of what happened that day and how emotionally charged everything was.

“So, I just…left,” he finishes.

“Maybe it’s just taking longer for the dust to settle for her. Not to make excuses but, that seems like a lot for one person to take in one night.”

“I get that. I guess…I overestimated the level of trust that we built in those last couple days.”

Mayumi sighed. “Kookie–you can’t expect trust to just bloom within a matter of days. And, can I play devil's advocate here? I get that she started out as a client for you but if you wanted to take things to the next level, I feel like you should have given her a bit more room for error, don’t you agree?”

He pouted his lips and thought about it for a few seconds before begrudgingly acknowledging her point. “I guess.”

“Buuut–I also understand that some hurtful words were exchanged. That’s an equally difficult position to be in.” She eyed him silently. “Welp…it’s like what you always say whenever we stress over a case: if at the end of the day, you’d still rather give up than try, then nothing’s ever going to be worth it.”

He exhales glumly, right before their pagers go off and they start scrambling out of the cafeteria.

******

Days later, you flew back home without incident. When you arrived at the airport, a familiar face welcomed you.

“Hey babe.” Cristina says softly after she pulls up to the curb. She popped her trunk and asked if you needed help with your things. You shook your head gently and proceeded to load up your luggage in the back.

She gave you a smile and a hug when you slid into the passenger seat before pulling into the flow of traffic. It was a 10-minute drive which you spent quietly staring out the window.

You arrive at your home, leaving your things by the doorway. You mumbled your thanks to Cristina before heading straight to your bedroom.

She followed shortly, finding you curled up on your side. You hear her sigh before feeling the mattress sink as she sits on it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She rubs your back soothingly.

With a sniffle, you answered, “No. Not yet.”

You didn’t see her nod but you felt her lay next to you. She held you for however long that was…until you were all cried out for the night.

******

A few days later, you had just wrapped up an off-site client meeting within the city and were headed to your lunch date with Cristina. She waved you over by the outdoor patio as you came around the block.

“Hey babe! Love that color on you,” she comments on your outfit.

You gave her a small smile. Cristina wouldn’t compliment anyone if she didn’t mean it. It was one of the things you loved about her. You knew you’d made a friend for life when she told you how garish your shoes were during a holiday party with your company partners and subsidiaries.

To be fair, the shoes were an impulse purchase. You had just moved to a new city–barely a month into your new job and was going through one of your waves of homesickness and self-pity. A dangerous combination. You ended up buying these ridiculously bright green Bottega Venetta sandals with curly telephone-cord straps. You were ashamed to admit how much you spent on them. But Cristina, being the great lawyer that she was, came up with a compelling argument to the sales representative at customer service when you returned them.

“Thanks for meeting me. Sorry I’ve been such a lump.” You gave her a quick hug and air-kisses.

“That’s alright. I’m always up for good food and even better company,” she says with a smile after you both take your seat. “Maybe even some juicy conversations, if you are so inclined.”

You laughed. “I thought we were just going to have a nice lunch?”

She gives you a deadpan look. “Come on…you’re due for a good bitch-session. It’s been, what? Close to a week since you got back?”

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. You remembered the day she picked you up from the airport. You didn’t have the strength to talk about things then. Although you had talked to your family, you couldn’t be as open as you liked...especially about Jungkook, even though you’ve alluded to the situation in every conversation you’ve had with Jimin and Taehyung. Your family had this picture-perfect idea of what your life is like now and were more concerned about you reeling from the big Haru-Jennie betrayal situation–which, if you were being honest, now seems to pale in comparison to your blowup with Jungkook.

Cristina knew everything–everything you wouldn’t dare tell your family. How you fell into a depression after you and Haru split up and the instant regret and resentment you felt when you chose to leave home. She knew about your whole arrangement with Jungkook and from your reaction, would deduce how far things got before it all went to shit. You could be completely open with her and she would listen.

She leans back on her seat and spreads her arms wide. “So, come, come. Lay it on me!”

You looked at her, chuckling. God, you missed her. “Okay well–can we at least order first?” You say, while perusing the menu.

After your drinks and appetizers were served, you went on to narrate how your week started…and ultimately ended. You gave her vague, real-time updates throughout but haven’t been able to fill her in until after your dad’s medical emergency.

