#if it ends up in the tag then so be it. have fun

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots;  explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex)  (18+)

Chapter Word count: 29k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again. 

Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.

You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again. 

With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his. 

“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him. 

“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums. 

Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.

“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say. 

“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”

“What if they contradict each other?”

“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”

“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”

“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”

“Why did it hurt the both of you?”

“I don’t know about him,” you pout.

“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”

“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”

“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.

“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”

“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.

“But it isn’t,” you argue.

Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do. 

You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same. 

Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.  

All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently. 

“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”

You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.

“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”

His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”

“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”

“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”

“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”

“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”

“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”

“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”

It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong. 

You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?

You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is. 

You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.

But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay. 

“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask. 

Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been. 

“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”

You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.

“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”

“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.

“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”

The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving. 

“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”

You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.

“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.

“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”

“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”

“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”

“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”

You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be. 

“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”

“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”

“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”

“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”

You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life. 

There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion. 

They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.

There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question. 

“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document. 

He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them. 

“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. 

“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?” 

You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.

“We’ll, let’s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”

“VP Jeon?”

“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”

“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.

“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”

“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”

“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”

You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before. 

“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”

“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”

“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back. 

There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.

“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye. 

You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today. 

You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air. 

The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.

There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.

You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure. 

Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it. 

You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.

You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.

You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.

Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day. 

You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him. 

You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him. 

You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to. 

Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely. 

Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do. 

It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late. 

You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.

Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow. 

Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him. 

You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook. 

The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.

Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.

His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together. 

There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create. 

You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too. 

You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done. 

But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter. 

You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet. 

You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.

The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.

Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day. 

It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true. 

Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father. 

He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you. 

He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was. 

Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.

One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away. 

He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you. 

But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important. 

There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes. 

The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review. 

“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”

“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”

“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”

“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”

Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.

The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out. 

He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.

“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”

“Did ___ come to the office this week?” 

“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”

“She… she left a letter on my desk.”

“Oh… What does it say?”

“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.

“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”

“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”

“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”

Jungkook drops the call, noting that he��ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it. 

He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.

Jungkook,

I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you. 

I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way. 

But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.

I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you. 

I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late. 

XX

Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too. 

You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late. 

He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go. 

“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.

“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”

Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror. 

“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”

Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.

“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.

“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”

“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”

“She… she talked about me?”

“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”

“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”

“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”

“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”

“She did. She said she found you.”

The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.

“I found her too late, I think.”

“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints. 

“When did she leave?”

“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”

“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”

You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose. 

“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”

“Where to, then?”

Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to. 

After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.

“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks. 

“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”

The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.

“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”

Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads. 

“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”

“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”

“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”

Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return. 

“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”

“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”

The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.

They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.

The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now. 

“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”

“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”

“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”

“Please?” 

The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you. 

They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door. 

Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.

“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”

“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”

“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”

“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”

“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”

“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”

“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”

She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.

“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks. 

“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”

“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.

“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”

“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”

Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate. 

There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you. 

“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you. 

“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”

“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders. 

“A lot of things,” he sighs.

“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be great.”

Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind. 

There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love. 

Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in. 

And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.

“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.

She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard. 

The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you. 

Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.

She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground. 

“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”

“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”

“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains. 

The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out. 

“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created. 

“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”

“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”

“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.

“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”

“I… I know that now.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”

There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him. 

“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow. 

But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”

“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.

“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”

“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes. 

“Is it too late, do you think?”

“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”

She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more. 

“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”

“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”

Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is. 

“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”

It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.

“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”

“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”

“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles. 

He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them. 

“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering. 

She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.

“Chocopie?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”

“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks. 

“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad. 

“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.

It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you. 

“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”

Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it. 

“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”

“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you. 

It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver. 

“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”

Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”

“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”

He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.

Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely. 

Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.

He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.

The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”

It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”

It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there. 

Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too. 

“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders. 

“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”

“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”

“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”

It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too. 

The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did. 

Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.

“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”

It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”

Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you. 

He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years. 

“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?” 

“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”

It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs. 

And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done. 

They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions. 

There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.

You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening. 

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days. 

In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too. 

That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone. 

It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.

The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.

It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.

“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question. 

“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”

You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you. 

But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.

“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”

“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”

“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”

“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”

You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it. 

She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening. 

“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”

“That’s unfair,” you pout.

“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”

You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.

“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”

Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not. 

It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it. 

He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.

He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs. 

It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time. 

It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you. 

But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.

Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon. 

There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.

“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”

“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”

“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.

“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”

He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed. 

Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable. 

They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation. 

He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.

It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center. 

It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs. 

“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”

“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”

He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.

Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be. 

It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism. 

He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out. 

There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened. 

“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”

He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it. 

Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.

“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”

“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours. 

“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”

“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”

Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him. 

It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out. 

As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.

He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.

One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset. 

The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you. 

He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.

He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems. 

You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for. 

Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in. 

You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out. 

Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home. 

The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring. 

You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.

Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces. 

You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.

It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are. 

“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”

“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now. 

“It’s—”

“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says. 

You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence. 

“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”

“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask. 

“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy. 

“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”

“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”

You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.

“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”

You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.

The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows. 

You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls. 

You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for. 

You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.

But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this. 

You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once. 

“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”

“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”

“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”

“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”

“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”

“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”

“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”

You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.

The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that. 

“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel. 

“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore. 

You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.

“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”

“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”

“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.

“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”

You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.

“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”

“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday. 

There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up. 

You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would’ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.

“___? Everything okay?”

“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”

“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”

“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”

“You can wait for me and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”

You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.

“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”

“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”

“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”

He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already. 

You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself. 

The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time. 

You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor. 

It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.

You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk. 

“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling. 

He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.

“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”

“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”

“Is that what your mother said?” 

“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.

“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again. 

“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.” 

Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate. 

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”

He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.

“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”

You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”

“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”

“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”

“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”

“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”

“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”

“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”

His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.

Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.

He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”

“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”

His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease. 

“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.  

“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”

You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer. 

Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip. 

But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone. 

“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”

Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your  waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now. 

He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you. 

The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it. 

“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”

“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.

Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.

But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.

He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.

His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.

Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.

You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.

“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”

You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.

With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.

You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved. 

The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you. 

You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.

You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips. 

Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.

“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.

“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.

“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”

“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered. 

But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”

“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks. 

“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”

“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”

His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed. 

“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead. 

It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.

But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.

“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”

“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.

You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.

“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”

“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”

He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened. 

It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too. 

You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him. 

Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further. 

The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night. 

You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.

He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment. 

It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt. 

“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.

“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”

“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will. 

“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”

His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express. 

But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions. 

Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.

So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway. 

You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages. 

“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.” 

The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.

“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”

“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back. 

“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.

“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.

“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”

He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you. 

“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”

His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves. 

It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way. 

But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.

Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.

“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”

“Who knew I even had one in the first place?” 

“I did.”

“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”

Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again. 

It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.

You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.

“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.  

Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him. 

He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.

You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.

He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.

You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you. 

His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.

He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.

You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”

He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.  

He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch. 

The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.

He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again. 

You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.

You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom. 

Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”

Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”

It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.

You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back. 

Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.

He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.

The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are. 

You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.

You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things. 

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you respond.

He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you. 

“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”

You nod, giddy again and unable to speak. 

“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile. 

“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”

You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have. 

He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.

“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”

You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive. 

You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. 

“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside. 

He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you. 

There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.

He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.

He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.

Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that. 

But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.

He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come. 

But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.

“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”

“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”

He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be. 

“What about you, what are you thinking about?” 

“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”

“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”

With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you. 

“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”

You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.

“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.

“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine. 

There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.

“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”

“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”

“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”

He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his. 

“I can do this all night,” he whispers.

And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations. 

You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.

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BEKKATHYST 2024 Giveaway!

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Please read thoroughly before entering!

Hello lovely Tumblr folk! It’s that time again- I have a giveaway for you all. 💜

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[paperbackribs]

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

[her-satanic-wiles]

Guess Who?

Papa Emeriti I, II, III & Cardinal Copia x Plus Size!Reader

Game night takes a turn when you end up blindfolded and tied on the table, at the mercy of all of your beloved Papas. The name of the game: figure out who’s touching you. You win: you cum. They win: they use your body however they see fit.

For @da-rulah, because I sent her a scenario that hurt her wittle feewings, and so now I’m facing the consequences of my actions. I hope you enjoy, Bee. ✌🏻😘

Masterlist

Words: 9.2k.

Reading Time: 37 min.

Warnings: aftercare, alluded/implied sex work, anal play, biting, bondage (using a rope), breath play, breeding, bukkake, choking, cream pie, cum eating, cunnilingus, degradation, fellatio, fingering, finger sucking, free use, gang bang, groping, MMFMM, objectification, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise, premature ejaculation, pussy slapping, rope play, rough sex, running a train, sensory depravation (blindfold), skull fucking, spit-roasting, squirting, tag teaming, talking about you as if you weren’t there, tickle kink (if you squint), unprotected sex, (wrap it before you tap it folks), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex,

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @xshadyladyx @x1nd1g0x @likeloversentwined @high-above-the-city @copiaspet622 @sister-of-sin-claudia @foxybouquet @inkstainedrat @ad-astra-per-aspera1976 @ravensbars @ultrahalloweengirl @susulbr @frog-scream @ghulehunknown @namelessghoulindisguise @onlyhereforghost @mercbeans

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Game night was usually a night reserved for only the brothers Emeritus, who usually enjoyed card games with only the three players. Every week without fail, the three men would gather in the wine cellar of the Ministry and play cutthroat games of Uno while drinking bottles of the Ministry’s finest by candlelight. It wasn’t often they’d invite a fourth in, rarely finding a person close enough to all three of them that they’d be able to relax and have fun with. But it wasn’t unheard of. Which is why the decision was unanimous when your name was thrown into the middle.

You were the favourite of all the Papas and the whole Ministry knew it. You were their closest friend and companion, the one who had the most in common with them and compassion for them. The one who made them feel the best both in and out of the bedroom. Yes, okay, the relationship you had with them all was… unique. It wasn’t often in any part of the world that brothers would share a woman and be happy doing so. But if it worked for all of you, you’d hardly say no. There was something so deliciously degrading about being passed around the Ministry’s highest ranking men like a commodity to be shared - as though you were nothing more than an object. It was so delicious because it wasn’t true. Of all the people you’d been with during your time at the Ministry, no one had treated you more kindly, more respectfully, and prioritised your pleasure quite like the Emeritus brothers. And so, almost every evening, you’d find yourself ‘rented’ for the night, and would end up tangled in the sheets with one of the Papas. And every time you needed to perform a ritual, it was always to one of them you’d call.

They’d tried getting you in on game night a few times before, but it just so happened that you were usually busy and had made plans before they’d been able to ask. How popular could one person be?

It turned out you didn’t have so many friends that they all kept you busy, rather you had one friend who took up most of your time away from the three Papas: Cardinal Copia. The Cardinal had inadvertently kept you all to himself mostly because you were his closest friend. Copia was the kind of man to put all his effort into one relationship rather than several, which meant you were the only one of his friends he wanted to spend time with. As that was the case, he had taken up so much of your free time, he made it impossible for the Papas to pin you down and drag you to game night. So, they dragged the bumbling Cardinal to game night, too.

The five of you were hunched round an aged table, the thing losing its integrity from the little upkeep that was done to it over the years. The layers of stain and paint gave it a more plastic feel, and one of the legs was propped up with the King James’ Bible, the book itself dirty from years of shoes resting on it. Clockwise, Primo headed the table, followed by Copia, You, Terzo and ending with Secondo. You only had two cards left, and felt smug at that. The closest person to you was Secondo, who had 3 cards. Everyone else was five cards or, in Copia’s case, much more. The typical banter and shit-talk ensued, you teasing Terzo about how you were going to win, Primo constantly pulling the cheapest moves like adding +2 cards or reversing so that Copia would have to draw more or wouldn’t get to play. Copia promising violent vengeance every time Primo screwed him over, which would earn titters of amusement from Secondo and Terzo.

Finally, Terzo had played his card allowing you to drop your penultimate one on top of his, your red 4 landing on his blue 4, with a cheery “Uno!” falling from your lips, despite Primo and Copia’s conversation that was murmuring in the background.

Secondo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Cardinale!” He called, breaking up the conversation. “It is your turn.”

“___ hasn’t had her turn yet.” Copia protested.

“She just did.”

Primo smirked, a devilish smile on his lips. “Our dear ___ didn’t claim ‘Uno!’. You have to take five cards.”

“I did!” You exclaimed, offended at Papa Primo’s accusations. You told him as such.

“I didn’t hear you.” Copia claimed.

“To be fair, Cardinale, you were talking.” Secondo insisted, fighting your corner.

Terzo sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “There is nothing for it, amore.” He exclaimed. “Two insist you did not say it, two insist you did. Therefore, you must be punished some way, no? Either, take five cards like my fratello told you to do, or…”

“…Or?” You asked impatiently, bracing yourself for Terzo’s ultimatum. You knew it would be a suggestive offer, but you didn’t know exactly what he’d choose.

“Or, you take off that pretty little habit of yours and play the rest of the game in your underwear.”

Secondo jumped in. “___, you don’t have to do either.”

Primo, who secretly hoped you’d choose Terzo’s second option, also chimed in. “Well, you do have to take five cards if you don’t get naked for us.”

“Papa?” Copia asked, eyebrows raised. He clearly wasn’t expecting Primo to go along with it.

“What? You cannot expect an old man to be completely adverse to a beautiful woman stripping herself bare for my enjoyment - provided she consents, of course.”

Terzo, “If anyone objects, speak now or forever hold thy peace.”

Everyone immediately shot subtle glances at Copia, expecting the only man in the room who you’d not fucked yet to object. But, with blushing cheeks, he sat back and much to everyone’s surprise, remained quiet.

You slammed your card on the table and stood from your seat, hands immediately flying to and removing your veil. “This is bullshit.” You said, undoing the buttons at the front of your habit before pulling the whole thing over your head. You were met with sounds of appreciation, whistles, hoots and hollers - most of which came from Terzo who was more than happy to watch you reveal your gorgeous, plump body in order to win the game. You sat back down, breasts and stomach jiggling with the force, thighs splaying out against the chair as you sat. You watched as Secondo was mesmerised by your curves. He said nothing, wanting to keep things with you as respectful as possible, but he loved your body: loved watching it bounce each time he fucked into you, loved laving and sucking on your nipples, biting them just to earn that sound from your throat. It didn’t matter that he was a middle aged man with the total ability to control himself, when it came to you, he was a constant horny mess.

The game continued, Copia had his turn, Primo, Secondo, Terzo, then back to you. Finally, and with much grumbling from the rest of them, you played the final card and won the match. “And I did it all whilst naked.” You bragged. “This is why you never invite me to this nights - you know I’ll kick your ass.”

“We don’t always play Uno, you know.” Primo stated, resting his elbows on the table.

“Doesn’t matter, any game you throw my way I’ll win.” You responded petulantly.

“Oh you think?” Terzo asked, eyebrows raising.

“I know.”

“Prove it.” Secondo sounded from the other side of the table.

“Name the game, Papa.”

“What did you have in mind, fratello?” Questioned Terzo again.

Secondo sat back, his body language oozing confidence with a menacing glint in his eyes. “A game even our friend over there can play if he’s willing.” He gestured to Copia, who swallowed nervously. “We got some rope down here, some cloth. We strip you naked, blindfold you, and touch you however we want. You have to guess who it is. You guess correctly, we make you cum then move to the back of the line. Guess incorrectly, and we get to do what we want to you. You have to guess the majority correctly in order to win, if you don’t, well, we’ll decide what happens to you. Think you could win then?”

“Easy.” You challenged.

“Oh, you think so?”

You stood up. “Copia, you in?”

“I- I…” He stammered, torn between wanting to play but not wanting to ruin your friendship.

“Whatever you choose, I’m happy.”

“I… I’ll play.”

Primo patted him on the shoulder. “Good man.”

“Well then,” you reached round your back and unhooked your bra, throwing the fabric to the stone cold floor and feeling your nipples harden at both your arousal and the change in temperature, “let’s play.” Your panties were the next to go, followed by your shoes and socks, leaving you stood on the wine cellar’s floor naked as the day you were born. With each move you made, your body jiggled slightly, earning more groans of appreciation from the men who remained. Terzo even coming up behind you and pressing himself against you, hands roaming all over your body and grabbing handfuls of you where he could.

“Can’t wait for you to guess incorrectly so I can fuck you dumb, tesoro.” He whispered into your ear before biting it.

“Leave you with blue balls.” You teased.

“We’ll see.” He stepped away from you and gave your ass a slap, watching it wobble with the force. He bit his bottom lip and moaned like he’d just eaten something delicious. “We will see.”

Secondo had gone and returned from getting the rope and cloth he saw, and began to bind you up in it, using the rope to tie your hands behind your back. “Your safe word is ‘bottle’, amore.” He told you placing a chaste but gentle kiss on your shoulder blade. “Does this feel okay?” He asked pulling on the rope.

“It feels fine, Papa.” You replied, feeling heat gather in your core and your breath already labouring.

“You ready for the blindfold?”

“Yes.”

And with that, your vision was blinded, your sense of sight plunged into darkness as Secondo tied the cloth gently behind your head, checking to make sure you were comfortable, before guiding you into position. You were lay against the small table, your head barely supported, with most of it hanging over the edge. You were lay on your back with your legs spread, your hands taking the weight of your back as it arched over the top of them. Your breasts had, for lack of a better term, pancaked as gravity was inistent on pulling them down. But even though Terxo made fun of that term, he loved the way you looked on your back for him. Your cunt was entirely on display with just how wide your spread legs had opened your labia, your wetness already visible to the men who stared at your body hungrily, like animals about to feed for the first time in weeks.

You felt Secondo kiss your thigh once before disappearing to join his brothers. Then, you heard all four of the men, in unison, say, “Carta, forbice, sasso!” Followed by skin slapping on skin.

Those fucking idiots were playing rock, paper, scissors to see who was going to go first. You heard a few grumbles, but couldn’t make out who made what noise.

You heard footsteps.

The sound of a glove sliding against skin. Twice.

Those gloves falling to the floor.

Then you felt it. A thumb running up and down your slit, gathering your wetness before finally rubbing over your clit - tight, little circles designed to drive you mad. Your hips bucked at the touch, a gasp escaping your lips at the surprise touch. His four fingers rested on your mound as an anchor, allowing more precise movements, and for him to put more pressure on your clit. You struggled against the rope, your hands moving out of habit wanting to reach your nipples, to pinch and pull at the buds like you usually did when someone played with your bundle of nerves. But the rope bit at your skin, burning slightly as you fought against it and making you scream out in frustration. “Fuck!” You breathed, body writhing beneath the calloused thumb. You wanted to try an work out who was doing it to you so you could win the game, but your mind went blank the second his thumb touched you.

The teasing was very much a Terzo trait, but the use of his thumb wasn’t. Terzo usually teased using his mouth or his cock. He didn’t have the drive to use one of his hands. Secondo used his hands a lot, loved to plunge them deep inside you and finger you open for him, having you screaming and begging for him to touch your clit. Which is how you knew this wasn’t Secondo. It couldn’t be Primo - he didn’t have the heart to tease. He’d always give you what you asked for in a heartbeat. Which meant it must have either been Terzo or Copia. As you’d never had sex with Copia, you couldn’t be sure what his methods were - and this touch did feel foreign. “Is it… is it Copia?”

You heard laughter from the other side of the room, followed by a “Dammit!” from Copia. “It’s me.” Copia pulled up one of the chairs and situated himself between your legs, getting himself ready for the task of making you cum. You felt his hot breath against your centre, erratic little puffs that hit your wet skin as he breathed through his nervousness. He took his time with you, almost as if he was psyching himself up. Copia had fucked before, and he was good at it. But he’d never fucked you. You could imagine that he was nervous because he wanted you to think he was good. And, if you had use of your hands, you’d tangle them in his brown hair and stroke his head gently, reassuringly. But instead, all you had were your little grunts of desperation to softly urge him on.

His moustache was the next thing you felt, tickling against your folds as his mouth made contact with you. The course hairs ran against your sensitivity as his tongue darted out to lap up the juices that were spilling from you. You could feel your hole clenching around nothing, screaming for something to fill it while Copia toyed with your clit, but he made no move to fill you, instead putting more pressure on you with his tongue as he continued to move up and down your slit, until finally he made permanent contact with your clit.

He tightened his tongue to make the tip more pointed to get a precise lick to your clit, swirling around it with his muscle and causing you to cry out in response, fighting against your restraints. His hot breath kept coming out from his nose, heightening your senses and making you hyper aware of just how much of a mess you were as tit hit the wetness seeping from you and making you feel cold. Your nipples were so hard and needing someone to play with them while Copia continued to drink you down like he was dehydrated.

He alternated between using his tongue only and pressing filthy kisses to your folds, practically making out with your cunt to get you off quicker. You could hear the sound of his lips smacking against your body, in between the broad strokes of his tongue he was providing for you. Tiny grunts would escape his lips as he ate you alive, treating you like the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you held down as much as he could so he could devour you easily. You could feel your high coming faster than you’d anticipated, or even wanted, but he was working you towards that end so fucking well, you were losing your breath and your mind.

“Copia, fuck!” You screeched, breathlessly. Your nails were scratching against the wood of the table, feeling the gross stickiness from the drinks’ condensation underneath your body, but feeling more filthy and used than disgusted. Your brain reminded you that you weren’t alone, that there were three other men watching this go on with just as much pleasure as you. You wondered if they were touching themselves. If they were watching you writhe with pleasure and stroking their cocks at the sight.

Copia’s lips wrapped entirely around your clit, moustache now soaked from your cunt, and he sucked. Hard. That tongue he used so precisely before was now slapping against your clit again, this time much faster than before. Because of this, the surprise change in pace and pressure, your orgasm hit you so violently, every single one of your nerve endings exploded beneath his touch, and set off a chain reaction around the rest of your body. Your muscles tensed, your breath was snatched from your lungs, your eyes (beneath the blindfold) closed even tighter, and your mouth had hung open in a perfect ‘o’, allowing a strangled moan to leave from your tightened throat that had closed in the strain of your orgasm. All the while, Copia refused to let up, keeping the pressure going even when you were trying to kick him away. He didn’t stop until he was sure your orgasm had subsided. He pressed one final kiss to your clit before he stood up and walked away, leaving you alone and spent on the table, recovering from one of the best orgasms of your life.

“Did that feel good, tesoro?” You head Terzo ask from the other side of the room. No one had approached you yet, meaning you couldn’t gauge whether Terzo was next or not.

Your brain was still scrambled, and you were barely able to manage a “uh-huh,” to respond to him, which earned a chuckle from all four of the men in the corner.

When the laughter died down, you heard more footsteps approaching you, stopping this time at the right side of you. You felt the silk of a robe glide over your bear skin, but as all of the Papa’s robes were made from the same material, you could only rule out Copia at that point.

You jumped in surprise at the feeling of four fingers immediately touching your stomach, rubbing two large, soft circles into the skin just to tease you. Those four fingers broke off as his hands went in two separate directions. The first moved upwards, running up over the mound of your breast, stopping to play with your right nipple - pinching and pulling at the bud just as you liked, and had needed for the past however long they’d been playing with you. The second hand moved downwards, mimicking the actions of the first by pinching and pulling, except this time it was on your clit. He wasn’t as rough with your clit as he was your nipple, given that your were still probably sensitive from your orgasm, but the torture was too fun even if you were suffering a little.

Those fingers that were playing with your cunt slipped inside your hole, immediately curving upwards and hitting that sweet spot that had you singing so beautifully for them. You only had the opportunity to cry out once before you felt the hand on your breast reach up to your neck, and squeeze the sides gently. His fingers were rough, working to hit your g-spot over and over again and make you squirm at his touch, and you felt your body shake with the force of it. The way he was using his hands against you, plus the roughness of them and the pit stop at your breasts made you confident enough to make your second guess.

“S-Secondo?”

Your stomach and heart sank when you heard dark laughter coming from the guys in the corner of the room. Secondo’s gruff voice sounded from far away, loudly speaking over the sound of your wetness squelching as the fingers inside you kept up their pace. “Wrong, amore.” He said, all too happily for you to be comfortable.

You smelled wine and sandalwood when the man leaned down so his mouth was level with your ear. “You’re mine now, tesoro.” Terzo claimed, his voice dark and heavily accented. His words were stretched telling you he was smiling as he spoke, unable to form them correctly. He revelled in the deception, removing his hands from your body and bringing his fingers up to your lips. “Open up for me.” He commanded, and once you obeyed, he put his middle and ring fingers covered in your cunt juices into your mouth. “Clean yourself up. Suck on them like you do my cock.”

You took those fingers into your mouth beautifully, putting on a show for him in hopes that he’d go easy on your body when he took what he wanted from you. A gutteral groan sounded from his mouth as he watched your lips stretch around his thick fingers, tongue grazing along the underside as you cleaned yourself from his digits. You bobbed your head fluidly, like you usually did when you took him in your throat, moaning around him and rubbing your thighs together. He always liked to know he had an affect on you - maybe appeasing his ego would help you out.

He removed his hand from your mouth and you heard him walk to your feet. His hands pried themselves in between your thighs to show your cunt to him like a piece of meat being inspected by a customer. You waited with baited breath as he decided what to do with you, no doubt in your mind that he was staring at your wetness with that glint in his eyes: the one that shows his excitement but could be mistaken for sadism if you didn’t know him. Or maybe they were the same thing. You felt his fingertips trace up and down the inside of your left thigh, before that hand disappeared. With the other on your right ankle keeping your legs spread and the other one missing, you could feel anticipation pool in your stomach.

SLAP.

His hand had come down hard on your cunt, fingers colliding brutally with your sensitive clit and stinging at the connection. You screamed out, body jerking with the attempt to slither away and close your thighs, but Terzo had already got himself between your legs, and there was nothing you could do but take it.

SLAP.

“Terzo!” You screamed, feeling your sensitivity dial up several notches with the second slap.

“Do you need to use your safe word, tesoro?” He asked.

“No.”

“Brava.”

SLAP.

“Want you nice and red for me when I fuck you dumb, tesoro. I told you that earlier.” This time, he rubbed his thick fingers over your clit, soothing the wound he was inflicting. “You’re already dripping enough. I could just slide in now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, Papa!”

You felt his arms wrap around your thick thighs and pull you towards the edge of the table. The rustle of his fabrics reached your ears telling you he was getting his cock out ready for you. Then you felt it: his heavy girth rubbing up and down your folds in typical Terzo fashion, the head rubbing against your cunt, encased comfortably by your lips. Every now and again, the tip would catch against your opening, and you held you breath for the push in that wouldn’t come until you least expected it. But when he did finally push inside you, your mouth fell open at the stretch. You were so sad you couldn’t watch his face, the look of it as he bottomed out on you always had you tightening around him. You were desperate to see his face crumpled up, showing you he loved being inside you.

“So fucking tight, tesoro.” He commented as soon as he was fully inside. You felt the crown nestle against your cervix, teasing you, reminding you that he was about to ruin you in all the best ways. He left you waiting for his true torture to begin, as you vaguely remembered that the only one who’d be cumming now was him.

He pulled out so his tip was almost entirely out of you, and then slammed back into you. The room echoed with the sound of the table scraping across the floor with the force of it. That sound, combined with your screams and whines, created the perfect symphony to Terzo’s onslaught.

Terzo always knew how to play you like a fiddle, pushing all of your buttons to have you walking beside the Gods. Today was no exception. Your legs had been extended to rest on his chest and over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your thick thighs for leverage as he thrust all the way into you.

Terzo fucked you like he paid for you, his cock pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt as quickly as he could move, taking only his pleasure from your body. You were lucky with all of your lovers, they were all giving and had just as much fun making you cum as they had doing the same for themselves. But sometimes, when you’d behaved in such a way to earn a punishment, you’d see all three of them be incredibly selfish and just take. Letting them use you like that, given the stark juxtaposition of their regular behaviour, always had you dripping for them, enjoying being nothing more than a living toy - a warm hole to sink into.

You clenched around Terzo’s cock as he fucked you - used you - for his own enjoyment. And, over the sounds you and your body were making, you heard Terzo’s rough voice. “Come here!” He said to someone else in the room. You heard footsteps that stopped beside Terzo. “Wrap your hand around her throat.”

The person obliged, their footsteps ending up by your head and then dropping their hand to your exposed neck. Terzo already had your body bouncing against him, ricocheting against his thrusts every time. The hand, because of this, had a little trouble grabbing onto your body, but eventually he managed it. His fingers and thumb rested against your esophagus and squeezed inwards, not restricting your airflow completely, but just enough to have you feeling the effects. Your mind had almost entirely melted, thinking of nothing other than Terzo’s cock pounding away inside you, hearing your own desperate whimpers as the hand around your pretty little neck heightened your pleasure and sensitivity.

“Who is it, tesoro?” Terzo asked, breathlessly. “Whose hand is that around your pretty little neck?”

The hand loosened enough to allow you to concentrate fully, but still rested on you to remind you of its presence. You had no idea. Not a single thought floated in your head. “Nuh!” You grunted with a particularly rough thrust. You had to guess someone. “P-Primo?”

You heard laughter, then Terzo’s voice cut through your brain. He made the sound of a buzzer, the kind of noise you hear when you get a question wrong. “Fuck her throat, Copia.”

“Fuck!” You exclaimed in irritation, kicking your feet against Terzo’s shoulder, gently.

More laughter sounded.

“Is that okay, ___?” Copia asked.

“Of course.” You replied. He obviously wanted verbal consent, so you gave him just that, hearing him walk towards the crown of your head and adjust himself so his cock was completely free. You were maneuvered so that your head hung off the edge of the table, allowing a completely flat throat, and letting the Cardinal slide into your open mouth easily.

He hissed at the feeling of your tight, wet throat engulfing him with no trouble, thanks to the position you’d been put in. Copia tried to be kind to you, thrusting softly down your throat, and pulling out often to give you some breathing time. But you began to notice that the longer he spent inside you, the more he forgot his manners, and would spend more time fucking you between the breaths he gave you. This would make you clench tighter around Terzo’s cock, in part because your body was reacting to the loss of oxygen, but mostly because the feeling of being so thoroughly used had your mind swimming. Your body loved being degraded - reduced to nothing more than a set of holes to be used at any given time. Besides, you felt like Satanic Tinkerbell - you thrived under as much attention as you could possibly get, and felt like you’d die without it.

“Cazzo!” You heard Terzo grunt. His movements grew more and more erratic the closer he got to cumming. “Look at her throat.”

“Don’t.” Copia hissed again. “If I look, I’ll cum.”

“I can see the outline of his cock down your throat, tesoro. Every time he fucks inside you, I see it.”

You whined around Copia’s cock which spurred him to thrust forward a little more violently than he meant to. He wrapped his hand back around your throat and squeezed, crying out at how much tighter you got. “Oh merda! Oh cazzo!” Copia screeched. And, with no warning and just a strangled grunt, you felt Copia thrust into you one final time before he emptied himself into your throat, hands still wrapped around your throat, but with no pressure to them. He poured so much of himself into you, his body overreacting to his first time inside you. You heard Copia’s disappointed sigh as pulled out leaving you to swallow his load with a slight ache in your throat. You felt a string of your saliva spill onto your cheek, only to get the cloth covering your eyes damp where it settled and got soaked up. pulled out of you, “Wanted to last longer.” Copia commented.

“She tends to have that effect on people.” You heard Primo say. You remembered the first time Primo fucked you, too, and how he also didn’t last as long as he wanted… in fact, it was the same for all of them. You couldn’t help the sense of pride that washed over you reminiscing over that fact. “You gotta build up stamina to enjoy her completely.”

You tightened. Out of all of them, Primo was the kindest towards you - so to hear him talk about you as if you weren’t human did something to you that you should feel ashamed about. But instead it only made you wetter.

“Merda!” Terzo groaned. “Gonna fucking cum into this slutty cunt. You want that, tesoro?”

“I want it!” You begged, breathlessly.

“How much?”

“I w-want you to fill me up so-oh bad, Papa! Fuck. Want y-you to fill me up and…” You cut yourself off, remembering that there were others present.

Terzo spanked your thigh and dropped his voice down to a quiet, husky plea. “Fucking say it. I dare you. Finish that fucking sentence.”

“Want y-you to fill me up and fuck a baby into me. Show everyone who I belong to.”

“You fucking whore!” Terzo exclaimed appreciatively. “Sathanas!” And that was all the warning you got before Terzo also emptied himself into you, cock twitching in over sensitivity as rope after rope shot into your cunt, his fingers digging into your plump calves as he tried to keep himself grounded. His knees were buckling at the force, and you felt his whole body tremble as it fought to keep him upright.

When his orgasm subsided, Terzo pulled out of you, a grunt coupling his unceremonious actions. He gently returned your legs to the table, trying to make sure that you were safe and comfortable again, before fiddling with his clothes. You assumed he’d turned to walk away, which is when you heard Secondo’s voice.

“Nuh-uh!” He scolded, clicking his fingers. You’d seen him scold Terzo before, there was no doubt in your mind that the click was followed by Secondo pointing to the problem. “Clean up your mess before someone else gets in there.”

You imagined Terzo rolling his eyes like a petulant teenager. He pulled up a chair, sat on it, and buried his face in your folds without warning. His tongue delved as deep as it would go, licking his own cum out from your cunt. Where his tongue wouldn’t reach, his fingers did, and every drop of himself was gulped down with attitude. He didn’t care a button for your pleasure this time, purely being down there just to clean you out to be used again. When he had finished, he patted your thigh twice and left you waiting and wanting for the next person.

“Wait,” you said quickly hearing all movement in the room stop, “if I keep my hands to myself, can you untie me? It’s starting to hurt.” The rope was burning against your skin now to the point where you could hardly stand it anymore. And, given that both of your arms were tied behind your back and you were laying on them, your arms felt dead and your back had begun to ache.

“Of course.” Terzo replied without thinking. He turned on his heels and rushed back to the table, his hands on your shoulders. “Sit up for me, tesoro.” He ordered, his voice much more kindly than it had been before. He helped you to sit upright. “That’s it - brava ragazza.” You felt his deft hands working at the rope Secondo had tied, making short work of it given that it was tied well. Once your wrists were free and the rope had been discarded, you felt Terzo’s gentle touch on your wrists, no doubt a little red from the irritation. “Ah, my poor amore.” He pressed his lips to them. “Battle scars, no?”

“So dramatic.” Secondo muttered from the other side of the room.

“I have some hand cream,” Primo said walking towards you, “it’ll be good enough until you get to one of our rooms and can be taken care of properly.”

“Thank you, Papa.” You replied, a soft smile on your face.

You felt Primo and Terzo rub the hand cream into your wrists, their fingers working to moisturise the skin and help repair it as quickly as possible. Primo always kept stuff like this in his pockets - hard boiled sweets included. He was such a grandpa sometimes it made you laugh. Prepared for an apocalypse - you’d tell him that every time he pulled something out of his bag or pocket that would help.

Once they’d finished, Terzo pressed a kiss to your hand and walked away, while Primo rested his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, the kind of kiss that had you sighing and leaning into his touch. “You’re doing so good for us, fiorellina.” He praised. “Just a little longer.”

Primo left you alone and everyone watched as you lay back down for them, body splaying out against the wood. Your hands went to the edges of the table, clutching on to try and stop you from grasping onto the next man who took his place between your legs.

Terzo’s voice sounded from across the room. “You have to get this next one correct, tesoro. Or we win.”

“I will. Of course I will, are we kidding?” You responded, determination in your voice.

The room was silent while the next man moved towards you - his footsteps slow and deliberate. His warm breath fanned out over your body, before finally you felt his tongue lave over your body: it ran all over your stomach, your thighs, back up to your breasts where he licked and sucked on your nipple. You moaned at the sensation, your hips bucking upwards as his mouth brought you so much pleasure. You had to resist the urge to clutch onto his head as you usually did whenever someone ran their tongue over your nipples. But that was when you felt it: a second tongue mimicking the patterns on your nipple and replicating it on your clit, pulling another moan from your mouth.

It was obvious that this was Secondo and Primo - although Copia had two chances, you doubt he’d have a third - or even that Terzo would come back for seconds.

“Secondo and P-Primo.” You said quickly.

“Well of course,” Terzo said, matter-of-factly, “but who’s doing what, tesoro?”

You thought you could get away with it, that they’d give you a break and let you have the win - but evidently not. “S-Secondo is - fuck -” you pushed your hips into the man’s mouth who was licking your cunt fervently. “Su-ucking on my clit.” It had to be, this was his style. He wasn’t usually gentle with your body, not when he’d been deprived for as long as he had been.

“And you think Primo is on your breasts?”

“Y-yes.”

“Take off the blindfold.”

You quickly lifted it off your eyes and immediately flinched at the candlelight, despite it being low. You’d been in complete darkness the whole time, it was hardly surprising that you were struggling to see. Your eyes were blurred, and they took a while to completely adjust, but when they did, a wave of relief washed over you. You were right. Your hands immediately flew to Primo and Secondo’s heads, putting pressure on Secondo’s because he was where you needed him the most, but everyone knew that Primo’s ministrations and work on your nipples would have you tipping over the edge in no time.

Primo lifted his mouth off your nipple and attached it to your lips, fingers tweaking the opposite bud in lieu of his tongue. This kiss was just as tender as his first one, filled with such passion you felt yourself grinding on Secondo’s tongue much faster in pure desperation.

“You are doing so well, fiorellina.” Primo echoed his words from earlier, voice low, those words clearly meant for your benefit and your benefit only. “You please us so well. Take everything we give like a good girl.”

“Papa!”

“Do you feel good?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Is my brother doing a good job?”

“Yes!”

“Tell him, fiorellina. Ask him to make you cum.”

“Please!” You begged, your mind so far gone you could hardly stand it anymore. For the first time since you looked down at him, you were able to drink in the sight of the man between your thighs, roughly sucking on your clit and pistoning his fingers in and out of you now like a man on a mission. You could only see the top of his head, given the rest of it was hidden by your cunt. You could only just see the bridge of his nose above your mound, his hands wrapped around your bruised, jiggling thighs, and him looking up at you through his lashes, a scowl on his brow with his determination to tip you over the edge. There was almost a predatory look in his eyes as he sucked you into his mouth, and it made your cunt clench tightly around his fingers.

“Oh fuck, Papa!”You called out to him, your stomach flipping at the sight of him. “Your t-tongue feels so… good. I’m so fucking close. P-please make me cum, Papa-ah! Wanna cum. Wanna cum so-oh I can… I can feel your c-cock deep inside me. Fuck! Just like that. Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking st-op. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Secondo had pushed his face further into you, his tongue roving deliciously over your clit every time he sucked on it harshly.

“Cumming!” You announced via scream, your back arching off the table and mouth hanging open in pleasure. Your voice stopped, cut like someone had just turned the sound off but continued to play the video. Your second orgasm was violent, and wet. So very wet. Your vision was the first to go, dark patches swimming over your sight and eyes glazing over and rolling back as drool poured from your open mouth. Your hands cramped where they were clutching onto the table, your desperation forcing them there right as your orgasm hit lest you draw blood from your Papas. Secondo growled into your cunt as you released your cum onto him and the table below, the sound of your squirt hitting the floor as it poured from your body, combined with Secondo sucking it down greedily had your toes curling and your orgasm continuing. It felt like it went on forever, sending electric pulses all over your body until you couldn’t stand it and damn near passed out. All the while, you had Primo in your ear whispering to you; reminding you to breathe, telling you it was okay. You barely registered the fact that his hand was resting on top of yours, fingers bent to completely cover you.

Secondo stood from his place between your thighs and moved to your head to kiss you, letting one of your hands wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you as his mouth engulfed yours. Your other hand, which was still trapped beneath Primo’s, pulled out from its position and also pulled him toward you, breaking your kiss with Secondo so you could kiss Primo just as passionately. You felt Secondo’s fingers traverse the length of your body, before dipping back into your hole. “Mmmf!”You protested, muffled by Primo’s lips. You broke the kiss to look at Secondo. “Please not your hands!”

Secondo smirked. “You want my cock, hm?”

“Yes! Fuck. Please.”

“On your stomach then, amore.”

You climbed off the table before bending over it, letting your body squish against the wood so tantalisingly, you heard appreciative groans coming from everyone in the room. Secondo came back to his original position, and fumbled around with his robes before he positioned his cock at your entrance. You could feel the weight of it against you as he ran it through your folds, gathering your slick to lube himself up. The head of his girth rubbed against your sensitive clit, still twitching from the orgasm he gave you. Each rub caused you to whimper from the sensation, mouth hanging open and brow furrowing in pleasure.

When Secondo finally sank in, the stretch was divine. Secondo was so, incredibly thick and long, he reached depths that you had never felt before. Despite already being fucked once, your cunt was still forced open as though this was the first cock you’d taken in a long, long time. Your hands clutched onto the table again, grasping the edges tightly to ground yourself as you cried out, his own hiss of pleasure echoing in your ears as he, too, felt the effects of your extraordinarily tight pussy. He gave you time to adjust to him and his size once he’d buried himself all the way to the hilt, hands on your ass cheeks, gripping tight enough for the fat to squeeze between his fingers. A string of expletives in Italian fell from his lips, punctuated by a bite to your right hip. He thrust inside tentatively at first, hitting your cervix so deliciously, your eyes rolled back into your head and a delirious smile played on your lips. Secondo kept rocking into you, hitting that spot over and over again, gradually picking up the pace until he was fucking into you at a rough pace - the perfect pace.

Primo stood in front of you, watching your face as you took Secondo’s cock. Your hands unclasped from the table and moved to Primo’s clothed cock, standing to attention underneath his robes, and began to fumble with the fabric to free him. You wanted his cock in your mouth, just as much as you needed Secondo’s. You gave Primo’s cock two strokes at first, staving off the arousal just enough to get him into your mouth without him blowing too soon. Primo was always a delight to give head to - he was always so gentle, so appreciative, hands in your hair and sweet touches, never taking too much unless you were offering it and giving you kind praise as you worked hard to get him to cum.

Your first lick ran from base to tip, causing his toes to curl in his shoes at the pressure. But once you were at his head, you swirled your tongue around it, taking the whole tip in your mouth and sucking like you would taking cake mix off the spoon. You hollowed your cheeks to make a better suction for his head, and relished in the feeling of his hands in your hair, grunts of desperation slipping from his lips. You moved your hands to his hips and silently pulled them forward, sucking more of him into your mouth until that tip was right at the back of your throat, dipping down into your throat. All the while, you looked up at him through your lashes, big, doe eyes maintaining eye contact with him while your lips sinfully stretched around his cock.

“Oh my,” Primo commented, chest heaving from his lack of breath, “look at that. You look so pretty like this, fiorellina.”

He began to gently fuck your throat, pulling out completely to give you the opportunity to breathe, and bending down to kiss you ever now and then, before eventually feeding his cock back into your mouth, and repeating the process all over again.

In the meantime, behind you, Secondo was fixated on the way your cunt swallowed him whole, greedily pulling him back in and clenching down on his shaft as Primo sent those praises to you, and they shot straight down to your hole. You could hear Secondo’s own grunts and groans as he felt this, and just how feral he was becoming the longer he was inside of you. You were feeling so good, you were creaming on his cock, and Secondo couldn’t take his eyes off the juice that had gathered at the base, pulling and snapping with each time he pulled out then slammed back in.

He pushed his hand underneath your body and began to play with your clit again, stealing a moan from your mouth, muffled by Primo’s cock that was buried all the way to the hilt down your throat again. Secondo chuckled at your response, “You like that, amore?” He asked, his tone delightfully condescending, filled with a false sympathy that had goosebumps forming on your skin. “You like taking two cocks at the same time, hm? Like being used by four men in one day?”

“You should have seen the way her eyes lit up just now, fratellino.” Primo said, stroking your hair.

“Her cunt is clenching - I know how much she likes being a whore for us. Listen to her.” True enough, underneath your muffled whines and moans, everyone could hear the sound of Secondo fucking into you, how your wetness splashed around him and made it so, embarrassingly clear just how much you loved this. Secondo laughed again. “Look over at Terzo and the Cardinal, amore.”

You did as Secondo asked, pulling Primo out of your mouth to look at them over your shoulder. Terzo was, as expected, brazen with his thoughts, his cock completely out of his trousers again and his fist wrapped around it, darkened eyes trained on your body as you bounced off Secondo’s cock, and swallowed Primo’s with enthusiasm. Copia, on the other hand, clearly just as affected as Terzo, was still dressed from his earlier encounter with your mouth, but his hand rubbing over his cassock as discreetly as he could manage. You tightened again momentarily, relishing in the fact that you had four men rock hard and desperate to bury themselves in all of your holes.

“You should have seen the Cardinal earlier, tesoro.” Terzo teased. “How eager he was to fuck your throat.”

“Fuck.” You muttered, eyes watching your friend rut into his own hand. at the sight of you getting fucked relentlessly. There was something so incredible about being the centre of everyone’s attention, and the object of all their desires. How a man who you’d never even seen in a sexual light before, and you were sure hadn’t thought of you in one, was now trying to cum for a second time at the thought of you. “M-my hands are - fuck! Papa! - My hands a-are free.” You hinted, before taking Primo back into your mouth and curling your hands into loose fists, creating two new holes for Terzo and Copia to use at their pleasure. Of course, they leaped forward, and before you knew it both of their cocks had been spat on, then slid into your fists, and began fucking your hands as they would your cunt.

You were stuffed full, almost every hole imaginable filled with the cocks of the highest members of the clergy, at the mercy of the Emeritus brothers as they had their wicked ways with you. The rigorous snaps of Secondo’s hips had you bouncing along the table, meaning Primo could stand still and you’d take his cock completely hands free, with Secondo doing all the work.

From your peripherals, you watched as Copia used your hand, his own resting on the table as though he were too shy to touch you, despite wrapping his digits around your throat and making your airways tighter for him to fuck as he pleased. Terzo, however, a man used to being deep inside you and taking his pleasure from your body, had leaned over and landed a few, stinging slaps to your ass, watching as it jiggled with both the force of his hits and the backshots Secondo was giving you. That same hand he put in his mouth - his pinkie to be precise - salivated all over it, and then began to rub it over the rim of your ass, making you jump in surprise. And then, when you’d relaxed to his touch, he inserted the tip into your twitching hole, only down to the mid knuckle, but that combined with Secondo still playing with your clit had you tipping over into your third orgasm, body tensing and cunt fluttering around his cock.

Primo had pulled out, allowing you to breathe through it, crouching down and wrapping his own hand around his cock, stroking himself furiously. “That’s it, fiorellina. Cum for us. You’re doing so well for us. Such a good girl. Ah! Sathanas! I’m close.”

When you came back to your senses, you fixated your eyes on Primo’s desperately moving hand, willing it back into your mouth, but Primo wasn’t having it.

His voice dropped to a whisper so only you could hear him. “Can I cum, fiorellina?”

Unable to speak through your exhaustion, you nodded.

“Close your eyes for me.” He ordered.

You did as you were told, and mere seconds later you heard Primo groan and then his cum landing on your flushed cheek, nose, and upper lip.

“Oh, fuck! Look at her now!” You heard Terzo say, in awe of your fucked out state, covered in cum. “Shit, me too!” He pulled out from your fist and stood where Primo once was, stroking himself until completion over your face, groaning as the first rope of cum shot out and landed on your forehead. It dripped down onto your cheek, joining the first load of cum, along with hitting your nose.

It didn’t take much longer for Secondo’s orgasm to hit him, his thrusts becoming sloppy and fast until he buried himself as deep as he could inside you, falling onto your plush body as rope after rope spilled in your tight, wet heat. His hands were gripping onto your flesh so hard, you were sure he was going to leave bruises, bruises you were excited to see for days after so you could remember what happened on your first game night with the boys.

Copia was the last one to cum, his own stamina keeping him going just as was promised by Primo earlier. But even still, a few more thrusts and he was done, his own cum joining Primo and Terzo’s on your face but this time it hit your mouth and chin, dripping onto the floor when the load was too big to stick to your skin.

You all sat there for a moment, catching your breaths from the intensity of the evening. Primo, as predicted, was exhausted and making a joke about how his old body couldn’t keep up to everyone. Terzo had picked up that same cloth that was on your eyes earlier and used it to wipe the copious amounts of cum that had painted your face; the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a look of disgust on his face as he finished cleaning you up as much as he could. “You did so well for us, tesoro.” He said, his voice low and warm. “I would kiss you but…”

You laughed, “I understand.”

“Grazie.”

“I still won, though.” You announced, smugly. You yelped when you felt Secondo spank your ass.

“Alright then, champion.” He said. “Let’s get you properly cleaned up.”

Secondo helped you get your habit back on once he had pulled out of you, and let you lean on him as you walked. Your legs were like jelly from both the position you were in and from the three orgasms the men had put you through. You bade each of them a good night before Secondo pulled you to his room, running you a bath upon arrival. As the water filled the tub, he stripped you naked again and had you sit on the edge, a damp, soapy cloth in his hands using it to properly wash your face, and clean you of any cum Terzo hadn’t managed to get. “You let us be too rough for you, amore.” He gently scolded you, watching as your face reddened beneath the warm water.

“It’s nothing I don’t enjoy, Papa.” You retorted, equally as soft. “I’d use my safeword if I didn’t. You know it makes me feel good when you use me. I feel better the more animalistic you get.”

“I don’t think we talked about the reason why before.”