“Holy shit,” she breathed out, eyes wide.

“Now you know why I needed some time to decompress.”

She sighed. “Well…seems like you’ve gotten enough pep-talks from your family.”

You twisted your mouth wryly. “I guess,” you say, noncommittal. “Even after all that, I still feel like shit. I couldn’t really talk to them about it because…where would I even begin? And for starters, I haven’t even gathered up the courage to talk to Jungkook and apologize before he left.” Your heart turns over painfully in your chest when you confess your next words to her. “I don’t know how.”

Cristina continued to watch you, listening intently.

“I’m an idiot. I lashed out at him…called him names. I don’t know how I can face him. And–” you paused for a minute–suddenly deciding to switch gears and huffed out, “Maybe it’s better this way, you know? God, how did I think things would pan out between me…and an escort? And I’m not saying it to be judgemental but–he’s…like, perfect, in every way. And I’m…” you chuckled bitterly, “I’m just me. Everyone back home couldn’t believe that I landed him–and, in reality, I didn’t! I’m a fucking fraud, Cris!”

She let you ramble on. Go into your little episode–just to get it out of your system before she hits you with a dose of reality. “Have you forgiven Haru?”

Your little pity party comes to a halt with her question. You sighed and lifted a shoulder. “Yeah,” you say tentatively.

“And Jennie? Have you forgiven her?”

You sighed heavily. “Yes.” You wondered where she was going with this.

“Okay so–you’ve found it in your heart to forgive these people who have wronged you and now you have wronged someone; you’re consumed by guilt because of it. And yet–you’re telling me that you’re afraid to ask forgiveness…because you’re assuming they won’t forgive you?”

“I just told you that I basically dumped a year’s worth of emotional baggage on the guy. A guy who–” You sighed. “A guy who seemed like he was ready to accept me for all of my faults and imperfections. Someone who was actually being honest with me…and I just spat in his face.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Some things are just unforgivable.”

Cristina cocked her head to the side and looked at you, her gaze softening. “And you say that because…you have trouble forgiving yourself, too?”

You stared at her dumbfounded. “Sometimes it’s not that simple. I…have way too many issues…I’m emotionally unstable–”

“Right, but shouldn’t you at least try? Just like your conversation with Tae…try and let Jungkook make that call? Whether or not to forgive you?”

You sighed heavily, shaking your head. “I…I don’t know.”

“Every woman has the exact love life that she wants,” she declares suddenly.

You scrunch your face in confusion. “What?”

“Every woman has the exact love life that she wants,” she repeats. “That’s what my guy told me.”

“Your…guy?” You echoed, still confused.

“Yeah. My guy,” she cocked her eyebrow knowingly at you as she takes a sip of her drink.

When you don't connect the dots quickly enough, she presses on. “Remember my last vacation?”

“Y-yeah–” you say slowly. Cristina took a solo trip not so long ago–she was at an impasse at her job and desperately needed a break. She ended up booking a trip to Europe for two weeks. She regaled you with her shopping haul, food diaries, stories about her swimming in the Mediterranean, and her serene cobblestone street strolls.

“Are you talking about that Euro-fling that you had?” You vaguely remember her glossing over it–amongst other highlights from her trip.

“Yep. I hired him,” she says matter-of-factly.

Your eyes bulge and jaw drops at her revelation. “You said you hooked up at some club in Ibiza!”

“Weeeeell…” her voice dragged and went up an octave. “That was half-true. We did hook up at a club in Ibiza…among the many,” she puffed out her cheeks and exhaled for emphasis, sounding nostalgic, “...many things that we did on that trip.” She bit her bottom lip, wishing she could be transported back to relive those memories.

You recalled a few months ago–right as you were trying to book Jungkook on the app–she mentioned a ‘very reputable source’ who could vouch for the service’s guarantee of 100% satisfaction.

Eyes still wide, you absently picked up your glass and took a big gulp of water. This was hardly a conversation for lunch but–nothing was ever off-limits for Cristina.

“Got the tip from a senior partner–who will remain nameless. And I figured, hey, I’m spending time abroad to relax, take some time to think…but I’m also sexually frustrated so I didn’t mind paying for a hot, attractive man who was guaranteed to worship me while I was doing my soul-searching.”