“It’s the fact that you want me so much, you revert back to primal instincts and take me fiercely. Like you’re staking your claim.” Your thighs squirmed at the thought.

“You didn’t get enough just now, amore?” Secondo asked, clocking your body’s response. He knelt down and spread your legs, watching your labia part and wetness seep out again. He frowned. “Your poor pussy took such a beating - she’s so red.”

“She can take more, Papa.”

He looked up at you darkly. “You want your Papa to fuck you again? Fill you up with another load of cum, hm? You’re that desperate for cock you want your Papa to fill you again even though you’ve just taken four?”

“Please, Papa.” You whispered, feeling your nipples harden with arousal.

He licked a stripe up your cunt, from your hole to your clit and had you jumping. “In the tub then, puttana. Let me claim you properly.”

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[befuddledcinnamonroll]

So with some of the takes I've been seeing in the Wandee Goodday tag, I wanted to share my perspective.

Just to note - I firmly believe art is subjective and what we see can vary a great deal based on our own perspectives and lived experiences. I'm not calling anyone wrong, I'm just saying this is my personal take on things. (I feel like this should be obvious, but nuance is so often lost online).

And my main goal with watching QL is fun and escapism. I'm here to have a good time. I tend to go with the flow, I like imperfect characters (I even like the fucked-up ones), and I trust the characterization and plot elements to be doing what they need to do until a problem shows within the narrative itself.

Ok, disclaimers done - here's my take on Dee & Yak's interactions around the fake dating idea.

I think all of their interactions are deeply affected by the degree to which they have already developed genuine feelings for each other, but are not yet in a place to admit it, even to themselves.

Do I think Yak has real concerns about being out as a boxer trying to hit a career high? Absolutely. But I think his quick jump to a "let's end this" reaction was mostly a kneejerk attempt to protect himself for what he felt when Dee, the man he is already emotionally connected to, and desperately wants to be able to kiss, dropped a request for fake dating over a real deepening of their relationship.

We don't yet know the level of societal homophobia this show is aiming for, BL land can go many different ways with this, but considering his brother's openness in the gym that he owns, training boxers, there is a tone being set. Yak literally holds hands with Dee in the middle of the street. He doesn't panic when people recognize him at the hospital. This may change, but I'm going to trust the signposts that his career concerns are valid, yes, but are not the dominant issue between them.

Similarly, is Dee competitive and overly focused on winning? Clearly. It's set up in his earlier conversation with Yak for a reason. But at the same time, his insistence that it has to be Yak is not just about his need to win - again, this is about genuine feeling. He wants Yak. This is a way to get Yak, and to frame it to himself in a way that feels less scary and vulnerable, especially after being hurt by Ter.

I know a lot of people saw Dee as being pushy. I do agree with that, and yes it is going to cause more issues for them in the future. But I wish more people also saw Yak holding firm to his boundaries and refusing to give in to the immature behavior from Dee, showing why he's such a good partner for Dee.

And sure, we haven't seen Dee support Yak as much so far, but the scene with the mother and child wasn't there just for kicks. Dee is empathetic and caring, and that will be important in his relationship with Yak as well. He is there for people when things are at their worst.

Some people see Dee on the bridge as being manipulative.

I saw Dee as finally cutting out the toddler shit and being emotionally real about why he's taking the scholarship too seriously, how sensitive he is to what people think of him, why Yak is someone he trusts implicitly, and how he knows it's not Yak's problem and it isn't fair to expect him to fix it.

Some people see Yak as finally agreeing to fake date as showing he is weak to emotional manipulation.

I see a man who has more agency than that. I see a man who is affected by seeing genuine vulnerability both because of how caring he is as an individual, and because of how much he wants a real emotional connection to Dee. And eyes-open, he makes a choice.

These are two characters who have never just been friends with benefits from the beginning. And the narrative has never been about what they are saying. It's about what they are feeling.

#wandee goodday #wandee gooday the series

[hotluncheddie]

how is your autistic Steve? missing him on this Sunday

hello!!! me too omg!!!! he is the best boy!!!

I've been having a couple thoughts about him here and there and I found a old snipped I wrote ages ago in my notes <3

:) ty for reminding me of him tho, my actual true love autistic Steve :)

-

Eddie notices Steve doing it one night, while a films on, sitting in the dark. 

He's rubbing his hands over his mouth, over his lips and cheeks. Over and over again, his fingers or palm rubbing left right, left right, over his lips.

He sees it again one morning. Steve laying on his belly, rubbing his face into the pillow, smushing his nose and turning his whole head left to right and back again. Always slow to wake up, sleepy long after the alarm. He rubs, then huffs. Sighs and relaxes. rubs again. 

Eddie can't hold it in any longer, he needs to touch him. So he rolls Steve over, into his arms. Steve hums, high and happy, twisting to be the little spoon. Tucking in close and grinding a little, the menace.

But they’re both too sleepy still, too relaxed. Steve breaths deep and snuggles into Eddie's arms. Then Eddie feels Steve's head move, so he peeks over to see Steve face. He has his eyes closed, rubbing his mouth and lips against the soft duvet. Pressing lightly on his upper lip, and below his nose. Body loose and Eddie tangles their legs together, buries his face in Steve’s neck, and breaths. 

-

Steve plays the same song over and over. It's new, from a band he loved then forgot about. But there’s this part in it, this new song, part of the bridge he thinks Eddie said. Steve likes it so much. Just that little part. He sings along to it, copying it. It sounds so nice. 

He plays the song over and over. Eddie helps him put it on a tape. That one song. The one song with that part on the bridge. Over and over on the same tape. It’s so good. Steve plays it on his Walkman if someone is over. Plays it over and over, until his mind starts to wander during it, he's heard it so many times. Until that best part seems stamped in his head - never to be forgotten.

It's so good, that little part, the whole song.

Steve plays it again.

-

Steve making packed lunches. ✨

It's so he can feel in control. So if everything went weird and wrong in his day, at least he knows that lunch will be normal. The same as every other day.

No worrying about if they have what he wants or if there will be enough protein to keep him feeling full. No stress that there won’t be anything around he wants to eat which would mean he doesn’t eat anything, the hunger manageable for a while until it’s encroaching on him slowly and he’s snapping at Robin but forgetting the cause. His tension rising and his jaw clenching, and before he knows it it’s the end of the day and his head is pounding and all he can do is go home and sleep off his tension headache. Evening gone for anything fun, ruined by pain. Steve hates that.

So Steve makes packed lunches, makes a couple at a time, sometimes enough for the whole week in one go.

Sometimes he has a craving for diner food, and that's okay, him and Robin sharing an order of fries and Steve getting his burger with extra lettuce and pickles on the side. And that's okay, some days, if it feels right. He has his lunch for dinner and enjoys.

But still, he makes packed lunches.

Just so he knows.

No matter what happens. Lunch is the same as every other day. <3

-

going to once again tag people who might like to see - this is very short but i just, i want as many people as possible to think about autistic Steve, he is so very special

@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @tangerinesteve @lil-gremlin-things @irethsune @scoops-aboy86 @marvel-ous-m

( sorry if this is annoying )

#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #autistic steve harrington #ask #<3 #ideas #once again #stuff on / in ur mouth is such a good stim

[ddejay18]

Batfam Reality TV show

Ugh FINE I'll tell you about my Batfam Reality TV show HC's okay? jeez... (nobody asked).

Before i yap, this idea has been swearving around in my brain like a wagon tied to a angry rhino for a while now. I can't remeber if i was inspired by other posts so if im accidentally stealing someones idea or someone has similar posts pls lmk so i can I'll tag them :). Also reminder that these are Head Cannons, if you don't agree then thats okay. These are just the senarios I play in MY head. (pls ignore all spelling mistakes, im lazy)

Okay, I feel like a reality TV show centred around the batfam would be so funny. Like, a bunch of self aware traumatized orphans hanging around in a mansion. The Kardashians but actually likeable, humble (well, it depends) and absoloute chaos, and not the "omg youre so chaotic lmao" but instead "Ah shit, someone is trying to break in to confess their love to Brucie again, someone call the cops" kind of chaos.

Bruce Wayne is the prince of Gotham. He has built Gotham from the ground up and he is loved by the majority of Gotham residents and even villains. In this cenario, Bruce's billionare playboy days are behind him, and works more like a tired dad who is just trying his best (good parent Bruce Wayne basically). He really has no idea how or when most of these people became a part of the family but is just happy they're there. Mabey Selena Kyle /or Clark Kent could be a side character and there could be a B-plot where Bruce is panicing about proposing or something. Is chronically reading the newspaper. Bruce is also the type of parent to really try to BOND with his family. Puzzles, games, trips, picknics, lgbtq+ merch ect.

Dick Grayson lives, and even has a key to the city of Bludhaven but still visits home regularly. There is an on-going gag where Dick always talks about longing for a relationship but when sees his ex'es while out and about and turns 180° and hides. (its my HC i can do what I want. Dick is a terrible long-time boyfriend, okay).

There is also a scene where Dick makes fun of Tim for being emo (he was just on his phone) and the rest of the Batfam in their one-on-one interviews show pictures and share horror stories from Dick's 'Hot topic, MCR, stealing dads car, eyeliner, youre not my real dad, ugh' phase from his teenage years and a screen shot of Bruce Wayne holding up a picture of Dick with a joint hanging out of his mouth becomes a meme format. Another clip that went viral is a home video where Alfred is scolding Dick for staying out late and he goes "UGH" and backflips out of the room. It cuts right back to Dick where he is smiling and hugging Damian being all ":D".

Jason Todd is thought to have been dead by the people of Gotham for years but as the season progresses, can be seen more and more often in the backround like walking into rooms while people are giving their one-on-one interviews and slowly backing out, or him just walking past a room, or as soon as the camera crew enters a room Jason makes eyecontact with the viewer and just turns around and leaves. There was an intstance that sparked a lot of controvercy online where Roy Harper came to the mansion looking for Jay and the batfam just stared at him, looked to the camera crew and then looked back at him. He swiftly left after rambiling about his terrible grief. (nobody bought it)

They all grew lazy nearing the end of the season and Jason just sits at the dinner table with everyone there, the camera never focuses on him and nobody mentions that he IS actually alive and is sitting RIGHT THERE. Jason just covers his face with his free hand while he eats and can just be seen in the backround while people talk. Jason says something and the camera turned to Bruce, and the editors, very poorly, tried to make it seem like Bruce was the one talking when it was obviously Jason.

In season two of "THE WAYNES" Jason finally joins the cast and admits in a one-on-one interview that he is, in fact alive and that its not a big deal (they make up an excuse and say that he just didnt like papparazzi/had a brain injury or something so he faked his death). This is never mentioned again.

Duke Thomas lives in the manor and was adopted by Bruce (again, its my HC i can do what I want). Duke is the moral compass and seemingly the only one that actually does their own chores. He is constantly just staring out into the madness that is the rest of his family since he is one of the newer member of the family. He, along with Tim are the only ones that can cuss out Bruce without reprocussion. Damian gets kind of jealous of Duke becasue Alfred the cat seems to like Duke a lot, and Dami is afraid of Alfred the cat choosing Duke as his new favorite person. Duke is extremely aware of this and shoo's Alfred the cat away and pretends to not like cats when Damian is around (to soothe his soul a bit).

Tim Drake is also one of the few members of the family that actually lives at home. Tim is a skater kid and Ipad kid at the same time somehow. He is also the ONLY person in the manor (Alfred excluded) that Bruce doesn't scold (it would be weird, since Tim basically babysat Bruce after Jason died).

Tim and Bernard Dowd start dating during the filming of S1 so there are a lot of scenes of Tim freaking out because Bernard is coming over and of the others making fun of him for looking into every detail of their interactions and overthinking them (was that a romantic gesture or not??). Bernard finally makes an appearence where he gives a short one-on-one where he introduces himself. Bernard quickly rose in ranks in terms of the internets white boy of the month (the TikTok edits went hard).

Cassandra Wayne was also legally adopted by Bruce and is his little princess (she is highly dangerous). She changed her last name from Cain to Wayne, bc i feel like she sees the Waynes as her real family. She looks nice enough but once the audience gets to know her they become aware of her insane competitiveness and how she has everyone in the manor wrapped around her pinkie. She dominates in board/video games and is the only one that can convince Alfred to get take out. Cass also practices ballet and is selectively mute and uses ASL most of the time (i just like the idea of her being SELECTIVELY mute, okay).

She is dating Steph (ITS CANON IN MY EYES). Cass, Tim, Bruce, Alfred, Damian and Duke are the only actual residents of the Wayne manor, the others just come and go like its an open buffet.

There is a scene where Cass, Steph, Tim and Bernard all sit on the couch and tell the camera crew that, "well yes Steph and Tim used to date and didn't get along for a while but now we're all friends". "Steph is tecnically dating her ex's sister but its not that complicated, REALLY". "Well yeah, Bruce conciders Steph a part of the family but its not weird or anything guys I PROMISE". "Well yeah actually, both Tim and I realized we weren't straight during our relationship. Why?" Cass and Bernard also get along really well but Bernard doesnt know any sign language and has to rely on others to translate/ Cass has to write thing down for him (they talk MAD shit).

Stephanie Brown. Damn, how the fuck does she keep get in? Sometimes Steph just sneakes into the manor to watch TV or to raid the fridge, while texting her girlfriend, Cass about how much they miss each other when Cass is litterally just upstairs and they're both too lazy to move. Bruce offered her a key to the mansion but she just responded by saying "nah its more fun this way". Steph is constantly accused of being a gold digger within the home and she doesnt deny the claims but its obvious that she does genuinely hang around because they have all become a family to her (found family basically, ugh im such a sucker).

Damian Wayne is still young so there is not a lot of scenes going into his personal life like at school and stuff but he is still there a lot. Anytime Damian says something socially strange or offputting, the others just chuck it up to Damian being a little weird sometimes teehee, or just tell people to not mind him because he is kind of new around there. Meanwhile, Damian speaks in a very professional and sophisticaded way which creates conspiricy theories among viewers about his upbringing, ESPECIALLY because Damian said something in passing about being raised in a secret mountain society.

The camera crew caught a glimpse of Damian in the yard casually accomplishing amazing feats with a giant sword and then immidietly stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed a wild rabbit in the garden. Keen viewers also noticed this strange phenomenon where Damian somehow wins every argument EXCEPT for when its with Alfred.

(I both love and hate the idea of Damian being a spawn of satan in everyones eyes. It can be funny sometimes but in my universe, Damian gets along well with everyone. Sure Damian is crude and weird but he's a kid, and i want him to have a supportive family that understands why he does and says the things he does. I basically just want Damian unapologetically being a kid.)

Alfred Pennyworth is an interesting person for newer fans of the Wayne family, since he is practically unknows to the public. Alfred introduces himself as the only butler in the Wayne manor and a long time friend of the Wayne family. Viewers quickly realize that Alfred is really the man of the house and it becomes previlant when he goes on a short weekend trip (with a secret girlfriend perhaps, Maggie Page perhaps) and everything falls apart. Bruce doesnt know where he is supposed to be at any given time, a hirearchy is established (Cass is a very unfair leader) and the only person making sure the others are fed is that mysterious figure in the backround (Jason).

Alfred makes it sound like he is only the butler but the rest of the batfam all talk to/about him as the essential part of the family that he is and how he is everyones badass, british, grand papa, dad, butler- babysitter-cook, friend thing.

Barbra Gordon is another unofficial member of the Wayne family. She is always over for game and movie nights and just in general. Barbra and Dick used to date but are on really good terms (suprisingly). Barbra is especially close with Jason, Cass and Dick, and is kind of a mentor/cool older sister figure to the others. Sometimes Jim Gordon visits as well, since he and Bruce are fellas.

In the opening scene of the first episode, the batfam are asked to make a family tree or list of sorts since there are so many of them and Barbra was the only person who remebered that Jason was supposed to be dead (nobody bought it).

This will do FOR NOW. I wasn't be able to fit everything here so ill prolly make a pt.2, where i tell yall abt some silly situations that would take place in a Wayne reality TV show. This is more like an introduction into the convoluted storyline that has been building up in my head (what else am i supposed to do at work?).

I also want to state that Leslie Thompkins is also concidered a family member to me since she is like a surrigate mother figure to Bruce but she won't be hanging around the manor as much as the others.

Ik i skipped a lot of characters that are concidered to be in the batfamily but even I dont know who IS concidered to be in the BatFam atp or I skipped characters that i just dont like/think about as much bc im shallow like that lol.

ALSO ALSO im not a huge BatCat or SuperBat shipper but i just felt like them being in the family dynamic would be interesting. Timid ol' Clark or the HBIC Selena Kyle. I also didnt include friends and stuff that would prob be at the manor all the time too like Roy, Wally, Jon, JLA, TT, YJ ect. blah-blah-blah you get it, I'll stop yapping now.

#batfam headcanons #batfamily #batfamily headcanons #batman #robin #dc characters #dc comics #young justice #justice league #teen titans #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #reality tv #batcat #superbat #roy harper #duke thomas #signal dc #dc robin #batkids #batboys #batgirls #spoiler dc #orphan #cassandra cain #black bat #batgirl #oracle

[elodee]

HERMIT A DAY MAY - DAY 22

Iskall85 x Adventure Time

For Iskall I chose Adventure Time! Iskall brings a lot of fun, mischievous energy to the server which I think matches the tone of the show well. Plus, he famously created the dungeon looting game Vault Hunters and what do adventurers do if not break into dungeons for sweet loot?

I had a lot of fun with his pose and he is absolutely gonna get you with that axe. Start running!

To learn more about Adventure Time and see my style references, head below the cut.

(Donating to Gamers Outreach as well would be seriously mathematical of you.)

Adventure Time is a fantasy/adventure cartoon from 2010. The show follows a boy named Finn the Human and his adoptive brother, Jake the Dog, who is a talking dog with some shapeshifting abilities (he can change size and shape but stays recognizably Jake). The two go on adventures across the Land of Ooo in their quest to be radical adventuring heroes.

During their adventures they befriend people from the Candy Kingdon (they are people made out of candy), hang out with a Vampire Queen, and save princesses from kingdoms all across the land that are routinely kidnapped by the seemingly villainous but often fairly harmless Ice King (he is doing his best).

It is hard to describe this show to someone who hasn't seen it. The show is colorful and wacky, and the storylines are perpetually yes and-ing themselves so the boys end up in a lot of whimsical, often downright surreal, scenarios. The episodes are usually light-hearted, but there is a deeper, serious premise underneath that is slowly revealed as the show goes on, which I think takes the whole cartoon to another level. If you haven't seen it, and you like weird, funny stuff, go watch it!

Also pinging @hermitadaymay in case the tags decide not to work again.

Style references:

Finn and Jake

The characters on the show have wiggly noodle limbs

The title

#I just think iskall should go on a wacky little adventure #as a treat #iskall85 #hermitaday #hermitcraft

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls (Ch. 5)

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

The scent of coffee wafted around the kitchen, the gurgle and sigh of the Keurig tinkling coffee into her mug. For a moment, Cafe Bustelo overpowered the smell of drying paint. She dragged her finger impatiently along the warming mug, her nail catching the glaze coating the blues and browns of the stoneware ceramic. She’d bought a set of these when Tim had dragged her along to Germany one year –ostensibly for business meetings but shockingly they all took place at Oktoberfest events and the most expensive BierHalls to be found in Munich. Grace had spent most of her time wandering the museums and historic churches and a lively marketplace where she’d found the handmade mugs.

She loved those mugs. She decided they made her think of beauty and independence and times when she had made the most of being dragged around as a trophy by her ex-husband, so the mugs were allowed to stay. The other option would have been to donate them; no way would she have allowed Tim to keep something she’d carefully selected for its beauty, which he refused to use because “it’s like drinkings from rocks.” 

The second the coffee was done, she snatched the mug up and breathed the scent deep into her lungs. This was one of the small things she was trying to make more space for in her life: the scent of coffee, the crisp look of freshly done nails, the warmth of a steamy bath at the end of the day, perhaps with a glass of wine and a mystery novel perched on the edge. 

She glanced at her nails, then turned her grip on the mug so she couldn’t see them. Her nail tech was going to have a fit. They were a mess, but she didn’t see the point of getting them fixed until she was done with the cabinets. Which would be soon!

She tentatively touched the doorless cabinet above her, testing the dryness of the most recent coat of paint. One more, she felt like, and probably the same for the cabinet doors that had been outside drying overnight. The new hardware sat in a box on the marble counter. She couldn’t wait to screw those in and put the doors back on. Having work finished on a central room was going to feel so fucking good. 

The rest of the house seemed to call to her, reminding her of all the in-progress things standing between her and her finished home. But at least she was almost to the fun part, the filling out part. The walls and ceilings, once dark and oppressive, were now white and taupe throughput, a much more fitting canvas for the art she intended to collect. There would be furniture to buy once the floor guy was finished restaining all the wood, and plants to tuck everywhere she could fit them, and functional space to fill out. When she hosted, did she expect folks to congregate in the living room or the dining room or the deck? What would she need to make them comfortable?

It was easy for her daydreams to run away with her and to feel impatient about it. She was trying to romanticize and enjoy, but the truth was she felt late to be starting a new life from scratch. She’d already done this! She’d already worked so hard to make dreams a reality… Sometimes starting fresh was fun and at other times utterly demoralizing. 

The remodel of the master bedroom and bathroom were the most frustrating right now and the living room wasn’t far behind, but at least the kitchen would be done soon. She hadn’t even been in the house eight weeks yet. She sold houses, she knew the settling in took time. When she’d moved in with Tim though, it had been such a simple, straight-forward process. He’d wanted something totally move-in ready, no updates needed, and he’d never wanted her to “fuck with it” much in terms of personalizing. They’d ordered whatever they didn’t already have between the two of them in a week and paid for expedited shipping to get it done quick.

This time, she wanted quality, even if she had to wait for it. 

Which she reminded herself daily, hourly. Every time she noticed more “little things” she suspected she would want to do later, once this big things were done. A re-do of the downstairs bathroom, turning the downstairs guestroom into a work out room, adding at least a pool shed–

“Breathe out,” she told herself, lifting the coffee to her nose again. One thing at a time. Well, several things at a time, but not all the things at a time. She could chip away at things around the house until she had it exactly the way she wanted it, even if it took years. There was no rush, no one to impress, no expected interruptions to this pursuit. Life stretched before her with blue skies and gentle breezes. She could do whatever she wanted for as long as she wanted. No husband, no kids, no real financial worries once this shitty divorce was behind her. So long as Tim didn’t successfully clean her out. Thank god her lawyers were going to make sure that didn’t happen.

She breathed out again. Yoga that morning on the deck outside the master bedroom had given her the strength to keep the stress at bay. Yoga and a healthy dose of snuggles from her partner in crime. 

Foam headbutted against her leg and curled around, stepping on her toes and then ducking down for a nibble. He was an odd cat, that was for sure. She loved him. She gave him a little scratch behind the ears and then lifted him to ride on the crook of her arm as she gathered avocados, eggs, and her favorite artisanal bread. Foam sniffed and stretched, then pulled back quickly when she let him sniff each ingredient, no longer interested. She set him down and pulled the Everything Bagel topping from the painfully bare spice drawer. The glass bottles of her collection had broken during the move and she hadn’t had time to order replacements.

Foam wove in and out of her legs as she cooked before dashing off to chase ghosts, which so far seemed his favorite pastime. At first she had thought he might hear mice or insects in the house –but of course he wasn’t hearing anything! Nor could she find any evidence of pests, thank god. Just a silly little cat living out his best life. 

Coffee and avocado toast and eggs arranged, she was just carrying it out to the outdoor dining room when she heard the back gate grind open. She’d only given the code to a couple of the contractors she trusted enough not to show up in the middle of the night and murder her –namely the woman managing the bathroom remodel and the pool guy. 

JK’s truck crunched to a stop on the gravel, muffled music breaking the quiet stillness of the morning. He banged out a drum solo on the steering wheel, then the music abruptly shut off seconds before he stepped out, still singing along. It was only eight, earlier than she’d expected him, though he wasn’t on some set schedule. He looked shockingly awake and she suspected that meant he’d been out surfing this morning; other days he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed at ten. 

“Surfing this morning?” she called over as he lowered the tailgate of his truck, so he’d know she was there and not think she was just standing around gawking.   

He stopped what he was doing and grinned over at her; it caught her off-guard, that grin, like he’d known she was there and expected her to ask. He grabbed a big white bucket and hauled it closer, at which point she realized his hair wasn’t just wild today but wet, like he’d just hopped out of the shower. 

“I was out, yeah,” he said. He didn’t look it now, more bundled up than she’d ever seen him in a gray hoodie and long pants. 

She worried he’d noticed her look him over and teased, “You look cozy. Not very beach bum.”

“I took a cold shower before I came here,” he said. “So… I’m cold.” He grinned wider, dimples showing on each side of his mouth.

Damn. He had quite a smile.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” she asked.

“Nah, hate the stuff. I’m more of a Bacchus-D guy.”

“I’m not familiar.”

“It’s an energy drink,” he answered, shrugged. 

“Ah.”

“I’m good though. Thanks. Figured I’d get an early start today scrubbing that baby down.”

She had the urge to bite her toast and realized she was just standing there, holding her plate and her mug, still wearing the tank top and leggings she’d done her yoga in. A tap made them both look back at the French doors, where Foam was pawing to get her attention.

“That your cat?”

“I should hope so,” she laughed. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah. I’m more of a dog person but cats are ok.”

She didn’t know why that made her feel a bit put off. You could be a dog person but still think cats were cute. Or you could just be polite and say yes, your pet is cute. 

“I’ve never had a dog or a cat,” he continued. “Once I had a bird.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, it was wild. Like a bird that you just see in the yard. It had a hurt leg so I took it in. My mom was pissed,” he laughed.

“So… what happened to the bird?” she asked, because it seemed like the right question to ask.

He grimaced and admitted, “I don’t know. She told me she took it to a rescue but… I doubt it.” He looked to the side and scowled. “She’s kind of– I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.”

“Oh.”

“But I do with my stepmom, I don’t have like sad puppy syndrome or anything,” he quickly clarified. “I’m not weird about women just because my mom probably killed my bird.”

“You think she was capable of killing it?” Grace asked, not quite sure what else to say. He was an interesting character, this JK, telling her all of that first thing in the morning.

“Even if she just tossed it out, it probably died, right?” He shrugged, like he’d learned to live with this. Grace decided not to mention she’d been dragged along on duck hunts several times as a teenager until she threatened to become a vegetarian. It was natural to search for those types of thematic connection when someone shared something personal, as a way to comfort, and yet this conversation felt like it didn’t quite follow the rules of etiquette she’d learned growing up. Conversations with JK rarely did. 

“I’m sorry. That sounds… upsetting.”

“Anyway,” he said, and stretched, allowing a glimpse of a tanned toned stomach. “I’ma get started.”

“Need anything at all?”

“Nope.” He grinned and waved and grabbed his bucket in one hand. “Actually can I give you a CD to put on?”

“Sure…” Actually she’d been looking forward to her quiet breakfast but fine, music could be ok.

It felt too awkward to sit outside to eat anyway, since it might seem like she was just watching him, even though she couldn’t see him at all once he hopped down into the empty pool. Instead she ate in the kitchen, windows open to hear the music, trying to identify the heavy drums and shout. It sounded like… old rock music? But maybe it was a modern band that only sounded old, like Greta van Fleet. 

Foam leapt into her lap and she scritched under his chin, almost asking if he liked the music  –would he be able to feel the vibrations from this far away? She wondered if he’d enjoy it up close. She kinda liked it. It sounded like the thing she would have listened to as a teenager to piss off her parents, if she’d been that kind of teenager. Maybe it was the kind of music you listened to even into adulthood to piss off a mom who’d killed your rescue bird. Yikes.

But it was endearing, him being the kind of guy who’d bring home a wounded bird, expecting to take care of it. That was charming. 

She bobbed her head along to the music as she chewed her toast and scrolled through a digital copy of The New Yorker on her iPad. She was trying to get back into breakfast being a routine rather than something to grab on the go or skip, now that her time was her own. She used to love slow, coffee-laden, literature-infused breakfasts, but over the years she’d lost them in favor of the hustle. It became a bagel on the way to a house showing, a parfait halfway through the morning when she realized she’d forgotten to grab something between yoga and the list of phone calls to make with her clients’ real estate attorneys and inspection officers and the occasional mortgage broker. An occasional brunch with friends had done its best to keep breakfast alive as a tradition, waiting for her to return to her roots. Growing up, her family ate breakfast together every morning.

It took her long enough to notice the harsh buzzing to also recognize that the person held the buzzer for a painfully long time. Grace startled and Foam vaulted from her lap, back claws leaving red lines of nearly-cut skin in his haste. She winced and hobbled to the console by the back door to see which damn door had something going on.

An older woman with a visor and long-sleeved shirt and large sunglasses stood at the back gate, her lips pursed so tightly the camera seemed to zoom in on them.

“Hello, can I help you?” Grace asked.

“This is a nice neighborhood, you know!” the woman shouted. “Turn that horrible noise down right this instant! Good people are trying to have a good morning and you’ve got the gall to–”

Getting yelled at by an irate neighbor was not on Grace’s to-do list today.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ll look into it,” Grace interrupted her. Curious if the music seemed louder away from her house –where she could hear it but not excessively– she stepped outside. She could see the shadow of the woman’s feet still standing at the gate, shuffling like she couldn’t decide whether to stay or go. A small dog stuck its nose under the gap.

The music didn’t seem that loud to Grace, even directly on the patio where the speakers were. Still, not excessive. She thought this had just revealed she had at least one annoying old lady neighbor, but maybe a weird acoustic was happening and causing it to somehow seem louder elsewhere, so she walked the perimeter of the yard. 

The inside of the pool briefly distracted her from her investigation. She hadn’t come to look since JK’s friend had finished draining the pool the other day, nor when JK had come by to do an inspection of all the pumps and filters and heaters and decide what needed to be replaced (everything, unsurprisingly.) The water had been green and slimy before but she hadn’t realized there were plants beneath the surface. It looked like the bottom of an aquarium down there, with actual patches of moss or grass or whatever it was, and leafy plants, and who knew what else!

Something went flying through the air and landed behind her. 

“What was that?” she asked, worried JK was going to cover her grass in slimy shit.

“Oh!” His eyebrows raised and he stiffened in surprise at seeing her. “Uh, a frog.”

“A frog.”

“Would you um… rather I catch them and put them somewhere else? They’re just frogs though.” He looked so completely guilty that she half expected the frog was a lie but when she looked back at the blob, it was in fact a frog.

“Won’t they just come right back in?”

He looked around at the ecosystem he was charged with dismantling, thinking about it, then answered with that familiar confidence he had, “Nah, there won’t be anything good for them down here once I finish today. All this will be gone.” He spread his hand out, gesturing to the whole pool. Grace didn’t see how that was possible to do in a single day. “Hey, did you know there’s all this pretty tile at the bottom?”

“No,” she admitted. He crouched and dragged a bunch of plants to the side and wiped at the muck with his hands to reveal a glimpse of small bright-blue tiles.

“It’s kinda cool. I feel like a– what are those guys that dig up dinosaurs?”

“A paleontologist?”

“Yeah. Hey, don’t laugh at me, smarty. English isn’t my first language,” he said. She was positive she had not laughed at him but quickly checked herself.

“I didn’t laugh! I would never.” 

“I know, I’m teasing.”

“Oh.” It was a horrible thing to tease about. It kept her from asking what she was curious to know now, what his first language was. She worried there wasn’t a way to phrase the question that wouldn’t sound racist, especially since he might be joking about that, she realized. He might be messing with her, waiting for her to ask what is your first language? She couldn’t quite understand this man, or how to tell when he was serious or teasing. She used to think he was always serious and polite but now she wondered if he’d been teasing a lot. Or making fun. She suddenly felt very self conscious about it.

“She doesn’t like being teased,” he muttered, seemingly to himself. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! I just would never insult you like that.” The self conscious feeling got worse. It was like he’d read her mind!

“I know that’s why it’s funny… so, frogs? Stay, go? Put ‘em in a box to toss at that lady?”

“Oh, you heard that?” she asked, glancing over to the gate. The woman’s feet were gone but she had the sixth sense she hadn’t gone far.

“Yeah, I even turned it down from where you had it. Guess you were partying last night?”

“That’s where we left it the other day! I didn’t think it was that loud but thanks. I guess I don’t want to go to war with my neighbors just yet.”

“Guns n’ Roses is a good thing to go to war with a neighbor over though.”

Instantly she thought of the band’s logo design, something she’d seen printed on the T-shirts of trendy twenty-somethings. She didn’t know their music but she did know they were an older band and felt very proud of herself for having blindly guessed correctly.

“Maybe once I’ve established myself…” She trailed off, contemplating now just where that woman could live. She’d already gone around to all the neighbors on this street with boxes of pain au chocolates from Republique and her business card which had her phone number and email on it, putting her best food forward. It amused her that every single one of them had seemed so surprised by the introduction. None of them knew each other, she understood. This wasn’t that kind of neighborhood. Her previous one hadn’t been either. But it was the way she’d been raised! Her parents would be severely disappointed when they came to visit if she couldn’t name her neighbors and wave to them when they passed on the street.

She had not met this woman yet though.

“And how do you do that, exactly? Establish yourself?”

“Hm?” Belatedly she processed the question and answered, “I prove myself to be a good neighbor.”

“Which means quiet music? Lame. Guess I’m the shittiest neighbor but no one’s egged my house yet.”

“Maybe at least quiet until ten. I guess folks around here are late sleepers.”

He was coming towards her and she instinctively backed up, watching with dumb curiosity as he leapt up to grab the pool edge and pulled himself out the way she might if the pool was full of water. He’d done it so quick and fluidly that it startled her; there was no other explanation for why it felt like an adrenaline shot through her.

He dusted off his hands but the muck remained. 

“Folks,” he muttered, she didn’t know why. “Well, what’s the verdict on the frogs?” She blinked at him, her mind dragging confused at how he’d gone so quickly from standing beneath her in the Jurassic Park of her empty pool to now looking down at her. How had he actually pulled himself up that way? She never would have that upper body strength.

He added, “I’ve got a bucket in the truck, I can take ‘em with me if you don’t want them in your yard.”

“And do what with them?”

“Kill them probably, like mother like– no, shit! I’m joking!” he laughed because her face had failed not to react to such a blunt answer. In an instant his face went from an intense, lowered-brow stare to lifted eyebrows, softened eyes, a supplicating smile. “I wouldn’t kill them,” he quickly assured her. “I’ll set them loose in a park pond or something.”

“Won’t that upset the balance of the ecosystem there?”

“Uh… don’t know, don’t care? It’s fine, they’re just frogs.”

“They can stay, I don’t mind some frogs as long as they aren’t going to live in the pool,” she assured him. Because obviously she couldn’t be like his mom. And his jokes were weird and kind of flustering her. “Maybe I should make a pond somewhere… They’ll eat the bugs in the yard, won’t they?”

He grabbed two blue tubs and tossed them right down into the pool before answering, “I’m not an expert on frogs but I’ve heard they do that.”

OK, that made her crack a smile.

“You don’t watch Planet Earth documentaries in your spare time?” she teased.

He seemed to take this seriously though and gave her a curious look as he admitted, “Ah, no. A documentary? You watch those for fun, huh?”

“That’s a very normal thing to do,” she said, a combination of flustered and annoyed by the way he grinned at her.

“Watching documentaries for fun?”

“Yes, don’t you like animals?”

He laughed and held his hands up, like he didn’t understand what she was talking about, and assured her, “Yeah I do. And I like the earth. I watch little clips of stuff that come across my feed.”

“What feed?”

“Tiktok?”

“Oh, isn’t that…” She cut herself off before finishing for teenagers? “I’m not on that.”

“YouTube has short animal things too. I’ve probably watched one about frogs but if I tried to watch like an hour of frogs, I’d fall asleep.” He nodded, as if thinking through it more and growing more certain.

“That’s a shame. You really learn a lot and they’re beautiful…” What the fuck was she talking about, preaching nature documentaries to this guy? God, he brought out weird behavior in her. Not her best, sadly. 

“Know what’s even better than a nature documentary? Being in nature, riding the waves. I bet I could make you a better documentary while I’m out than like the mating cycle of two-tone shrimp or whatever. I see animals every time I’m out. You ever had a seagull snatch a hotdog out of your hand?”

“...no, I have not,” she could say with certainty.

“Scared the shit out of my sister,” he snickered. “You want to learn about nature, you should be out in it.”

“I go out into nature,” she clarified. “I hike. I… travel. But I’m not trekking through the forests of Madagascar the way documentary filmmakers are. I’m certainly not taking an Arctic cruise.”

“Why not? God, if I could afford to go see all that crazy stuff…” He shook his head, then grabbed a sort of rake lying on the ground. It thwacked her leg as he lifted it, not hard enough to hurt, but he flinched like he’d been the one hit and apologized.

“You may be more adventurous than I am,” she suggested, not sure what else to say.

“Nothing stopping you now though, right? Now that you’re free.”

Free. What a word to use. She liked that better than ‘divorced.’

“I don’t think getting divorced made me suddenly athletic.”

“You work out, I’ve seen you,” he argued. He suddenly clutched the handle of the rake to his chest and looked stunned, like he’d said something he hadn’t meant to. His reaction made it weird; what he’d said on his own wasn’t, because he’d come over when she was coming up from the gym, that would have been fine. But again, he looked so guilty! His face was more expressive than she’d realized before. “I mean, you know, yoga or whatever it is you do.”

It was kind of fun watching him squirm instead of herself for once.

She crossed her arms and leveled a serious look at him as she demanded, “Is that how you got that video that we promised never to talk about? Do you peek in–”

“Fuck no, I swear I don’t!” he cried. “I swear I’m not a window creeper. I just happened to see that one time because they were making so much noise–”

“Lovely, thank you.”

“I just meant— I just know you work out because you’ve come out to say hi after you’ve clearly been working out,” he said. “At least I think so? I don’t know, I don’t know what you do in your house. I swear that’s all I meant. I don’t look in windows. Not one of my hobbies. I just surf and play in my band and thrash my roommates in video games and… and hang out with my family. That’s it, that’s my life.”

He seemed sincerely panicked now, but not guilty. Grace studied his face. He sure could flip back and forth quickly between sexy smirk and doe-eyed innocence. She wondered how intentional it was. She didn’t really know much about JK, after all. Maybe he fucked women over too. 

Well, not her at least, because he just worked on her pool and did a good job of it.

“Fuck,” he huffed. “I swear I’m not a creeper. I felt like a fucking creeper taking that video but I didn’t think you’d believe me any other way and I knew you deserved not to be with that piece of shit so… yeah, sorry. I swear I’ve never looked through your windows– through anyone’s windows!” 

Ok, he looked like he was literally starting to sweat.

“I believe you,” she relented. 

“Ok good I’m going to shut the fuck up and just clean your pool now…”

She didn’t like that it was all so awkward between them now though. She hadn’t meant to leave him squirming, she’d just gotten briefly thoughtful about how little you could ever actually know anyone. She hadn’t even known her husband, of course she didn’t really know JK either. And he didn’t really now her and now he was anxious. She could recognize the power dynamic. She could imagine the damage done by an errant accusation like that from a wealthy customer, just one phone call to his boss.

“I mean it, I believe you. You don’t seem like the type.”

“You’re familiar with the type of guy who looks through women’s windows–”

“Maybe not that in particular but I was married to an asshole for years so…”

“True.” That seemed to have placated him, a weird sort of peace offering she hadn’t expected.

“All right. Cool. I just don’t want you to worry that like… I’m not an asshole or a predator or anything.” He held his hands up, the rake handle still deftly held in his fingers. Not that it weighed a lot, but it still demonstrated an impressive finger strength. Drummer, she remembered. Damn. “I swear,” he continued. “I’ve got two sisters, I babysit my nephew a lot, I’m a good son to my stepmom.”

His insistence continued to be weird but in a way she was starting to equate with him. He talked so much sometimes, like he had no idea when to stop. Her lawyer would hate him.

She couldn’t help it, she propped her hands on her hip and pointed out, “Lots of assholes are good sons though. I think it’s more telling what your ex-girlfriends would say.” 

“Ah, that I’m great in bed but not going anywhere in life and I spend too much time with my family and my band,” he quickly rattled off. It obviously wasn’t even a brag or a joke, he meant it sincerely, he had been given this direct feedback.

Grace couldn’t help it. She laughed. She covered her mouth and laughed and he responded with a crooked grin like he was relieved she found this funny.

“What, do you give your exes a poll?” She couldn’t help herself. “God, I can’t imagine what Tim would have written.”

“Well none of my exes were like that asshole.” He shrugged. Which was kind of refreshing, actually, that he didn’t take the opportunity to claim his exes were all crazy bitches. Low bar? Maybe she’d just been hanging around the wrong men all her life. 

Damn. Maybe Tim really had done a number on her expectations of men. Most of her friends were women. Actually, maybe all of her friends were women… was that just a natural order of things, or was it because Tim had always tensed up if she mentioned other men… she hadn’t thought about that until right now. 

“You ok?” JK asked, looking at her like something embarrassing had flashed across her face.  

“Yes, just… every day realizing new things about myself and the type of men I’ve had in my life…” She trailed off, realizing she was saying too much while talking to a man. But not a man in her life. Well, a man in her life, but not in a relationship way. In an employer-contractor type of way, that was all.

“Well don’t think too hard about it, you deserve to just have some fun now.”

Whyyyyy did he say things like that? With that smirk? With the rake propped against the ground and held out from his body, showing off the flex of his muscles as he swayed it playfully, possibly a bit coy?

She was imagining things. The whiplash from the weird things he said and the weird things she thought and that thing he kept doing with his tongue in his cheek that she couldn’t figure out if he was doing it without realizing it or to be sexy except obviously he wasn’t trying to flirt or be sexy right now as he dug amphibians out of her pool –see? She was losing her mind.

“You can leave the frogs,” she decided, not sure if she’d already said that. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Wait!”

She’d turned but hesitated at his call, much too loud, as if she was already halfway across the yard. She hadn’t even begun to move.

“Uh, what about you?”

“Hm? What about me?”

“I answered what things I do for fun. What about you? What do you do for fun?”

Grace found herself baffled by the question. Why would he ask her that? Her pool guy? She stared at him, trying to comprehend what would lead him to ask such a flirty question. It was flirty, right? She definitely hadn’t asked that… had she? Oh god, had she flirted with the pool guy? No. Definitely not! And he definitely wasn’t either. No way, not possible. Maybe it was just friendly. 

Did men sincerely ask friendly questions of women? No, right?

“I don’t know, you know, normal things.”

“Like…” 

“Like… reading books. Going to museums. Yoga. Travel… brunch….” She could see clearly on his face that she was growing more foreign to him by the second, which made no sense because she was listing the most normal things for a woman to do. “Not a museum guy?” she guessed.

“I got kicked out of one once… haven’t been back.”

“Wow, real bad boy, huh? What did you do?”

“I laughed too much.”

“That’s not true,” she said with a sigh.

He looked immediately and obviously offended and defended with that innocent look again, “It is true!”

“What, was the artist standing right there or–”

“...maybe,” he admitted. Cheeky grin back. “It was a lot of nudes. The guy was definitely exaggerating…”

“Ah, a dick measuring contest?”

“Trust me, you would have been giggling into your little nails.”

“My nails?” she gasped and immediately closed them into her fists. Really?! The guy was going after her nails?!

“Yeah? You know, tee hee?” he demonstrated, covering his mouth with one hand. “The little polite lady laugh? I don’t think you’d laugh loud like that.” He hesitated, then added, “I don’t think you know how.”

“How… to laugh?”

“Yeah, loud.”

“I… what a weird thing to accuse me of…? I know how to laugh.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he shrugged, clearly not believing her.

“Maybe you just aren’t very funny.”

He threw his head back and laughed, eyes scrunched tightly closed, full rows of white teeth on display.

“Now that, that is definitely something my exes have said on the morning after survey,” he laughed. There was a joke to be made there about him saying “morning after” and not “end of relationship” but she couldn’t figure it out quickly enough. Instead his laugh flustered her. People didn’t usually think she was very amusing, that was true. 

He shook his head, still winding down, and added, “But hey I don’t think they went home with me because I was funny, so…” He shrugged and looked down at himself, as if inviting her to do so. It was kind of crass. She refused and kept her eyes leveled at his face, as if she didn’t understand.

This seemed like it was maybe nudging against inappropriate, didn’t it? This was definitely more than she needed to know about her pool guy. Her pool guy didn’t need to know what she did for fun. She didn’t need to know what women said the morning after fucking him. She was glad now that her answer had bored him instead of giving any indication she was flirting back. 

“A sense of humor is really important.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Oh right, that’s what drew you to your ex, huh?”

She leveled a stern look at him, which he met only with a cheeky grin. Ok, this had definitely gone on long enough. 

“Weeeell,” he dragged out. “Now that I know how boring your life is, I’d better get this pool into shape so at least you’ll have something exciting in your life.”

“I’m remodeling my house. That’s pretty exciting.”

“You think my music is quiet enough for your bougie neighborhood?” he said, which she thought meant it was another joke but she didn’t know what that word he’d said was and she wasn’t about to ask. 

They’d had an entire conversation over the rock music. If the nosy lady complained about this, Grace would have to correct her.

“It’s fine,” Grace assured him. 

“Do you know who it is?”

“You said it’s Guns n’ Roses.”

“This is Iron Maiden.” He suddenly pulled the rake across his body and played it like a guitar along to the music and mouthed the lyrics.

“I thought you’re a drummer.”

“You can be more than one thing, you know.”

She didn’t know what to say. He seemed to be doing that to her a lot, leaving her unsure what the right next thing to say was. He was a hard one to figure out. He didn’t follow the normal rules of polite conversation and while she spoke with plenty of people who didn’t, none were quite as baffling to her as this guy. He was weird and borderline inappropriate. Maybe more than borderline.

“I will keep that in mind,” she said, pulling on professional real estate agent persona because it was all she had left. “Thank you, let me know if you need anything else.” 

“You got it!” he called after her, then immediately began singing the song. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see him jump down into the pool like a movie superhero. The mucky wet sound of his landing made her glad she was paying him to deal with that. Hopefully frogs were the worst thing he found, but maybe there’d be snakes or dead things too, who knew! She might not ever know. He’d handle it. That, at least, was very nice, to not have to worry about it. He might be odd, but he was a great pool guy.

Great in bed. Definitely not something she needed to know about her hot pool guy, what the hell was wrong with him, telling her that?! She didn’t think he, young and clearly with women dancing at the ends of his fingers, was trying to flirt with her, old divorced idiot. Was he mocking her? But nothing he said ever seemed unkindly meant… teasing, not mocking… unless her Bullshit Rader was as bad with him as it had been with Tim.

Maybe, she considered, JK was just really bad at conversation. Guess you could be if you moved through life looking like that and being Great in bed.

The scrubbing was a bigger job than he’d expected. Getting the plants out was no big deal and he’d made good headway power-washing the green hue out of the grout lines. He’d called for Grace to come once he got the power-washer hooked up, so she could watch the grand unveiling of all that pretty blue tiles from beneath what had to be at least eight years of muck.

To his gratification, she had been just as excited as he was, she got it. He didn’t have to explain himself at all to her! He thought pools were pretty cool and he got to see some really nice ones and this had once been a really nice one, that’s what he would have defensively explained if she looked at him like he was making a big deal out of nothing. A swirling mosaic of overlapping waves in shades of blue covered the bottom of the pool, hand-tiled, not quick-lay blocks. It was rad as hell, someone had put a lot of time and money into this thing.

Sadly, the glass tiles had not weathered the neglect. The grand unveiling revealed a significant number of them had chipped and dislodged over time. He didn’t think that came from sitting underwater, but that it had sat empty for a while at some point, which was way worse. Judging by the large ring of busted tiles in the deep end, he suspected someone had dropped something. Maybe someone had tried to skateboard in this thing? If so, they’d eaten shit pretty bad. 

Darker thoughts came to mind. Jungkook blamed it on watching too much Walking Dead the night before and decided not to suggest those things to Grace in case someone really had died or something and she’d freak and want the pool ripped out. It probably wasn’t a body anyway, it would have had to fall from higher than that, right? He didn’t really know the physics of it but probably. Not big enough for a car driving in. Maybe someone dropped a table or threw a chair. 

He really needed to not watch Walking Dead right before bed. 

But he could fix it! The only thing really sad about the damage was that it was going to cost Grace more money than he’d estimated. He did give her the option of trying to fix it cheap but she didn’t want cheap. She didn’t even bat an eyelash at the number when Bob texted him the time and materials estimate. He felt bad to add to the project cost, he should have predicted there might be an issue like this but he’d assumed the water meant it hadn’t sat empty!, so he pushed off the decision to Bob –only for her to not even care. Bob had offered Kyle to take over the tiling job but Jungkook was confident he could do it, and Bob knew he was good for it. Jungkook had done plenty of repair jobs with Tyle Kyle and there wasn’t enough damage to warrant two guys, he could handle it. Grace wasn’t in a rush. Also that guy was a such a fucking flirt with customers, Grace didn’t need that guy bothering her.

The sun wasn’t out today. The waves had been too choppy for him to hit that morning, and he’d slept through dawn anyway and then had a morning of pools to clean before he could make it over to Grace’s.