“Oh my god, Cris!” You almost spit out your water.

She giggled, lifting her shoulders. “What? Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy those perks,” she grinned mischievously at you.

You looked away from her briefly and twisted your lips wryly. She cackled out loud.

When she calmed down, she continued, “Besides, the whole idea of going on vacation with someone, no strings attached…not having to deal with the awkwardness of getting into bed with them and without the exaggerated expectations after? What’s not to like?”

“I’m…kind of shocked but not surprised,” you remarked.

“And not to mention they’ve already been carefully vetted! I felt completely safe with him and had no trouble trusting him.”

You latched on to that last part of her comment. Trust. Safety.

She laughed. “It was great! I mean–not just the sex but, we had some pretty deep conversations, too. One thing he told me was that ‘every woman has the exact love life that she wants.’ And I agree with that assessment.”

You scoffed. “Cris, do you honestly believe that I want to be single and miserable?”

She looks at you point-blank. “When you’re ready to be un-single and un-miserable–to take that leap–then, yeah. You will have the love life that you want. But until then…” she trailed off.

You let out a deep breath, letting her words sink in.

“And you know what? By the end of our…arrangement, we knew where we stood since we both made our expectations clear from the beginning. I get that it’s not exactly the same as your current situation with your guy but–the fact remains–you need to be clear about where you stand. You can’t just leave things like that even if you haven’t really established any sort of relationship. As a person? You at least owe it to both of you to close this loop.”

******

On your way back from lunch with Cristina, you checked your emails on your phone. There was nothing pressing nor did you have any pending meetings scheduled for the rest of the afternoon so you tell your assistant that you’re leaving for the day.

You thought more about her advice. Before everything blew up in your face, you were intent on pursuing this relationship. And truthfully, you still wanted to–you had his phone number, you could very well call him and apologize–and mean it.

You hated how things ended after they were just starting to look promising. You couldn’t just pick up where you left off. You needed to make things right. You decided within yourself that you’d bite the bullet and just call him when you got home. You’d grovel, if you needed to.

Just then, your phone pings with an alert telling you that there is an accident a few blocks away–at the street where you usually make a turn to head home.

You curse under your breath and take the long way home instead. It wasn’t ideal but you also didn’t want to get stuck in traffic when you just wanted to get into your pajamas and curl up on your couch with that nice bottle of rose you had chilling in the fridge.

You take the next exit and stop at the next intersection. This was the reason why you don’t usually take this route–it’s because the lights here take ages to change.

You sighed, tapping your fingers impatiently at the steering wheel, mentally noting how much this neighborhood has changed.

You look right up ahead and see an ‘H’ sign for one of the local hospitals.

Another reason why you didn’t take this way coming home–because ambulances always gave you anxiety.

When the light turns green, you drive straight and approach your detour street. Another light…great. As you wait for it to change, you glance up at the hospital building on the opposite side of the street ahead.

You blink a few times, remembering something. When the cars in front of you start to move, you straighten up on your seat and grip your steering wheel hard–you’re about to pull a U-turn.

******

You sat in your car, hyperventilating in the visitor parking lot.

There really was no logical reason for you to be at this hospital. You thought about reversing the car as soon as you got to the parking lot attendant to claim a ticket–but there was another car waiting behind you so you had no choice but to proceed.

This is insane!

Of course it was. And damn your weird memory–for forgetting routine meetings and other regular run-of-the-mill errands that you had to list religiously on your phone to remind you of them.

But when it comes to random, oddball information that you’ve only glossed over once–things normal people wouldn’t think to ever deem essential in their daily life–you remember. Like, which celebrity has dated whom; who won the Academy Award for Best Actress this year; who designed Beyonce’s dress from 2014…and which hospital Jungkook worked at.

Should you have called first?

Of course you should have. That’s what normal people do. Stalkers randomly showed up at people’s jobs without their knowledge.

Too late now–you were walking through the sliding doors and up to the general information desk.

Maybe he’s not even here. He never got a chance to tell you much about his work–like what shift he worked. It was the middle of the afternoon–he could be in the middle of a procedure. You could leave a note or a message for him.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The staff greets you.

“Hi. Uhm, I’m here to see one of your doctors. Jeon. Jeon Jungkook?” You chuckled to yourself at how that all came out like a ‘Bond. James Bond’ intro.