Damn, it really felt wrong still to call her Grace. It felt like… like calling a doctor by their first name or something. He hadn’t called her Grace out loud yet –not that he was talking about her to anyone anyway, but it would feel weird to call her… what, Miss Arison? Yeah that made him sound like a fucking second grader. If somehow she ever came up in conversation, he was going to have to just avoid calling her anything…

He chipped away at the broken tile, thinking normal thoughts like that about the woman who’d hired him to repair her pool. 

He shivered in the shade and crouch-walked around the space, hammering away at the chisel to pop out the busted tiles. The replacements sat piled beside the pool, hauled over first thing to get that sweaty task out of the way, but this was tedious and he found himself wondering if he should have let Tyle Kyle help with this part after all. He’d been here over an hour without a sight of Grace anyway. Her car was in the driveway but she hadn’t even come out to say hello. There was no way she didn’t know he was here, with how loud that fucking gravel driveway was, and he’d put on a Tori Kelly CD because he had a suspicion Grace might like Tori Kelly, just based on the things she’d said about the things they’d listened to so far. 

He glanced towards the house over the edge of the pool and contemplated pushing the buzzer to ask if he could use the toilet as a way to get attention. He supposed it was just dumb luck that so far his work days at the house had aligned with days she was also outside a lot. She was fun company every time she wandered over to chat for a couple minutes. She was easy to talk to and never asked something stupid or acted like she was judging him or whatever –unlike some women his own age he could think of who acted like conversation with him was such a fucking chore. So what, they just wanted a fuck and get the fuck out? Maybe he wanted to just shoot the shit sometimes, huh? And it wasn’t one-sided, he was down to listen. 

Annoyed with the state of conversation in his life, he took it out on the tiles, crawling across the bottom of the pool to find the cracks in the design. At least he had Jimin and Taehyung, they talked to him, but lately they were both so busy… Yoongi had taken some extra hours to get the amp they needed for Flowerfest so he’d bailed on dinner plans Jungkook tried to make, and it wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t like Jungkook made plans with just anyone. He’d put effort into texting him about why didn’t they hang out and cook and whatever.

Yeah and while he was thinking of things that annoyed him, he was positive Yoojin was texting with a fucker and if it was her fucking ex again, Jungkook was going to fucking lose it. The guy had commented on a photo Yoojin had posted of Max’s birthday –months late, to be clear– and Yoojin had responded with a fucking laughing emoji and wouldn’t answer Jungkook’s question about whether she was laughing at him or with him. Fuck, if she let Jordan slide back into her life like that… and Max’s life, especially! If she was going to fuck around that was one thing, but Max deserved better than a flake for a father and Jordan had made it pretty fucking clear he had no interest in his own son…

The crunch of feet on gravel was his alert that Grace had stepped from the house. Immediately he popped his head out of the pool and spotted her looking around the back of his truck. He wasn’t there, obviously. He waved at her from the pool when she looked further around, then felt kinda stupid about it and dropped back down.  Let her come to him, that kind of thing. 

He was being an idiot. He shook his head at himself and tried to look busy surveying his work as he listened to her footsteps across the gravel, then more quietly along the deck and walkway.

“Good morning. I didn’t know you were here,” she immediately said. He couldn’t help but think she sounded a little put out about it, which he liked. 

“How did you miss me driving across that gravel? Sounds like a fucking landslide every time,” he complained. Fuck, his voice had hitched when he looked up at her and he hoped she hadn’t noticed. She was dressed up today, a little skirt suit, dark blue, blousy white shirt.

Wait, damnit, did he have a thing about skirt suits?! He’d never had a thing about that before. Usually he thought they made a woman seem… mean. Not in a good way, in an principal’s office way. But her legs looked fucking whatever as she balanced on one foot and brushed the gravel out of the slip-on sandals that didn’t match the look at all. He liked the combination. A lot. 

“Well it’s good, means no one can– well, I was going to say it means no one can sneak into my house without my knowing but I guess you basically did…”

“Yeah, get a dog or something, don’t rely on gravel,” he scolded. Instantly agog. Surely she wasn’t being serious…

“I have a really good security system, I was only joking. You’re on candid camera!” She said it like it was a joke. He didn’t understand and waited for her to explain more. “Oh, it was an old TV show…”

“Never heard of it.”

“It… nevermind.” He wished she had explained it so he’d understand the joke but she didn’t.

“You’re dressed up,” he pointed out at the same moment she said, “You’re making a lot of prog– oh, I… yes.” She looked down at herself as if remembering and added, “Yeah, long morning and then I got wrapped up in stuff and haven’t changed yet.”

He couldn’t help it, he had to know and asked, “Is that what you wear to sell houses?”

“Uh… sometimes, why?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know what real estate people wear,” he quickly shrugged. It wasn’t that he thought she was only good at her job because she looked like that in a skirt suit but he did feel like it probably helped. Like were inspectors not going to give her whatever she wanted? 

Ok, he really didn’t know anything about what buying or selling houses meant. 

“It’s not uncomfortable as long as you get a nicely tailored suit,” she told him. “Well the shoes get a little uncomfortable… not these. Obviously I wear heels.”

“Obviously,” he repeated, and smirked, because she was talking more about her outfit than he’d expected and it was kinda cute. 

“But I wasn’t selling houses this morning, I was– nevermind. This looks tedious.”

“What were you doing that’s not selling houses?” he asked because why not? Sometimes she seemed confused enough by his nosy questions to answer them, even if he knew they were kinda borderline not okay to ask the lady paying your boss. “That sounds suspicious. Do you actually sell houses or do you launder money for the mob or something?”

“Actually I was at a funeral.”

“Well fuck me.”

“No,” she gasped and covered her mouth. “It was a joke.”

“Which part was, the funeral?”

“I wasn’t at a funeral,” she laughed and touched her forehead and flinched like she was not someone used to telling jokes and was positive she’d done it wrong. Which made it even funnier. He liked that kind of almost-mean humor. He didn’t know she had it in her. He was glad she was talking to him but it was even better if she was joking. 

He didn’t want to be standing down in the pool anymore and pulled himself up onto the ledge while teasing, “Well now I’m even more convinced you work for the mob.”

“I think if I worked for the mob, my ex would already have been ‘taken care of,’” she suggested, complete with air quotes –only to quickly correct, “Oh shit, now if something happens to him I’ll be the first suspect.”

“I think you’d already be the first suspect.”

“Oh. True…”

“But I’m offended, actually. You think I’m going to rat you out?” He’d meant to sit casual and cool on the side but it put him on eye level with the fabric hugging her thighs so he decided to stand instead. “I’m ride or die.”

“Are you offering to help?” she laughed. “We should change the subject…”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t rat you out. What’s the amendment that says I wouldn’t have to say anything in– no wait, that’s only for a husband, right?”

She nodded and laughed, “Yeah, that’s only spouse privilege. You’d be legally compelled to turn me in.”

“Well… nah. They can try and catch me first.” He crossed his arms, trying to look like someone experienced in flouting the law.

“We should probably be careful what we say out here, that neighbor lady might be listening. Oh my god, I didn’t tell you– yesterday I drove around the front of my house coming back and I swear she was peeking through the cracks in the gate.”

Jungkook could not have explained why he was so excited by her excitement to tell him this. 

Immediately he assured her, “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“She hates me.”

“She’s a nosy bitch,” he snorted. 

“Well… that may be a bit much but… I definitely think she’s not thrilled I’m living here, but I haven’t figured out yet where she lives. She’s not on this street so she must be a couple over.”

Jungkook immediately considered this and pointed out, “She’s like eighty-five, how far can she walk?”

“Oh my god,” Grace laughed. There was a brighter laugh! “She’s like in her sixties, JK, she’s not that old.”

“Isn’t that old?”

“How old are your– nevermind,” she said and held her hands up. “We’re off topic.”

Jungkook took his time, letting his face do the talking before asking, “Was there a topic?”

“I’ll let you work,” she suggested and turned to go. 

“Oh, you were telling me what you got dressed up for this morning.”

“I don’t think I was telling you that,” she countered. Then shook her head at some thought Jungkook would have loved access to before she ruined the topic with honesty, “I don’t mean to make it sound secretive. It was just a divorce mediation bullshit thing.”

“You wore that to see your ex?”

Her face immediately scrunched up, transparently unhappy, as she said, “I wore this to a court mediation I had to endure his presence for… why?” He worried he’d insulted her somehow without meaning to.

“Oh, just seems mean which, good for you.”

“Mean?”

Damnit, the compliment wasn’t any good if he had to explain it!  

“You know, because, like….” He waved his hand and looked away from her, wanting to get back to work now. It sounded so stupid to say something like you look nice and it’ll make him jealous. Because the stupidest thing was, Tim was a fucking idiot who didn’t appreciate his hot wife and probably was too busy trying to screw her out of money to even notice how she looked. “Like dressed to impress or whatever.”

“Oh. Right, well, I need to look professional around lawyers and obviously I don’t want to look like my life is falling apart.”

Jungkook looked around her yard, across the back of the mansion she lived in by herself, her shiny car, all of it, and snorted, “Yeah, it definitely doesn’t look like that.”

“Speaking of falling apart…”

For the briefest moment Jungkook thought she meant him. But very quickly he realized of course she meant the pool, which currently was looking worse as he ran around prying out the broken tiles.

“It’ll get worse but then I swear it’ll get better. I got a late start today but it’s going. I should be able to get a lot of the tiles replaced today before I have to head out.”

She held her hands up and assured him, “No criticism from me. It’s fascinating to watch the process.”

She hadn’t asked, but he wanted the chance to brag and continued, “Yeah, I’d be willing to stay later but I’m supposed to watch my nephew tonight. Uncle-nephew time is very important.”

“That’s really sweet. How old is he?”

“One.” Yep, that’s right, I’m good with babies.

“Well he’s lucky to have you.” He liked the words, but the tone she used was disappointing. He didn’t think she sounded that impressed. Maybe she didn’t like babies? Or families? Or involved uncles?

“Do you have any nieces or nephews?” he asked.

“Yes, though none are close by,” she said, obviously distracted and looking at something in the yard. “You know what, it’s a really nice day –if I’m not going to bother you, I think I’ll try to get some gardening done.”

“Gardening?” he repeated, before reminding her, “Hey, it’s your house, lady.”

Her smile seemed more sincere then as she agreed, “It is. I was in such a bad mood after this morning, but I think some time in the yard will be just the thing. You can turn the music up if you want, this is nice. Who is it?”

“I’ll start it over. It’s Tori Kelly. Promise you’ll protect me from bitchon freeze lady?”

“It’s pronounced bee-shaan free-zay,” Grace whispered, “and you shouldn’t go around calling women bitches.”

“No, it’s the dog!” he insisted. She pursed her lips and gave him a look like she didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure if it was worse for Grace to think he was cleverly calling the woman a bitch or that he genuinely didn’t know how to say that breed of dog. “The little white yippy ones at dog shows.”

“Uh huh.”

The look she tossed him over her shoulder had no right being as sexy as it was. He knew she didn’t mean it sexy, but damn. The things he’d do if he let this fantasy roll…

Later. Fuck. He tucked that little look away into his pocket, eyebrows raising at the way that look and pencil skirt combination were going to play out when he took a shower tonight… 

When she’d said she was going to work in the garden, she really meant it. Jungkook restarted the CD once she reappeared from the house, changed into a different blousy shirt and blousy pants and a wide-brimmed sunhat, which he supposed was what you should wear when gardening but it all looks so summery and fresh, not like what you actually wore digging around in the dirt. Like what you wore in a photoshoot or something. She had a bucket of gardening tools, all clean and new looking. She had a little purple pad thing which he eventually figured out was for her to kneel on, like a princess.

Needs a pillow under her knees, he noted for that later fantasy. That made sense, since she was older.

He’d expected her to wander around pruning things that probably didn’t need it, watering things, maybe sweep some leaves off the patio. He was prepared to swoop in and save her when she screamed upon finding a bug unexpectedly. He’d only tease her a little about it. Never in their conversations had she mentioned any skill at gardening and she didn’t seem like someone who’d done a whole lot of digging in the dirt. Maybe she’d clip some flowers to take into her rich house so she could post to insta bouquet from my own garden and call it a day.

That is not what she did. 

Grace got it into her head that pulling a bunch of plants out of the ground was the gardening that she herself wanted to do. He watched with mounting fascination as she pulled out a shovel, shears, and one of those little gardening spade things, and tore her way through a flower bed like a berserker. He didn’t even hide that he was watching as she’d bend at the waist, wrap her hands around the base of a pretty thick plant, and yank with her whole weight –without budging a fucking thing. Then she’d dig around the base, bright yellow gardening gloves like little gopher hands, then go back to the bend and yank.

The spank bank content she was blessing him with today was starting to make him feel kind of predatory. It was too generous. 

He’d just decided to be a better man and focus on getting the last of the broken tiles out when she yelped, “FUCK!”

Jungkook was out of the pool and across the yard to her side in a matter of seconds, already bracing for the toe she must have sliced off with the shovel, or a rake spike to the eye, something that had caused that cry.

She grimaced, clutching her gloved hand.

“Shit, did you cut your finger?”

“I… I broke a nail,” she grimaced, slowly opening her eyes. The pitiful look she gave him did something really stupid in his chest. “And I just got them done…”

For the first time in his life, Jungkook understood what Taehyung meant about high maintenance girls being good. If you’d told him six months ago he’d find it endearing for a woman to cry over a broken nail– No, in fact, he’d found it very prissy and annoying in girls he’d dated before! But something about the way she gingerly removed the glove and looked down at the manicure with the same dread as if a bone was going to be sticking out, it just made him want to take hold of her head and kiss her forehead and tell her you beautiful idiot, go get your nails fixed and I’ll rip the plants out for you.

Then he actually looked and saw the broken nail and he turned quickly away and hunched his shoulders and made a strangled noise. 

“What’s that?!” she cried.

“Jesus that looks bad. Do you need to go to the hospital?!”

She laughed and insisted, “It’s not that bad.”

“Is it bleeding?”

“Oh my god, are you bothered by blood?”

“No, I get fucked up all the time surfing, but nails… how bad is it?”

“JK…” Her laughter at least reassured him that she was not, in fact, badly hurt. “It just scared me more than it hurt. I guess it’s fine… but I’ll have to file it down and go get it fixed… damnit.” He glanced over his shoulder, only to startle when she thrust her hand into his view. “See? It’s fine.”

“It’s bleeding,” he insisted, and grabbed her hand to show her, mainly so he could control where it was and not look.

“Oh. A little bit…”

She, shockingly, did not seem that bothered by it. So was she high maintenance or not?! Meanwhile Jungkook felt like chills were rolling up his spine because there was a part dangling. He’d seen people knock their teeth out on boards. He’d been adjacent to a bar fight where a dude busted his face open. He and Mo had gotten into so much shit as teenagers and it never phased him but this…

“Maybe you should go lie down,” he suggested because he wasn’t sure what else you were supposed to do. “Does your nail lady do house calls?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Grace was clearly laughing at him.

“Ok, it’s freaky looking,” Jungkook told her defensively. “It’s really broken.”

“I’m going to go file this down before you faint,” she teased. 

“I’m not going to faint.”

“Maybe you should lie down.”

He rolled his eyes aggressively and announced loudly, “I’m going back to my work where I manage to use a hammer and chisel without breaking a nail.”

“Oh, you want to put acrylics on and make this a competition?”

It had Jungkook laughing all the way back to his pool and helped him endure the boring part where she went inside and fixed her nail. He figured she might be done for the day, but eventually she was back and pulled her gloves on and went back to the flower bed and picked up her tools and got back to work.

Damn, what a woman.

He put on a new CD and an hour passed. He was to the point now he could start filling in the replacement tiles, which was going to be fun. He stood on the edge of the pool and looked down, surveying, calculating if he’d brought the right amount and shades. And maybe watching out of the corner of his eye as Grace tried to pull a rather large shrub out of the ground. She had a grip on it and pulled in repeated short jerks, like a dog playing tug, which Jungkook thought was probably brutal on her muscles and didn’t seem like the right way to go about that.

Just as he opened his mouth to offer some help, some of the shrub ripped from the ground and smashed her in the face, sending her tumbling backwards onto her ass. Dirt flew everywhere, covering her eyes and mouth; she spluttered, trying to slap it away as he once again flew to her side.

“Hold on, hold on,” he encouraged, grabbing her massive water bottle. “I’m going to pour water on your face, hold on.” He figured that was enough warning and dumped it over her forehead, but she gasped and choked like she was dying. He didn’t know what else to do but pull his shirt off and wipe the mud from her face. 

“Oh my god it’s in my mouth!” she cried, dirty tongue hanging out as she wiped his shirt across it. He froze, certain she didn’t realize what he’d used to wipe her face off, not sure how to react to her licking his shirt. “It’s everywhere!” She wiped at her eyes and brushed at her hair.

“Yeah, what are you doing, lady, you have a yard guy! Let him pull this shit up!”

She let out a deep sigh through her makeshift mud mask and looked up at him with those eyes again and said, “Well I want only native plants in here and these are invasive.”

“Ok? I’ve seen your yard guy, he can get ‘em out of here.”

“But he got all booked up and can’t come for a couple weeks–”

“So wait.”

“You know I like to be able to do things on my own though,” she insisted and damnit if he wasn’t flattered that he did know that about her. “It’s just ripping up some plants, it’s not rocket science.”

“Well the plants seem to be winning.”

“No they aren’t, I’ve got almost all of them out,” she argued and pointed to the pile of her defeated foes. 

“That one got you pretty good though.”

“Yeah well… I’ll win in the end. Don’t give me that look, I realize this is a little pig-headed but I spent two hours in a room with my ex-husband this morning, it was either rip out plants or tear down a wall and I don’t know which ones in the house are load-bearing so…”

“I was going to suggest boxing but maybe not with your nails.”

She snorted, “I can’t imagine what my mother would say if she called and I was boxing. I come from more… yoga people, you know?”

“Hm… drumming.” Instantly he thought of setting her down at his drum kit, showing her the ropes, then showing her how it’s done, her sliding into his lap all admiration–

“I have absolutely no rhythm,” she admitted. 

“You just need someone to– oh, damn, you’re bleeding.”

“Again?”

Without thinking he brushed the blond whisps of her bangs away from her forehead, where a decent cut had now bled enough to show through the mud. 

“How bad?”

She flinched as he brushed the dirt away and he suggested, “Not bad. Sorry, I don’t want to hurt you, but you should get the dirt off and wash it good.”

“Fine,” she sighed with an obvious huff, like this was all his fault. He found that funny too. She was a little bit of a brat, huh? As to be expected of a rich white lady. At least her brattiness seemed harmless. He half expected her to stomp off like a toddler when she returned to the house, shaking dirt off like an angry cat.

As soon as she was gone, Jungkook grabbed her tools and began hacking at the roots. If she was so fucking stubborn that this shrub had to come out today, fine, he’d help before she actually busted her tailbone or eye socket. The piece she’d managed to unearth lay limp across the path, a martyr for a cause Jungkook wouldn’t let stand. At least he had the wherewithal to realize that she had probably been trying to pull up what were actually several trunks at the same time. The roots were all twisted together and he went to town snipping them, snip snip snip until he could wrestle one, two, three of the trunks out of the ground and toss them on top of the other one.

“What are you doing?” she called, running over like he was doing something. It gave him a jolt of panic; had she decided she didn’t want the shrub out after all and he’d just killed her bush?

“Saving you from yourself,” he offered. She’d put a bandaid on her forehead over the cut and it looked adorably stupid.

“The roots have to come out too,” she said. “I didn’t cut because I thought that was the easiest way to pull them out…”

“Just brute strength? They didn’t want to come out that way, I tried. And before you say anything, I’m pretty strong.”

“But now how am I going to get the roots out?”

“We’ll pull them,” he insisted. He wrenched another trunk out, yanking several times to pull up as much of the roots with it as he could, which was certainly more than she would have been able to do. Dirt went flying but only thwacked him in the stomach and he tossed it aside, then brushed it away from his skin. Grace watched this quietly.

“One more,” he said. “Then you’re done, right?”

“Except I have to get the roots out.”

“Geez, woman, one thing at a time.” He shook his head at her doubt in his method. Hers hadn’t been working so great! He bent at the waist and crouched and took hold of the last, thickest trunk as close to the roots as possible. The cut ones snaked all around, and he suspected he was only going to be able to get it partway out of the ground before he’d need to hack at more of the roots. 

“Excuse me?”

Oops.

He gave her his most charming smile and said, “Sorry. Lady. Um… Miss Arison? Feels weird to call you Miss though–”

“Grace is fine– wait for me to help!” She rushed forward.

“I don’t want you to get hit,” he grunted out, giving the trunk several sharp tugs to test the hold. It wiggled. That was good. 

“We’re stronger together.”

He was not sure that was true, but she was so damn determined, and her closeness as she pressed against his side and wrapped her hands just above his was kind of nice. 

“Put your gloves on,” he scolded, and at least she did that, grabbing them where she’d ripped them off. She had a bandaid around her broken nail finger and it made him shudder again. Then she was back by his side, and damnit if he didn’t have the urge to just playfully knock her over, body her to the ground. She was still covered in dirt, crumbs of it in her hair and around the edges of her face. He could make it worse, press her down into it–

She yanked and he scolded, “Wait for me! We’ll do it together.” Oof that combination of words paired with where his mind kept trying to wander –this was a problem he’d need to handle. He shook his head. “On my count ok? Pull a little each time like one–pull, two–pull–”

“Ok ok I’ve got it. Wait! We should have goggles.”

He’d been about to pull and just let go and sat down on the lawn.

“I’ll be right back.”

She ran off and he sighed and shook his head. He definitely wasn’t going to finish the tile today. Not that he minded another day added to his work here, but she really did make projects difficult, didn’t she? He could already have the bush out of the ground. In fact…

He stood and grabbed it, ready to just do it on his own when she started shouting from the house, “Don’t you dare, JK! Wait! Wait for me right now or I will…” She trailed off, clearly unable to think of a threat as she slammed the door and ran back to him, two pairs of goggles in her gloved hands. “Safety is important! It will be traumatizing for both of us if I have to drive you to the hospital with a twig sticking out of your eye!”

He rolled his eyes because he did not think that was likely to happen, but he took the goggles and put them on.

“Happy now?” he asked her, knowing he looked ridiculous –but also secretly a little glad she’d insisted and provided the safety gear because actually he’d be kind of fucked if he had to be out of work for a while. And he didn’t want to lose an eye. He liked his eyes.

“Do you want a mask in case dirt flies into your mouth?”

“Nah, I’ve had worse things in my mouth.”

Her eyebrows raised but she didn’t say anything. 

“You have a sick mind,” he teased her, thrilled she’d displayed this bit of juvenile depravity.

“What?!”

“I saw that look,” he snickered, and crouched to reach the trunk again. 

“What look? There was no look!”

“I saw the look.”

She crouched as well and grabbed the trunk, her hands right above his, and insisted, “There was no look. I don’t know what kind of things you put into your mouth. OH, do you want gloves? Don’t you have work gloves?”

“Just pull the fucking plant or I’ll never get your pool done. Ready? One –yeah, rock your body like that.”

Well shit. He heard it too. He’d meant because when he said one, she pulled afterwards like he’d told her to do, using her weight to tug! 

He quickly let go of the plant and insisted, “I meant that purely professionally–”

“Pull the fucking plant, JK,” she said right back and he kind of loved her a little in that moment. He took hold, counted again, tried not to let his mind wander to the way she crouched and tugged and grunted and how her hands looked wrapped around –though admittedly he was not as thick as this trunk, sadly.

At three, they both pulled back, legs straining, feet sinking into the dirt. The plant stretched and a bunch of roots popped but it didn’t come out.

“Ok one more time,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

She nodded, gasping for breath. 

Again they counted, again they pulled, and this time Jungkook could walk his hands further down, and dig his fingers into the roots beneath the trunk. They strained and pulled and her feet slid out from under her, rendering her mostly ineffective, but still she pulled!

Enough roots finally snapped and the plant went rocketing over their heads to land in a defeated heap behind them. Grace simply laid the rest of the way, and Jungkook stretched out beside her because why not?  The damn thing was out, and a lot of the roots with it.

“There. Done,” he beamed at her through his own strained breath.

“I still have to get the roots out.”

“Make the yard guy do it! Damn, you’re really determined, huh?”

“I am.” She beamed at him, lying next to him in the dirt, and damnit if that wasn’t a moment ripe for kissing… and grabbing… and maybe fucking, yeah? Right there in the dirt under the shade of the trees… animalistic. He’d never done something like that. Could be cool.

But he wasn’t so fucked in the head not to know his little fantasy was one sided. Obviously he wasn’t going to do something aggressive like that. It helped when she started to giggle.

“What?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“You are covered in dirt.”

“Yeah you too.”

“That plant put up a fight but we won.”

“With minimal blood.”

She sighed loudly, “God I wish I could jump into the pool to cool off.”

“Jesus, lady, I’m working on it!” he laughed, knowing she wasn’t actually complaining but eager to pretend he was offended. 

“No, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that as a complaint!”

He pushed to his feet and continued to pretend, “Fine fine I’m going, I’ll get back to work.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she cried, and grabbed his arm. “I really wasn’t complaining! Thank you so much for helping me and– here, let me get you something to drink and–”

He grabbed her arm too and pulled her to her feet before admitting, “I know, I’m just playing with you. Jumping in the pool would be great. It’s going to be a great fucking pool.”

“I know. It’s worth the wait.”

“Lots of things are worth the wait.”

“I know…”

“So I’ll get back to it.” He grabbed his shirt from the grass and shook it out because the sheen of sweat was now leaving him quite cold in the chillier air. He didn’t mind the dirt or blood on the fabric, but she grabbed it from his hands.

“I’ll wash this for you.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“You have a sweatshirt, don’t you? I’ll wash this, it’ll be done before you leave. It’s the least I can do. I can see my blood on it.”

“It’s not much blood.”

“Do you want something to drink? I don’t have those Bacchus-D things you like but I have water or lemonade or wine or… oh, I got Sprite.”

“For me?” he asked, surprised into it.

“Yes, you want that?”

“Sure. Ok. Thanks.” He didn’t know what else to say as she walked off with his shirt to get him a Sprite she’d bought for him. She was nice. It made him feel a little bad for the depraved things he thought of doing to her –but they were nice depraved things! He was a giver, even in his fantasies, he’d make her cum really hard, definitely harder than that asshole little Timmy ever had.

She seemed almost meek about it when she brought him a Sprite and a wet towel to wipe his face with and also a box of Girl Scout cookies. He wasn’t going to say no to Girl Scout cookies! 

“I really appreciate it. You don’t have to keep helping me like that,” she insisted. “Or at least let me Venmo you some money or something for the extra help–”

“Nah, it’s fine. Seriously. Thanks for the cookies and Sprite though.”

To be honest, he was a little annoyed by her offer of money. He appreciated it but still, couldn’t they just be friendly enough he could help and it wasn’t a big deal? He couldn’t imagine Tim-tim racing over to help her rip up plants, so it made him feel superior. 

“Ok well I promise not to get into any more trouble while you’re here.”

“Better than getting into trouble without me,” he argued.

“I don’t always need saving, you know.”

It was like he could read it on her face, hear it in her voice, that she was getting a little defensive. He’d just meant to be playing with her, but he’d seen that defensiveness from her come up enough now to recognize it. She wanted to be independent and strong on her own. Ok, he could understand that, especially with her ex. He did think she was strong and independent and all that. Smart and nice and a really good eye for things, and not afraid to get her hands dirty. He could see the cabinets installed and her kitchen looked nice as hell. 

“I know, you just need some muscle sometimes.” Yeah, he heard how that sounded. To make it better or worse, he flexed his bicep; probably it was for the best he had his sweatshirt on so she couldn’t see. At least she’d know he really did mean strength and not dick. Though he’d be happy to help her with that too, if she wanted.

She did not want. 

“Well, thank you,” she said again, and that was that. He couldn’t think of an excuse to keep her there any longer, so he went back to tiling and she went to clean up the gardening mess she’d made and dig out the remaining roots. He heard her hiss again at one point and wondered if she’d broken another nail. If so, he didn’t want to know.

By the time he was wrapped for the day, he’d managed to replace all the missing tiles in the bottom of the pool, but not yet started the new tile pattern she wanted around the lip. She brought him his freshly cleaned shirt, hanging on a fucking wooden hanger. The shirt was still warm from the dryer and he couldn’t bring himself to pull it on his sweaty body. When he went to fold it to carry with him she insisted he just take the hanger with him, so he did because damn, that was a nice hanger. 

He drummed on the steering wheel, singing along to the Green Day CD as he headed home. Dookie had come out a few years before he was born but come on, everyone knew Green Day. Even Grace had known Green Day. She said her brother had the album and listened to it in secret and it made him want to ask her about her brother, if he got into trouble too or if listening to Green Day was the worst thing he ever did. Rich kids could go hard, but they could also just be bratty over nothing, if he’d learned anything from the couple somehow stuck in his public high school.

The memory of Grace singing along to I went to a whore, she said my life’s a bore when she hadn’t realized he was listening made his smile grow. It was the first time he’d heard her sing and he regretted it was too quiet to really hear, more like talking. Did she sing well? He wanted to know! She said she couldn’t but maybe she was just humble, possibly the first humble rich person to ever exist. 

By the time he parked at his parents’ apartment that afternoon, he was showered, changed, and his favorite jacket now hung on the wooden hanger in his closet. He bounded up the steps and pulled out his key and sang out,

“Helloooo, favorite uncle is heeeere.”

Max’s shriek of delight revealed his location: systematically pulling the take out containers from the low cabinet in the kitchen. 

“K!” he called. “Hi, K! Hi!”

“My man Max,” Jungkook greeted and scooped Max up to blow a raspberry on his cheek. “Where’s your mama?”

“Just getting ready.”

“Ready for what?” Jungkook asked, eyes narrowing as she came around the corner. She had a headband with a floppy bow on and it fell across her forehead in a way he thought looked silly and also reminded him of Grace’s silly bandaid. 

Apparently it made him smile without meaning to because Yoojin crossed her arms and demanded, “What are you so happy about?”

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling like an idiot. You’re in a good mood, I can tell. Get a girl or something?”

“What a weird question to ask your brother but no.”

“Come on, I’m a cool sister. You can tell me if someone finally took pity on you–”

“Why do I have to meet someone? Why can’t I just be happy about… you know, life. Good waves and a new amp–”

“So you didn’t meet anyone, you’re just being weird. Whatever, that’s fine. Seems like you two will have fun,” Yoojin cooed to Max. “Uncle JK isn’t grumpy today!”

“Screw you, I’m never grumpy. You’re the grumpy one this week.”

“Um, I’m in a great mood, I’ve got a new job and everything,” she pointed out. He didn’t think desk girl at the gym was going to pay great but it was definitely better than her big fat paycheck of $0 she’d been making before.

“Hope it’s great.”

“Day two,” she beamed. “Be good for Uncle JK, my big Max Man.” She took Max for a moment to hug and kiss and giggle with before handing him back.

Max immediately told Jungkook a stream of gibberish he couldn’t make any sense of.

“Good luck!” Yoojin called and was gone. Max frowned for a hot second, then waved at the closed door, “Bye bye! Bye bye bye. Akka?” he asked Jungkook.

“What’s that?”

“Akka? Akka?” He whined and reached towards the cabinets.

“Akka… banana? Apple? Rice cakes? Crackers?”

“Yaaaay.”

Jungkook bounced Max on his arm, tossing him playfully over to the other arm, as together they went to dig out all of those things and see which was right. Maybe Yoojin was right, he did feel pretty light and energetic. Had he been cranky lately? He didn’t think so. But he felt very much the opposite of that right now. Maybe he’d get dinner started before Appa got home. He felt like he could manage that while also playing with Max. He felt like he could kind of do anything right now, if he could retile a pool and pull a stubborn plant out of the dirt. The ache in his shoulders felt good.

Her pool was going to look so fucking good. He wondered if she’d remember him when she swam in it. He wondered if she still had that white bathing suit. That tile was going to have a great view…

Stephanie raised a bejeweled, manicured hand and easily waved at Grace over the heads of those in the restaurant. She was so tall, always the first one to be spotted in a crowd –a skill she had put to good use with some modeling in New York in her 20s, though she’d ultimately condemned the industry and moved into a completely different role: art lawyer.

A wave of greeting rolled around the pulled-together high tops as Grace slid onto the stool between Alicia and Stephanie, Ashley and Catherine already sliding drinks around to make room for whatever she ordered.

“She lives!” Ashley cheered.

“Girl, you had us worried,” Alicia scolded, waving with a tortilla chip. “Like you just disappear and we’re hearing about your divorce but– hey, don’t elbow me, she knows she’s divorced, we know now, no need to make it some big thing it’s not.” Alicia glared at Catherine, always the more subtle among them.

Catherine corrected, “Maybe we talk about something before we go right into it?”

“There’s nothing to go into,” Stephanie argued. “Tim’s a dick. Fucking good riddance. Welcome back.”

“Is there a club?” Grace asked as their voices continued to bubble and churn over each other in the busy restaurant. She wasn’t sure what club connected these women other than being 30-somethings. Stephanie lived life floating from one dalliance to another and loved it; Alicia hadn’t had anything serious in five years since she called it off with her fiance, but Victoria was married with a son, Ashley was engaged, and Catherine newly married, to a much older but allegedly wonderful man. Grace had only met him at the wedding –it was a bit of a fast thing– but he’d seemed nice.

“The club of not being hitched to a prick,” Alicia explained, then raised her hand to gesture for their waiter. Her thousand-watt smile no doubt bewitched him as it did everyone and he was with them in an instant, nodded as she gestured to Grace. “Our friend has arrived and would like a very strong drink.”

“Alicia,” Grace complained. She laughed and assured the waiter, “It doesn’t have to be any stronger than usual but an amaretto sour, please?”

“Coming right up, normal strength,” he told her. She could see why her friends had obviously immediately made buddies with him in that way sexy women and handsome waiters do. His teeth were shockingly white in his tan face, his blond hair streaked by the sun, the cut a little long like had been heartthrob popular when they were children in the 80s and 90s. He could have walked off the set of Saved By The Bell with that chiseled jaw. Was he a surfer? He looked like a surfer. She wondered if he knew JK.

“Don’t leave, we want to order appetizers too,” Victoria said, as if he’d started to run. He had not, too busy grinning at Stephanie’s flirty banter.

“Did you want to pick something out?” Ashley asked Grace, handing her the menu while Victoria rattled it off, Alicia adding and Stephanie subtracting from the things she said.

Grace waved it off with, “No, I’m just along for the ride.” She’d heard once that there was always a dominant one of a friend group, a sort of leader who drove the planning and the food ordering and such. Well in this friend group there were at least four of them and yes, the squabbles erupted sometimes, but it was beautifully upfront and direct. Her other social circles had the kind of conflict that was all all simmering resentment and gossipy whispers and passive aggressive snark at brunch. This group addressed disagreements –of which there were plenty– head on, sorted them, and moved along.

“Aren’t you going to write this down, Matt?”

Matt gave them a charming grin alongside the assurance, “Don’t need to, I remember every word you’ve said.” Then he rattled off their list of appetizers-as-entrees like a showman pulling off an audience participation trick. They acted duly impressed as he gathered the skinny menus and then turned his grin to Grace, “I’ll be right back with your normal strength amaretto sour.”

By the time Matt set the drink in front of Grace, her mind was already spinning from the onslaught of updates from these girls. They were women on the go, all of them, busy and bright and ambitious. Fear of their opinion was, secretly, one of the instigating factors in her pursuing her real estate license years ago. Too many brunches having to admit that her day consisted of pilates, social calls, and a dash of volunteer work. Not that they’d begrudged her –in fact they’d sighed about how lucky she was. But she could see the near-pity in their eyes at her having nothing of her own to compare to their director of marketing promotion, success with fundraising for the new start up, the completed surgical residency. They had all started out privileged, though not quite the status she came from, but for them it had only been a launching off point, not a totality. 

So Grace had given real estate a try, because she loved houses and interiors and homes, and it turned out, she’d loved it. She still loved it. She credited these women for keeping her grounded and stable –and realized in letting herself get wrapped up in their energetic, overly loud conversation just how much she had missed them. Why had she not spent time with them since her divorce?

“Ok so how did you figure out he was cheating on you?” Ashley suddenly asked, turning to Grace expectantly her mouth full of food.

“Oh.” Grace covered her mouth and chewed dramatically to look like she was rushing to answer. She was not.

“Oh don’t ask her that,” Alicia gasped. “That’s so rude!”

“Yeah don’t ask for the juicy details!” Catherine scolded. 

Victoria gave Grace a devilish grin and teased, “So are they? Juicy?”

“Ladies ladies,” Stephanie intervened. “This is a ruined marriage here. A betrayed woman. Our friend, not the latest season of Love Island.”

“All the more reason to care,” Ashley insisted. 

Grace did not think Stephanie and Catherine had defended her very strongly, but didn’t wish to be enigmatic about it either. Maybe listening to her friends curse Tim to hell and back would be cathartic.

“Can I have another one of these?” she asked Matt as he came by to check on them. Her friends took it as a sign and laughed and clapped while he just grinned and promised not to keep her waiting. He was obviously just flirting for his tip, but the wide eyes and raised brows as he departed were followed quickly by poorly stifled giggles.

“Well well, he didn’t say that to any of us,” Alicia snickered.

“He has been checking by our table a lot, right? More than his other tables,” Victoria mused, tapping her chin.

Grace rolled her eyes and scolded, “You’re all terrible. I am in the middle of a… rancid divorce.”

“Which you filed.”

“Which I filed,” she confirmed. “And which I will not speak about the details of because with my luck he’s got a private investigator following me for dirt he can use in court.”

“He wouldn’t,” Catherine gasped.

Stephanie guffawed, “Of course the piece of shit would.”

“It’s been longer than six months, right? Isn’t that how long it’s supposed to take?” Ashley asked. “I looked it up.”

“Six months and a day if it’s mutual and simple. Unfortunately…” Grace trailed off as Matt returned, fast indeed, and set the drink in front of her.

“Anything else I can get you ladies right now?”

“Ladies,” they groaned. “Might as well call us Ma’am! How old do you think we are?”

“Twenty-eight,” he said, his face leaving it unclear whether it was a joke.

Alicia snorted and flapped her hand at Catherine, joking, “You know he’s young if he thinks we want to be twenty-eight!”

“We are women in our thirties and you couldn’t pay me to go back,” Victoria agreed.

“Seriously, can you remember when it felt like we’d be dead at thirty?”

“Yeah but there is that thing that happens when you sleep funny…” Grace suggested, because Matt looked like he wasn’t sure what was going on and if he’d said the right thing or not. When her friends just stared, she continued, “You know, where apparently you slept wrong or sneezed wrong and now your neck is convinced you’re–”

“Batman!” Alicia and Stephanie cried together. That was not what Grace had been going to say, but she could understand what they meant when they both stiffened their necks and turned their whole bodies.

“Not me, thanks, it’s got me reaching for the–”

“Ibuprofen,” Catherine suggested, but Ashley corrected, “Percocet.”

“Oh Lordie,” Alicia giggled.

Grace grinned up at Matt, “I’m so sorry about my friends. I think we’re fine for now.”

“I agree,” he said, and winked, and sauntered off. 

Grace startled, not sure if he’d meant he agreed they were fine or agreed they were fine. The wink?

Stephanie had, of course, seen, and elbowed her, teasing, “Eh, eh? I think he likes you in particular.”

“He’s our waiter.”

“Seriously though, I ask you this… so what? We’re not talking about marrying the guy,” Alicia said.

Victoria nodded, then leaned in close and stage-whispered, “We’re talking about fucking.”

“Jesus, how many have you had?” Stephanie laughed. She playfully nudged Victoria’s drink away from her.

“I have a three year old, you know I can’t hold my vodka anymore,” Victoria laughed and slid it back.

Ashley motioned for everyone to wait while she chewed, wait while she swallowed, then safely said, “I hope you know you’re way too hot to sit around.”

“Yeah, take it from me,” Alicia agreed. “We’re not saying to rush anything. I get it, babe. I’ve been there. Don’t sit around wondering what the next thing is, just grab what you want and have a good time.”

Catherine passed a napkin to Victoria, who had just dragged her sleeve through her plate, and assured Grace, “You’ll know when you’re ready for something new.”

“I can’t imagine being ready for something new,” she admitted, because she was just a little tipsy and so were her friends, so it felt safe to have a moment of vulnerability in this trendy gastro-pub. “I mean the pool guy is the one who caught Tim and let me know… My husband! It was mortifying.”

“That’s right, he sucked.”

“Let it out, let it out.”

“No, that’s… that’s all I had to say,” she laughed, and sucked down the last of her drink. “It was unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant!” her friends repeated and giggled into each other’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes.

Stephanie patted her arm, sighing, “Grace, my dear old friend. I think Ashley and Victoria may be right. You’re so…”

“So what?” Grace pressed, eyebrow arching.

“So bottled up,” she tried.

“So careful,” Catherine suggested.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ashley sighed. “I’m a doctor so I say this with a medical degree backing: you need to get fucked good. You need to fuck someone good, just get all that anger out and like… cum your feelings and your frustration and your brains–”

“This is medical advice, hm?” Victoria asked, barely holding it together. She and Alicia caught each other’s gaze and lost it.

“It is! Grace is always so proper and polished and I just– aren’t you mad? You did everything right and that loser fucked you over.”

Grace nodded, feeling herself fade away. Sure, she was mad. Really mad. But as much as she was enjoying this time out and knowing her girls were in her corner, she didn’t have the same spirit that Alicia and Victoria and Ashley had to just rage about it. It felt… private. Painful. Shameful.

Also she didn’t know the first thing about finding someone to fuck.

“You deserve to get a little wild,” Alicia told her. “Not crazy, don’t do something you’re going to regret, but like…”

“Take the waiter home,” Ashley suggested, then pretended to be innocently watching the TV over the bar as Matt returned with another round of requested drinks. Grace knew she might regret this come tomorrow. The hangovers were another part of their 30s they ought to have warned Matt about. He didn’t look like he’d reached his yet, but probably not far off. Maybe twenty-eight, twenty-nine? Surely not younger than that… though it was possible JK was skewing her ability to guess ages because he had such a youthful face.

“Anything else I can get for you?” Matt asked her, and Grace had the horrifying fear she might have been staring. His blond hair was really beautiful. She’d never been with someone like that, surfer guy, sunkissed cheeks, hair that would drape around his face–

Oh good god.

“No,” she said quickly, and buried her face in her drink. “Last one. Cut me off after this.”

“If you say so,” he smiled and was gone again, laughing when Victoria and Ashley called something after him that Grace completely missed in her embarrassment.

Catherine managed to steer conversation away from fucking and over to a hospital workplace drama of Ashley’s that got them all as rabid as they’d been for details of her divorce. Grace was more than grateful for the break –which seemed intentional, judging by Catherine’s smile. Despite Grace’s misgivings about Catherine marrying a wealthy man in his early 50s when she herself was only thirty-six, she seemed happy and like things were going well for her. Maybe it wasn’t all older men who sucked, just her not-yet-ex husband in particular.

But a younger guy… could Grace really see herself taking someone like Matt home? She watched him glide between tables in his all-black uniform, crisp below the neck, a little wild above, his smile radiating sunbeams upon whoever he addressed. A younger guy would have no reason to pursue her though, not when he looked like that and could catch women his own age, easily. She wasn’t old or anything, and thought she looked her age in an attractive way, but still, what unique thing, what special draw did she really have that would lure someone in for a night of… that? She was wife material, not a brag-worthy catch, but she didn’t want to be anyone’s wife again for a long time. Probably never. 

God, she really couldn’t imagine going through marriage again. A wedding? What a nightmare.

She’d lost track of Matt, which meant he surprised her suddenly appearing at her shoulder.

“You look like you need something,” he said, and you could have heard a pin drop at the table.

“I… do not,” she told him.

“Are you sure?” He leaned in close and joked, “Look, I’ve got connections here. I can get you anything you want. Amaretto sour? Glass of sparkling water? One of those chocolate cakes with a strawberry on it which it’s not even supposed to come with, but I know a guy…” 

It wasn’t possible. Was he flirting with her?

Suddenly he laughed, “It’s me, I’m the guy. I can just put a strawberry on the cake. If you want one.”

“She wants the cake,” Alicia assured him.

“She definitely wants the cake,” Ashley agreed.

“Honestly I think we may all want the cake?” Victoria asked, looking around.

Grace could only nod as Matt went to get some unknown number of chocolate cakes. She actually didn’t want the cake. She couldn’t figure out if anyone was actually talking about cake because all she could understand in the moment was that a good looking man might be flirting with her out of everyone at the table. Had he overheard about her divorce? Worse, had her friends put him up to this before she arrived?

But their giggles seemed sincere as they kept wiggling their eyebrows at her and dug into chocolate cake.

“Why don’t we ever treat ourselves like this?” Ashley demanded. “We should always be getting the chocolate cake.”

“It’s better with the strawberries,” Catherine said.

Stephanie smirked at Grace and agreed, “Thanks for getting us the strawberries.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Just being hot,” Alicia assured her.

Grace was not sure what to make of this. She didn’t even want the cake but felt rude not to at least have a few bites. The strawberries were not in season and were a little sour. She downed it with water to stave off any headaches tomorrow, and waved Matt over for the tab. 

“We should go to Mexico or something,” Ashley sighed. “So we can actually stay out instead of work and significant others– shit, I mean, not that you have to–”

“Hey, I’m single too,” Alicia pointed out.

“Yeah but by choice, I just didn’t mean to–”

“Shut up, Ashley,” Victoria laughed. “Go back to slicing people open instead of talking.”

“Rude!” But she gave Grace an apologetic look that was more painful than the reference to significant others. She wasn’t bothered by that!

Cards rained down into the tray for Matt, and upon his return he made a playful show of calling names and passing the booklets out for them to sign.

In Grace’s booklet was an extra slip of paper, on which he had scrawled: I get off in twenty or I’m off Saturday if you feel like grabbing a drink (amaretto sour, normal). 31, if it matters. –Matt

Grace slapped the book closed, face instantly aflame. Seriously?! Couldn’t he lose his job doing something like that?? Not that she was going to file a complaint or anything because, well, in this particular situation she felt flattered, not bothered. 

Should she do it–

NO, of course she shouldn’t do it! She’d had enough drinks for one night, any more would be courting disaster. And coming back Saturday felt like such a thing, and she wasn’t ready for a thing, she wasn’t even actually divorced yet. And what if drinks led to something, hm? She hadn’t been with anyone but Tim in a decade. She’d made a fool of herself and her ego just couldn’t handle that right now, disappointing someone who looked like he might be the actual biological son of the ocean.

Not that she wouldn’t like to surrender herself into the experienced arms of someone who could really “fuck her brains out” –as Dr. Ashley ordered.

She was mortified by her own inability to do anything with this obviously dream-like scenario. She tucked the paper into her pocket, afraid it might fall out of the booklet and get noticed by one of her nosy friends. It felt rude not to say anything back but she didn’t know what to say, just tipped him very well and scurried out of the restaurant between her friends so she wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact.

Grace made sure her friends were all safely in cabs, caught her own, and was home, in-bed, unfucked by 10. 

“Shit.” Jungkook’s brow lowered as he flipped the keys around on the ring, confused by the lack of house key. He patted his pockets despite knowing that at no point had he removed the house key from his keychain and put it in his pocket. He checked the ring again, eye twitching with annoyance that it had not reappeared. The metal ring was a little loose, but loose enough for a key to fall off? One single key? Not the three mystery keys that he had no fucking clue what they went to but only his very useful housekey? Eomma and Appa’s key was still there, his car key, the garage key, an old gym locker key… no house key.

He resorted to knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell in case anyone was home. It was almost eight, someone ought to be home.

No answer.

A crack of thunder rattled the frame of the house and, like it was the sound of the sky breaking, torrential rain fell in a sheet so physically heavy Jungkook felt like he’d been hit by a wave. He scurried to his car and ducked inside, poking around between and beneath the seats to see if his key had fallen out there. He found two guitar picks, a pacifier of Max’s, someone’s melted lipstick, and three half-empty water bottles and made a note to vacuum out all the sand when he had a couple quarters, but no key. Maybe it was in his work truck… but he was wearing baggy sweatpants today with shallow pockets, the little metal fucker could have fallen out anywhere. 

Well, good thing they kept a spare key in the garage. He had to brave the rain again to dash from driveway to the garage, lifted the door just enough to duck under, then went for the lock box stuck to the underside of the tool table they did not own any actual tools for. The box was there but he had to try each of their birthdays because they all kept resetting the passcode. It unlocked on 1-2-3-1, hinting Taehyung had been the last one to open it, which meant he’d know who to murder because the spare key had not been replaced.

“Fucker,” Jungkook sighed. 

He returned to the front door and pounded again as another crack of thunder rattled the windows. Thunderstorms were unusual, it gave everything a sort of suspense-movie feel. He fished out his phone and tried calling Taehyung and Jimin but neither answered like the assholes they were. So Jungkook could either drive back to work and see if the key fell out in his truck or go hang out at Eomma and Appa’s until someone answered.

Another thought occurred to him. He’d been at Grace’s that morning, finishing up the final patches and protective coat over the tile before it would be time to fill it –meaning he was (sadly) just about done with the project. When it was time to go, he’d asked to use her bathroom because she had one just off the back patio, and then they’d spent a few minutes talking about how he would fill the pool soon, and then about some road construction going on nearby and whether that was annoying her because he was looking for any conversation to prolong his departure, and it was possible he’d spun his keys around his finger while they talked.