“Oh, ok. Are they expecting you?”

“Not quite. It’s kind of a…spur-of-the-moment thing and I happened to be in the area.”

Just when the staff starts looking at you suspiciously, you quickly add, “He, uh–helped my dad with a medical emergency recently. Dr. Jeon mentioned that he worked at this hospital but I don’t know what department he’s in. I just–wanted to thank him personally.” You give her your most sincere smile.

She tilted her head, endeared. “Aw–that’s so amazing to hear! I hope your dad’s doing better?”

“He is, thank you. Uh, h-he does work here, right?”

She starts looking flustered and clears her throat. Geez. You know the feeling all too well.

“Yes, he does,” she says, punctuating every word as she checks on her computer. “I just started my shift and he typically leaves as I’m coming in so–he might have left for the day…”

Okay, so maybe you’ll just leave him a message.

“Oh–hang on…I guess he scrubbed into a procedure earlier. Looks like he’s still around for post-op. Would you like me to page him for you?”

You considered it. How would this person code this page anyway? ‘Former disgruntled client looking to make amends?’ Sure. That would go really well.

“Uhm–sure. Maybe just say that a former patient is here to see him.”

“Okay, sure,” she says, keying in your message. “Would you like to know which floor he's on?”

******

You got off the fifth floor elevators, as the receptionist directed you.

Your heart was pounding and weren’t sure if this would work. Would he turn you away? Tell you to fuck off?

You mentally cringed as multiple scenarios raced through your head. You sure deserved it, after everything you unleashed at him that night. Ambushing him at his work would not help your cause.

You wander over to the nurse’s station and find a woman in her scrubs, filling out some paperwork. As you pass her to walk to the waiting area right across, she sees you out of the corner of her eye.

“Hi, can I help you?” She had a friendly smile.

“Hi,” you greeted her back. “I was hoping to talk to one of your staff. I think they paged him downstairs and I was told that I could wait here”

“Oh,” she says. “Are you family or—“

“N-no. He, uh, saved my dad’s life and I just wanted to say thank-you.”

She smiled warmly at you. “How long ago was he paged? I could send him a text so he could get here sooner?”

“There’s no rush, really,” you say to her. “I’m showing up unannounced and he could be in the middle of something.”

Her eyebrows knitted slightly. “Can you tell me again who you’re here to see?”

You cleared your throat. “I’m here to see Dr. Jeon.”

“And–your dad was a patient of his?” She asks slowly.

“N-not quite. We were at a wedding and–he happened to be the only doctor in the room,” you explained.

“A wedding, you said?”

This woman seemed to be awfully curious. You nodded apprehensively. “Yes,” you say slowly.

Suddenly, her eyes light up. “Hold on a minute–I’ll page him again for you,” she says with a slight smile.

“Thank you.”

******

Jungkook

“Hey, Mr. Pyun. How are you feeling?”

“Ah–Dr. Jeon! I feel good as new,” his patient croaks out. He was just transported back to his room after being in recovery for an hour for close monitoring, post-op. “I can’t wait to take my wife dancing after this.

“Aish, let’s not rush things, yeobo,” his wife says.

“I asked her to play some music. My grandson showed me how to use this bluetooth speaker box thing,” he chuckled.

“Good to know the pain medication is working,” Jungkook’s attending remarks.

Jungkook chuckles as he checks on his patient’s vitals while his attending continues to discuss what to expect in the next few hours as her husband recovers.

Call me irresponsible, his patient began to sing along to the track while heavily medicated.

Jungkook pauses his checks as memories flood him. The dancing. The touches. The eye contact.

Don’t go there. Do not go there. You need to forget about her, he thought to himself.

He tried to bury Mayumi’s words but they still kept ringing in his head like the heart monitor pulsing right next to him.

“Yeobo, remember when we danced to this at our wedding?” his patient slurred as his wife gives him a warm smile.

Jungkook’s pager beeps just as he writes down his patient’s last blood pressure reading, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. He reaches around his hip to retrieve it. It was from Mayumi, asking to meet by the nurse’s station.

“Dr. Ahn, could I be excused? Dr. Sakai needs me for a consult.”

“Of course. Nice work today, Dr. Jeon.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ahn.” Jungkook bows to his attending before he leaves the room.

He marches down the hall and towards the nurse’s station. He sees Mayumi standing off to the side, having a conversation with someone whose back was turned at him.

Her eyes flick up at him when she sees him approach.

“Hey, Yumi, what do you—“

The woman she was talking to sees Mayumi look over her shoulder, prompting her to turn around. His eyes widen–like a deer in headlights.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

******

You both sat on opposite sides at the empty waiting area. He was slightly apprehensive at first since neither of you had contact in a few days. Much to your relief, he acquiesced.

“How did you find me?”

“I just remembered–from when you showed me your work badge before. I also happened to get rerouted to this neighborhood because there were some road closures on my usual way home,” you explained.

He nods in silence.

You straightened out, exhaling sharply. “Look, I don’t want to waste your time since you’re probably really busy, and I’m sorry to drop in like this without warning.”

“You could have called,” he interrupts.

You purse your lips and nod. “I could have. But–truthfully, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again after…you know, everything.” Nervously, you glanced down at the floor, unable to look him in the eye, trying to forget about all of the awful things you said to him.

You took a beat to compose yourself before looking back up at him. “I’m here because, firstly, I wanted to thank you again for helping my dad. He’s doing much better–as if nothing happened.“ You tried to sound lighthearted about it.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says softly.

You gave him a small, uncomfortable smile before continuing. “So…a-after you left the hotel, Jennie came to me to clear the air. She explained that you had nothing to do with…the whole situation.”

“I could have told you that,” he says curtly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I realize that.”

“You can project, you can vent–that’s part of what I do. That’s why I was there for you. But to accuse me? That…seems unfair.”

“I know, and I –I really fucked that up. I was emotional and…” you paused and sighed heavily, “…there’s just no excuse for it. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He nodded and remained silent, prompting you to continue.

“I wanted to apologize to you, in person. I didn’t think it would come off clearly through text or over the phone. And I know that I can’t take back what I said and I won’t make any excuses for it. My anger was sorely misplaced and I should not have taken it out on you…” You swallowed hard. “...But I did. And I realized that you were put in a really tough position. It was wrong of me to fault you for it without hearing you out. For all of that, I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you finished.

He regarded you intently, letting your words sink in. After a long pause, his face softens and he finally says, “Thank you. I appreciate the apology…and, I’m sorry, too. For the things I said. It was a shitty situation all around.”

You nodded, acknowledging it–although, you weren’t sure if he even needed to apologize since at the time, he was only giving you a reality check.

Feeling completely awkward yet somehow relieved, you took it as your queue to leave. You gripped your purse and stood up from your seat. He gets up as well. “That was all and…thank you for hearing me out.”

You’ve said your piece and can finally start to move on from this. You wanted to say more–all thoughts that Jimin, Taehyung, and Cristina have been drilling into your head...and the money that he left behind.

A few days ago, you thought this relationship held promise but judging by the look on his face, you thought it wasn’t the right time to push that topic. You waited too long and now that window has closed.

“Anyway, I’m–sorry to keep you from work.” You held your hand out to him for a handshake. Odd to be all formal this time around considering everything that you shared…everything that you did together. But you weren’t in that bubble anymore. You were back in the real world.

Thinking he would leave you hanging, you thought of withdrawing your hand but to your surprise, he places his hand in yours, thumb lightly brushing over your skin. The simple touch shot through you like a surge of electricity. Your pulse shot up when his grip tightened.

You maintained eye contact, as if playing a game of ‘chicken.’ Which of you would let go first? He swallowed audibly while you cleared your throat. You decided it was going to be you.

You withdrew from his hold. “I should get going,” you whispered.

“Right.” He kept his eyes on you but his facial expression was unreadable.

Keeping a firm grip on your purse’s strap, you said goodbye to him–for the last time. “Bye,” you breathed out before turning away from him to walk back towards the elevators. You dared not to look back–afraid of what else you might say or do.

When you reached the end of the hallway, you pressed the ‘down’ button. The elevator dings and the doors open. But right before you step in, you hear your name called out.

“YN, wait!”

You turned around to see Jungkook jogging back to reach you. “I’ve got a break coming up…if you still want to talk?”

******

You settled into one of the booths at the hospital cafeteria. It was an odd time so there weren’t many people lingering, save for a couple of hospital staff and random people who wore ‘visitor’ stickers on their clothing.

You noted how completely different he looked in this setting. He was out of his suit, he took his lip piercing out and wore a long-sleeve henley underneath his scrubs, presumably not to distract patients with his ornate tattoos. His hair was brushed back–not with product as you were used to seeing but you figured it stuck to his head like that because of his scrub cap.

“Were you coming from work?” He asks after glancing at your tailored pants and more formal-looking top. He looked relaxed but somewhat tired, leaning against the wall on the side, his legs stretched out on the seat.

“Sort of. I was at the office then met my friend for a late lunch. Afterwards, I didn’t have any other appointments so I decided to call it a day.” You sat hunched over with your elbows resting on the table, wishing you could be as chill as he was.

“The good ol’ corporate world,” he says, tilting his head backwards with a sigh.

“Yeah. Were you coming off a procedure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was a little complicated but my patient pulled through. He’s recovering well.”

And you both fall silent again.

“How’s Taehyung?”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Uhm–he’s okay, I think? He still feels a little weird about everything.”

“You think they’re going to work it out?”

You lifted a shoulder while you drew random patterns on the table with your finger. “They might, I don’t know. I…hope they do. But–that’s not really up to me. Tae feels guilty and he’s afraid of how I would react. I’ve told him that he doesn’t need to worry about me. I know that he still loves her and…I know that she does, too.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you,” he guesses.

“He hasn’t done anything to hurt me,” you say quietly, still tracing your little patterns. “And even if he decides that he wants to get back with Jennie again–I would never stand in the way of that…they were meant to be,” you said with a sigh, finally looking up at him to find him staring at you.

After a beat, you ask him, “Why didn’t you take the money?”

He chuckled softly. “How many times do I have to tell you–that it’s–”

“Not about the money, I know,” you interjected. “But why?”

He exhales sharply. “Remember my funeral client?”

You nodded, remembering one of your quiet conversations by the beach.

“I stepped back from this business not just because of pressures from this job–although that was a major contributing factor. I was also losing grip on what reality I wanted for myself. I spent several years living this double-life and,” he sighed, “It was exhausting. I didn’t want to do that anymore. So I decided to just focus on this,” he gestured at his surroundings.

“At some point, I was feeling a little burnt out, too. So my friend, Mayumi–she was the one in the scrubs by the nurse’s station–she pushed me to do one final booking. Not just as a change of pace but, so I could figure out what I really wanted.”

You were shocked to find out that at least one person was privy to his secret life. Maybe the double-life was taking its toll and she was the only one who noticed.

“Then I met you–figured I’d get back into it easily–kind of like riding a bike. I’d play another role even though I’d already given you my real name. But on the plane, I thought about it and figured I’d give honesty a try.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched it. “I thought that maybe…the real me would be just as good, as opposed to somebody you just made up.”

You stopped your absentminded fidgeting and gave him your full attention. When you first met, he couldn’t be more perfect–as if you had picked him out of a catalog, just as Taehyung said.

“Maybe I should have just stuck to my day job,” he says dejectedly, swinging his legs off the bench, leaning over the table to mirror you. It was a relatively small table so your faces were only a couple inches away from each other.

“I can’t help thinking that we went about this the wrong way,” you say to him.

He regarded you in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean–we both started this whole thing off with a lie. You said you wanted to give honesty a try?”

He furrowed his brows. “Yes–and?”

You held your hand out to him again. “Hi, I’m YLN YN.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head before he clasped your hand. “Jeon Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say softly.

“Lovely to meet you, too,” he says with a smile.

“So, I know we just met, but I wondered if you’d like to go to dinner sometime?”

He squinted at you. “Hmm–dinner, huh? A bit presumptuous are we?”

“How ‘bout coffee, then?” you proposed.

He playfully twisted his lips to the side. “You invite someone for coffee after you’ve spent the night with them.” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed but still kept your good nature. You then deferred to him. “Okay. What would you suggest?” You were aware that your hands were still linked together.

“You’re asking me? I thought you were the one here trying to make amends,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Right, I am.” You pucker your lips, thinking of how else to straighten things out.

“How ‘bout lunch?” He suggests. “It’s in the middle of the day, a fairly neutral setting. It’s not as formal and there aren’t any expectations around it. In the end, we can just continue going about our day.”

You nod in agreement. “Okay. Lunch sounds good. When?” You ask him tentatively. You’re not sure if he’ll bite but thought you’d shoot your shot anyway.

He finally releases your hand. “Hm…I’ll have to think it through. As you know, my job’s a little bit demanding.” You detected a hint of teasing in his tone but didn’t want to read too much into it. You shouldn’t be disappointed that it wasn’t an immediate ‘yes.’ You still had to work for it.

Just then, his pager goes off. Guess his break was over.

You clicked your teeth. “Okay, well–let me know when you’ve thought it through.”

With a nod, he walks you to the nearest elevator before you part ways.

******

A couple days turn into a week. You didn’t want to seem too eager–like you were waiting by the phone but…let’s face it, you were waiting for his call.

Every text, every call that would come in–you hoped that it was Jungkook…but it wasn’t. You started rubbing circles on your temples–a stress headache was brewing. You had to chill out, try not to think about it too much. Maybe if you forget about it, it might happen eventually. You shouldn’t be rushing the process anyway.

Or maybe he changed his mind and was just fucking with you. You did call him a liar.

“Do you want to keep your team check-in for the tourism campaign?”

You glanced up at your assistant, Reena, who peeked her head in through your office.

“Uh–yeah. That’s at 1:30 today, right?”

“Yes,” she replies.

“Sounds good. Can you book the huddle room for me? I only want to meet with key staff, not the whole team.”

She nodded. “Will do.”

“Thank you, Reena,” you call out to her before she walks out.

Your phone rings and you pick it up–it was Cristina.

“Hey,” you greeted her. “Any word yet?” Cristina gets straight to the point.

You groaned. “No. I’m starting to think that he didn’t actually want to have lunch to begin with.”

“Well…you tried, babe, that’s the point. You took a chance.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. And I–” you paused as your other line began to ring. You pulled the phone away from your ear to see who it was.

Your eyes widen at the caller ID.

“I have to go, sorry,” you say in a hurry, vaguely hearing her squawking on the other line before you hang up on her.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Jungkook greets you on the other line.

“Hi,” you say in a slightly higher vocal register. You cleared your throat, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sorry it took me a while to get back to you. Work’s been nuts,” he says apologetically.

“Oh–no need to apologize. I kind of figured you were busy. And I, uhm, didn’t want to bother you either.”

You hear him chuckle softly on the other line. He sounds like he’s enjoying this–but you keep reminding yourself that you have no right to complain. “Anyway, I happened to have a free afternoon. I wondered if you wanted to meet up and grab lunch soon-ish?”

You checked your watch for the time. If you played your cards right, you could head out for lunch for an hour then get back right in time for your meeting.

“But I completely understand if you have plans. We can always reschedule,” he says casually.

“I’m free now. Do you want to meet somewhere?”

******

You practically jump out of your rideshare but compose yourself once you step onto the curb to walk into the restaurant that Jungkook picked. You check in with the hostess by the entrance but spot him waving at you. He was out of his scrubs and in casual, street clothes.

“Hi,” you both say awkwardly at each other then try to figure out whether to shake hands or hug.

He finally decides for both of you and gives you a hug. You inhaled and got a whiff of his cologne. Before all of those memories come rushing back to you, he pulls away.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t but a few coworkers have. They’ve raved about it,” you smiled. “Have you?”

“Yeah. If you want, I can tell you what’s good and what’s not,” he laughs.

“Oh. I’m guessing you come here often?” This place looked a bit fancy for a casual lunch. You wondered if maybe he brought a few dates here.

“I have,” he affirms. You tried to hide your discomfort but were failing spectacularly.

“We don’t need to tiptoe around. It’s just you and me here–having lunch.”

You exhaled and relaxed your shoulders. You didn’t need to overthink this. He purposely picked lunch because it was supposed to be a neutral setting.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you say with confidence.

He smiled at you and proceeded to point out all the good stuff on the menu. You talked about how your days were, how work was, mostly mundane things…as if you hadn’t touched on topics much deeper than those.

But being mundane made it easier for you to get through lunch. You wanted to rebuild that connection and work up to it. You wouldn’t set any expectations. A clean slate was all you could hope for.

******

“Isn’t this nice? Just…getting to talk?”

“Yeah, it was. I’m really glad that you called,” you smiled at him.

Your phone buzzes with a reminder, prompting you to check your watch for the time, it was a little after 1PM. You had a team meeting coming up soon–one that you were supposed to lead but hadn’t even had time to prepare for.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, I have a meeting at 1:30 back at the office,” you say apologetically.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, I left my car and took a rideshare. I didn’t want to deal with parking,” you explained, while pulling up the app on your phone to book a ride back to work.

“I can drive you back.”

You chuckled nervously. “Oh…I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not. I’m offering. Besides, I’m off for the rest of the day. I’ve been on-call since yesterday. My boss finally decided to give me a break.” He rubbed his eyes and stretched the kink in his neck.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Uhm, okay. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He raises his arm to flag down your server to request for the check.

As soon as they delivered it to your table, you began to bicker over who was going to pay. You had your card out but he kept swatting your hand away. You offered to split the bill as a compromise but when the server returned to your table, he practically shoves his card at them, effectively ending the argument.

******

You directed him as he drove, telling him which cross streets your office was located at while he navigated right through traffic.

The ride was relatively quiet but nice. You stole glances at him every time he asked whether he was making the right turn or on the correct route.

“This is me,” you tell him, pointing to your office building and he proceeds to pull into the curb.

He bends his neck slightly to view the structure from below his windshield. “Fancy building,” he remarks.

You chuckled softly. “Yeah, it’s alright,” you say, eyes drifting down to your hands. You turned your attention to him again after a few seconds. “Thanks for getting lunch.”

“Sure. Maybe next time, you can get it.” He says.

“Next time?” Your eyebrows lifted.

He chuckled enigmatically at your question but he didn't answer it. “It was good seeing you again,” he says with a warm smile instead.

Your heart clenches and you give him a small smile in return. “It was good seeing you, too.” You cleared your throat. “And–thank you for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies.

You put your hand on the door latch, preparing to leave, but he stops you. “Hey.” You turn to him again. “Yeah?”

“I had fun this afternoon,” he admits. “Yeah, I did too,” you confessed.

He nodded, and you stared at each other–his car still idling at the curb.

“I should…go,” you finally tell him.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. After a beat, he says, “We should do this again soon.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You reply softly.

“I’ll call you.”

You nodded. “You know how to reach me.” With that, you exit his car and walk towards your office building. You looked back to see him still watching you through the rolled down passenger-side window. Before you walk through the doors, you give him a small wave and he does the same. Afterwards, he rolls the window up while his car pulls out of the curb and blends in right into traffic.

******

Right before you head out of the office, you see a bunch of colleagues gathering by the reception area, no doubt heading to happy hour.

“Hey, YN! Want to come with us? We’re checking out that new barbecue place that opened a couple blocks away,” a coworker says.

“Thanks for the invite but, I’m pretty beat. I’d be happy to check it out next time, though. What’s it called?” You ask.

“Oh, I can send you the link to the online menu,” they suggested instead, pulling their phone out to text you the link.

Your phone pings when their message comes through. “Perfect. Thanks! Have fun, guys,” you call over your shoulder before stepping into the elevators.

You scrolled through the menu while the cab descended and found a few items that looked good. When you step out into the underground parking lot, you think of something.

You clicked to text the link and forwarded it to Jungkook then followed it up with a message:

[You] (5:38PM): What do you think? They’re open for lunch? 😊

You closed out of the messaging app and made your way to your car. Once you insert the key into the ignition, your phone buzzes. You fish your phone out of your purse to see a response from Jungkook.

[From Jungkook] (5:42PM): Nice, but I like the dinner selections better. What do you say?

That gave you pause as you flashed back to your previous conversation.

[You] (5:43PM): I thought you said dinner was “presumptuous?”

His response comes in a few seconds later.

[From Jungkook] (5:43PM): It’s only presumptuous if you expect us to have coffee the next day. 😏

You laughed at his cheeky response. Touché.

After today, you realized that you’d rather try than give up…because you found somebody who was worth it.

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