When one more round of banging on the door and calling Taehyung and Jimin and then Taehyung again didn’t get him anywhere, Jungkook jumped back into his car and set off for Grace’s house. The rain came down in sheets pushed sideways by the rain, making it hard to see, so he drove slowly. It made it an even longer drive, they lived in different parts of the city and there was traffic at this hour (haha, there was always traffic) and the traffic was slower because of the rain too except for the occasional shitbag flying down the road, two blocks at a time, as if they’d get there faster. More like kill someone on the way.

Eventually he got to her place and punched in the back gate code and pulled in. Her yard beyond the reach of the motion light looked like a shadowy lush forest in the downpour and it made him jealous. At his house the rain was annoying and he was worried the garage would flood again but here there was something refreshing about it, like the LA smog couldn’t reach. He knew he shouldn’t talk shit about the rain, in a month they’d be in another drought and longing for a storm like this. They didn’t happen often. But it was definitely going to flood his garage again and they needed to practice in there tomorrow! 

If he had a yard like this, he could enjoy it. Instead he just thought of missed surfing and angry oceans and leaky garages.

He ran from his car to the back door; for some reason it made him recall being a little boy attempting to dodge the raindrops, back before he became a surfer. Once you got hooked on surfing, you got used to “wet” and “dry” being states of mind.

She he had apparently not heard the gate open or his car on that crunchy-ass driveway. Instead she moved around the kitchen making dinner, washing dishes it looked like, mouth moving like she was singing or talking to someone, completely unaware he was about to knock on her backdoor. She didn’t look like she was dancing but she could just be really bad at it.

He felt only a brief flicker of guilt for interrupting her evening. He’d be quick. In and out and gone before she knew it. He knocked on the door. 

At first she didn’t react at all, so he knocked again harder. 

This time she spun around with a visual gasp, her hand shooting out to grab something in defense –a sudsy spatula which flung soap all across her counter, which Jungkook noticed only peripheral to the wide, terrified look on her face.

Oops.

He would have hoped that settled as soon as she saw it was just him, but the shift to her expression was only slight as she crept towards the door, as if he was actually just someone else in a JK costume.

“JK?” she verified when only panes of glass and a couple feet separated them.

“Hi,” he said. He gave her an awkward wave. He hadn’t expected to scare her. “Yeah, just me.”

“What are you doing here? It’s–” She broke off, glancing at her wrist but there was no watch there. Her voice was muffled through the door, which she hadn’t opened.

“I know, sorry,” he said. “I lost my keys.” Thunder cracked right as he said it, drowning him out.

“What?”

“I lost my keys!” he repeated, louder.

At this point she unlocked the door and opened it, spatula still in hand, and said again, “What? Please don’t be here to murder me.”

“What?” he repeated as thunder rattled the frame of the house and rain pummeled the patio behind him because he thought she’d just said something about murder.

She leaned further out the door and asked, “Why are you here so late?”

“Did I leave my keys here?”

“Your keys?”

“Did I drop my housekey when I used your bathroom today?”

“Oh. I– no!!” she shrieked so loud that Jungkook took a step back because yeouwch right in his fucking ear. It left him unprepared for her to suddenly lunge forward. Maybe she tripped. Either way, she collided bodily with him and they sprawled together to the ground, her fully on top of him and his ass taking the beating on those fancy patio stones.

“Foam!” she cried and tried to leap to her feet, only to knee Jungkook in the groin, almost a fatal blow. He managed to twist just enough, just in time, so she at least missed direct assault on his balls but it still left him shuddering.

“Fuck,” he groaned and grabbed her arms to lift her off him so he could take a moment. 

She stood and looked forlornly around the yard, spatula clutched in both her hands. The tree cover made things pitch black and her yard lights weren’t on so it was impossible to see anything through the torrential curtain now that the motion light had clicked off.

“What just happened?” he asked, dragging himself up, testing out his body to make sure her knee hadn’t just done permanent damage to his future as a father, should he care to. He couldn’t even enjoy the moment she’d been sprawled on top of him! 

“Sorry,” she said, distracted, like she didn’t really mean it. “You let my cat escape!”

“What?”

“I mean… sorry, it wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have opened the door but–”

“Why would your cat run out into a thunderstorm?”

“I don’t know! He’s… special.”

Jungkook joined her survey of the yard, half expecting a very regretful cat to come streaking back, but no such luck. Lightning lit up the yard but there was no sign of any cat.

“He’ll come back,” Jungkook assured her. And for good measure, called, “Here, kitty kitty!”

“He’s deaf, I can’t just leave him to roam the world! He’s an indoor cat! He doesn’t know anything about– shit,” she huffed. 

“Oh.” Now he felt like an asshole to have called for the cat but it’s not like he could have known! He’d never thought about the fact cats could even be deaf.

She seemed to only just notice the spatula in her hand. She tossed it back into the house, then turned and promptly ran into the rain –no umbrella, no jacket, no shoes. 

“Foam!” she called, only to break off with a curse, “Fuck, he can’t hear me…” as she disappeared behind some tall bushes towards the front of the house.

In a flash of lightning, Jungkook thought he saw a blur of motion in a very different part of the yard. 

He thought hunting for her cat in a thunderstorm was only going to end in failure but he’d seen people do dumber things over pets. He’d never had one, but maybe if he had a dog or something, he’d do the same thing.

Maybe not. It was really coming down out there. He saw the shadow of Grace jogging along the edge of the yard and couldn’t just let her search alone. At least he had to try since apparently she really cared about this cat of hers. 

Another clap of thunder this time preceded the shriek of an animal which for a brief moment he thought might be Grace. Just as quickly he realized it must be the cat because it didn’t sound like a noise classy Grace would make and it was from the wrong part of the yard. The yowl sounded terrified and Jungkook knew he had to help find this dumb little cat.

Jungkook took off in the direction it had come from, hand shielding his eyes from the rain as he tried to make sense of the moving shadows. At least her motion light activated and gave him some help but it was so fucking bright it left swirls dancing across his vision when he tried to see in the shadows again.

“Foam!” he called out of habit, then cursed. She had so much stuff in her yard –bushes and trees and plants and shit– and usually he thought it was cool but right now it made it hard to find a shivering wet beast. At least in the denser parts the rain was less of a slap against his face, but still it dripped from his hair and ran down his nose and chin, and he was used to being soaked from his time in the ocean but it was beginning to feel like he’d never be dry.

“Foam, where are you?” Grace called, a desperate edge to her voice. 

“I think he’s over here,” Jungkook shouted back. 

“Where? JK?”

But Jungkook couldn’t answer because he’d spotted the cat, miserable and shivering and panicked. The cat looked up at Jungkook with his spooky reflective eyes and something in his expression made clear he was about to take off again and Jungkook felt sure he would be even harder to find a second time.

So he did the only thing he could do. He grabbed the kitty by the scruff of the neck and dragged it, writhing and chirping into his arms. It was wet and hard to hold and shockingly strong though, so he felt like there was no choice but the next move: he shoved the cat under his shirt and held it there as he dashed towards the house.

Which the kitty, to be clear, did not like. He thrashed and tried to escape, first through the bottom, then through the top. He’d managed to get his head stuck in the pit of Jungkook’s sleeve just as Jungkook reached the back door of the house. He flung open and then shut the door behind him to try and wrench the cat out in the kitchen, only to realize he’d slammed it in Grace’s face and opened it for her again.

“You got him?!” she gasped, as if it wasn’t obvious from the weird clicky cries yodeling from Jungkook’s armpit as he tried to drag the cat out the bottom. The cat put up too much of a fight and now his stomach was starting to sting from the scratches so Jungkook just yanked his shirt up and let the cat drop –after a moment of simply hanging there, claws dug into his body.

“Oh my god!” 

Just as Grace reached forward, her cat vaulted off Jungkook with a final slash of his back claws and tore through the house, leaving a trail of spattered water in his wake.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed, curling forward and looking down at his bare torso. His body shuddered at the sharp pain as it rolled up his torso and then down again. Thin bloody red lines cross-crossed all down his abs, heavier blood seeping out in a few places.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Grace gasped, hands reaching forward but stopping just shy of his body before she pulled back, only to almost reach again, like she couldn’t figure out what to do. “Um… uh…”

“Maybe a towel or something,” Jungkook mumbled as a hint.

“A towel!” she repeated and leapt into action only to slip and crash into the counter. The rain had pooled around their feet, turning the tiled kitchen into a death trap. Jungkook hissed at the red welts and shivered again as the air condition made pebbles of his skin and nipples. He lowered his shirt just a smidge, self conscious about his nipples. In the background a drawer slid open and slammed shut.

Grace abruptly pressed the towel against his torso and he yelped. 

“Oh…?” she said, eyes going wide. As if it hadn’t occurred to her a rough kitchen towel shoved against a torso full of raw scratches wouldn’t be comfortable. 

Gingerly he pulled it away and used it instead to wipe his face and hair off so it would stop running down his face, then squeezed his shirt out with it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for… do you need to go to the hospital?”

“It’s not that bad,” he assured her. He almost laughed but his smile seemed misplaced next to her worry. Sure, it hurt, and he was soaked, and he’d had a long day and just wanted to be home in bed and instead he was dripping water and blood on her rich person tile but it wasn’t like getting a little roughed up was new to him. Maybe it wasn’t usually cat nails scratching him but– well not that kind of cat–

“I have… hm… Oh! I can get you dry clothes and maybe… medicine? I’ll see what I have,” she said and spun away again. This time when she slipped on the tile, Jungkook reached out to steady her, hands clamping to her hips.

“Careful, you’ll bust your head open.”

Briefly her hands pressed over his and then simultaneously they both released.

“Uh.” She glanced over her shoulder at him for a moment. “I’ll get dry clothes for you.”

“Right,” he said as she shuffled away. “Wait, nothing that belonged to your ex husband.”

“I didn’t keep anything,” she called back, her voice quickly an echo across the house. He heard her heavy footsteps on the stairs and it made him pause. Damn, she really stomped on those. He wondered if she always pounded the stairs like that or if she was just really panicked right now.

Shit, the scratches really hurt. He hissed again and looked down. That damn cat, he’d been trying to help! He wanted to splash some soap and water on it but also didn’t want to extend the pool of water further through the kitchen. She was bringing him new clothes –whose, then?-- anyway and wouldn’t be back for a moment, so he tugged the shirt off and then his pants, letting them fall in a pile by the backdoor, then strode quickly to the bathroom. There he grimaced further at the full reflection of the scratches… yeah, he was going to tell his friends a chick scratched him up, no way did he want to let smuggling a wet angry cat under his shirt take the credit for this. He’d definitely need to wear a rashguard if he hit the waves or his board was going to tear those lines up bad.

He leaned over the sink as best he could to do a quick scrub down with the blue hand soap in a glass bottle by the faucet –after knocking it with slippery hands down into the bowl of the sink and freezing until he was sure it hadn’t shattered. It sure sounded like it had. The smell of “fresh” wafted up at him as he rinsed the suds off. Probably the soap was “clean linen” or “ocean breeze,” even though an ocean breeze smelled nothing like that.

“Oh. Uh… I mean… you’re just– here are some dry clothes you can borrow,” Grace said from the doorway and gently tossed a stack of fabric onto the closed lid of the toilet. “I’ll get my first aid kit while you…”

She shut the door without finishing her sentence. Jungkook looked back at the shut door, then smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Was she… flustered? He looked at more of his body than the cuts this time. His black boxer-briefs hugged his ass pretty good, and his abs were looking good today because he hadn’t had dinner yet because he was locked out of his fucking house. He lifted his eyebrow in the mirror, trying out a smolder just to cheer himself up, then lifted the clothes to see what she’d brought him.

The gray sweatpants were the softest material he had possibly ever touched and looked shockingly well sized. He couldn’t bring himself to put them on over wet boxers and so traded the bottoms, then shook out the t-shirt. Red with a graphic of Christmas lights zigzagging back and forth across the front, it read Santa Run 10k December 2024 Ho Ho HO.

“Hey, who decided to capitalize the third ‘ho’ like this?” he asked, leaving the bathroom once dressed. The shirt fit him comfortably and frankly he was going to have a really big morale decision about whether he remembered to bring these sweatpants back.

Ok he’d remember.

Probably.

Grace paused digging through a red zippered first aid kit, contents strewn across the counter. She had on dry clothes, her hair pulled back into a real mess at the back of her head, like she’d been in a hurry. It was the most disheveled he’d ever seen her.

She cracked a smile though and admitted, “I don’t know but I thought it was funny too so I kept the shirt.”

“You trying to tell me something?”

“What?! No! It was just the first thing I grabbed that I thought might fit you–”

“I’m joking. I think it’s funny too. The sweatpants are fucking awesome.”

“Yeah, Brendi, it’s a unisex brand so I thought they might fit– my friend does marketing for them so I– here, I found antibiotics. Let’s see?”

“I washed off already, it’s fine.”

“With hand soap?”

“Yeah. I smell nice now, huh?”

Again she smiled, looking slightly more herself with each grin, and assured him, “Yes, but you really need this and bandaids.”

“I’m not putting on bandaids,” he snorted.

“Hm… why not?”

“Because…” He trailed off, judging by her narrowed eyes that she was not going to agree with bandaids on your tummy look stupid. “None of them are that deep or anything.”

“Ok, let me see. Obviously if you wind up needing to buy any medicine or bandages bring me the receipts and I’ll reimburse you–”

“Eh,” he shrugged. Actually that was a really nice offer but obviously he wasn’t going to show up with a Walgreens receipt.

“Come on, at least let’s check that the bleeding has stopped.”

“If you wanted me to take my shirt off, all you had to do was–”

“That’s not–!” she gasped but he thought her surprise was way too funny. Even though he had no interest in letting her inspect the cuts, now he felt compelled to follow through, and so dragged the hem of the ho ho HO t-shirt up. Only then did he realize that now, in this moment, after all his attempts, she would be directly checking out his body, no distractions or interruptions.

She promptly dropped to her knees in front of him and Jungkook’s hands flew up to hover in the air, stunned by this development.

To his immense disappointment on all accounts, Grace merely methodically and without any apparent blush, surveyed the cuts across his stomach without seeming to even see his stomach. Try as he might, he could not really paint it as sexy for her to keep squeezing splurts of antibiotic onto her finger and then dabbing them against various sore points. That’s not to say he didn’t start to chub up because a beautiful woman was kneeling before him and touching all over his stomach! But thankfully her clinical, almost jabbing approach to medicine application kept it from reaching a noticeable state, even without the security of boxers. It was like she wanted as minimal contact with his body as possible. Grace was definitely no bedside nurse.

“I’m really sorry about this,” she said as she stood and screwed the lid back on the medicine tube. “And thank you for helping me find him.”

“Yeah no problem.” For a moment they just stood there before Jungkook realized she was holding the tube out to him. “I don’t want to take your medicine, I’m all good now.”

“Cat scratches can be painful and I don’t want you to risk getting an infection or anything.” She waved the medicine tube.

He wrapped his hand around hers and pressed it back in her direction, insisting, “You need it more than I do.”

“I’ll just buy more.”

“You live alone,” he insisted, not sure what that had to do with anything but looking for any argument not to take medicine away from her that he was never going to use anyway. “I’ve got some at home.”

“Why do I not believe you?” she asked, but did pull the tube back and tuck it away in the medicine bag. Jungkook had never seen someone with an actual full-blown first aid kit in their house, like the kind they had at the pool where he lifeguarded sometimes. 

“I wouldn’t lie,” he lied.

“Ok, if you say so…” 

But now he was offended and insisted, “Really, I would never lie to you.” Which made him feel a little bad because he was technically lying right now but actually probably Jimin had some, so see? Not a lie.

She stared at a moment which made it seem so serious, what he was saying. He meant it! Then her mouth twitched and she admitted, 

“We really got soaked, huh?”

“You need to teach your cat not to do something dumb like that.”

“Oh? How will I teach my cat something, exactly?”

“You can train cats,” he insisted. “Train him not to run out the door.”

“He’s never run out the door before.”

“He seemed pretty good at it,” Jungkook pointed out.

“Maybe he was trying to protect me from a guy randomly showing up at my back door at night?” she countered, and now crossed her arms and turned to face him. “You can’t do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Show up at the backdoor unexpectedly at night when a woman lives home alone! Or ever, really, for that matter.”

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” he defended. “I told you, I just wanted to know if I left my keys here.”

“Knocking at the backdoor of a house with a gate is sneaking,” she argued. “I have a front door. And a buzzer.”

Jungkook paused now and thought about this, just a little bit. He hadn’t considered before that the gate applied to him because she just let him come and go for work and had told him the code. 

“Ok, well… I didn’t think I had to buzz because you said I didn’t,” he admitted.

“It’s dark outside! You could have been a murderer.”

“Yeah and you were going to fight me off with this, huh?” he snorted, stooping to pick up the spatula that had lay in the middle of the floor for some time now. 

“It’s the first thing I grabbed.”

“At least keep a bat or a knife by the door or something,” he suggested and set the spatula in the sink.

“That’s why I have a gate!”

Another fair point, but he still pointed out, “Didn’t stop me.”

“Because I gave you the code.”

“Didn’t we talk about this? You need a dog instead of a cat,” he suggested. “A dog would come when you called and not scratch the shit out of my stomach.”

“You did put a frightened angry cat in your shirt,” she pointed out.

He couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh so now it’s my fault? He’s squirmy when he’s wet! It’s like trying to hold a snake. You sure he’s a cat?”

“Definitely a cat,” she assured him. “Speaking of which, I should go find him and dry him off…”

“Well don’t put him under your shirt.”

“Oddly, the thought never occurred to me.”

A moment passed before he realized she was waiting for him to recall, “Oh right. Uh… have you seen my key?” 

“I haven’t. Did you see it in the bathroom?”

He’d forgotten to look. They walked together there, passing close together through the door so that he could feel the warmth from her body for the briefest moment.

“No,” he sighed.

“There,” she corrected, and pointed to one single key in the middle of the mat in front of the sink.

“My key!”

“You really didn’t see it? Or step on it?” she clarified as he scooped it up and pressed it with relief to his forehead.

“No, how did you see that? You have vision like a hawk.”

“You don’t need to flatter me.”

“I’m trying to apologize for scaring you,” he said, which hadn’t occurred to him until just that moment because she was being casual about it, but now he did start to feel more bad about it, like maybe he shouldn’t just tease her about being scared by him. 

“There’s another way to do that.”

He choked. 

“Use your words,” she said quickly, looking stunned. Good, he was glad she’d noticed the double meaning of what she’d said. Look if she wanted a sexual apology he would be more than happy to– She cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry I scared you?” he tried and she nodded. “I do know how to apologize,” he quickly added. “I just didn’t think about it scaring you.”

“Don’t sneak in the backdoor of women’s houses, JK,” she said, her smile growing as she teased. “You deserve to go through the front door.”

“I… don’t really know what that means but thanks? And now I will take my key and go home so you can deal with your wet… cat.”

She gave a decisive nod, clearly not noting his verbal stumble, and added, “Do you want a bag for your wet clothes? Or I can just dry them.”

“Ok, thanks.” She probably had an expensive dryer and they would come out all soft and maybe he’d get another wooden hanger out of it. He line-dried his clothes as much as he could and sometimes they felt sort of crunchy, which wasn’t a big deal but he thought it would be nicer to get dry clothes back than slop a bundle of wet clothes home.

“Sorry again about your body,” she said. “I mean the scratches.”

“It’s fine, we’ll call it even,” he said, and held his fist out without thinking about it, because that was something he might say to his surfing buddies and they’d fist-bump and he’d done it out of habit.

Just before he dropped his hand, she tapped it with her own, her lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

“Goodnight, JK. Drive careful. Looks like the rain has stopped.”

“Oh yeah, look at that.” He hesitated. Not for a reason, or at least not a good one. It was nice being around her, that was all. 

His stomach itched so he scratched it, then flinched when his nails rubbed the shirt against his raw skin.

“Tell your cat I expect a better introduction next time,” he told her, then slid out the door without even a wave, because he got the feeling that had possibly been an odd thing to say. 

He felt keyed up heading to his car, wearing Grace’s clothes. Rain still dripped from the trees, loud on the top of his car as he started it up and paused for the gate to let him out. The streets were quiet and as clean looking as they ever were –definitely cleaner here than near his place. He had a long drive home still.

Ah, she kept her house too cold. She hadn’t put a bra on when she put on dry clothes. It wasn’t his fault he’d noticed, yeah? He’d had to look somewhere when she insisted on dabbing medicine all over his stomach while kneeling in front of him and then obviously looked away and done his damnedest not to notice again.

It all started to catch up to him now: Grace sprawled on top of him, the dash around the yard, how confused she’d looked at first about the cat scratches, the view of her from above, the–

On second thought, air conditioning was a great idea. He cranked it up and nudged the radio louder and thought about how Grace’s sweatpants were the softest fucking thing to have ever touched his dick. Very, very different than her knee. But hey… tonight was the most action his dick had seen in…

He cranked the radio louder. The air conditioner too, just to be safe.

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

#jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook x oc #over the falls #jeon jungkook ff #jungkook smut #jungkook series #jungkook au #poolboy jk #jungkook domestic fluff

[fallow-hollow]

Heyo! I came by to ask if it’s possible that you could write a Chilchuck x non binary! Reader who has a stutter and hasn’t gotten any help for it since childhood? Like not being able to say sentences properly without suddenly pausing by accident and having moments where the reader struggles on just one word? It’s mostly because I have irl and I don’t see a lot of books about readers that have a stutter as I think it’s used mostly to be cute or uwu- so maybe Chilchuck could try to help them?

cold reading

ft… chilchuck tims x nonbinary! reader

tags… pre-relationship, pining, reader has a stutter, fluff

word count… 882

notes… hope i did a good job! i had a friend who stutters be my beta reader to make sure i did alright, but further notes are always welcome! also fun fact, a ‘cold read’ is a read through or performance of a script or text with no prior practice, so i thought it would make a cute title !!

This may have been your idea, but you were already starting to have some second thoughts about this plan.

Chilchuck was well aware that you often had some trouble speaking, but it was never something he wanted to intervene on without your permission. The man had his own fair share of experiences being babied by those around him, so the last thing he wanted to do was belittle you by acting as if he knew more about what would help you than you did. So, naturally, reaching out about wanting assistance was up to you.

If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this vice of yours, it was Chilchuck. It wasn’t even that he himself was particularly well spoken or collected — no, it was your trust in him from a personal perspective that made it so easier to confide in him. The two of you had always been pretty good friends, and plus, it was rather nice how he never judged you for things you couldn’t control.

Truth be told, seeking help from someone like Falin likely would have been equally as helpful, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you also just enjoyed spending time with the man. Something about his presence put you at ease, despite the standoffish demeanor he had most of the time.

That’s how you found yourself here, trying to read from a book while he sat patiently beside you.

However, this may have been far less embarrassing for you if the book you borrowed for this little practice session wasn’t one of Marcille’s romance novels.

“She tr- trekked across th- across the muddy dirt path, her, her boots… boots covered in…..” Even when reading completely inoffensive narration, you still tripped up on certain consonants and found yourself repeating certain words. Sometimes, you’d even lose your place or space out, and end up unconsciously repeating the end of a word when you ‘picked up where you left off’, so to speak.

Chilchuck stayed silent, of course, not wanting to be rude by calling you out or correcting you in the middle of your sentences, but the long periods of yourself speaking and nothing else did make you feel rather awkward at times. After you sighed and shook your head, signifying that you had given up, he allowed himself to speak.

“Maybe try reading some dialogue instead. It could feel more natural if it’s something you could say to an actual person instead of just narration.” At his suggestion, you nodded, letting your eyes scan the page to the closest piece of dialogue you could find.

…Ah.

Well, it wasn’t that embarrassing. Compared to the other things one might find in a novel like this, it was really rather tame. Yes, you could make this work.

When you glanced up, the half-foot was still meeting your gaze, looking as if he had something to say. You murmured a quick “Yes?”, to which he responded promptly.

“You’ve mostly been looking at the text while you’ve been talking.” One hand gestured briefly to the book you were holding. “I dunno if this is the case, but focusing too hard on the written words could trip you up.”

The statement did ring true, at least somewhat. You’d been very fixated on matching the written words to the pronunciations in your head so as to not mess them up, but maybe that was contributing to this unnatural sort of feeling you’d had while you were reading. Talking to Chilchuck certainly did help you calm down most of the time, so maybe you’d feel more relaxed if you tried that instead.

He didn’t directly tell you to, but you chose to look at Chilchuck’s face while you talked. After reading the words and trying to internalize them the best you could, looking at him was almost a way to relax your eyes. Without focusing on a particular point or feature, you let yourself just… take him in. Register that this was the person you were speaking to. Allow the words to be fully and wholly directed at him.

In hindsight, the method may have been a bit too effective, judging from how the sentence came out almost immediately and with great fervor,

“You have no idea the lengths I’d go to just to see you!”

Hey, why did the man across from you look ever so slightly pink…?

Oh.

“Oh no, no I’m so- s-so sorry! Sorry!” Your hands shot up in an apologetic yet defensive behavior, which seemed to ease Chilchuck’s nerves, judging by the small laugh he let out.

With a wave of his own hand, he responded, “You don’t need to be. Just surprised you’d get so bold all of a sudden.” He then shot you a wink and a point, something that threatened to make you melt entirely. So easily could he touch your heart, yet at the same time it was hard to falter when he smiled at you like that.

“Did a good job on that one, though. Sounded great!”

Either way, if you can one day manage to speak your true feelings to him, then maybe you’ll be able to say all the other things you want to as well.

“Tha…thank you, your help, it, um… it really means a lot.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works! #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck tims imagines

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 12!!!

This post features the way I think renting cars works. I'm very sure it doesn't actually work this way, and I could have researched it, but the image is in my head and I thought it was funny having cars on shelves with little description tags like some kind of Automobile Costco Warehouse.

Also, I'm gonna link my playlist because I feel like you all might be interested to see the list of songs I'm working from lol.

Fun fact, the playlist used to be called List of Holding and was meant to be a small collection of songs that I wanted to hear REALLY often. But, um...well, I've since had to change the name :P

This is All Good Omens Now Who Am I Kidding

And yes, I'm very VERY picky about my Queen songs.

OKAY here we go.

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********************

In the end, it was surprisingly easy to find a rental company willing to loan you all a car (considering that three out of the four of you have no identification, documents, credit score, valid driver’s licenses, etc.). Deciding on a car, on the other hand, was a bit more complicated.

“I don’t understand why I can’t just miracle the Bentley over,” Crowley whines as the four of you wander the aisles of cars.

“Well for starters, the steering wheel is on the wrong side,” Anathema reasons.

“The wheel’s not on the wrong side! All of these have steering wheels on the wrong side! They drive on the wrong side of the road here too! Americans!” He shoves his hands in his pockets, practically spitting the last word like it’s some kind of curse. Anathema raises an eyebrow at him, but otherwise says nothing.

“Ooh!” Aziraphale calls from further ahead, “Look at this one! The description says that it’s very good for the environment. I mean, aesthetically speaking it isn’t anything extraordinary, but I do like all of these things written on the tag.”

“What kind of car is it?” Anathema asks.

“I believe it says it’s a...Tesla?”

You snort a laugh. “I am NOT getting into one of those things,” You say between giggles.

“Why not?” Aziraphale’s confusion is genuine – you can see it in his face.

“Well,” You begin counting on your fingers, “It farts, it can see ghosts, and it may or may not explode while we’re in it, SO!” You see Crowley’s face light up.

“Sounds like my kind of car!” He says, making his way towards the car that Aziraphale is inspecting.

“No,” Anathema sounds like she’s talking to a child. Or maybe a dog. “No, we are not riding in a Tesla. I’m with you on this one,” she says in your direction.

“I have a suggestion,” You pipe up, raising your hand.

“Oh-ho!” Crowley calls. He leaned slightly to the left, and took off between the aisles. All three of you have to jog to keep up with him. He’s stopped in front of an enormous Hummer. “Now THIS is a CAR!”

Anathema is shaking her head.

“No, wait, listen, I have it,” You say, and everyone turns to look at you expectantly. “It’s the only logical option here. It fits the vintage vibe that you two like, and it’s the most reliable car I know of aside from Bentley.”

“Well go on,” encourages Anathema, “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“What we need is a 1967 Chevy Impala!”

And THAT, dear Reader, is how you find out that none of them have seen Supernatural. Or heard of it, even. Criminal, really. You resolve to make them watch it next chance you get. In the end, Anathema suggests a very practical SUV and well, you’ve all learned not to argue with her by now.

Honestly the woman needs a cake for putting up with the three of you.

Also, as it turns out, one of the perks of having a current car model is that you can sync up your playlist to the bluetooth. So guess who ends up in charge of the music.

“And THIS one,” You say, flicking through your playlist, “Is a song that was suggested for the Season 3 playlist by Neil Gaiman himself!” And you press play on The Book of Love. And you watch their faces. You want to see their reaction when it gets to the part about wedding rings.

“Are all of your songs for us love songs?” Aziraphale asks. He stopped complaining about your taste in music an hour ago. Crowley is driving, and Anathema has been zoned out for a while now.

“Uuuummm, the ones that aren’t breakup songs you mean? Pretty much yeah.”

Crowley groans.

“Except for like, Queen and Hozier.”

Crowley groans again.

“I thought you liked Queen,” You are shocked and alarmed. Crowley rolls his whole head (probably because you wouldn’t see him roll his eyes behind his sunglasses).

“Go on then,” he says, “Which Queen songs do you have on that playlist of yours?” He glares at you through the rearview mirror. Suddenly, you hesitate.

“Um...Somebody to Love, and Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy,” You finish meekly. Crowley nearly crashes the car. Whether it was on purpose or not doesn’t matter. Anathema takes the wheel and he gets demoted to the back seat. Next to you. As a peace offering, you hand him your phone with your spotify open, and let him take charge of the music. You feel that you might not survive the ride otherwise.

Google Maps pegs the estimated driving time from NYC to New Orleans at 19 hours. Splitting the driving between a demon and a responsible human woman, the four of you manage a respectable 12 hours including a number of breaks to: use the washroom, get coffee, get food, look at the view, poke around a used bookshop, pick some apples, eat the apples, and buy some fudge. Crowley refuses to admit that he may or may not have stopped time once or twice, and Aziraphale refuses to account for your sudden bursts of energy from time to time (conveniently and suspiciously whenever there was a stop he was interested in).

So, having made excellent time, all four of you arrive in New Orleans. Crowley is back at the wheel now, and he pulls the car into the parking lot of The Ritz. Because of course it’s The Ritz again. Anathema doesn’t even comment this time. You figure she was probably expecting it. Learning fast, that one. You check in, and aren’t all that surprised to find that you’ve been booked into the fanciest suite in the place once again. According to the pamphlet at the front desk, this suite is supposed to only be two rooms, but when you arrive, you find that it actually contains 3. Why? Supernatural beings who influence their surroundings.

“You really do have some expensive taste,” You say casually to Aziraphale as you place your bag on the floor.

“It was Crowley who booked this one,” the angel replies, inspecting the knick-knacks on a shelf to his left.

“Crowley? Trying to impress you, no doubt.”

“Pft!” Comes Crowley’s response from behind you, “Right, and not at all because to get up here you need a special passkey, which keeps unexpected guests few, far between, and easy to notice.” He gives you a pointed look over his sunglasses. “We’ve been lucky so far that we’ve been left alone since Heathrow. But don’t think for a minute that he won’t be back.”

“That’s...fair.” You pause and think for a minute. “Then we should probably limit going out too. Unless we really need to.”

“That would be best, yes,” Anathema agrees, “But please, leave the hotel staff alone.”

Well, honestly she could only expect that request to go so far once Aziraphale found the room service menu.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow lasts forever #fanatic intervention #part 12 #let's write #poll fic #choose your own adventure #good omens 3 #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ineffable fandom #good omens season 3 #anathema #anathema device #we're all in this together #come play with us #cast your vote #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writeblr

[elvenbeard]

OC INTERVIEW - VINCENT EZAKI

(I was tagged by @cybersteal and @arcandoria for this a long while ago, and got real carried away with this idea xD also inspired by everyone else who took the "interview" bit a bit more literally, so yes! :D thank y'all for the great ideas and being an inspiring af fandom!)

Juanita Tseng: V, thank you so much for taking the time today, so happy to have you here! Let me ask, is that your full name?

V: Hah. Well, obviously not, but it’s served me well for many years now.

J: Any special story behind it?

J: What’s not a secret is that most of our viewers only know you as “mystery man” so far, at least that’s how the scream sheets often choose to refer to you. How do you feel about that?

V: Well, nothing I could say against either. I like my privacy and I’m a man, so they got that right at least.

J: Hahaha, that’s fair! Even more so I’m glad we’re getting the opportunity to get to know you a bit better today. As I told you in advance, there’s some burning questions our viewers have, and everyone’s been eagerly submitting them already as we speak. So, without further ado, let’s get to the first one. When is your birthday?

V: It’s in June, but I’d like to leave it at that.

J: Interesting! Gemini or Cancer?

V: Whichever is the one that comes first.

J: That’s fair! Alright, how tall are you?

J: Who is taller?

V: Me of course.

J: Of course! Okay, next question… Ah! Let’s stay on the topic of Kerry for a moment longer. From my last interview with him we know you two met through a mutual friend.

V: That’s right.

J: How did it go? Was it love at first sight, or more of a slow burn?

V: Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him when we first met. But it wasn’t love at first sight, no, more… curiosity. We crossed paths a few more times, also thanks to that friend, and got to know each other better like that. We just clicked. That’s all there is to it really.

J: Awwww, that's so sweet! Now, it’s no secret that Kerry has led a quite adventurous life and there is a bit of an age gap separating you. So, I gotta ask:

J: Only men?

V: Yup. And now the next question please, cause none of it matters.

J: Hahaha, sorry, I know I’m such a tease! But we gotta ask our viewer’s questions! Speaking of which, one of them is curious about your upbringing and cultural heritage!

V: Now that’s a 180° turn. Born and raised in and by Night City. Can’t say much about cultural heritage, as it’s a bit of a mix of many things.

V: Mh-hm.

J: Let me see… would you be up for some quick shotgun-style questions?

V: Ready when you are.

J: Favourite season?

V: Anything that doesn’t involve sandstorms.

J: Favourite flower?

V: Lotus.

J: Favourite Scent?

V: Clean bedsheets.

J: Average hours of sleep?

V: I aim to get at least 7.

J: Numer of Blankets you sleep with?

V: One or none.

J: Favourite Fictional Character?

V: Oh no, uuuhh… Hmm… No, I can’t just choose one.

J: Haha, that’s alright. Would you say you’re a bit of a nerd?

V: Oh yeah, unashamedly. Me getting started about my favorite fictional characters would be a whole interview on its own.

J: Anyway, that’s right on cue, we’re almost out of time for today! I think we could fit one… no, two more questions!

V: Alright, let’s hear ‘em.

J: What would be your dream trip?

V: Hmmm… Kerry asked me to come along for his tour next year. I imagine that could be fun.

J: Oh, definitely! By the way, dear fans, don’t miss out on buying your tickets!

V: Maybe.

J: It’s been really nice to have you here today, V!

V: Thanks again for the invite.

J: As you know, I like to end my show with a random fact, something fun I’ve heard about in the past week or something about myself! Would you like to share a random fact with the viewers today?

V: I try.

J: Haha, well, I'm glad you found your way to my little studio, too! As I said, would love to have you over again anytime!

########## a few minutes later ##########

##############################

Thank you again for the tags! This was so much fun and really turned into its own thing beyond an OC ask meme XD I did this meme before with some slightly different and/or more in-depth answers for anyone curious [here] cause like stated back then, how Vince replies to personal questions always strongly depends on who's asking. And he might be more or less truthful about the information given or keep it all very surface-level instead, too.

For this lil story here the idea was obviously that the whole interview is basically just a promo thing for Kerry's upcoming tour xD So of course Vince is gonna support his bf if it helps boost ticket sales XDD A year earlier he might not have done it even then, because he was veeery reluctant about having their relationship be known beyond telling their closest friends. But here at this point some time in mid-to-late 2078, he'd feel secure enough with his life, their ilfe really, that he wouldn't mind being seen in the public together like this and also "outing" himself like that in front of a larger audience, for lack of a better word. It's the character growth and support of each other and a love language and everything \o/

Also: not sure who to tag at this point cause I think most of you already did this, but if you're reading this and havent answered all of Juanita's questions for your OC yet, consider yourself tagged!

#cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x v #cp2077 #Cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk v #male v cyberpunk #virtual photography #cyberpunk vp #oc ask memes #vincent ezaki #otp: to bad decisions #my vp

[pterygoidwalk]

DE2 VR

I've been playing with an idea for a DE sequel for a while I've been calling Video Revachol. just for fun, don't jump up my ass about any of this.

Disco = to learn and Disco Elysium = To Learn Elysium. Video = to see, so Video Revachol = To See Revachol; the story would involve tracking down Harry all over Revachol, starting at the Video Revachol rental store he kept having nightmares about.

here's more

A week after the Hanged Man case, Harry goes missing. You play as Kim, and the game kicks off with Jean visiting P57 to ask if you have any idea where Harry could have gone since you were the last person to spend any significant time with him in his new post-amnesia state.

This solves an issue I've had with the idea of a Harry POV DE sequel, that would have to pick a "canon" ending from DE to spring off of. Jean will interview Kim for details on how Harry was acting and you can describe any kind of Harry you played (or make one up wholesale), explaining to Jean what he was worked up about politically, whether he was sober or not, how well he did his job etc etc. Basically a more detailed version of Kim's assessment at the end of DE but the player is the one dictating it. This impacts what Harry is doing while MIA.

Regardless of the Harry you describe, Jean recruits Kim to help him search for him because a missing police officer is a huge deal, esp one as unstable and erratic as du Bois. Just like Kim does in DE, Jean can suggest where to go next and discuss the case with you as your partner. He obviously has a lot of insight into how Harry thinks, but you aren't dealing with quite the same Harry he's used to.

See this post for an explanation on the modified clothing mechanics Kim and Jean have. They don't steal clothes like Harry does, so you're limited to clothes they already have or can get thru legitimate means. Kim can mod some clothes he finds if they aren't too dirty or stupid looking.

The plot follows a search that goes all over Revachol, starting at Video Revachol and Harry's nearby apartment and then going from there.

Kim has his own set of skills and thought projects, but you aren't starting with a clean slate like Harry. Instead of amnesia, Kim's got a lot of repression and mental blocks compartmentalizing things that will take time to open up. One of the big ones is what happened to his old partner, Eyes.

Dominic "Eyes" Aguilar was Kim's satellite officer. The two of them were close, and it is very vague initially what happened to him. Kim *refuses* to dwell on it, and you'll need to complete a few mental exercises to even let him meditate on the subject. There are hints that Eyes might have been killed, others that he died of an overdose, or that he just quit or was fired. This is a parallel to Harry and Dora, but different because whatever happened to Dom happened very recently. Kim has not been dealing with it in a healthy way. Lots of phantom Doms crop up visually and as auditory hallucinations; his absence is fresh and Kim hasn't adjusted to it.

This affects his dynamic with Jean, a recently orphaned satellite officer. Kim tries to keep him at arm's length emotionally and you can do that successfully, or you can let Kim open up to him. I like the idea of it mirroring the "gruff older man adopts a lost child" trope that was popular in the 2010s, but the lost child is a 34 yr old cop with depression and anger issues.

Other story beats I keep thinking about:

At some point the Kineema is taken out of commission (either damaged or Kim's captain rescinds authorization to use it for some reason), so they take Harry's old motorcycle with a sidecar, inspired by this one sketch by DE's art director. Kim is a huge fan, and Jean... isn't.

When unable to tag along with Kim, Jean has a cop horse he rides around. This way he can leave the scene for various reasons without taking Kim's transport option away. Her name is something stupid like Pookie or Cookie and Jean loves her even tho she's mean. Kim does not like horses and will not attempt to ride her even if prompted.

What happened to Harry is determined by the description you give of him in the beginning. It all has something to do with the Shivers visions telling him about the very terrible thing that's going to happen to Revachol if he doesn't stop it (or, if you described a particular type of Harry, he might be trying to expedite it in a way where he'll come out with some power over what's left)

Kim has a decomptage but it's in disarray after losing Eyes. His team is also majority young women, which gets him some comments. If you eavesdrop/EDC some of his team you find out there's a whisper network among women in the RCM, and Kim's considered a good guy to work for because, quote, "He won't call you with a love confession at 3 am like the other bellends here". This can cause some conflict for Kim because obviously he wants to be a safe mentor for these officers, but female officers trying to join his team has caused some unneeded scrutiny towards him from the other men at P57. You gonna keep up the feminist thing even if it alienates you from 80% of your blue brothers? huh??

Kim's entire relationship with the RCM is framed like an abusive one. The more Kim leans into the cop identity, the more power he feels but the more paranoid and jumpy he gets. A LOT of his fellow officers treat him like shit and you can even get Kim fixated on the idea that some of his team want him dead and out of the way.

like. fucking obviously i want kim and jean to flirt. It becomes very clear that Jean's lonely and misses Harry, so he tries to get Kim to bond with him. You can shut him down or open up-- this is tied to progress on any of the thought projects/compartmentalization deconstruction relating to Eyes. Kim won't let himself get close to Jean without processing some of that grief.

#video revachol au #idk what im doing with this but it's fun to think about

[lenievi]

Les Misérables, the musical: things I found worthy of note (seen in Prague on 18th May 2024)

Madeleine/Valjean used a cane and limped

in this version, Javert was shorter than Valjean

when Valjean met Cosette in the forest, he kissed her hand. When he took her away from the Thénardiers and dressed her in the black dress, they held hands and skipped away together. It was cute.

during "Lovely Ladies" there were some threesomes with two guys and one girl

during "Master of the House", Thénardier had several cute scenes with Éponine. They danced together on the table.

during the song, when the second guest came, he had a (toy) cat with him. Thénardiers took it, killed it, cooked it, and served it to him (to go with the lyrics)

sad that during the cart scene, Valjean gave his hat and coat to a random policeman who tagged with Javert because Javert was too busy holding his own hat lol

Javert, played by a 74yo guy, has an aura of being absolutely done with the world and oozing holier than thou kind of attitude. He calls Valjean his rival twice in the lyrics. He also does not have long hair in a ponytail, and he has white hair since Toulon. And his Toulon/Montreuil uniform is chef's kiss

Confrontation: when Valjean was like "pls gimme three days", Javert was like "no *scoffs, shaking his head* no". For some reason, the final fight between them (after they stop singing) was missing, so the scene kind of ended in a way that made it seem that Javert let Valjean go. It was funny because he also wore a weirdly exasperated expression.

During the Arras trial, when Valjean takes of his cravat and exposes his chest (he still has the number on it), Javert just looks at him and then orders Champ to be taken away

Marius kissed Éponine's temple (or forehead) during the scene in Paris when we see grown Cosette for the first time

the café was called Café ABC lol

I think I mentioned this before, but they don't wave the red flag in our adaptations (there are reasons for that), they use the French flag. It's reflected in the song ("Do you hear the people sing?") with "the tricolour will fly" and it was also reflected on stage in a really cool way - they were slowly putting red, blue and white pieces of fabric over a gun to form the French flag (and then in the following scenes, they'd have a real one to wave as if they sew it from the fabrics). The three pieces of fabric thrown over the gun made a comeback during "Empty Chairs", where one of the dead guys was carrying it (which to me symbolized the broken dream because the tricolour flag didn't fly, it stayed as three pieces of fabric)

when Éponine was dying, everyone was crying. Little Gavroche was lying on the ground in some women's lap, crying and being comforted. (Javert was sitting on his chair having the expression of pls let this be over already. why am I still here?)

when they captured Javert, they threw him on his knees and Gavroche was then singing right into his face (and those two were the oldest and youngest ones in the cast). It was fun. Gavroche was really small, the boy didn't look older than 10.

one of the barricade guys carried Gavroche on his shoulders almost all the time (and when Gavroche died, he shouted the loudest). And they appeared liked that during "Empty Chairs" too

Enjolras was the last one to die. He climbed the barricade and waved the flag, was shot and fell down. When Javert came to the barricade, he climbed it (then it got turned, so we saw), and Enjolras was hanging in the middle, covered by the flag, and Javert bowed to him and climbed down.

Javert almost picked up the sewers cover haha

when Javert met Valjean again after the sewers, he was using the formal "you" in the song

when it comes to the lyrics and "look down", I liked how well it was done - our lyrics have "I/we want to exist" and I was curious how it would fit the post-sewers song and it did

Javert jumped from the bridge. Like he climbed up the bridge (and yes, the 74yo guy climbed ladders several times during the show) and then "jumped" and a younger guy plopped down on the ground (= into the smoky illusion of Seine) lol

during the curtain call, Valjean and Javert's actors "high-fived" (but it was on the level of their hips). And Javert's actor got six cans of beer which I found funny.

also during "Master of the House" Madame Thénardier's mic stopped working, so the poor woman had to sing without it for a while until a guy in a suit brought her a handheld mic.

#les miserables #leni's nonsense

[k-marzolf]

I’m gonna live forever—three.

Neighbors, hit man!Billy, pagan!reader, hurt/comfort, discussion on childhood trauma, abandonment, abuse, toxic family dynamics, nightmares, PTSD, fem!reader.

819 words.

@terry2227 @rachlovesactors @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @cant-help-simping @bookloverfilmoholic @firequeensposts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @firexfate @rosaleenablack @aoi-targaryen @vaguekayla @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @milea @littleblackcatinwonderland @zz-kennedy @disneyloverjaime @fictional-hooman @tortilla-chips-and-allioli @idaofinfinity @ittybxttykxttytxtty

(I’m trying to make a masterlist but Tumblr won’t cooperate. I hope this appears in the tags)

“Billy?”

“Hmm?” He asked, sitting next to you in front of your altar, candles glowing and flickering against the deer antlers making strange shapes on the wall, as rain hit the window next to you, bathing the room in a gray gloom.

“I used to go hunting with my uncle. He’s dead now, and I have mixed feelings about it. We had a complicated relationship. He hurt me so many times. But I liked his attention, because I was fatherless. And he did things with me, taught me how to shoot. How to fish.” You said, staring into the flickering flames, thunder rumbled.

A chance to see your practice, and he admitted to himself that he was curious. The woman at the group home had been strict about allowing things with magic, so as not to tempt devils. But you seemed relaxed, but Billy had feared hell on his heels as a child.

“I just needed to say it. To get the hurt out,” you adjusted yourself, a deep sigh leaving you, as you played with the flame on one of your candles.

“Is it out?” He asked, voice deep and warm.

“No.”

“I think holdin’ onto a handful of good memories, and romanticizing the person stops you from movin’ on. No use holding onto something that wasn’t there.” He said, shoulders bumping yours, watching your sage burn, a slightly woodsy scent. It must have reminded you of your uncle, in the woods up north, hunting.

Billy only wished he could take his own advice, thinking of his mother, how he held onto her in the hospital, talking to a woman every Saturday who never loved him. But the memories of her before drugs, knitting and counting stitches had himnholding on. What had he done to make her hate him? He had been just a boy.

“I know you’re right,” you said, bringing him back, laying out your tarot cards, but it was easier said than done to let go of a toxic loved one, you both knew.

“You believe in those?” He asked, sounding skeptical, tilting his head and admiring the craftsmanship of the deck, eyes drawn to the Death card, thinking of his work in the Marines, his jaw tightened. He didn’t want to think about those things with you, he wanted to keep his professional life separate from you.

“No, I studied psychology, so I believe in confirmation bias.” You said toying with the Emperor card, almost burning it in the candle. “Oops,” you giggled, blowing on the end of the card. “But they’re fun to play with.” You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips.

The kids outside shrieked and laughed, and the fall leaves and rain blustered on, and they were having fun in the puddles, but you were warm inside with your neighbor, drinking hot apple cider.

“Where’d you get those antlers?” He asked, peaceful for the first time in a long time, it was why he always came to your apartment when nightmares took him. You had become a refuge.

“Artemis.” You teased him, and he huffed, nudging you with his shoulder again, “A boy hunting with my uncle gave them to me. I was maybe ten.” You said, digging through a resin bowl you made, a deep purple. You pulled something out of it.

His stomach fluttered, as you handed him a rose quartz. “So you can sleep tonight. Chase the nightmares away.”

So you knew why he was always up at, why he avoided naps and sleeping altogether. As a Marine, he’d learned to go on very little sleep. He wondered how long you knew. His fingers clutched it, “You’re too soft,” he husked, leaning down to kiss your cheek lingering, endeared by you.

“I know, I could never bring myself to shoot anything, and I cried when I realized where the cows were going at the farm we stayed at. He told me not to name the cows. It would only make me attached. I ended up just doing BB gun tournaments. He resented my softness, my chatter, my inability to sit still. And then he died, he left me,” you began putting your cards away, as the candles burned brighter, wiggling your legs, knee bumping his.

But Billy loved your soft soul, always thinking of others, of him. Even animals. Like Luna, your stray cat you took in. She’d hissed at you, scratching you until you bled, but you continued to feed her, and your gentleness won her over. A difference from the hard, and practical Madani who never believed in magic, or fairy tales. But you looked for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

His soft fairy, living in your small mushroom house with Luna. He wanted to live there with you.

He tugged on your hair. “I want you to be you, otherwise you wouldn’t be worth half as much to me.”

And you were worth plenty.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader