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#like their dynamics with their specific mothers
n-s4kayaky · 2 days
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𝙼𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 (𝙳𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚢! 𝚂𝚒𝚛 𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)
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Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, power dynamics, religious themes, praise, creampie, canon typical violence, possessive Crocodile, belly bulge
Notes: Soooo, yeah, it has come to my mind and how I don't have to write something perverted and horny. So enjoy ε(´。•᎑•`)っ 💕
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Water, the beautiful and elusive water which always flows at will, every living being is aware that water in an ecosystem is vital, it gives life to vegetation, which in turn gives fruit and to living beings, specifically humans. Without the precious water you would be nothing, that is why your city is nothing compared to those around you. You lived in a small town, in the middle of an arid and hot desert which dried your mouth and made your eyes hurt, the climate was deathly hot by day and extremely cold by night; But you had already become accustomed to such temperatures, what you were not used to was the lack of water in your village. Although the other neighboring villages had small lagoons and wells, which provided them with rich water, you were the exception. No matter how hard you dug, the water never emerged from the ground, and even if you were in the middle of the desert it still rained from time to time, but not in you. It had been decades since your town had always been short of water, and everything had a crazy explanation for your liking, the culprit of not emerging water was a deity
The story is immersed in years ago, where your people were nothing more than a tribe, they prayed to various deities giving everyone equal treatment, offering them and building temples and statues in devotion to them, everything was perfect, until the image of a new deity appeared; the deity of the sand, the people gave all devotion and worship to this new deity; But from one day to the next it fell into a rage against the people, destroying the other monuments of the deities and carrying away every drop of water that was in your vicinity, leaving them with nothing. Due to the lack of water and the destruction of the monuments, the citizens became enraged, quickly going to complain to the deity what had created their anger towards them and what was the reason why he had frightened the other gods and carried away the water. Due to the response of the villagers, the anger of the deity increased and it is said that one day he returned the water to the village, flooding it and infesting the waters with large and monstrous crocodiles which ended many lives, and as soon as the water appeared it vanished. From that day on, the name of the sand deity was changed to "Crocodile". The people had no choice but to continue worshipping him for fear that he would wipe them all out, and so it continues to this day
From a very young age you had been told the story by father and mother, always asking and instilling in you the worship of the deity that they feared so much and you followed the beliefs; You didn't do it in worship of God and faith in Him, you did it to keep your people alive. As you grew up, a group of faithful believers armed themselves in your people, such that they fell into the extremism of faith before the wonderful god. They made unpleasant and selfish changes towards the people, always asking at the end of each month for half of the little profit you could afford as an offering to the blessed god, saying that he would be more benevolent towards the people. Their injunctions only made the people even weaker for lack of profit, and as if that were not enough for them they began to force them to give their jewels and gold to the deity, punishing those who could not. The town was indeed in a mess, the people were dying and could hardly contradict themselves to the believing extremists for fear that they or the deity himself would punish them and grant them death.
As was normal, many people fell ill due to the lack of food to be able to afford medicine, and unfortunately many of those sick people were your parents, at that time you were nothing more than a simple child, you left the little study that you had been allowed to start working in the fields with the desperation of being able to afford a simple medicine; But it was too late for your dear parents, and you fell on your deathbed, and left you alone in that dreadful town. During adolescence you barely managed, working for those a little richer in your village, making a living on them and directing your earnings to the extremes. Everything was going moderately well, until today
You were already coming of age and had survived thanks to one of the moderately wealthiest people in the village, working for him while the little income he gave you was destined for offerings. It was the day of the gathering of jewels and goods from the people for the deity, believers went from house to house knocking on doors and taking the jewels while punishing those who gave nothing. There was a knock on the door of your home and you opened it with the small bag of gold in hand, you observed the two men dressed in sand-colored robes waiting in front of your door and one of them stretched out his hand, you quickly handed over the small bag. You watched expectantly as the man opened the bag to see the inside of it, he raised his gaze to his companion and denied him making a shiver run through your body- "It's not enough"- said the second man dryly while looking at you seriously, causing panic to flood your body -"W-what?! That's impossible, it's the amount every month!" - You screamed in panic as you watched the hooded men- "The fee has gone up, we have seen it necessary that our god needs more to have his forgiveness"- Cold sweat ran down your temples as you looked at the two men in astonishment - "More?! Isn't all that we give him enough?" - "Are you questioning the orders and commands that our god gives us?!" - You quickly shook your head as you took a few faint steps backwards, bumping into the half-open door of your home as both men approached you - "No! It's not that, I'd never question it, it's just that it's the only thing I have." - You hurriedly said while you felt how your blood was rushing through your veins, the men looked at each other and then directed their gaze towards you - "Well, in such a case you are lucky that we are making a group of women as an offering to our dear god"- They spoke adoringly at their appointment while touching their cheeks and nose, again a shiver ran through your body, a group of women as an offering?! Before you could reply to ask for a second chance, one of the men grabbed you by the arms tightly, pulling them and pulling a linen rope from his tunic, entangling it around your limbs and pulling them hard, forcing you to walk as if you were a donkey
With an awkward step you followed the men in denial, watching them lead you to the building they had created as a place to pray to the deity. They opened the great gates and forced you in as they walked through the gloomy building, you watched in terror as the large number of men in robes knelt in long lines as they prayed to a statue of a bust with a face barely recognizable due to the damage to the stone. The two men who were carrying you led you to a room, in which there were five other women, untangled the ropes that were in your arms and threw you at the feet of the others, you let out a groan as you watched as they closed the doors. You rose from the ground as you watched the group of women, a few of them sobbing while others simply knelt and prayed. They kept you inside that room for what were hours until they opened the door. Out of it emerged a group of men in tunics, each wearing different things, and they addressed each one of you. They took your garments and snatched them from you, leaving you naked until they gave you a thin white robe, covering your body quickly. A man took care of one of you, dressing you, and then taking small and fine gold necklaces, putting these around your necks, accompanied by a small gold thread that was wrapped around your neck, a white silk veil was placed over your faces, covering half of them, leaving your lips and nose visible, Letting the rest of the material rest on your head, covering your eyes and so on, it covered your view but you could still see vaguely. Gold chains were meticulously placed on your head to hold the veil, and you stripped off your shoes. Once what seemed to be your body already prepared as an offering, a last man entered the room with a bowl full of sand between both hands while reciting a prayer, he approached each of you, taking some of the sand that was in the bowl and rubbing it in a horizontal line from one cheek. Going through the bridge of the nose to the next cheek
The men gathered around you, believing that you would gather among yourselves like a flock of sheep being gathered by the wolves, they began to walk outside the building, forcing them to follow. They walked up the slope which led to the great andesite temple at the top of the village. As you walked, the men prayed and prayed for the deity until they came to the entrance of the great temple. You stared at the dark entrance as you felt a chill run through your body from head to toe. One of the men stood in front of you as he knelt: "Dear sisters, today more than ever you must feel grateful to your worship for the great god of the sand, your body and soul will be more than a gift to our powerful deity, giving us as a reward his forgiveness and the precious water that he wisely snatched from us. Thank you sir, thank you for taking them and giving others a better future!" - The other men thanked as they quickly knelt to the ground, the man who had recited the discourse in front of you stepped aside as he left the entrance to the temple clear, one by one he entered the grand entrance, having no choice but to enter the temple. You walked down the long, cold corridor of the temple until you came to a large chamber. The large room was illuminated by large chandeliers made of gold, the walls were decorated with drawings of what appeared to be crocodiles and other symbols, the floor was littered with gold and precious jewels as well as baskets of different sizes full of fruits and food which were in a deplorable state. You watched the room in astonishment while the other women stood in a horizontal row around the jewels. You were standing and silence filled the place, frightened enough not to say a word. Minutes passed and everything remained the same, without a doubt all this was a waste of time for you, they would keep you locked up here for days thinking that the god you worshipped so much would forgive you and when they see that the water does not come back they will kill you, that is if malnutrition and dehydration have not done it before
You sighed tiredly and closed your eyes, feeling a strong gust of air flood the room, you opened your eyes surprised by the sudden breeze while you checked the other women, who like you seemed strange. A stronger gust of air accompanied by sand flooded the place, turning off the lights of the temple and leaving you in complete darkness, you gasped and looked at the others again with a bad feeling weighing on your lower back. The blast of sand quickly passed around you, engulfing one of the women. In the blink of an eye, that girl lay on the ground with dry skin and looking as if she were a dry corpse, the others began to scream and cry, going quickly to the exit to run in terror; But the blast was quicker, closing the great door as it began to surround each woman. You watched horrified and motionless in your place as women turned before your eyes into mummified and dried corpses, your breathing began to fail as you watched as that gust of sand approached you slowly, you wanted to react, you wanted to run away, scream, cry; But your body just didn't react, it just left your feet buried in the sand as you watched the pile of sand approach you. You closed your eyes, waiting simply for a painful death; But it never came, just a delicate touch on one of your cheeks. You opened your eyes little by little at such a sensation, seeing the pile of sand settle in front of you as it touched your cheek, you blinked incredulously as the sand rose until it touched the veil that covered your eyes and head, removing it little by little until it threw it to the ground and revealed your face. You blinked several times as the candlelight magically lit up again, letting the gold sparkle again and your vision clearer.
The sand that was on your head came down to your cheek again, you looked at the cluster and opened your eyes to see how it began to materialize in a large hand, its fingers were covered with large gold rings and covered with jewels. Then the hand followed an arm and then the great mass of sand that swirled in front of you became a large muscular and tall body dressed in a sand-colored robe embroidered with gold threads and full of small details in gold and jewels, you fixed your gaze on the free hand, Seeing the lack of this and replacing it was a large hook of pure gold. You had to lift your head to visualize the face of the great man lying in front of you. Beautiful eyes golden like precious metal were staring at your face, the slit-like pupils did not leave your skin, a scar decorated his bronzed face from cheek to cheek, proasting by her nose while a delicate veil of the same color as her robe and embroidered in gold covered her charcoal black hair -"It's you…"- A whisper emerged from her rich lips while her large hand full of rings caressed your cheek with a delicate and trembling touch -"After so long… You're back." - He said incredulously while out of nowhere he was kneeling in front of you, taking you in his strong arms and hugging you with nostalgic affection - "My dear desert flower, I miss you so much.." - You gasped as you stood motionless before his tight embrace, feeling his warm and large body envelop yours smaller - "S-sir… I… I think you're mistaking me for someone else." - You spoke in astonishment and trembling of being able to anger the man you could only recognize as the deity of the sand. His head moved away from the hollow of your neck, lifting his head and piercing those chilling slit-like pupils into your face, examining it for a few seconds, his large hand again moved closer to your face as he touched your skin delicately, being careful not to break your thin skin -"Am I confused? Don't talk nonsense at this point… It's been so long and you tell me such things?.." - He spoke in a thick, harsh tone of voice as he looked down at you from his imposing height - "No! Excuse me, it's just… I am simply an offering to you, I come in the apologetic name of my people so that you, please, give them back the water." - The big man's eyebrow arched as he took a few small steps away from you. His golden eyes swept over your body covered by the robe that had been given to you and shortly after settled on your face, looking at you with what seemed to be slight confusion, a small and serious laugh rumbled from his chest as he shook his head incredulously making it seem as if the ground was shaking - "My dear, you an offering? Don't talk so much nonsense. It's clear you've forgotten our old life, I don't blame you; I'll make you remember everything," he said with the sweet tone dripping from his lips as he took your arm with his big hand and forced your body to stick to his. No, listen, please we need you to give us back the water, there are extremist creinets who are destroying everything and…" - Before you could finish your protests, large lips pressed firmly against yours while the large golden hook gripped its large curve at your hip. His kiss was scorching, full of need and a certain nostalgia as his big tongue went into your mouth, desecrating it and claiming it with possessiveness. His big tongue swirled against yours, starting a dance filled with love and lust. Your senses were quickly overwhelmed by the kiss of the bigger man, having no choice but to reciprocate it awkwardly, opening your mouth while you felt a small trickle of mixed saliva drip down your lips.
His hand swept across your body, running his long fingers over your shoulders, past your collarbones until he reached the valley between your breasts, a shiver ran through your body as your cheeks began to turn red. He broke away from the kiss, watching with delight as a thin thread of saliva connected both lips, quickly his mouth went to your neck, gently kissing it and sticking out his wide tongue, licking a long ditch of your sensitive skin making you gasp. At the pathetic noise that escaped your lips Crocodile couldn't help but growl, licking again that sensitive spot of skin that opened his mouth, revealing his gleaming teeth and four long fangs which quickly pierced the delicate skin of your neck. You let out a groan of pain as your hands quickly reach for his broad shoulders, grabbing and clawing at them as your head moved to the side at the intrusion.Small threads of blood began to run from the bite the man gave you; But they didn't get very far, as his tongue quickly collected the crimson liquid until it left your neck completely full of saliva and with a large teeth mark that was changing from red to purple. Crocodile's head rested in the hollow of your neck, burying his nose in it as he inhaled your sweet scent now mixed with the strong metallic smell of blood, his large hand caressing the section of your breasts, squeezing them through the thin white fabric with his large hand which easily took your entire breast. You gasped with heavy breathing as your eyesight vaguely failed at the sudden small loss of blood—"My sweet wife, I missed your sweet taste so much." - I whisper with that deep voice on your neck, causing a flash of heat to run straight into your core. The huge hook that grabbed your hip rose gently, and in one swift movement you felt the cold air of the room embrace your body, Crocodile had torn off the simple robe with that big hook, leaving you totally naked before the sharp eyes of the great man who hovered in front of you -"Let me see that beautiful body you have, I've missed him so much." -Your nipples quickly erected at the welcome of the room air, the deity's long fingers quickly curled into your sweet erect buds, twisting these as his lips left small hickeys along your neck, slowly going down to your collarbone, toasting it with kisses and small licks, making your body tremble at attention
"Look at you… My little flower is anxious for her god, isn't she, darling? Open those beautiful legs for me so I can see how needy you are darling." - His booming voice made your heart pump hard and blood rush through your body. The hand that was in charge of playing with your sensitive and now lightly red nipples was slowly descending your body, running its large, calloused fingers across your soft belly, caressing it along the way until its large palm hollowed out your already wet pussy. You gasped at the touch as your hand forced your thighs open for it, exposing your wet little pussy and the mount of both thighs already moistened between tiny threads of your fluids. Crocodile's eyes slowly lowered until they landed on your wet pussy already needed by the little attention he had given to your body, he gasped pleased to see your soft folds already wet because of him and couldn't stop his cock from throbbing at the sight. Everything about you was driving him crazy in those moments, he had been longing for your touch, to drink from the sight of your beautiful little needy because of him, he wanted to sink his teeth back into your flesh, to lick your sweet blood that would always surpass any hydromiel they gave him, he wanted to eat you completely, to sink into you in every possible way, he wanted to mark you, that you would never leave his side again, to keep you to himself, to become his sweet little wife, to fill you completely with his cock and his divine cum; I loved you whole. His thick fingers encircled your sensitive clitoris, causing your legs to shake and a moan to escape your throat "Look at you dear, you are soaked, and just for having touched and marked you… I don't blame you my love, I'll take care of you," he whispered on your neck as he gave a long lick to the extension of it, savoring the sweet taste of your skin. His fingers began to circle your clit, fiddling with it as I watched your pussy get wetter and wetter by the minute. You groaned helplessly at him, tremblingly grasping his arm as you tried to look at the man – "N-no… I… Y-you're wro..." - A swift movement of his experimental fingers silenced you with a moan as he lifted his face from the majar of your neck, resting his forehead against yours as he made both noses collide, his large golden eyes fixed on yours as his lizard pupils pierced through your body and soul -"Shhhh, my love don't talk… Let your god take care of this, yes?" - He said in a melodious tone as one of his fingers began to push against your entrance. You moaned choked in lust, trying to speak as Crocodile's big finger pumped your exquisite entrance, you moaned in moaning mode as the man's tongue came out of his mouth, tenderly licking your lips with a slight playful smile – "Just like that honey, do you hear it? Do you hear your wet pussy begging for me?" One of his free fingers began to play with your clitoris again, making you shudder and let out a louder moan, you stared lost in sensations at the man, trying to pronounce some coherent word
A second finger was inserted inside you, making you stand on tiptoe at the sensation of how you were stretched, Crocodile snorted while his forehead remained close to yours, aware of your adorable reactions as I felt his cock tremble against his robe and form a small spot of moisture, he wanted so much to bury himself in your extrexho hole; But I wanted to prepare you enough for him. The speed of his hand increased, making the hand that was gripping his forearm tighter, your legs failed; But the grip of the hook on your waist prevented you from collapsing against it. Her two fingers were already quite overwhelming inside you, they were so big that you felt full to the brim, they kept moving up and down your rubbery walls, opening them up and down while making you shudder at the constant touch on that sensitive point. Crocodile's lips began to kiss tenderly all over your face, giving you encouraging words as his fingers scissored inside you—"My precious girl, you are doing so well. You can't wait for me to fill you with my cock, aren't you?" - He spoke in a honeyed tone while a third finger was slowly inserted along with the others. You arched your back as a high-pitched moan escaped your lungs, Crocodile's lips closed against yours, giving you a loving, lustful kiss as his three fingers quickly boomed your moist inside. Everything was too much at that moment, Crocodile's lips against yours, his tongue tangling against yours, the heat his body gave off against yours and how his big fingers opened your insides to him.
A second finger was inserted inside you, making you stand on tiptoe at the sensation of how you were stretched, Crocodile snorted while his forehead remained close to yours, aware of your adorable reactions as I felt his cock tremble against his robe and form a small spot of moisture, he wanted so much to bury himself in your extrexho hole; But I wanted to prepare you enough for him. The speed of his hand increased, making the hand that was gripping his forearm tighter, your legs failed; But the grip of the hook on your waist prevented you from collapsing against it. Her two fingers were already quite overwhelming inside you, they were so big that you felt full to the brim, they kept moving up and down your rubbery walls, opening them up and down while making you shudder at the constant touch on that sensitive point. Crocodile's lips began to kiss tenderly all over your face, giving you encouraging words as his fingers scissored inside you—"My precious girl, you are doing so well. You can't wait for me to fill you with my cock, aren't you?" - He spoke in a honeyed tone while a third finger was slowly inserted along with the others. You arched your back as a high-pitched moan escaped your lungs, Crocodile's lips closed against yours, giving you a loving, lustful kiss as his three fingers quickly boomed your moist inside. Everything was too much at that moment, Crocodile's lips against yours, his tongue tangling against yours, the heat his body gave off against yours and how his big fingers opened your insides to him.
Crocodile's lips parted from yours, directing them to your forehead and giving her an affectionate kiss - "That's my girl, cumming for me.." - He spoke with delight as he slowly withdrew his fingers from you, feeling strangely empty as you squeezed into nothingness. Crocodile's wet fingers went up to his face, opening them slightly, being able to blur the threads of your arousal by creating small rows – "Look at this darling. Look how wet you are now, without a doubt you will be able to take me without any problem my love" - she said lovingly while she brought her fingers to her lips, opening them and starting to lick your sweet nectar as if it were the most luxurious drink. A growl escaped his lips at your taste and he slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, watching you with a gaze laden with lust and pleasure. Her body gently separated from yours, starting to remove her luxurious robe to reveal her naked body, your eyes wandered over her ample pecs to her chiseled belly until you opened your eyes at the sight of the monstrous erection standing proudly against her belly, dripping from a semi-transparent liquid. A chill ran down your spine at the sight of the man's big cock, was that going to fit inside you? You weren't entirely sure. Crocodile seeing your hesitation and slight fear in his eyes took you in his arms, pressing your back against the nearest column while his glans pricked your entrance and moistened it with his pre-cum -"My love, don't be scared, you're ready, you're going to take me very well"- I whisper with love in your ear while you felt how little by little I was entering your moist interior. You let out a moan of a mixture of pleasure and pain at the great intrusion into your body, you could only feel his big cock slowly splitting you in two. Crocodile grunted at the embrace of your tight walls, slowly sheathing into you until he hit rock bottom, making them both gasp. The man closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, controlling himself so as not to hit you hard against that column before your exquisite interior, his hand snaked to your belly caressing it and smiling proudly when he felt the lump that was peeking out, starting to caress it while his lips kissed your neck -"You get along with me so well my love. Do you feel me? You feel my big cock sticking out of you, huh honey?"Again everything was overwhelming, the sound of both skins touching, Crocodile's grunts against your neck, his big cock pounding inside you. The hand on your belly began to quickly brush against your clitoris, causing you to lose your composure as your small hands gripped the man's shoulders tightly. An experimental swipe of his cock along with his fingers moving against your clit made your body give way, cumming around Crocodile's cock, making you arch your back and throw your head back
Your body fell limp against hers as you listened to Crocodile's grunts and as if cock trembled inside you – "Honey you feel so good around me… Now let me finish, love." With that said, his hips began to move rapidly against yours, leaving you halfway out and re-entering all at once. Your head fell backwards as you groaned at their hard thrusts and overstimulation, you could feel your back scraping against the great column and how it could drift into any momentum on you; but it seemed that didn't matter in the slightest to the man, slamming you flawlessly against the stone – "That's honey… Just a little longer and I'll fill you with my seed, you'll be mine… My wife, you want that right love, say it, say it."- Her bright golden eyes landed on your trembling body, still moving her hips quickly. His hand gripped your cheeks, forcing you to stare at him as his cock pounded your cervix – "Say it my love, say you want to be my wife, say you want me to fill you with my seed" – "And-I… Please make me yours… Fill me, make me your wife," you said between babblings as you stared lost in lust in the man. He let out a low growl and his teeth sank back into the soft skin of your neck, giving one last push to his hips and filling your insides completely with his abundant cum. You gasped at the amount and the bite, Crocodile's lips absorbing your skin while thick strings of cum continued to shoot inside you, filling your uterus to the full.
Soon Crocodile lay next to you, taking your hips and sticking his body to yours, hugging you lovingly as his eyes looked at you with pure adoration. His hand moved up to your cheek, touching it and putting a strand of your hair behind your ear as he kissed your forehead lovingly
"My desert flower, I am so happy to have you back in my arms… You are my wife now and there will be nothing to separate you from me, I promise my dear." -
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im-getting-help · 2 days
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AND THE THING ABOUT OLIVER AND BOUNDARIES!
Is so obvious to me that his parents were party at fault for his lack of boundaries. Not because they we're malicious and intentional about it, but because they loved him so much they tend to cross his limits.
(Kinda like what Oliver did with Felix, but less obsessive).
From my experience it's something relatively normal about the relationship between parents and their children. The first time we really understand boundaries is when we enforce them to separate ourselves from our parents expectations. It seems to me that Oliver never learned how to do that. He's constantly molding himself to appease and appeal, and when it becomes to much, he flees.
Let's go back to the little things Paula and Jeff share with us in that brief birthday scene.
"He always wanted to be an only child, always beetling off by himself"
"He was so clever, that's why he found it hard to make friends, they were jealous".
"It's been hard not seeing him. But it must be a lot of pressure being the top scholar and being in the rowing team, and the union, and the plays..."
Let's start with the lies.
How long ago Oliver started lying to his parents to make space for himself?
Cause the lies don't necessarily feel like something he used to impress them. It seems to me like the Quicks already thought Oliver was exceptionally smart "he was always so clever" and he's just keeping appearances.
But the amount of things he said he did. The plays, the rowing team, the union, the work of studying to maintain the "top scholar position" like reading, doing work and essays and projects, assisting to classes, lectures and tutorials, it's a lot!.
"It's been hard not seeing him". How many times Paula called just to be ignored or quickly dismissed? with an excuse like "sorry i have an essay due tomorrow" or "im going to practice for the play". And why Oliver wanted to separate himself so much from his family?
"He always wanted to be an only child, always beetling off by himself" why would Oliver wanted to separate himself not only from his parents but his siblings too?
The Quicks said that "We go to to Mykonos every year. Well, not anymore. Not now that the kids are all grown up". That makes me think that Oliver sisters are older than him. Oliver doesn't seem to have a close relationship with them either. Was it because of the age gap? How much older were her sisters? Maybe they had to babysit and that created a second-mother kind of dynamic?
It sounds like he was being smothered by them. And again, i'm not saying it was intentional, but maybe Oliver needed much more space that what the Quicks were able or willing to give. And he didn't know how to ask.
And maybe (only maybe cause i don't really have good foundation for this) Oliver learned that the best way to get space from them was saying he was occupied, specifically studying. So maybe it started at school, him saying that he had to finish homework or read a book or do project, and maybe these were the only times he'll be left alone. Maybe that was the perfect excuse to explain why he didn't have many friends too.
(and i wonder why a kid with no sense of boundaries would have a hard time making friends 👀)
And why Oliver keeps lying?
After moving to Oxford, he could've just draw back and create that space without making an excuse. But he didn't, because he cares, he likes that his family thinks he's intelligent and capable. But he doesn't care for spending time with them.
I don't think he said all those lies to look especially intresting or important, but he did choose to "be occupied" by being a good student. Not in a "i won an award for best performance" but a "I'm too busy to talk, i have tutorial"
And look at the way the Quicks react to Oliver saying he has to go, is very interesting.
Paula just gives up instantly. She offers a compromise, and when rejected she's obviously frustrated but she just lets it go. On the other hand Jeff tries to reason with his son a little "your mother spent all morning doing lunch" but they seem very accustomed to this situation. It's not the first time Oliver escapes a conversation.
So, to me, is obvious that Oliver's parents knowingly or unknowingly contributed to Oliver's lack of healthy boundaries.
He never really draw the line with them, he just made excuses to avoid and elude and ultimately flee when the situation got out of hand. And they never picked up on it, they kept repeating the same scenarios multiple times without having a conversation about it.
I feel like his parents never really confronted him about anything. Maybe because they didn't sense anything was wrong, maybe because, same as the Cattons, they didn't know how to approach the situation or maybe because they know Oliver gets really fcking upset whenever they tried to have a conversation about it, who knows.
So at the end we have a 20yo dude who never learned how to enforce a boundary or why is healthy to have them and has absolutely no idea how to perceive and not cross others limits.
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finally got to read onk 136 and wow. okay.
love the understanding we're slowly getting of just how bad things were in first gen b-komachi! that fight is incredibly real and heartbreaking to witness
nino, in her own way is trying out of sheer desperation and a whole emotional cocktail to reach out to ai, to find something, letting loose all her bottled up feelings in one go but all she's getting back are practised perfected smiles and deflecting answers in response to the emotion shes pouring out because ai has no idea how to handle this because shes never had friends nor any major fight before so she's falling back on the "smile and please everyone" tactic but it isnt working here because that isnt what nino wants to hear so she gets even more hurtful but ai doesn't know that so all she can do, all she can try right now is smile and its a slow suffocation of everything that could've been because they were friends but now the cracks go too deep and can't be patched up at all because ai is now dead and nino is left with a bunch unresolved feelings that still affects her more than a decade later
its just so heartbreaking and frustrating to witness just exactly how everything culminated into what it is now because no one who could have did anything about it either, not even their manager which pushed the singular star - everyone else is just a side actor narrative even more
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
continuing on, kana's detachment yet empathy with nino as she observes from a distance while ruby is very much embodying ai, being her instead of keeping herself separate. kana knows herself and now she's able to sort out her hidden feelings easier now that she has an outlet in form of nino (she uses her own emotions for acting after all) but ruby with her years of grief and the sudden understanding of ai...yeah she is Not handling this well at all someone please get her out of there
this movie in terms of Ai Potrayal is getting worse and worse by the second oof
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alien-ally · 5 days
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i dont watch a lot of shows, but its been a while since i saw such an emotionally charged confrontation in a bl show. i believe great acting can elevate any confrontation scene (even if the conflict was contrived) but uh here, we knew this all along. we knew the pain was coming, i did, it was delicious, and braced for impact but i still am in shambles. wei lili packing random packets of food from the house for yuan, unable to focus on eating when yuan sits with that face, getting him to pass stuff just to talk to him. a resounding 'tell me, what's wrong?'. never have siblings been so real lol. also, i deeply appreciate the character of Sanpang, cause i think he's supposed to be the reflection of society, but in a far more gentler, loving way for he actually does care for both of them. lol he himself doesn't know 'what's wrong' exactly, just that something should be cause yk it's Wei Qian. also, he's far more nicer than in the novel i've heard. and not homophobic at the very least.
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anghraine · 1 year
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Maybe it's just because I'm sleepy and my brain is tired and irritable, but I do wish fandom in general weren't so absolutely intent on casting all familial or quasi-familial relationships into some near approximation of US nuclear family idealization.
Acting as a caretaker for a child doesn't automatically make someone their "real parent" or "adopted parent" or "any parent at all" if the child doesn't see them that way. These caretaking relationships can be messy, begrudging, or essentially coercive (in both fiction and IRL, and in life, forcing children into situations where "they'll be taken care of" is often coercive and/or predatory).
And sometimes a caretaker adult, whether a natural parent, adoptive parent, some kind of guardian, or more amorphous caretaker, is ... bad, actually. It's understandable for the children they take care of (whether literal children or now-adult people who experienced it previously) to have had negative experiences they have complicated feelings about, to have complicated feelings about their caretakers that may not distill down to "real parents", to be capable of harsh criticism of their former caretakers, even if they love them.
Sometimes it is the simpler scenario where a child is adopted and it looks very much like a conventional "nuclear" relationship (though even then, the child can have more complex and inconvenient feelings than they're often supposed to have). But—okay, I may be biased from coming from a family that was licensed for foster care, which saw a lot of children essentially forced into foster care with varying complicated feelings about it that didn't always equate to "this person who looks after me is my mother"—even after a long time, sometimes.
And there's frequently a nasty pressure on children placed in "care" to either reach out to their birth or adoptive parents, or to wholly turn their backs on them and accept their current caretakers as the only parents who matter. But usually things are messier than that. You can care about a caretaker, you can respect and love them, and still not feel like you're their child. Or maybe you do! It just depends.
This can happen with siblings as well, especially when there's a big age difference—yeah, one of the siblings may be functionally filling the shoes of their parents as well as they can, but it doesn't necessarily make them actual parents in the eyes of their younger siblings (or themselves). It can, but doesn't have to. Or maybe it's something messier, like when the relationship is almost parental, but not quite, and the exact nature of the dynamic is hard to pin down.
There's also the case where the relationship may have been parental at one point, but one of the parties (usually the caretaker) burned bridges so badly that the child (often an adult at this point) cuts ties and doesn't deny that the caretaker filled a parental role back then, but wholly rejects it as any kind of current reality. This can happen with biological family, but also with looser caretaker relationships as well (esp the cultier ones).
I'm thinking of a lot of fandom examples of these kinds of indeterminate caretaker-child (or former child) relationships, where either we know or have good reason to believe the child doesn't regard a former caretaker as exactly the same as a parent, or we just don't know what the nature of the relationship is, and fandom will be absolutely insistent that the only possible way to read it is parent-child.
And also, sometimes there's nothing wrong with the caretaker relationship, but it's still not parent-child. It simply doesn't map onto this parental mold that fandom tries to box all adult-child caretaking relationships into, because family is more complicated than a single, very simplistic model allows.
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haunted-doodles · 7 months
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not really the type who likes posting their ocs much but here's a Nim :}
#no tags because idk how to tag oc posts- also this account DO just be for saving my art in case my pc ever breaks.#but he's one of my favourite characters i have rn#and the junk hunters in general honestly their dynamic is my favourite.#two old gay men. One (Viktor) who lingers a little on the past but is happy and content as to where he is in the present#the other (Atlas) still mourning his dead mother and having left his abusive home.#A trans girl (Inky) who grew up in a perfectly normal household but became agoraphobic; before being ripped from her home and forced into#outside world#and Nim. someone who grew up in a trash zone with nothing to eat but garbage and is living her best life in the present.#they're literally blorbos from my brain ESPECIALLY the world they're apart of too because GOD i love it so much#What Nim's holding is called a Liabell; most if not all mosnter hunters have them for mobility.#the liabells dont work without a lullader (small-neon glowing stone looking spiders basically) inside. as it uses their incredibly tough we#to pull#but Nim's a cloven (deerways) so she's already got pretty good agility and uses their's for moreso rangling monsters.#i have SUCH a cool scene that I wanna draw (but doesn't fit my style- so i gotta commission it for sure)#where they're standing atop of an elk-like monster#and he's like- spun webs of the liabell around it's horns and its incredibly firey and its night and#GAHH#Nim's liabell isn't even like- purple- his lullader is- the liabell is clear glass with weathering copper when the lullader isnt in it.#I'm so normal about this world and all the races I've made for it. Because simply being a different race means they might use their#tools differently or not need specific ones#for example: I've got one character in my mind that's a possae (something inhabiting another thing basically) and they're a skeleton#with this massive glowing pulsating mass in it's ribcage and its all cowboy motif. (I'm thinking angel posessing it and handing out#their own retrobution in the West Zone)#and basically they use a Liabell similar to Nim but it's a lasso and they have several of them to help tie up more people.
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bitterborne · 5 months
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❝ you deserve so much more than what you were given. ❞ from @hazardes !!
THE MAIN STAGE IS EMPTY, FOR ONCE, THE ANIMATRONICS OTHERWISE OCCUPIED. Michael — Mike, he tells himself firmly, though it’s hard to shed his father’s strict dislike for nicknames — chooses the corner to sit anyway, broad back pressed against the thin wall and knees brought up to his chest. It feels a little more bearable like this, everything that’s happened, though the sight of the empty pizzeria while NOT being in the security office is still incredibly unsettling. Not for the first time, he wonders how Vanessa copes with it: and then is instantly reminded that they’ve been in the exact same position. Though his father doesn’t often let him in the pizzeria past closing time unless it’s to keep watch, which he always does from that same office. The sight of the half empty drink can and the faded, festering posters are more familiar and comforting than anything he’s seen here in this timeline […] though the knowledge that the oldest Afton child cannot escape their father in any universe is disheartening.
“I dunno,” he says, evasive, and focuses on twisting the cheap metal ring around his middle finger, unable to look at Vanessa, “I’ve done— I’ve done a lotta bad things. Sure, life was shit, but—”
But he loved me, at least. I don’t know if your father loves you.
It’s complicated. Mike’s eyes burn with it all, though later he’ll blame the stage lights. He’d never believed his father loved him until he’d arrived here, in this timeline where so much is different but so much is the same — no Charlie, but a missing Garrett. No Michael . . . But Vanessa instead. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it all, and sure, things had been awful, but had they been this bad?
In fairness, maybe this is what other people see when they look at him. Isn’t it always easier to see the flaws in someone else’s relationship than see the flaws in your own? Headache forming, one hand lifting to rub insistently at his forehead and sweep away the thoughts and dark floppy hair he hasn’t managed to make presentable in years, Mike continues:
“I got out.” Mostly, anyway. Though his father asks and Mike still comes crawling, switching from thirty-three to thirteen again in an instant at the sound of his father’s orders. When he meets her eyes, there’s an earnest kindness, a world-weariness beyond his years— “You’re still stuck cleaning up after him. You don’t deserve that. When was the last time he even thanked you, huh?”
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first of all I love that Syd actually speaks Spanish for Tina sometimes. second of all I love that Tina thinks so well of Syd.
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vonaegiremblem · 2 years
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For how frequently I see people discuss the influence of Earthbound and Mother 3, I'm surprised I have not seen or heard of any games trying to expand upon the rolling HP system, which is a shame because I think it has a lot of potential. Consider, if you will, a game where each character has a different rolling HP mechanic. You could have someone who's HP rolls slower than everyone else's, but the amount taken off each tick grows exponentially. If you don't pay attention, they can go from taking 2->4->8 damage to taking 64->128->256 and dying. Of course, the increase per scroll could be adjusted for balance (and you could use other sequences, like Fibonacci's). You could have a character where the speed at which their health scrolls is inversely proportional to the amount of damage they received from the enemy's last attack. It's easy to imagine, then, a semi-scripted moment in a boss encounter where the boss uses a party-wiping move, but this character is still left standing because the attack did so much damage that their HP literally does not scroll.
Naturally, you can also use this for characterization. A character who wants to "play the hero" could have HP that ticks slowly, but only when it's their turn. If you make it scroll especially fast when it's anyone else's, you can create the feeling of them pushing everyone else to rush their turns so that they get their chance in the spotlight sooner. Taking the opposite of one of the above ideas, you can have a character who brags about their strength and machismo be a total fraud by having them shrug off small hits, but then absolutely crumple with their HP spinning at max spend whenever they're hit by anything that does a decent amount of damage.
You can even spice things up occasionally by playing around with the base concept of "you don't take the full brunt of damage immediately." You could have a character who's health doesn't roll and takes damage instantly, but all damage is delayed by a couple turns. To balance this, you could make healing items and spells be substantially less effective on them, or perhaps have it only active in certain conditions or when specific resources are used.
I don't know about you guys, but I find this to be a kind of fun thought experiment. It's interesting to come up with these ideas and try to balance them and see how they play off each other, and I'd like to see more post-Mother RPGs mess with the way health works because outside of Undertale and Deltarune, I really haven't seen much
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doodlebeeberry · 1 year
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bee , could you talk about your stella / hansen family in general head canons... i saw it in your tags once on ao3 and now im curious
It’s like 3 am so apologies if this isn’t coherent or is just a scattered mess. Also most of these are not very happy sorry
- Stella n Bryce’s relationship with their mom was. Rocky for a long while. She was kinda one of those folks who just wasn’t really cut out to be a parent. She didn’t dislike em, not by a long shot, but it took her a long time to deal w her issues enough to really be a proper parent to them, in a meaningful way.
- the three of them did eventually reach an ok place though. There was still a definitive distance, but when bryce was like a sophomore in high school or so they started reconciling a bit
- I maintain my old headcannons that the extended hansen family is Big. He has like a billion cousins but he hasn’t seen the majority of them in years. I do think he tries to reconnect with some of them at least like wayyy after one is over tho.
- bradley is like. A family friend on stellas side. She was closest with him but eventually he grew into almost a second sibling to bryce after a while
- they lived in the suburbs outside hartford. Can’t be bothered to look up where specifically so just pick the absolute most middle ground neighborhood possible
- stella absolutely taught him how to drive and she did so approximately fifteen minutes before his drivers test
- at some point bryce became the one in the house who cooked, mostly cause he was the only one who was particularly good at it. For a brief period of time, probably when he was like a senior, the three of them would sorta bond over it as he tried to teach stella n his mom how to not suck at it.
- at one point in that process, not long before stella died, his mom gave him a couple of old family recipes, scribbled on napkins and receipt backs and the like. This was the most solid ground they’d ever had up to that point. He still has them. He refuses to make any of them.
- stella died like three days after he graduated high school, give or take. If I wanna get really specific, and also kinda mean, she died durning a graduation party someone was throwing for him and a couple other kids on the block who’d also graduated. Total freak accident
- To say it put a damper on his relationship with his mom is putting it mildly. About a week after stellas death, Bryce and his mom has a really really nasty fight, both about her death and just about eachother. Lot of poorly-aired grievances and not-so-nice things were said, resulting in both bryce storming out of his own volition and his mom in effect kicking him out. He went south to crash with Bradley for a while, who was (and still is) living around bridgeport. He and his mom haven’t spoken since.
- he was thinking of going to community college. That didn’t happen.
- probably should’ve mentioned this up too but there’s no dad in the picture really. He vanished for one reason or another before bryce was even born rip
- his mom. Is aware of what happen on the smokestack. And she feels. Some sorta way about it I’m sure.
#these are most of the ones that are relevant to losing and finding I think? which is the only fic where I mentioned having hcs about this#I think#skimmed over stellas exact cause of death but it was a car accident. as is the popular interpretation#some guy was going a bit too fast and had to swerve not to hit a critter or somethin. lost control and there you go#maybe it’s just because of how I tend to approach bryces family dynamic but I don’t think his mom was like. an intentionally shitty person#when he was growing up. in the sense that like. she did care about them both genuinely but she wasn’t a caretaker by nature and wasn’t good#with her own limits.#combined with very suddenly becoming a single mother and falling back on a few old vices and things went a bit topsy turvey#I don’t know if that’s how you write out that expression but still#it took time for her to learn how to really. be there. how to be a proper parent to them. and when she did she never really owned up to the#mess so much as she just tried to build over it. she kinda denied it for a while (which is at least in part where bryce gets his denialism#from)#and while eventually she got a bit better at owning up to being a bad parent and such it was never really enough. it was never gonna be#enough#I don’t know if any of that made sense. I’m very sleepy and in my head their relationship is Very Complicated#to say nothing of his moms relationship with stella oh man#we know this woman Exists and that’s it but I’ll be dammed if I don’t hammer together some sorta messy character out of her#I have hyper-specific family headcannons for the whole scentdapack trio#and also charlotte n taylor tho I’d have to think about those a bit more lmao#ask#ask to tag
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blandatlaheadcanons · 2 years
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i think Azula is a partnering aroace
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gem-stellium · 7 months
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can't believe everyone is calling That Man her mom when Louis is right there
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aroarachnid · 2 months
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"but if it were me, I'd really wanna be, a giant woman"
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stevens relationship with gender is so fascinating to me. his entire diamond days arc is a clear trans allegory, but more specifically reads as a transmasc allegory, what with everyone reffering to him as "rose" or "pink" and feminine terms despite his repeated insistence that he is *steven*. and yet he never actually corrects anyone when they use she/her. he only corrects his name. this was pointed out in the tags of that one post youve probably seen:
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this post doesnt show it, but steven is delighted when blue said this. obviously you can read this as steven being glad that shes making an effort, even if incorrect, and is just choosing to let the wrong pronouns slide. but its never explicitly stated. and like i said, he never corrects she/her, he only corrects his name. although it is interesting that, by the time the movie rolls around, the diamonds have switched to he/him.
its also interesting to mention how excited he was to put on pink diamonds outfit, and also how quickly he took it off once he got the chance.
of course stevens relationship with his mother and his identity issues are going to play a big part in how he percieves his gender, given that for a large chunk of the show he actually belived they were the same person, at least to some extent. ("im my mom and my sister?! what kind of magical destiny is this?!). how would you define your "agab" when half your family is telling you that you are a centuries old alien called rose/pink who has no sex and used she/her? not to mention all of the various gender identities and pronouns his fusions have.
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thats not even getting started on how the gems percieve gender, which is to say, they generally don't. gems are sexless beings and their society has no concept of gender, although after spending a long time on earth im sure the crystal gems have a better understanding (i actually could talk about the gems relation to human gender a lot more but ill save that for another time). for steven, a child raised by gems for a good chunk of his childhood- who use feminine terms as a default-i can see how that would lead to some interesting perceptions on gender presentation.
thats not even getting into stevens gender noncomformity. and while gender presentation doesnt necessarily have anything to do with your gender identity, its interesting to note and i just think its really cool that a male protagonist is so unapologetically feminine
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also i could talk for days about connie and stevens knight/princess dynamic, and how it parallels pearl and roses, but in a healthier way that nips the whole "obssesive self sacrifice" thing in the (rose) bud as soon as steven notices it. but then id have to talk about pearl and then wed be here all day lol
so yeah, stevens relationship with gender fascinates me. I mean, does the concept of "cisgender" even apply in the way we usually mean it to, given stevens unique experiences?
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maroon-cardigan · 4 months
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THE LUCKY ONES | steve harrington x fem!reader
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summary: every december you try to forget what happened in christmas 1976, when your parents didn’t show up to pick you up from boarding school and you had to spend the holidays at the harrington’s. steve and you were too young back then to understand the curse that ran through your veins, but eight years later, temptation knocks on your door, and you find yourself fucking the one guy you would’ve never fucked.
oldmoney!steve x oldmoney!reader | enemies with benefits | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.
word count: 23.5k
warnings: this one shot and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. NSFW. christmas angsty smut, basically. mentions of alcoholism & miscarriage, reader and steve got family issues but there’s no violence. hate fucking, kinda mean!steve but also mean!reader (i love a balanced dynamic). public sex. fingering, finger licking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving). use of good girl, spoiled brat, etc. but no degradation.
author’s note: hello ♡ this one shot is my favourite thing i’ve written for this blog so far, and I’m so proud of it !!! this is shamelessly inspired on gossip girl & sooo lana del rey coded. please forgive my basic understanding of american geography. this is a repost, because i had some problems with the tags, so i tagged everyone who interacted with the first post at the end.
masterlist
[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]
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THE LUCKY ONES ♡
People did this kind of thing when they were drunk. Or high. Or worse, people did this kind of thing when they were needy. Not you, though. Never you.
That’s what you thought after the first time you had sex with Steve, wondering what had taken you to fuck the one guy you’d never fuck. Because you couldn’t stand Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t stand you. Yet it seemed like that mutual aversion was what kept you two orbiting around each other after all these years, until the inevitable collision happened.
There was a time where things were different, though. When you were a kid, you almost became Steve Harrington’s friend. You would even dare to say, he was your friend once, the year you had the loneliest Christmas of your life.
DECEMBER 1976.
You had been looking at your shoes for the last couple of hours. Shiny little loafers that your mom got you on your last trip to New York. The Sales Assistant that helped you had smiled at you as you put them on.
‘Every girl, no matter how young or old, deserves some Prada.’ She said.
You smiled back while standing up on your little feet. You walked a straight line, feeling the eyes of your mother on you before you looked back and made an exaggerated pose, making her laugh.
‘I’ll take those as well.’ She said to the girl behind the counter.
On the way out she let you carry the bag with the shoebox inside. She lent you her sunglasses, shiny and black sitting on the top of your little head between your pigtails. In the taxi, you fell asleep on top of her fluffy red coat that smelled like her. It was a good trip.
That’s how you knew something was wrong. Your parents would never forget you at school, specially not on Christmas Eve. The housemistress had helped you pack the day before knowing that your mom would pick you up in the morning. But it was almost noon, and you were still at the dinner hall, sitting all alone waiting for her.
You looked up at the lovely lights of the chandelier above you, short legs hanging from the bench you were sitting on and sight blurry as you convinced yourself that they had abandoned you, and now you’d be spending Christmas with the kids whose parents were too busy working to care about them. That wasn’t you. That had never been you.
The clicking of a pair of heels caught your attention then. A tall, lovely woman of feathered hair wearing a red suit smiled at you. She was beautiful. She was kind. She made you feel safe.
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You said standing up. You weren’t going to cry in front of your parents’ friend, that would’ve been impolite.
‘There you are, sweet thing.’ She said opening her arms when she stood in front of you. You took a few hesitant steps towards her before she embraced you in a hug. Blinking many times and impressed at her warmth, you inhaled her sweet perfume.
Only then you saw him next to her. A little polo under a sweater, hands in his pockets, black hair almost reaching his shoulders. You couldn’t help but blush.
‘Your parents asked me to come pick you up.’ She said breaking the hug. Her warm eyes looked back at you as she stood, leaning to be at the same eye level as you. Her fingers brushed your bangs, removing the hair off your face. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us.’
You knew something was wrong, but you thought it wouldn’t be polite to ask Mrs. Harrington what it was. You walked in your little loafers looking around the Harrington’s house, observing the green and red decorations.
The mansion filled you with a strange sense of sadness, the living room you stood in too similar to the one you wished you were in. You missed home, the voices of the staff saying hello miss whenever you walked in, everyone ready to hug you. There was nothing like that here.
‘I don’t have any dolls.’ You heard him say behind you. You turned around to find Steve with a basket full of toys. ‘But I’ve got dinosaurs.’
You looked at the basket before looking back at him, and he almost got scared at the line that adorned your lips. Steve thought sometimes being with you was like being with the adults. He had hoped that the toys might change your mood.
‘I like dinosaurs.’ You said quietly, sitting on the rug as he imitated you.
‘…Haven’t really spoken to her since then.’ You heard someone murmur.
Steve was making explosion noises next to you, two toys on each hand as he played, and you tried to hear what Mrs. Harrington was saying. From where you were, you could only see her heels, legs crossed as the back of the armchair she was sitting on faced you, and the telephone cord being wrapped and unwrapped by her manicured hand.
‘No. Of course not. She deserves a lovely Christmas.’ She said. ‘Only ten years old, can you imagine? She’s just a baby.’
You frowned at the words of Steve’s mother; certain that she was talking about you.
‘Are you ok–’ You put a hand on his mouth, placing your index finger over yours. Steve simply nodded, the contact of your hand on his skin making his cheeks hot.
Mrs. Harrington sighed.
‘I don’t know. I think he made the decision. And good for him, but he didn’t tell her anything. He just left her a note saying he was leaving her to go to rehab. She’s dealing with the press now.’
You stood up then, walking to the other side of the armchair to face her. Mrs. Harrington jumped at the sight of your little frame; eyes too young to be hiding such darkness behind them.
‘Oh, sweetie!’ She said. ‘K-Karen, I’ll call you later, okay? Or I’ll see you tomorrow either way. Y-Yes. Yes, see you later.’
She hung the phone and gave you a reassuring smile, but you could see the way her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, nervous by the sudden interruption.
‘Are my parents getting a divorce?’ You said.
She had to blink a couple of times before standing up, swallowing hard and rubbing her hands against her lap as she stood in front of you.
‘Stevie.’ She put her hands on your shoulders to walk you back to where Steve was playing. Her skin was freezing. ‘Can you prepare a bath for our little guest? Just how I taught you, please. I’m sure she’s had a long day, haven’t you, sweetie?’
You looked up at her behind you. Calm smile, beautiful face and sweet perfume. You couldn’t help but notice what a tense woman Mrs. Harrington was.
You were leaning against the frame of the bathroom’s door as Steve emptied a bottle of a pink liquid in the bathtub.
‘This is my favorite one.’ He said. ‘It’s got stars in it.’
That interested you, lifting your head subtly to look at the shiny bubbles growing at the bottom of the tub, little glittery stars mixing with the water.
‘That’s cool.’
Steve’s eyes lit up at your comment, smiling at you. You had forgotten how cute he was, looking at the way he had to roll the bottom of his jeans because they were too big for him.
You closed the lid of the toilet to sit on top of it, looking at the way the iridescent bubbles started to rise, and the water turned pink. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your chin on your hands, just like you would if a teacher asked you a question you didn’t know the answer for. You were thinking about your mom, wanting to hear her voice and wondering if Mrs. Harrington would let you call her.
Steve remembered something then. He walked out of the toilet, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a few minutes while the sound of the water running filled the silence.
‘I got you these.’
He walked inside the toilet again, a pink towel on one hand and a teddy bear on the other. You smiled, realising how bad you missed your own toys back at home, wondering if they’d miss you too.
You grabbed the teddy bear first, a patchwork pink thing you hugged hard against your ribs. Steve observed you, leaving the towel on the little step next to the bathtub, black strands of hair falling on his forehead. You thought he looked like one of those boys on the covers of your mom’s music records.
‘Why do you have girl stuff?’ You asked then.
Steve shrugged. ‘It was for my sisters. Mom says she lost them, but I’m not really sure how you can lose a kid.’ There was a silence between you two as you both frowned. ‘No one uses them.’
‘Maybe my parents lost me and that’s why I’m here. With you.’ You said.
‘Maybe.’
When the water almost reached the top of the bathtub and the pink bubbles were like a giant mountain of foam, Steve closed the tap. You waited until you heard the noise of his steps walking down the stairs to lock the door, take your clothes off and get inside.
You hugged your knees inside the pink pool of bubbles, pulse slowing down and muscles relaxing. And for the first time in that strange day, you felt really safe. Cared for. Important.
You walked out wearing your pink pyjamas, it wasn’t until you put them on that you remembered that tomorrow was Christmas day. The hallway was silent in a scary way, long and big in a house you didn’t know very well.
‘Steve?’ You whispered. But there was no answer. No sound.
Except for one subtle thing.
The room was dark when you stood outside of it. The texture of the carpet warm under your bare feet as you pushed the door slightly.
She was on the other side.
Mrs. Harrington still looked beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes lost on the flames of the fireplace. She took the bottle to her lips, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. You knew what the liquid in it smelled like, because you had smelled it on your dad’s breath too many times before.
You didn’t remember who took you to bed, but you slept next to Steve that night. What you did remember were his rocket pyjamas, and the way he moved next to you all night because he was too excited about the presents under the tree.
You remembered how he said your name when he woke you up the next day and the excitement on your chest as he did, heart beating fast against your ribs. He didn’t have any siblings, neither did you. This was the closest thing to it that you both had ever experienced.
You remembered how every present you had asked Santa for was under the tree. And you remembered Mrs. Harrington’s eyes on you as you opened them while her husband sat next to her. Mascara in place and feathered hair framing her beautiful face. She was smiling.
A car came to pick you up on the day after Christmas. Steve would never forget the relief in your face when his mom announced you were going home from the living room, and the disappointment he felt. He didn’t forget your little hand waving at him from the backseat of the black vehicle as the snow fell outside the house. Or your pretty smile as you wore the outfit his mom had picked for you that morning. He would never forget the way her eyes lit up as she brushed your hair in front of her vanity mirror while he sat down on his parents’ bed. She looked happy.
You had made their Christmas better. And Steve knew then what he had to do to keep his mom as happy as she was when you were here.
He had to ask for a sister.
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You could’ve been friends after that, right? Maybe. Or maybe not.
You were taken back to an empty house. In the next weeks you spent all day surrounded by the staff that took care of the house. By the time you understood what was happening you had to pack your things and go back to school.
Your dad had gone to rehab while your mother had to handle it all by herself: the press trying to destroy him, and the multi-millionaire business generations of your family had worked on. The investors. Your grandmother blaming it all on her. She did it all looking as glamourous as always, and you didn’t know this by the letters she sent you, but by the pictures of her you saw on the newspapers and magazines while she travelled, and you stayed at school. Alone. All of that just so she would divorce him right after he went out.
You grew up in a public mess. But you weren’t the only one. Stevie turned into Steve, a boy who ignored you on the first week of January 1977. He came back with an arrogant frown on his face and a loneliness in his eyes that you had only seen on grownups.
Sometimes you spotted him in between the mess of uniforms in the campus, but you were growing up now, and girls like you didn’t beg anyone to be friends with them. So, you forgot him. And in your absence Steve turned into King Steve, son of Roger and Martha Harrington, descendant of a long line of successful and renowned corporate lawyers in the country. Known by his popularity, his wild parties and his inability to keep his dick in his pants.
So, people changed. Sometimes for the worse, like Steve. Sometimes for the better, like your dad.
That didn’t mean you were exempt from catastrophe. Sometimes people screwed up. You, more than anyone, knew that when temptation knocked on the door, you and Steve were prone to welcome it. It ran in your blood anyways.
It all started the last Friday of November.
26 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Parent conferences never made you nervous. Not because of your grades, but because it was more about the parents than the kids. You knew your mother would have a little chat with your teacher, go to the dinner hall to have a couple of drinks with some of your friends’ mothers and later in the evening knock on your door to ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend at hers. Easy.
That’s why you froze on the spot when you walked inside the classroom to find your dad sitting on one of the desks, talking to Robin Buckley’s mom. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you standing with your lips opened in surprise. Something hit you on the shoulder, making you blink many times before you saw Steve Harrington’s silhouette walk past you, not even looking behind after hitting you.
You took a deep breath before making you way to the desk he sat on.
‘Dad.’ You tried to sound happy, hands playing with the sleeves of your uniform’s sweater as you stood in front of him. He smiled back at you. ‘What are you doing here?’
The way your question made his eyes drop broke your heart.
‘Your mom called me from Paris. Her flight’s delayed.’ He took a deep breath as he studied you with his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here. Told me to send her assistant.’
You bit your lip hiding your smile. ‘Carmen.’
He rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. ‘Can you fucking believe that?’
You laughed loudly, sitting next to him on the desk. Only then you realised there was a bouquet of roses on the sit behind you. ‘Are those for me?’
‘Of course, flower.’ He said smiling.
You couldn’t help but smile widely, wrapping an arm around his and placing your head on his shoulder.
It was good for both of you. You stayed quiet the whole meeting, sitting on the seat next to his as your teacher talked to him. You placed your chin on your hand when his eyebrows lifted at the sight of your grades from the first semester, trying to hide your smile.
On the way to the dinner hall, he asked you a few questions about how things were going. You hadn’t seen him in about a month, before he flew to Hong Kong for business, so there was not a lot to talk about except Thanksgiving and what books you were currently reading. You missed him a lot.
It didn’t surprise you that people observed you when you walked inside the hall. Whispers behind fizzy glasses and looks of pity while you kept chatting with your dad. Outside the borders of the elite, he was on the front of every single business magazine, but here he seemed to always be regarded as the man who abandoned his family on Christmas day. Not like that mattered when they needed favours from him, though. But you had to learn diplomacy the hard way, by getting along with everyone but friendly with almost no one.
Everyone except one person.
Steve sat quietly on a chair on the other side of the room, while his dad stood up next to him. He was scolding him, you imagined, by the way he sat with his arms crossed on his chest, nodding slightly every now and then as his father spoke. The sleeves of his uniform’s sweater were rolled up on his elbows and his brown gaze lost on the wooden floor.
Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up as soon as your dad nodded at him, the atmosphere changing instantly at the sight of you two. You smiled too, but the gesture fell from your face when you saw the crystal glass with the brown liquid on his hand. You took a deep breath as you followed your dad, hands on your lap as you ached to squeeze his arm and ask him to leave early.
‘So good to see you here.’ Said Mr. Harrington patting your dad’s shoulder. ‘Though I’m sure there’s nothing you should worry about with this one. I’ve heard she’s doing great.’
You smiled politely, ignoring the way Steve rolled his eyes at his father’s flattery. He looked at you from where he was then, eyes lingering on the way you scratched the back of your knee sock with your shoe in nervousness, the hem of your uniform skirt lifting a little bit with the movement.
‘She is, actually. I’m very proud.’
The words made him look up at you then, your face going from tense to soft at your father’s words. Shy smile adorning your face, a subtle thing none of them noticed. He almost said something sarcastic, but his father was quicker at replying.
‘Maybe you could help Steve the next semester?’ He joked. ‘He could do with a good influence.’
You were about to answer something harmless, when Steve let out a scoff, a bitter laugh that made you look back at him. He lifted his eyebrows then, inviting you to say something, when Mr. Wheeler joined in, a glass of whiskey on his hand too, greeting your dad with a pat on his back.
Your father smiled at him, and the three of them started talking while you slowly became invisible. You walked back, flattening your skirt before sitting down next to Steve, ignoring him in silence as you witnessed the conversation in front of you, feeling the anxiety rising on your chest.
You heard words about business, finance, and stocks, but your eyes just lingered on the liquor glasses and how empty they became with the passing of minutes. You observed your dad’s attentive nods and wondered what he was thinking about, if he could smell the alcohol from where he was. He was throwing his head back while laughing, he was making jokes. He seemed happy.
That couldn’t be good.
‘You sure got that good girl act together, don’t you?’
You turned your face to Steve momentarily, distracted by the way your dad’s voice had turned louder. ‘What?’
He studied your face before looking away, licking his lips.
‘I said your daddy comes here and suddenly you’re playing the part of the perfect daughter. Good influence my ass.’  
You frowned at his words, eyeing him with disdain before looking back at your dad.
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not like you, Harrington. Publicly fucking around with everyone. I bet your dad must be very proud of your voyeuristic tendencies.’
‘You’re one to talk, pool girl.’ He said under his breath.
You scoffed, shaking your head. Your eyes were still fixed on the conversation in front of you, the way your dad seemed to fit in perfectly in the cheerful environment, talking with his hands and laughing loudly with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Wheeler. Your stomach twisted, the discussion with Steve making you even more irritated.
‘I have no idea what Jason told you, but sucking dick is hardly a crime when you compare it to being found out in the school’s rooftop. Do you think I don’t notice the way you’re avoiding Mr. Wheeler’s eyes right now?’
‘Nancy was my girlfriend.’ He said feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Something about the way your eyes refused to meet his made him even more annoyed, he wasn’t used to be ignored.
You were still looking at your dad when you leaned into your side, whispering the words that you knew would shut him up.
‘Yeah. Until she got bored of you.’
It all happened so fast. You saw the way the waitress approached them, holding the tray so Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Harrington would leave their empty glasses on them, a set of three refilled ones waiting for the gentlemen’s hands to grab them.
You saw it before it happened because you knew him. Because you had witnessed this same scene many times before. When your dad’s fingers brushed the glass of whiskey, you felt Steve’s irritated sigh stroking your cheek. You lifted your eyes then, meeting his brown stare full of hatred, cheeks flushed by your provoking words. And you had no other option than to lean in.
It was a silly thing, really. Lips crashing on his in front of everyone in the dinner hall for just a few seconds. You heard the gasps, the whispers, and your name falling from your dad’s mouth, making you break the kiss.
Steve’s eyes still lingered on your face though, cheeks and neck getting even hotter by the unexpected kiss, tasting your strawberry gloss and missing the feeling of your mouth against his. His eyes followed you, confused and lost as you stood up, your dad’s hand wrapping on your shoulder while you tried to hide your smile.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said to you. He wasn’t mad, not really, silly giggles leaving his mouth as you let out a snorty laugh while you left the dinner hall together.
You knew that on Monday morning you���d be called into the principal’s office by your improper behavior. You knew by then your mother would be back in the country and you’d had to find an excuse to explain why you kissed Steve in front of everyone. But none of that mattered, really. Your dad was sober and amused at your mischievousness. He’d ask you to spend the weekend at his after not seeing him for a month. He’d take you to play golf and have milkshakes. He’d watch The Apartment with you for the thousandth time.
Fuck Steve.
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25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Disaster knocked on the door at the Harringtons’ annual charity party. Steve saw you walking through the doors of his parents’ mansion with your hand wrapped around your dad’s arm. You were wearing a velvet red dress, and a matching bow on your hair. A little present wrapped just for him on the first day of December.
He still wondered what it all had meant, why you kissed him in the middle of one of your stupid arguments. What had been different that time. He had spent all Saturday morning wondering if he should call you, but he thought that was ridiculous. You had kissed him, and he was honest when he said he really hated that good girl act you played in front of everyone’s parents.
You didn’t notice his eyes on you as a waiter offered you a couple of glasses of champagne and you politely declined with a smile, squeezing your dad’s arm. The Hargroves greeted you two then, and you unfolded your arms from your father’s, interlacing your hands on your back.
Steve knew you didn’t drink, an implicit promise you and your dad made to each other, and he had kept even after all these years. He understood that. But everything else seemed unnecessary. The grades, the manners, the networking abilities his dad’s interns could only dream of having. It wasn’t real. Nothing about you was real.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he saw you laugh at something Billy Hargrove said. You looked around the crowded room then, a few couples dancing in the middle of it to the jazz music playing in the background. Your gaze found his from where you were, eyebrows arching and eyes turning soft. Steve frowned at your reaction before he realised that what you were actually looking at was behind him.
He looked behind his shoulder to find his mom laughing loudly next to Joyce Byers, a glass of whiskey on her hand. The image filled him with a strange feeling. A knife twisting on his stomach.
‘Steve! How are you?’ The voice of your father made him turn his face back.
‘I’m doing good, sir.’ He smiled at him, avoiding addressing you directly. ‘How are you?’
You were standing a few steps behind them, eyes stealing glances at his mother whenever she laughed, biting your lip, and feeling your shoulders tense. The truth was you would always care about Mrs. Harrington. You had never told anyone what you saw that Christmas Eve in that dark room. Not your parents. None of your friends. And definitely not Steve.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ You lifted your eyes to find Mr. Harrington in front of you. Steve and your father were looking at you, expecting a response to a question you hadn’t heard.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘I’m good. How are you, Mr. Harrington? I love the decorations this year.’
Steve fought the need to roll his eyes at you.
‘Thank you, dear.’ He smiled then, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m good. Was hoping Steve could take you to the dancefloor so I can steal your father for a couple of minutes. I’ve got an important conversation and a new mini golf set in my studio.’
Steve held his breath. Ever since you had kissed him his dad was convincedhe had to shoot his shot. She’s a nice girl, Steve, he said. He knew you were not. He observed the way you smiled politely, arms still behind your back while you licked your lips.
‘Actually, my heels are new, and I don’t really feel like getting stepped on, but if you must steal my dad, please do so. He hasn’t won a mini golf match in a while and I’m sure he could do with the ego boost.’
Only your dad and Mr. Harrington laughed loudly at your cheekiness.
‘Your daughter would be a good lawyer, you know that?’ Said Steve’s dad as he put a hand on your dad’s shoulder and guided him on the direction of his studio.
You bit the inner skin of your cheek. It hadn’t been that funny, but you were bored and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to provoke Steve. Your eyes followed the silhouettes of the two men for a few seconds, wondering if your dad would be tempted tonight like he was on Friday.
‘I can’t believe you.’
His voice made you look back at him. You eyed him in his black suit, hair on its place for once, his cedarwood perfume invading your lungs even if you didn’t want it to.
‘What?’
His eyes looked up and down at you while he put his hands on his pockets, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.
‘Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you pretend you’re not as fake as everyone in this room.’
You took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Fake how, Steve?’
He licked his lips then, taking a step towards you as he spoke. From this distance you could see the way his brown piercing eyes craved to provoke you, a single strand of hair falling in the middle of his forehead.
‘Laughing at Hargrove’s jokes knowing your daddy wants a deal to acquire thirty percent of his father’s company. Wearin’ a Karen Wheeler dress so she agrees to design the costumes of your mom’s next movie. Teasing my dad to get him to accept the business offer your dad must be talking about right now.’ He made a pause then, warm breath sending shivers through your body. ‘You think I don’t notice?’
You took your time then. He stood still when your hand found his tie, getting closer so your mouth could whisper to his ear.
‘So, you pay attention to what I do. Sounds like a fixable problem between your dick and your hand, Harrington.’
You moved to take a step back, but Steve put a firm hand on your waist, taking the hand resting on his chest in his and before you could blink, you two were swinging to the Billie Holiday song playing in the background.
‘You sure as hell know how to use that pretty mouth, don’t you?’ His voice had turned lower then. His words were full of arrogance, but his thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin of your back.
You held your breath at his words, cedarwood scent getting stronger, skin full of goosebumps by his touch.
‘You tell me.’ You said. ‘Seems like you’ve been thinking a lot about my mouth since Friday. Are you really that easy? I don’t even remember using my tongue.’ You lowered your voice even more, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke. ‘And I’ve been told I’m pretty good at using it.’
Steve swallowed hard at your words, wondering if there was an implied proposition behind them. You didn’t know why you were teasing him; the kiss had just been the quickest way of keeping your dad from reaching that glass. But seeing him on this suit and letting him hold you against his body had you wondering if that had been the only reason.
Maybe it was the way he pushed you closer to his body, or how he sighed deeply against your skin while your eyes fixed on Mrs. Harrington over his shoulder, grabbing another glass from a tray and dropping the empty one she had on her hand. Maybe it was the fact you were still fond of her, or maybe for some strange reason, you wanted to save Steve from the embarrassment of seeing his mother like this.
So, before the glass could reach the floor, you started walking out of the room. Fingers subtly brushing his, so he’d get the hint to follow you. He heard the sound of glass shattering behind him, some exclamations, a familiar voice saying sorrysorrysorry. But none of that mattered.
As soon as you walked into the hallway, his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing you against the wooden wall next to the door, dim lights illuminating your profile. Steve’s brown eyes stayed on yours as his hand found your chin, silence filling the tense air between you two. He had pushed you so unexpectedly that one of the strips of your dress had fallen off your shoulder. His gaze followed the line of your collarbones before looking back at you, thumb pushing lightly so your mouth would open for him.
He made you breath him in first, noses brushing and lips ghosting as he pushed his body against yours. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows at the feeling of his hardened dick against your thigh, the realisation falling on your innocent eyes, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It killed him.
He leaned in then. Lips full of hatred but tongue aching to taste you as his thumb opened that sweet mouth of yours. His hand fell on your chest then, stroking your breast over the velvety fabric before making its way down to your leg. He briefly wondered why you smiled under his lips, until his hand found the lace of your black stockings and garter belt under your dress.
‘Fuck.’ He whispered desperately, the adrenaline of potentially getting caught running through his veins. ‘Let me see you, I wanna see you.’
His forehead rested against your temple as he looked down while his hand lifted the skirt of your dress, taking in the beautiful view of your boobs pushed up and the little black thong you were wearing that night. ‘Shit. Look at you, all dressed up to be fucked.’
You rolled your eyes, tilting your head subtly enough so your noses were brushing. ‘You don’t have to be so obscene about it, Harrington.’
His breathy laugh stroked your lips as his fingers wandered under your skirt.
‘I’ll tell you what’s obscene, princess.’ You couldn’t help but lift your chin when his thick fingers ventured under the lace of your underwear, three fingers stroking your soaked folds. ‘How fuckin’ wet this pretty pussy is for me. Now that is obscene.’
You could only close your eyes and let out a deep breath when he started fingering you, the reasons why you were here on the first place long forgotten. You let out a soft moan as the sounds of his fingers going in and out of you filled the hallway.
‘D’you hear that? Huh?’ His lips sucked the skin of the curve of your neck. ‘Bet you can get even wetter for me, can’t you?’
‘Steve.’ Your intention was to sound irritated at how cocky he was being, but it came out as a sweet moan, his fingers had found that spot inside your walls and you couldn’t help but tighten them in response.
‘Hmm, yes you can. I can feel it. Soakin’ wet on my hand.’ He was leaving kisses on your collarbones now, moving to the other side of your head so he could whisper to your ear. ‘I should leave you like this. A soakin’ mess, walkin’ ‘round my house with your pussy wet. Spoiled little brat. Shouldn’t even make you cum.’
You opened your eyes at his words, taking a manicured hand to his jaw so he could face you. You started moving your hips slowly as he kept fingering you, heavy eyelids over needy brown eyes looking back at you.
‘Fuck you, Harrington.’ The hand on his jaw moved to the back of his neck pushing his face towards you. ‘We both know you wanna make me cum so badly.’
He looked at you for a few seconds as his nose pushed against your cheek and his opened mouth sighed over yours. His digits kept going in and out of your pussy as he got impossibly closer to your body.
‘Want you to ask me.’ He admitted then.
‘Not fucking happening.’
‘C’mon, you little brat.’ His voice turned deeper as his thumb started to stroke your clit, his own hardness throbbing under his pants. You bit your lip to hold the moan that begged to leave your mouth. ‘Look at you, all whiny just for me. I know you can say it.’ You shook your head repetitively then, and he moved to look at you. ‘No? Why? Not used to ask for things, are we? That’s fine. I can teach you.’
What happened next was decisive in the events that unfolded in the next few weeks.
When he took his fingers out of you, you let out a breath of relief, thinking that you had somehow preserved some of your dignity in your little slip with Steve Harrington. What you didn’t really expect was seeing him get on his knees in front of you, your hands instinctively finding the brown locks of his hair when his mouth came in contact with your sensitive cunt.
‘F-Fuck.’ It was a whispery high-pitched thing, leaving your mouth as you pushed your back against the wall and his hands firmly squeezed your thighs to keep you obscenely open for him.
His flat tongue rubbed against your clit, and this time it was you who had to lift your dress to have a better look at the sight in front of you. Dark eyes and mouth hungrily eating you out while you looked down with your pretty pure stare and your eyebrows arched, innocent agony on your face.
‘That’s it.’ He whispered against your pussy when you started grinding against his tongue, hands gripping at his hair, words choked by his lips on yours. ‘That’s it.’
‘Steve.’ You whispered, knowing that you were losing. The other strip of your dress had fallen on your shoulder too, the subtle shade of your nipple peeking through the top of your dress, goosebumps all over your chest by how turned on you were.
‘Hmm?’ He kept licking you, sloppily and loudly.
Steve inserted two fingers inside you before start kissing up your pelvis and stomach, while your fingers still played with his hair.
‘Are you ready to be fucked?’ He said in between pecks to your skin. ‘Huh? Ready to ask for it?’
You licked your lips, hesitating. Your silence made him look up at you, and you subtly nodded. He didn’t stand up just yet, taking his time to pull your dress and underwear down your body, releasing your braless chest for him. You should’ve felt exposed as he helped you step out of the velvet piece of clothing, naked in a hallway where anyone could’ve seen you two. But the sight of Steve kneeling in front of you made you feel something worse than vulnerability; it made you feel powerful.
‘What do you want, huh?’ He buried his head in you once again, leaving a wet kiss on your pussy. ‘Tell me.’
‘Steve.’
‘Don’t you get fucking bratty on me, now.’ He said licking the space in between your leg and your lip. ‘Look how wet you are. You want to be fucked so badly it’s fucking embarrassing.’
You let out a breathy laugh then, looking down at him. His chin was over your belly button now, as your fingers played with his hair, taking it off his face before they traced a line from his cheekbone to his lips, shiny with your wetness. He softly pressed a kiss on them, a subtle thing that made the cheekiness on his eyes die down and your smile turn into a line.
What the fuck were you doing?
A distant noise made you lift your head, arms instinctively crossing over your body and your cheeks turning hot with anticipated embarrassment. Steve took your dress quickly, before taking your hand and leading you into the nearest room, closing the door behind him.
‘Stev–’ He didn’t let you finish, lips back on yours and hands undoing his belt with desperation as he led you to the bed. He was tired of begging you.
‘Lay down.’ He said unbuttoning his shirt. You did as he said, looking at the thin gold chain that hung from his now uncovered chest. Somehow the adrenaline from it all was making you dumb. ‘Uh-uh. On your front.’
You blinked many times at the way he felt so entitled to command you, not sure if you were going to give him the pleasure to. He removed his boxers then, but you refused to look at his dick. You refused to acknowledge how badly you wanted him to fuck you.
‘I don’t–’
‘Can you just fucking do as you’re told?’
His hands found your hips, effortlessly moving them you so you’d be laying on your front. One of his hands made his way to your pelvis between the bed and your skin, reaching your now swollen clit while you felt his hardness against your thigh. He started drawing circles on your bud then, his forehead resting against your neck as you gasped at the sudden stimulus.
‘See?’ He murmured, ‘Just wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, now?’
‘Uh-uh.’ You whispered; eyes shut at the pleasure overtaking your body. You had been teased for too long.
‘Let me see you.’
You looked back behind your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds, the silent realisation of what you were doing falling in between you two. He positioned himself on your entrance then, both of you holding your breaths as his dick slowly stretched you out.
Steve shut his eyes and released a choked sigh, forehead resting against your temple once his dick was deeply buried inside you.
‘So fuckin’ tight.’ He whispered as he started to fuck you, hips crashing against your ass, slow but firm. ‘So fuckin’ tight for me.’
You were quiet on the way back to your dad’s, lost in your thoughts as you looked through the car’s window, uncertain darkness behind it. People did this kind of thing when they were in need of dazzling euphoria. They did this kind of thing when they craved for blissful intoxication. Not you, though. Never you. Until now.
‘Are you okay, flower?’ He asked, making you lose your train of thought.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You said smiling softly.
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22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
On Monday you were called into the principal’s office. You knew you’d find him sitting on the chair in front of Mrs. Halter, legs carelessly open and sweater rolled up to his elbows. What you didn’t expect was finding Mrs. Harrington sitting next to him.
‘Hello.’ You murmured.
She was sitting on the chair next to him, looking behind her shoulder and smiling at you.
‘Hey, sweetie.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You murmured as you walked in, looking at the principal. ‘I’m sorry about my mother, Mrs. Halter. She landed in New York last night, but her flight has been delayed again.’
You didn’t look at Steve as you sat down on the chair on the other side of him, leaving him in the middle between his mother and you.
The principal placed both hands on the surface of her mahogany desk, looking at you two through her glasses.
‘I don’t like repeating myself. This is strike one for you, but this is the second time Mr. Harrington comes to this office for this kind of improper behavior. I can’t accept this, Martha.’
You noticed the way Mrs. Harrington looked at Steve, disappointment all over her face as he avoided her eyes. You bit your lip looking down at your pleated skirt. When you leaned in to kiss him it had seemed like a really good idea. Now you weren’t so sure about it. But you couldn’t explain Mrs. Halter why you did what you did.
Mrs. Harrington opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke first.
‘It was a stupid bet, Mrs. Halter. Steve didn’t even know about it.’ You rushed to say. ‘And if you want to know, my parents are already refusing to take me skying to the alps this year because of it.’
Steve bit the inside of his cheek at the way you sat straight with your hands over your crossed knees. You were using your diplomatic voice then, and the scene took him back to what his dad said the night of the party. Yes, you could be an amazing lawyer. You were hypocrite enough for the job.
‘What a nightmare.’ She said sarcastically.
‘Precisely.’ You replied.
She stood in silence for a few seconds. ‘Anything to say Mr. Harrington?’
He shook his head then, innocence all over his face as he pretended to hesitate on what to say. ‘Uh, it won’t happen again, Mrs. Halter.’
The three of you walked out of the office. Mrs. Halter let you go with a warning because you had never really been caught in any offensive conduct, and you had somehow managed to convince her to do the same for Steve.
‘I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.’ Murmured Mrs. Harrington while stroking your back. He was a few steps behind you, walking with his hand on his pockets. ‘I’ll talk to Steve about it, he can be so impulsive sometimes.’
You heard him scoff behind you. The blood rushing to your cheeks knowing he had heard her words.
‘It’s not like that.’ You murmured.
The three of you stopped in front of the school’s reception. Mrs. Harrington stroked your arms, standing in front of you. You studied her face then; she had aged gracefully. A few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, hair still voluminous and outfits as colourful and glamorous as they had been in the past.
‘I know my son.’ She said to you before eyeing him. You got the feeling she really didn’t. Steve rolled his eyes at her words as she took a step towards him, the clicking of her expensive heels echoing through the empty hallway.
‘Mom–’
‘Stay out of trouble, okay?’ Her voice was low when she said it, almost hurt at something you couldn’t quite grasp. She brushed the brown strands of hair that fell on his face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’
He simply nodded. You looked down to your shoes, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them.
‘Bye, sweetie.’ She said to you as she walked towards the exit.
‘Goodbye, Mrs. Harrington.’ You softly replied.
Steve couldn’t stand the way you bit your lip while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. He couldn’t stand the way you had gotten him out of trouble. He couldn’t stand his mom’s inexplicable affection towards you. And he couldn’t stand the sadness behind her eyes as he looked down at him with disappointment.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he started walking in the opposite direction, fingers brushing his messy locks as he hit your shoulder with his before heading to class.
‘Thought you said it wouldn’t happen again.’ You whispered as his hand found the curve of your ass under your skirt. Your noses were brushing as you laid against the lockers of the gym’s changing rooms, his sweaty body against you, one knee resting on the bench while the other stood straight.
‘You were the one who came to see me during practice, needy thing.’ His hand squeezed your butt cheek, nails leaving half-moons on your skin as his face was buried in your neck and your hands ran through his sweaty hair.
It wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to see if he was okay after what happened with Mrs. Harrington earlier. It’s not like you cared about him. But in the last few days you had realised how much in debt you felt to her for what she had done for you when you were a child, and she seemed to be getting worse and worse with the passing of years.
His lips on yours made you forget all about it, though. Wet tongues fighting for dominance as he put your soaking underwear aside and his dick teased your wet pussy. ‘This better be quick, okay? No fighting, no bratty attitude. Have to go back in twenty minutes.’
‘You’re so fucking full of your– Uh.’ You couldn’t help but moan when he went in with no warning, fucking you against the locker, your head hitting the metal behind it softly.
‘S exactly what I fucking mean. Can’t shut the fuck up and let yourself be fucked, can you?’
He pushed in deeper as you rolled your eyes at how full your felt, back arching at the sweet sensation of your walls closing around his length.
‘N-No.’ You said in between breaths. ‘Wouldn’t be fun that way.’
To your surprise, he laughed against you ear as he fucked you deeper and deeper, your walls getting wetter by the stimulation. ‘So fucking rude aren’t you? Gonna fuck that brattinness out of you. Gonna– Shit. Gonna ruin’ you.’
‘Try.’
‘What did you just fucking say?’ He took his face out of its hiding place to look at you. But you didn’t reply, instead you took the opportunity to push him down, body falling on the bench as you moved to position yourself on top of him.
You sat on his dick then, the sudden friction making him hit his head against the metal door behind him, your open palm next to it to support yourself. You started moving your hips, grinding on him as his hands found your ass, squeezing again.
‘Shhh-Shit.’ he said under his breath as you followed his mouth with yours.
‘I said try, Harrington.’ You whispered then.
‘Fuck you.’ He said under his breath. His hands squeezed even harder as you started bouncing, firmly and deeply, making him release a soft growl.
‘You’re already doing it.’ You said as he started guiding your hips just how he wanted while you tried to hit that spot you liked with his cock. Both of you using each other’s bodies to reach that sweet point of no return.
He laughed against your neck, a low thing eclipsed by the noises of skin against skin and the quiet moans you were fighting to hold in. A few minutes of sighs, whines and hard gulps passed while you felt your skin fill with goosebumps and getting sweaty at the same time. Your cheek pressed against his, mouth close to his ear to he could hear your desperate moans as you got closer.
‘Steve.’
‘I know. Fuck, I know.’ His arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. ‘You feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy for me, yeah? Can you do that? Can you fucking do as you’re told for once?’
You were grateful he wasn’t looking at your face, rolling your eyes in pleasure at the way his voice turned deeper the more impatient he became. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when your hand reached under your skirt, drawing soft circles over your clit.
‘Good girl.’ He said in between heavy breaths. Your hips and knees started to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Let me see you.’
You didn’t know why you were giving in so easily, head moving to place your forehead on his as he controlled the rhythmic speed that was working for you two. He started nodding encouragingly, head resting on the locker behind him to enjoy the way your eyebrows arched, needy eyes looking into the sweet brown of his.
‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘FuckFuckFuck.’
Your eyes shut hard, nails digging on the exposed skin of his shoulder as you felt the walls of your cunt tighten. He squeezed your ass once more, pushing your lower back towards him before you felt his hot release inside you. A mess of sticky thighs and heavy breaths filling the changing room.
‘Move.’ He said squeezing your hips. You did as he said, ears ringing and soreness starting to burn in between your legs. You sat on the bench with your back against the lockers, catching your breath as he fixed his gym shorts. ‘Don’t come here for this again, okay?’
You frowned then, staying silent for a long second before you scoffed.
‘Are you being serious right now?’
He looked up and down at you before cleaning his face with a towel.
‘What? I told you I only had twenty minutes. And I don’t wanna get caught again. I actually want to graduate, you know?’
You stood up from the bench, blinking repeatedly at nothing in particular, feeling stupid out of sudden. You took a few steps forwards to be face to face with him.
‘You’re a fucking asshole.’
Steve followed your silhouette with his eyes as you walked out of the changing rooms.
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18 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You had finals before Christmas break, so you tried to study with your thighs pressed under your desk, ignoring the sex flashbacks that often visited you at night when you were alone in bed.
You hadn’t spoken to Steve since Monday, and your determined aims to ignore him brought you memories from the period where your dad was in rehab. Spotting him in between the mess of uniforms, lowering your gaze if you walked next to him in a hallway, holding your breath if his cedarwood cologne invaded your lungs when you walked into a classroom he had been in before.
Everything was fine. You had a little slip no one knew about. You hadn’t been caught, and you were about to get a well-deserved break after months of studying until feeling your head would explode. You’d find someone else to fuck in a few months and it would all be forgotten.
But Steve wasn’t going to let you forget it. He’d still look right at you whenever your walked into the classes you shared, being annoyingly obvious by tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows the counted times your eyes met his. You learned to dodge his shoulder when he walked past you, and a couple of times he felt the urge to grab your elbow, so you’d look back at him to ask you what the fuck your problem was.
You endured it with frustrated sighs, rolling your eyes when no one saw you, and staying as long as you could in your dorm studying. You had a lot to look forward to. Your mom would come pick you up on Friday and you’d go to the city over the weekend to buy Christmas presents. You’d go to the Prada store together just like you did every year, and order room service while trying on all the new moisturisers she’d get.
Every winter you tried to forget December 1976, and so far, every winter you succeeded. Fucking Steve Harrington a couple of times wasn’t going to prevent you from succeeding once again.
But on Friday, when you left your room and walked out of the reception with your suitcase, your smile fell at the sight of a man in a suit holding a sign with your name in it. Worse than that, it wasn’t just your name on the sign.
Steve lifted his eyebrows when you walked out, he was leaning against the black car with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a camel sweater. You blinked many times at the man in front you, a confusing frown adorning your face.
‘Hello, Miss–’
‘This must be a mistake.’ You interrupted him. ‘I-I’m sorry, I was supposed to be picked up by my–’
‘Your mother kindly asked the Harrington family to pick you up this weekend. I’ll make sure to drive you home. You have nothing to worry about.’
‘Kindly asked–’ You whispered under your breath, eyes stinging and anxiety rushing to your chest. ‘Excuse me.’
Steve frowned when you left your bags in front of the chauffeur, walking back inside the school, boots clicking over the mahogany wooden tiles.
‘Get the bags inside, Jack.’ He told the man in the suit. ‘Just gonna check what’s going on now.’
You stood in front of the payphone, holding the handset against your ear as the tears pooled in your eyes.
‘Pickup,pickup,pickup.’ You repeated to yourself tapping your heel against the floor. A few minutes passed as your ears only focused on the beeping of the line and the beating of your heart.
‘Hello?’ You let out a deep breath of relief. ‘Hello?’
‘D-Dad.’ You tried to control your voice, but it came out as a shaky breath.
‘Hey, flower.’ He said, he sounded okay. You were certain he sounded okay. ‘Is everything good? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ You laughed then, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I-I’m sorry. I just, I was just being silly. Didn’t remember who was picking me up this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Well, technically is your mother, but I can come pick you up if you want to? I thought you were going Christmas shopping tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ You rushed to say. ‘Yes, we are. I just– I think I’ll just leave with Steve instead. He’s going to Hawkins anyways.’
‘Sounds good then. Give me a call when you’re home safe. Okay, flower?’
You nodded as if he could see you. ‘Sure, dad.’
‘Bye. Love you.’ You smiled, a breathy laugh mixing with your tears.
‘Love you, dad.’
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand as you hung the phone. You were about to turn around when a hand resting on the top of the payphone startled you.
‘What’s going on?’ You looked up to find Steve’s brown stare, eyebrows frowning at the sight of your watery eyes. ‘Wha– Why are you crying?’
You shook your head in response, moving to walk back to the parking lot.
‘Let’s just go home, Steve.’
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, relieved that he finally had a reason to do it. ‘What’s wrong?’
You avoided his eyes, looking to your side, sounding exhausted when you spoke. ‘Steve, I don’t wanna do this right now. Can we go home?’
He didn’t reply, so you looked back at him while you got rid of his grip. ‘Please?’
His hand fell on his side as he nodded.
‘There you are!’ Said your mother as soon as the car parked in front of the Harrington’s house, open arms ready for you. She looked annoyingly gorgeous wearing her red turtleneck and pearl earrings. Mrs. Harrington was standing next to her, looking just as beautiful with a martini glass on her hand.
‘You could’ve told me you weren’t picking me up.’ You said partly returning the hug as her perfume surrounded you.
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She took a step back to have a better look at you. ‘Martha invited us for dinner, and I thought it’d be easy if you came with Steve rather than driving all the way there.’
Steve climbed the steps of the entrance, opening the door for the three of you.
‘Right.’ You said under your breath as you walked into the mansion’s entrance. You smiled at Mrs. Harrington then, it was supposed to be a polite gesture, but the drink on her hand only made you feel sad.
‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ She said arching her eyebrows.
You nodded subtly. ‘M just tired.’
‘Why don’t you take a nap in the guests’ room?’ She said squeezing your shoulder, the glass had made her hand cold. ‘Or I can ask a maid to prepare you a bath?’
Steve’s eyes found yours then, standing against the stair’s banister with his hands in his pockets. He frowned at the way you blinked many times, trying to dissimulate your blurry gaze. Without the people, the music and the decorations from last weekend’s party, this place made you feel as if you were ten years old again.
It had never occurred to him you still remembered that one time he prepared you the bath with the pink bubbles. The way you had talked in your sleep while the excitement of the Christmas morning made him wide awake. Your pink pyjamas, having hot chocolate for breakfast. His mother braiding your hair.
The breakdown she had when he asked for a sister right after you left.
‘I’ll take the guest room, please.’ You whispered.
‘I think I made clear I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Steve.’ You said walking down the hallway to get to the guest room.
‘As if I’m ever in the mood to deal with you.’ You heard him say behind you.
You let out a deep breath, rolling your eyes as you walked inside the room. You knew he wasn’t going to leave just like that, so you threw your bag on the little armchair and started undressing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ You said throwing your jeans on top of your bag. ‘I’m trying to get ready for a nap.’
‘Oh, yeah. You sure as hell are.’
You were left on your panties and your matching cami top, heat rising to your cheeks when you realised you looked exactly as if you had chosen the set with the intention of having sex.
Steve took a few steps towards you, a cocky smile on his face while he studied you. Your eyelids were slightly puffy, and he wished he could just brush his thumbs over them, but there were certain types of touch he knew he was not allowed to give you.
‘Is this your idea of teasing?’ He asked.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the bed.
‘Not everything is about you, Steve.’
You had just put the covers over your legs when you heard the noise of his belt dropping on the floor.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ You asked as he walked around the bed wearing only his boxers.
‘Getting ready for a nap.’ He said getting under the covers.
You let out a sigh as you looked at the ceiling, feeling his weight on the mattress. You were fighting hard not to smile. You were fighting hard not to cry.
He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t just ask. That’s not what you two did. He wasn’t sure what you did was, but it certainly didn’t involve deep, personal conversations. So that’s why he was careful when his fingers started brushing the skin of your thigh.
You shut your eyes at his touch, letting out a deep breath as his hand traced a line from your knee to your hipbone. You hated to admit it, but it was actually working, making your body relax. Steve took a look at your profile, following the line from your forehead to your chest, pebbly nipples showing through the pattern of pink flowers on your top, a little ribbon in between your breasts. He could’ve just stayed there looking at every single hair of your body turn into a goosebump and that would’ve been enough.
‘You don’t fucking get to time it.’
Your voice made him lift his eyes back at you. ‘What?’
‘You don’t get to time how long we have sex for.’ You said then. ‘Or where. You were a fucking dick last time.’
‘Oh, really?’ He said sarcastically, lifting his eyebrows at your boldness. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your panties then, playing with the lacy fabric. ‘What else?’
You rolled your eyes at the way you felt yourself getting wet already. He couldn’t help but look at your mouth when you licked your lips to speak again, scoffing as you pondered about where to start.
‘It makes me fucking angry when you boss me around.’
The idiotic smile on his face almost made you roll your eyes again if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers had found the wet patch on your underwear, thick digits rubbing the gentlest circles on them.
He moved so his face was closer to you then, breath brushing on your ear as he whispered.
‘Really? ‘Cause I think it makes you fucking wet, and that is what makes you angry.’
You wouldn’t have been able to keep in the wetness that damped your underwear then, your body betraying you in the filthiest of ways as Steve’s deep laugh echoed in your ear.
He moved, making you resist the urge to cross your legs at the absence of his fingers. Steve took his own sweet time, and you had had such a long day that you just let him wrap his fingers on each ankle and place them on either side of his legs as he kneeled in between them. He brushed his hair with his fingers, taking in the sight in front of him.
Your hair falling on the pillowcase, your puffy glossy eyes, the curve of your neck turning into the line of your collarbones. Your perfect nipples hard and sensitive under the fabric of your top, the space between its hem and the lace of your panties. That perfect damp spot turning wetter and wetter every second. His hand cupped your cheek then, thumb brushing your lower lip that he had been thinking about that same morning. Tense silence falling like snow on Christmas Day.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’ He said.
He wanted you to believe him, but your eyes were looking at the bulge in his boxers, then back at his brown eyes, driving him insane. Controlling every single reaction of his touch starved skin. It was the way you so willingly nodded at his words that seemed suspicious to him.
‘You don’t believe me?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.
You sat on your elbows then, looking at him with eyes full of irreverence. ‘Of course, I believe you.’
It was the first time he was able to take his own time with you, getting rid of your panties and focusing on the thread of wetness still connected to your underwear when he finally took them off your ankles.
‘You’re lying.’ It was an accusation, but it sounded soft, almost sweet.
His fingers stroked your legs from your knees to your thighs, squeezing there before brushing your puffy clit just lightly, your head falling back onto the pillow at the sensual touch. ‘Why are you fucking lying?’
‘M not– Shit, Steve.’ You lifted your head to find his head buried in between your legs, tongue playfully stroking your clit. ‘Why can’t you just fucking warn me before doing that?’
He laughed softly, breath stroking your cunt just nicely. Two of his fingers found their way inside you, making you squeeze your wet walls around them as you arched your back.
‘You’re not listening. You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do.’He repeated before burying his face in between your legs again, mouth hungrily eating you out as you grabbed your top with your fists, the movement causing you to expose your breasts slightly.
‘Steve–’ You moaned.
‘Shhh.’ He whispered against your pussy while adding a third finger inside you. ‘Shut the fuck up. You don’t want them to know I’m eating your pretty cunt, do you?’ You shook your head in response. ‘No, of course you don’t, needy thing. So stay fucking quiet while I eat you, then.’
‘You’re such a piece of shit.’ You said in between heavy breaths.
‘And you’re a needy brat that’d do anything to get fucked. Guess we deserve each other.’
His flat tongue licked your slit then, reaching your puffy clit and he kept it exposed and wet for you to grind on it. You heard him swallow, and the sound just made you even wetter, looking down at him as he made out with your pussy. You were tired of fighting, and he was right about something. At that point, you’d do anything to get fucked.
So, you just let him take care of it. You made sure to keep your moans low as he kept fingering you and eating you out. Only the wet sounds of his mouth on you and his fingers getting in and out of your pussy filling the room.
And he got lost in it. In your perfume and your taste, in the way you caged him with your legs, wanting him closer. In the needy noises you were fighting to keep in, coming out as whispery whines.
‘Such a sweet cunt, fuck.’ He whispered against it, overindulging every single nerve of the shiny skin that he knew deserved to be devoured. It was as if you didn’t even exist anymore, mouth only focused on the swollen folds in front of him.
A gasp left your lips as you got closer, hands grabbing onto locks of brown hair and legs trying to open impossibly wider. Steve pushed your thigh with his free hand, and you looked down at him to take in the pretty sight in front of you. Eyes shut in concentration, shiny lips hungry and swollen. He was trying to prove something to you, and in the process, he was losing.
‘That’s it.’ You said in a high-pitched whispery moan. ‘Yeah. Eat me just like that. Fuck. Let me just–’ You pushed his head firmly against you and he moaned. ‘Hmm. You like that, don’t you? Look at me, Steve.’
He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was just pussy drunk on you, or maybe it was the way you said it in such a quiet yet demanding manner. Not like you wanted it, but like you needed it. But he lifted his eyes look at you. He gave in. He couldn’t just not.
You didn’t expect him to, but his surrender was probably what sent you to the edge. Hips moving, back arching, and legs closing over his head as your pussy clenched and throbbed in sweet pleasure.
You both exhaled loudly when the moment died down. He moved from your legs, cleaning his face with the back of his hand as you reached for your panties. You felt weird then, as if you had to thank him or something.
The thought made you even more flushed. You looked up at him, an awkward laugh leaving you lips that provoked the same response in him.
‘Do you want me to–’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. ‘Dinner will be served in a few minutes so we better hurry.’
‘What?’ You said standing up from the bed to reach for your jeans. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something?’
Steve put his hands on his hips then, looking at you from the bed with an amused expression.
‘Thought you didn’t want me to fucking time you.’
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11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Next week, you sat down for your finals in the mornings and met Steve in the evenings to relieve stress. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.
He visited you in your dorms rather than you going to his, because it would’ve been more obvious that way, high on the thrill of a shared secret. And in a mess of love bites, tongues and moans you started to memorize each other’s skin.
You’d look both ways in the hallway before grabbing the neck of his sweater and pulling him in, the smell of coffee lingering in the air as his lips met yours, walking you backwards to your bed and pushing you on top of your open books.
The days he had basketball practice or had gone swimming, he took it slow, letting you take over just a little, tired brown eyes looking up at you as you bounced on him, tangled hair framing your face while you sucked on his thumb. But most times he fucked you while you still wore your uniform, too needy to waste any time undressing you, just removing your underwear and burying his face on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs while you sat on your desk, your desperate moans making him even more impatient.
Steve was so overtaken by temptation that he missed the signs. He should’ve noticed that Friday afternoon, when he knocked on your door and you opened it with an irritated face.
‘Oh, great.’ You scoffed before walking back into your room. You didn’t look at him with the usual darkness behind your eyes or pull his sweater the way you had done the last few days. You just walked back inside.
He should’ve known that things were going downhill, because he followed you instead of leaving as he would’ve done in any other situation with any other girl. But something in his chest stung at the way you had greeted him, and he couldn’t stand it.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ He said closing the door behind him.
Your room was a mess of books and clothes, a couple of bags on the bed that you were preparing for when you stayed over at your dad’s this weekend.
‘Nothing, I just–’ You shook your head, grabbing a couple of pants from the floor. ‘I totally fucked up on my Spanish test today.’
Steve’s silence made you turn your back to him. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
‘S that all? That’s the reason why you’re being so bitchy right now?’
You held a breath while taking some more clothes from your bed, not bothering about folding them and throwing them inside the bags.
‘Yes, Steve. Some of us actually give a shit about school, you know?’
‘I give a shit.’ He said walking towards you, an uncomfortable feeling of frustration growing on his chest as you hid your eyes from him. He stood next to you with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you need to pull that stick out of your ass. You can’t be the best at everything.’
You clinched your jaw then, eyes blinking and anger rising to your chest. You didn’t know why, but you thought about your dad sitting on the classroom looking at your grades while he spoke to your teacher, and something in your stomach twisted.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’ You said under your breath, closing the zip of your bag.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t get it?’ He scoffed while his hands found your hips.
Only then your eyes landed on his face, making you hold your breath. He had changed his uniform already, a burgundy sweater with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The softness of it all made you uncomfortably warm, arms crossing on your chest as you look to your side. But Steve wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with his thumb so you would look at him. 
‘Stop being so stuck-up.’ He said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
You don’t know why you leaned in then, crashing your lips with his and running your fingers through his brown strands of hair. Maybe you just needed to drain your anger, or maybe it was the fact that his patronizing attitude had made your eyes water, and you didn’t want him to notice. Steve held you closer, hands wandering under your skirt, gently squeezing your butt cheek as you kissed him with something worse than hatred. Something darker than desire.
‘Fuck– Did you just fucking bite me?’ He said leaning back.
You laughed softly, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand as you moved to lay on the bed with your legs partly opened, a sweet invitation to make the whole thing much worse than it already was. ‘You kind of deserved it.’
He scoffed, eyebrows lifting slightly as he undid his belt in that cocky way of his, while you enjoyed the view of his flushed cheeks and swollen lower lip. You could’ve sworn there was a smile hiding behind it when he stood in between your legs and put one hand on each of your knees.
‘You don’t get to decide that.’ He said opening your legs, fingers brushing your skin as they drew a line upwards.
His fingers found the lace of your panties, pulling them down slowly, pretty brown eyes focused on the wet patch in the middle of the fabric he threw on the floor. He lifted the fabric of your skirt to peek into your soaked folds letting out a longing sigh, and you felt your nipples turn harder under your bra.
You saw him lean towards your centre and you held your breath, craving for his touch, but his lips landed on the inner side of your thigh, where his mouth sucked hard to leave a love bite. He felt the way your hips sank on the mattress, longing for any type of touch, but his hands only sneaked into your skirt to stroke the skin over your hipbones.
‘Hmm. Spoiled girl. What am I gonna do with you?’ He whispered against your skin, nose brushing as he left a trail of kisses up your stomach, avoiding your needy core. ‘Do you think maybe getting fucked is gonna fix that bitchy attitude?’
He moved to get on top of you, brown strands of hair tickling your forehead as he studied your face. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, teasing your clit with soft strokes. Steve tilted his head to have a better look at you, enjoying the way your breath had turned heavier.
‘Answer me.’
Your eyes hid from his then, suddenly turning shy. You didn’t see the way he frowned at your change of mood, and he wondered if you had maybe changed your mind. If your mood had to do with something that wasn’t the test. But a second later you looked up at him with that darkness he knew so well, and you pulled the neck of his sweater towards you so his lips would brush yours, giving him what he had been wanting since the moment he stood up behind your door.
‘Maybe.’ You whispered against his lips. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Hmm. Need a better answer.’ He said, the tip of his cock already on your entrance. ‘Maybe an apology for bein’ so fucking irritating.’
He started slowly inserting his dick, teasing you and making you lift your chin in response.
‘Steve.’ You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him to fix everything with his touch.
‘…Talkin’ about tests ‘n shit when we could’ve been doin’ this since I got here.’ He buried his head on your neck then, slowly getting carried away by the way your walls were already tightening around him. A breathy laugh left his lips, as he kept teasing you with his dirty talk. ‘Little Miss Perfect. Can’t stand not winning for once, huh?’
You released the breath you were holding when he finally pushed himself inside you, shutting your eyes hard as he started to fuck you slowly. You moved your head to brush your nose with his, and he took the opportunity to look at you while you kept your eyes closed; the way your eyebrows arched in a beautiful, desperate frown. The needy breathes leaving your mouth, mimicking the rhythm in which he fucked you.
‘You’re so mean to me.’
It was a whispery whine. A mess of needy, breathy words that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t this close, if he hadn’t been looking at your face as you said it. He leaned in then, softly pecking your mouth.
‘I’m so good to you.’ You whispered against his lips, opening your eyes just slightly as you wrapped your legs around him. He looked at you with heavy eyelids, brown stare lost in the way your innocent eyes looked up at him. ‘I’m so good to you and you’re so mean to me.’
He should’ve known then, by the way his heart was beating fast against his ribs. By the way he instinctively cupped your face with his hand, thinking you were the sweetest thing he’d ever fucked.
‘How else am I gonna make you cum, huh?’ He whispered back. You laughed softly at his words and his eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘Wanna make you feel good. You’ve had a hard day, right?’
You nodded subtly, closing your eyes at the tender touch of his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.
‘S okay, needy girl. ‘M gonna fuck that stress out of you, okay?’ He whispered against your lips as he buried his dick deeper inside you, gaining speed. You let out a moan at the sudden change of rhythm, arching your back as you got exactly what you needed. ‘You’re taking me so well. Feelin’– Feelin’ so goddamn tight around me.’ Heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he tried not to get carried away again. ‘Did you touch yourself a little before I came here?’
You swallowed hard as you wrapped your legs even tighter around his hips, urgently nodding.  ‘S okay. Told you it was gonna help. See how good it feels when you do as I say?’
You didn’t reply to his arrogant remarks, but you did dig your nails deep into his freckled back underneath his sweater, growing needier as his speed increased and things came back to the way they always were between you two.
‘Let me see you.’ He whispered. ‘Keep your eyes open. I– I wanna see you.’
You did as he said, fist holding hard onto his sweater, looking deep into his eyes while your vision turned blurry and the pleasure took over your body. ‘Needy thing’s been so tense lately, huh? Cum for me. Look at you. Fuck, look at you.’
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9 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You should’ve been suspicious by the fact Steve sent his driver to get you. You had woken up that Sunday and put on your comfiest clothes when the ringing bell made you frown your eyebrows. On Sunday the staff took the day off, and your dad went golfing, so you walked down the stairs of the lonely mansion to find Jack standing in his normal clothes, the absence of his usual suit making you narrow your eyes.
‘Good morning, Miss.’
‘Hi.’ You said shyly. ‘I thought you didn’t work weekends.’
The blood rushed to your cheeks by your stupid comment.
‘I usually don’t.’ He said. You could see he was repressing a smile. You realised then that this man was a hundred percent aware that you were fucking the son of his boss.
‘You could’ve called.’ You said.
He was standing against the door frame of his room, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt over his body, looking at you checking the movie tapes scattered around his TV.
He shrugged. ‘Figured I’d just send Jack since we had breakfast together.’
The truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. He had woken up that morning wishing for once to be at the school. He was sure he was getting a cold; the staff was off, and his parents were away on a trip. The house was so intolerably deserted that he knew the echoing silence was going to drive him insane. But now you were here.
He should’ve realised then.
You stood silent for a few seconds, walking around the bed, and sitting over the teal bedsheets.
‘He knows.’
Steve let out a soft laugh. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘He fucking knows.’ You said with a cheeky smile you were trying to hide, making his wider. ‘He drove me here and left. Believe me, he knows.’
He walked into the room, sitting on the chair of his mahogany desk opposite to your spot on the bed to have a better look at you. Strands of brown hair falling on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed making you frown your eyebrows.
‘Is that a problem?’ He asked.
His eyes followed your body as you moved from the bed, knees on the floor of his bedroom as you crawled towards him. You enjoyed the way his chest moved when he sighed at the sight of you, stare following the perfect line from your back to your ass, eyelids heavy over brown eyes as you made your way to him in silence.
‘I don’t think so.’ You said sitting on your knees in front of the chair. Your delicate cold fingers found the cord of his sweatpants, carefully undoing it before moving the fabric down, freeing his already hard cock. His body filled with goosebumps with anticipation, dying to be inside your mouth.
Steve let out a deep breath at the sight in front of him. He had the whole day, the whole day for you to fuck in every single room of his lonely depressing house. His hands reached for your face as you started stroking his dick, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shake of them as they moved to cup your face.
‘Why are you shaking?’ You said taking one of your hands over his on your face. But he simply shrugged, too mesmerized by the sight of your pretty mouth to answer you. ‘Steve, are you sick?’
He shook his head, but you kneeled forwards to put a hand on his neck to check his temperature. ‘You’re burni–’
‘Hey,’ He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. ‘It’s nothing, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cold.’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ You said then, standing up. His eyes followed you, turning soft at the sudden rejection.
‘Hey– No.’ His tone was urgent while he fixed his sweatpants. ‘C’mon, I’m fine.’
You crossed your arms over your waist, raising one of your eyebrows. ‘I’m not doing this unless you take something, Steve. I’m sure you’ve got a fever.’
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. ‘Right, okay.’
He didn’t say anything when you followed him down the hallway. But as you walked behind him, your mind took you back to eight years ago, walking past the bathroom where Steve had prepared you a bath, feeling the softness of the carpet under your feet, until you both made it to his parents’ bedroom.
You tried to hide your curiosity as you looked around that room you hadn’t really been in before, only imagining the corners of it you never got to see through the memories of your childhood. You remembered it bigger and darker. The empty fireplace and the king size bed illuminated in blue shades of winter since Steve didn’t bother turning the lights on when he walked in.
You followed him into the toilet as he opened the mirror cabinet, looking through the medicines. Standing next to him, you tried to read the labels on the bottles of pills, trying to find anything that could help with a mild cold.
‘Oh.’ You said lifting a hand and taking a glass bottle. ‘Do you have a cough?’
Steve grabbed the bottle from you then, leaving your empty hand in the air by the sudden reaction.
‘No.’ He said putting it back into its place.
You frowned next to him, but he didn’t look at you as he grabbed a little plastic bottle and placed it on the sink.
‘I, uh, I think it won’t hurt to have some. Just to prevent a cough, you know.’ The gesture had caught you so off guard you voice had come out softer than you intended.
He shook his head slightly, avoiding your eyes as he picked the glass on the counter and filled it with water from the sink. You instinctively took a step to your side, looking for his eyes with yours.
‘That’s not cough syrup.’ He simply said twisting the bottle’s lid and taking two pills out.
You realised what he meant as he threw his head back and drank the water swallowing the pills. How could you not? You more than anyone knew what it was like to find stashes of alcohol in the most random places. Behind the bookshelf, among your mom’s shoes collection, under your bed. Between your dolls.
He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes focused on the way his hand emptied the remaining water down the sink. An awkward silence fell between you two as his hands rested on either side of the counter.
‘Do you think I don’t know my mom’s an alcoholic?’
The coldness of his tone didn’t surprise you, but you weren’t used to it, not when it came to this. You didn’t blame him though; you’d been in his position before. You knew the resentment overflowing his tone wasn’t directed at you.
‘I–’ Your throat was dry as you whispered, so you had to swallow hard before speaking again. ‘I thought maybe you just… ignored it.’
He scoffed, a bitter smile in his face as he shook his head and turned around to lean his back against the sink. He still didn’t dare to look at you. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand your soft stare when all he felt was anger. ‘Wish that was the case.’
You nodded in silence, cleaning your sweaty hands on your leggings.
Steve’s mind could only focus on the coldness of the bathroom and his parents’ room. On the fact he had pathetically had breakfast with the chauffeur that day, who had his own family he went to see after doing him the favour of picking you up from your dad’s place. He was sick and no one knew. He probably would’ve forgotten to take something if it wasn’t for you.
That realization didn’t make him feel comfortable.
‘I, uh– I’m actually not feeling well.’ He said running his fingers through his hair and looking down to the bathroom’s tiles. ‘Sorry. I killed the mood.’
You shook your head, voice still soft as you spoke. ‘Don’t apologize.’
He finally looked at you. It was like being ten years old again, almost hoping that if he blinked, he might get to see you wearing your pink pyjamas. He couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes, your silent sympathy. But he didn’t want you to understand him. In fact, he wished then that you didn’t.
He remembered the little girl that got lost in a mess of uniforms after she came back to school in January 1977, the anger on his chest that first day after Christmas break when he saw you climb out of a black car all by yourself, too many bags for such a little girl. The fight his parents had, one that he had triggered when he mentioned how much he’d love a sister after you left. You turned into just another ghost of childhood.
You noticed how the soft smile on his lips was fighting to make it to his eyes as he looked down to his hands again. ‘You don’t, uh– You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t feel like doing stuff anymore.’
Your hands craved for the feeling of running them through his messy hair, cheeks turning even redder with the fever and the anger. But all you did was nod, and he opened his palm pointing at the door, inviting you to walk out first. You felt his steps behind you as you left his parents’ room in silence, coming back to the present, and pretending this house wasn’t haunted by the same ghosts that once wandered in yours.
Steve and you sat in front of the TV on opposite ends of the couch. You thought you two could hang out without making it awkward, but after half an hour of pretending to watch a Christmas movie, you snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
‘You’re unbearable.’ He said still looking at the TV while his chin rested on his hand and his elbow on the couch’s arm.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said playing with the corner of the blanket that covered your legs. ‘I just– I find it funny how we spent last week fucking almost every day, but we can’t even watch TV together.’
‘Well, that’s because you were “stressed” with finals.’ He said drawing quotes in the air.
‘I was stre– Oh, damn.’ You stopped yourself when you saw the heaviness on his eyelids over his glossy brown pupils. ‘You look like shit.’
He let out a weak laugh, taking his fingers to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘You need to lay down, Steve.’ You said, moving slightly to spread half of the blanket over him. Your body that close from his made him ever warmer, but he wasn’t going to admit that. You palm lifted to check his temperature, placing it on his forehead, your perfume starting to drive him crazy as you sat next to him. Maybe he should’ve fucked you, he was sure that would’ve helped. ‘You still have a fever.’
‘M fine.’ He said closing his eyes at your touch.
‘Can’t you just fucking do as you’re told?’
He opened his eyes to find you smiling cheekily, like a child. He was trying to supress his own smile, but you didn’t let him. Not when you licked your lips with so much sassiness, looking back at the TV to avoid his eyes.
‘Right.’ He said with fake irritation. ‘You got me.’
You weren’t expecting him to move to place his head on your lap, but you didn’t protest, putting the blanket over his body and noticing the slight shake of his hands as he wrapped himself with it. You followed his pretty profile with your eyes, dying to count the freckles on his neck. Steve sighed at the comfort of your fingers in his hair, looking annoyingly cozy under your touch.
‘See how good it feels when you do as I say?’ You mocked him as your fingers ran through the brown strands.
‘Jesus.’ He said taking his hands to his face. You could’ve sworn he was turning even redder under the blanket. ‘Stop. Please. Now.’
Your laugh echoed through the walls of the house like jingle bells as you made a mess of his hair and he shut his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve realised then, as you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable on the couch, that the rules were bending, and the lines were being crossed. But your smell was everywhere, and he was exhausted and so, so cold. He could hear the pattern of your breath from where he was, and the distant noises of the TV.
He woke up in total darkness. The digital clock next to the TV showed it was eight in the evening. His fever had lowered, and he felt sweaty and in urgent need of a shower. There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table on top of a note saying there’s soup in the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your handwriting.
The phone ringed twice before he heard your voice on the other side.
‘Hello?’
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’ He said.
He swore he could hear you smile on the other side of the line.
‘I don’t.’ You laughed softly. ‘Dad brought it for you when I called him to pick me up. Are you feeling better?’
It took him a few seconds to reply, he had to take a breath to try to ignore the feeling in his chest.
‘Yeah. Just wanted to check you’d gotten home safe.’
He shut his eyes hard then, taking a hand to his face and hoping you didn’t misunderstand his words, but the short pause on the other side of the line made him think otherwise.
‘Right.’
‘Hey, uh, my parents just got here.’ He said then, eyes already used to the lonely darkness that surrounded him. ‘I’m gonna check on them. I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah. See you later, Steve.’ He heard you take a deep breath. ‘Get well soon.’
‘Thanks.’
He was still holding the phone’s handset against his ear when he heard you hang up.
He should’ve realised then.
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3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
The annual Christmas gala at the Country Club was supposed to be fun. Each year your mother commissioned your dresses in September, and every two weekends you visited the designer’s studio in the city to try them on. You usually spent all day getting your hair and nails done, and she overindulged you with desserts and nice food. It all sounded nice if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the one day of the year where your parents tended to argue the most.
You sighed silently in the limo as you sat in between them two. The tense silence was killing you, after an argument about your college applications had escalated into a fight about things they read on the newspapers: your dad’s new girlfriend, the alcoholic character in your mom’s new movie.
All you could do was sit in silence and roll your eyes until the three of you stepped out of the limousine and smiled for the photographer who stood at the entrance.
Every year it was the same. You walked together to a table that you usually shared with another family. Joyce Byers gave a speech. If you father had a relapse recently, you didn’t leave his side the whole night. If he hadn’t, you’d talk to a few people from school and gossip with your mom. This year it seemed you would just have to endure the tension between them.
It shouldn’t have surprised you when your parents walked towards the table and you saw him sitting down next to an empty chair wearing his suit, hair partly brushed and in place. How long had it been? More than a week since the last time you’d had his body over yours.
You licked your lips as the Harringtons greeted you, your dad and his quickly jumping into a conversation, and his mom giving you a hug, the smell of liquor on her pores making your stomach twist.
‘Hey.’ His eyes lingered on the black dress you were wearing, a strapless short gown with matching gloves. The velvet choker on your neck made him swallow hard as you sat next to him, your perfume suddenly reminding him how long he’d been without fucking you.
‘Hey.’ You repeated with a plain tone. You grabbed the place card on top of your plate and started playing with it as your parents and the Harringtons started talking.
It was all smiles and laughs between the two families as usual, except for you and Steve. He saw the way you frowned as you internally hated them for ruining your mood, the conversation about college making your muscles tense.
You didn’t even notice when the waiter extended a hand and poured wine on your glass, your sad eyes still focused on the gold lettering of your name.
‘What’s your deal today?’ Steve asked then, making your eyes lift.
You were about to shrug and said something defensive, but when you saw him grab the glass with the red liquid and switch it with his own empty glass, gesturing the waiter not to pour any more of it, your semblance softened.
‘College.’
 He let out a bitter laugh. ‘Understandable.’
You lowered your voice, moving slightly towards him so your parents didn’t hear you. His arm automatically extended over the arm of your chair, while his brown eyes looked at you attentively.
‘Mom wants me to go to Berklee. Dad wants me to go to Harvard– Don’t laugh!’
‘M sorry, ‘m sorry.’ He said licking his lips in a way that made you roll your eyes. ‘It’s just– It’s an honest problem, I get it. I just…’
He shook his head, eyes getting lost on the untouched glass in front of him.
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s cool that they have such high expectations of you.’
You didn’t reply, seeing the way his eyes turned slightly sad as the weight of his observation fell between you two. A part of him had unconsciously accepted that his parents would probably buy his way into college a long time ago.
‘M sure you’ll be fine.’ He said with a reassuring smile.
‘Look at them.’ The voice of Steve’s mom made you lift your eyes. Your mom was smiling, looking down to her napkin while Mrs. Harrington looked at you two with endearing eyes.
The heat rose to your cheeks and your chest hurt at the way she swallowed the last sip of her wine as she put her glass aside, eyes leaving yours to call the waiter.
Steve saw you clinch your jaw, sinking on your chair as his arm left the back of it to sit straight. His mom didn’t notice the change of atmosphere as you avoided everyone’s eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. A waiter came and refilled her glass as you felt her eyes still on you.
‘I aways wanted you two to get together.’ She said in a sweet tone.
‘It’s not–’
‘Jesus, mom.’ He interrupted you, standing up. His hands reached for the refilled glass of wine on her side of the table. ‘We’re just talking, for god’s sake.’
‘Steve!’ She said frowning as he placed her glass next to his.
‘You’ve had enough. It’s not even nine and you’re embarrassing yourself already.’
‘Steven.’ His dad’s eyes were serious when he said his name, the hardness behind them making you lower your own.
You heard him stand up, the chair’s loud noise making a few people look back at your table. You didn’t look behind your shoulder as he walked outside, getting lost between the crowd of the party. But you did look at the way his mother reached out for the wine glass, sitting back as an awkward silence fell on the table.
Joyce Byers asked everyone to be silent through the microphone then, and you saw the way they all looked up at the little stage on the other side of the room, except for your dad, whose blank stare was focused on the glass of soda in front of him.
You discreetly looked around the room trying to find Steve, a feeling of annoyance on your chest as you did. He had skipped dinner, and his parents had just sat there pretending nothing had happened, laughing and joking with yours. Mrs. Harrington was getting progressively drunk with the passing of hours, and your dad was already on his third glass of soda.
It was unbearable.
The merciless December cold hit your face and body as you stepped out in the parking lot, rubbing your arms with your gloved hands. You narrowed your eyes in the dark, finding his silhouette not far from where you were, leaning against his maroon BMW.
You held your breath as you walked towards him.
‘What are you doing?’ You said standing with your arms crossed at a comfortable distance from him, not entirely sure if you wanted to stay here.
He took the bottle of beer to his lips then, swallowing while looking at you. For some reason that made your blood boil, you felt betrayed in a way. Disappointed, even. But why?
He shrugged.
‘Just thinkin’, I guess.’ His sad tone made you even more frustrated.
You rolled your eyes as you walked the short distance and leaned against the car on the space next to him.
‘Did you drive here?’ Your tone was hostile as you tried to fill the silence with anything.
He nodded in silence.
‘I always bring my car to these things. Sometimes mom gets too drunk, and I drive her back while dad stays.’
You turned your head to your side, licking your lips. You didn’t want him to see your eyes had turned glossy. When you managed to calm yourself down, you looked back at him again.
‘You know you’re dealing with this in the worst way possible, right?’ Your tone was cold, and the scoff that followed it even colder. ‘It’s fucking pathetic.’
He laughed sarcastically as he took the bottle to his lips again, almost agreeing with you.
‘You’re so full of yourself.’ He said under his breath.
‘What?’ You said moving to face him, trying to understand if you had heard him right.
‘The fuck do you care how I deal with it?’ He snapped then, looking back at you. ‘‘M not entertaining your saviour complex, princess. You come here and scold me like this is your fucking business, as if we were together–’
‘I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Steve.’
‘And you think I want to be your boyfriend?’
You sighed looking to your side then.
It shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did.
Steve let out a frustrated growl before standing straight and moving a few steps away from the car. You stayed silent, standing straight as he emptied the contents of the almost full bottle on the pavement, clenching your jaw and looking at the chaos you two had created.
Steve walked back and opened the backseat’s door, his eyes looking at you through the messy strands of hair that fell on his forehead.
‘Get in the car.’
You tapped your heel on the pavement for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze and still clenching your jaw.
‘Please.’ You lifted your gaze to look at him, soft eyes and arched eyebrows looking back at you. His voice was an exhausted choky whisper when he spoke again. ‘Please, for god’s sake. Get in the car.’
You knew you should’ve said no. But what Steve, or anyone else didn’t know about you was that you had lived your whole life knowing that temptation would knock on your door one day. Just like it had knocked on your father’s door once. Just how it knocked on Mrs. Harrington’s door every day. What no one knew about you was that you had been waiting for it your whole life, and you were so glad you could finally open the door after yearning for it for too long.
His lips pressed against yours when he got in, and you pulled him in with your eyes closed, hearing the door locking as you laid on the backseat. Your fingers ran through those brown strands of hair you had missed so much, your needy tongue feeling the remains of beer in his, savouring the taste of alcohol for the first time in your life.
One of his hands cupped your face as you got rid of his tie and your demanding fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed down your jaw and neck while rubbing his hardness against your thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth as he moved down to your chest.
You opened your eyes at the sound of fabric stretching, your boobs out of the dress he had pulled down with his fists, gently caressing them with his tongue, wet nipples turning hard under the dim lights of the parking lot.
He sat up to look at you, and you stared back with needy eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked with his shirt opened and jacket still on. He lifted the dress over your stomach, hands stroking your stockings from your knees to your thighs, squeezing your hips and taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.
You gasped when his hand found the skimpy lace of your thong, soaking wet for him, and he started to rub circles on it, making you arch your back as a sweet sigh left your mouth.
‘Love the sounds you make for me.’ He whispered putting your underwear aside and inserting two fingers inside. ‘So whiny and desperate.’
The car filled with the noises of your wetness as he fingered you, leaning forwards to get impossibly closer to you. His forehead rested against your temple, and you heard him take a deep breath as the warmth of his body made yours sweaty.
Steve started to rub his bulge against your leg, hips moving sensually and weight crashing you just nicely as you could feel him get harder. He released a deep growl against your ear, the pressure making him desperate to be inside you.
‘Steve.’ You whispered his name, a high-pitched thing that made his cock throb. ‘Please.’
He took his face of his hiding place, cupping yours with his free hand. Brown eyes soft despite the darkness behind them, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if you’d disappear any second then. A choky breath stroked your lips as his nose brushed yours and he shook his head.
‘Want to take my time with you. I fucked up out there.’
‘No.’ You whispered back cupping his face with your hands and looking down to his lips before staring at the brown of his eyes again. ‘Nonono, please. I want you. Please.’
He looked into your eyes, hesitating. Your vulnerable tone had made his dick impossibly harder, those innocent eyes driving him insane. You did what he didn’t dare to, and your hands wandered to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down along with their boxers. He observed it all, breaths getting heavier as you grabbed his length while wrapping your legs around him before pushing him towards you with them.
You both held your breaths as he stretched you out, his partly open mouth hovering over yours while you both silently adjusted at the sudden friction.
‘Shit.’ He breathed out.‘You’re so wet.’ His arms caged you when he started to move, feeling your walls squeeze him. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby, it’s so fucking hot.’
The pet name caught you off guard, making you moan and arch your brows as you bit your lower lip. He laughed softly, his pretty brown eyes lighting up before giving you a soft peck.
‘You like it when I call you that?’ His nose brushed yours softly, the tenderness on his tone making you weak. ‘Uh, baby?’
You shut your eyes, staying silent for a few seconds as the feeling of his cock inside you made you dumb, holding your breath as he fucked you deeper, refusing to answer.
‘Shit, you do, don’t you?’ He whispered against your lips. ‘Always so fucking needy, I fu– I fucking love it. Makin’ me wanna f-fuck you harder.’
So, he did. Hips crashing against you firmly and faster as you back arched and sweet moans left your pretty mouth. You felt his lips kiss your nose, the space next to your mouth, your cheek, your temple, making your legs weaker with every worshipping gesture.
‘Let me see you, baby.’ He said softly as his lips hovered over yours once again. Your shy eyes looked up at him while your hands played with the hairs of his chest. ‘There she is.’ He kissed you once again. ‘Love seein’ your pretty face while I fuck you. Tell me what you want.’
‘Want you–’ Your eyes closed in pleasure as his hand found your clit in between your bodies and you moaned your words. ‘Want you to fuck me harder.’
‘Yeah?’ His other hand found yours then, interlacing them above your head before licking your lower lip. ‘Want me to spoil you?’
‘Fuck.’ You whispered, rolling your eyes as you started moving your hips. ‘Steve.’
‘What, huh?’ He said nodding at you from above, that cockiness that turned you on so much overflowing his tone. ‘Are you getting bratty on me now, baby?
‘N-No. I just– Shit.’ He tilted his head, looking at your angelical face as your words got lost in between your breaths. ‘I need you. Just you. Please.’
Steve’s eyes turned soft then, leaning forwards to place his forehead on yours. His hand squeezed yours as you kept whining with a face full of agony, almost shivering at the pleasure you felt. He’d do anything to give it all to you, everything you needed, as long as he could hear that sweet voice of yours asking for it forever.
‘Tell me to stop.’ He whispered, making you open your eyes at the sudden request. But he kept fucking you as he studied your face, eyes following the lines of your collarbones, the curves of your bouncy boobs, your swollen lips and glossy eyes. ‘T-Tell me to stop. F-fuck, tell me to stop if you’re not mine.’
You blinked repeatedly at his words while he went deeper inside you, hips grinding fast, begging, trying to fuck a confession out of you. One he didn’t know if he was ever going to get.
The fear of never getting one made him hide his face on your neck, letting the air get filled with the noise of his growls and your heavy breaths as his movements turned violently needy.
His hand squeezed yours as you held onto him in confusion, pulling the hair on the back of his neck as he fucked you faster and you felt the pleasure overtaking your body. You should’ve asked him to stop there, but every time you opened your mouth to say something a loud moan left your lips instead. He was fucking you just how you liked it and you were certain he knew it, keeping you from acknowledging the hard truths that were being unleashed the more he turned your body into nothing.
You shut your eyes hard as you felt your walls closing around him, soft animalistic sounds leaving your throat as the bittersweet orgasm numbed your senses. But Steve didn’t stop, he kept fucking your overstimulated cunt in the same rhythm, wanting to do so until you forgot your name, or that you hated him, or that he was foolishly risking it all like an idiot. Fucking you until you forgot you had ruined him.
‘Ste–’
‘Shhh.’ He hushed you as his other hand held onto your hip and squeezed the skin there, his desperate voice eclipsed by the sounds of skin against skin. ‘Just– Just let me fuck you.’ He only moved his face to crash his lips against yours, trying to show you what he couldn’t say with words. ‘Let me fuck you, please. Just let me– Let me– Sh-Shit.’
He collapsed on top of you as his hot cum filled your pussy. Your eyes got glossy while he stayed there, body heavy and sweaty on top of yours, and you wondered what to do. Your shaky fingers hesitated on his scalp as you two tried to catch your breaths, and the lust vanished, leaving a void of emptiness behind.
You pushed his chest softly, gaze to your side as he sat up quickly. His eyes tried to find yours as he took your hair off your face, but he stopped when he noticed the way you shrunk under his touch, licking your lips as you searched for your shoes and underwear in the backseat of his car.
You heard him sigh, a shaky scared thing you weren’t going to acknowledge. He was right, you had this stupid saviour complex that put you in these absurd situations and you had to stop screwing it all in the name of it at some point.
‘C-Can you stay?’ Steve asked, but you shook your head repeatedly in response. His hand hovered over your arm, but after touching you so many times before, he still didn’t know how to hold you. ‘I-I’ll drive you home.’
‘You shouldn’t drive, Steve.’ You said putting your shoes on. ‘You were just drinking.’
‘Please. Heyheyhey.’ His hand found your face when you moved to open the door, and you had no other option than to look back at him with hurt in your eyes. Brown pupils mirroring the ache you tried to hide. ‘Let’s talk, let’s–’
‘No.’ you said holding his wrists and getting rid of his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not doing this. I can’t. We’re not doing this anymore.’
He swallowed, trying to understand how you could be so cold right after burning under his fingertips. He observed you in silence, eyebrows arching, and eyes hurt as his hands still lingered close to your body.
You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you walked back into the party. You heard the sound of the other door closing over the clicking of your shoes.
‘Can you just listen to me for a second?’ His hand on your elbow made you turn back, finding him with his shirt still unbuttoned under his jacket, messy hair, and glossy eyes as he looked at you. It was so cold you could see his breath in the air.
‘Steve–’
‘I’m trying…’ He said in between breaths, the anxiety rising to his chest as he spoke. ‘To t-tell you… how I feel.’
You stood straight, shaking your head as you looked at your shoes. He tried to take a step towards you then, but you moved before he could, a clear warning of how things had drastically changed in a matter of seconds.
‘I’m not doing this, Steve. We’re too similar.’
‘Sweetheart,’ he said in an exhausted tone, word almost breaking at the end as he got the courage to cup your face in his hands. He was tired of not being able to touch you like wanted, love you like he wanted. ‘How’s that a bad thing, huh? Look at me.’
‘I don’t– Steve.’ You couldn’t help but melt at his touch as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘I’m not doing this.’
‘Listen–’
‘No, you listen. I’m tired of saving people.’ You said putting your hands on his wrists once again with the intention of getting rid of his grip, but they stayed there, holding on to his touch. ‘I’m exhausted. You know why I kissed you that day at school? Because my dad was about to grab a glass of whiskey and fuck my life over for the thousandth time. I was so desperate.’
His eyes got soft at your confession; his hands would’ve fallen from your face if you hadn’t been holding them.
‘And then–’ you said in a shaky breath, tears pooling on your eyes as you did. ‘And then there’s your mom.’
You knew you were hurting him, but there was a reason why you had kept yourself away from the Harringtons for so long. And now that you had crossed the lines, the possibility of Steve following her steps was too painful to bear.  
‘My mom.’ He took a step backwards, studying your face as his hands finally fell from your face, your own hovering over his wrists now.
You shut your eyes, feeling the tears run down your cheeks. Feeling selfish and scared. And desperate to have those hands cupping your face again.
‘I am terrified that you will end up just like her.’ You admitted crossing your arms over your body, the shameful admission making you shrunk.  
Steve’s eyes looked away from you, hands finally falling on his sides as he attempted to leave, but after taking a few steps away, he seemed to change his mind.
‘You think you’ve got your shit figured out, but you’re as likely to end up like your dad as I am to end up like my mom.’ He said, anger overflowing his tone as he looked at you. ‘You can’t stand the sight of her? Well, she can’t even look at you without remembering how badly she wanted another kid.’
Your eyes turned soft as his honesty, and he had to look away, rubbing his shaky hand against his mouth as the frustration took over himself.
‘D’you know there was a time we couldn’t even mention your surname in the house? Or talk about your dad? Do you even remember when my mom stopped talking to your mom?’ He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Probably not. But I do. I sure as hell do. You have no idea what it’s like to go through what she’s gone through. Or what it was like to see her miserable efforts to have another baby when she couldn’t even be my mom.’
You bit your lip as you look to your side, taking a deep shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of you with your shivering arms and your long gloves and your short dress that couldn’t keep you warm like he knew he could.
You lifted your gaze when you heard him sniff and he just stood there, looking at the snowy ground. Looking at what you had created and destroyed together.
‘You think you’re above everyone else, but you’re just a coward, and I hope you know that.’ He said, before whispering under his breath. ‘I hope you fucking know that.’
You stood there as he left, walking past the BWM as he buttoned his shirt up and got lost in the maze of cars and snow. Your knees were shaky, and your nose blocked, but you still stood there cold, and alone. Thinking that maybe that’s what you deserved after all the damaged you had caused.
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CHRISTMAS DAY, 1984.
You woke up in the room of your mother’s house with the excitement of a little girl. Your blankets were soft, the heating was at the right temperature and for what you could see through the window of your balcony, it seemed like it had snowed last night.
You climbed out of the bed to walk downstairs, too excited to notice the absence of the smell of coffee in the air, the lack of the television sounds, the emptiness so unlikely in your house. On Christmas day you had breakfast with your mom, lunch at the Club, and dinner with your dad. After that, you went to his place, played one of his records and shared a can of soda to celebrate his sobriety. It was one of those days of the year where you felt the most grateful and lucky to have the life you had.
That’s why when you walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree empty you smile fell.
‘Mom?’ Your voice echoed through the house; you were about to walk towards the kitchen when you saw the note on top of the coffee table.
Emergency. Call Dad.
You stood there for a few seconds in shock before you ran fast to the phone. Your fingers shook as you dialled his number while feeling eyes watering. The line beeped. Someone picked up.
‘D-Dad? Daddy? Are you okay?’ You asked with a shaky voice.
‘Hi, flower. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.’ You felt your heart beating fast as he spoke. ‘I’m getting ready to pick you up, okay?’
‘W-What is going on? Where’s mom?’
‘Uh,’ You heard him hold his breath, realizing you didn’t know yet. ‘Martha had an accident last night. She was drunk and hit a tree. Your mom’s at the hospital with the Harringtons right now.’
You let out a deep breath, nodding as if he could see you. You felt so stupid then, as the tears pooled on your eyes. As if you could’ve done something to prevent it.
‘Right. I’ll go get ready.’
‘Okay, flower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘Okay.’ You said letting out a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’
Your dad parked outside the hospital, the white building looking dreary and lonely surrounded by the snow. You rubbed your hands on your jeans as you tried to warm your hands, but you didn’t think it was the cold what was making you shiver.
You took a deep breath, waiting for your dad to turn the engine off, but the heating was still on, and the car was still filled with silence as you looked at the blue gift bag next to your shoes. You thought maybe the excuse of giving Steve a Christmas present would help with the apology you knew you owed him. But now it seemed like a shallow idea.
‘Dad?’ You said lifting your gaze.
It was then you realised he didn’t want to look at you, making you bend forwards, looking for his eyes. He took his hands to his mouth, hesitating about what to say.
‘I, uh… I can’t go in there, flower. I just can’t go in there.’
You swallowed then, realising the real weight behind his words, the endless fight that you had witnessed throughout the years, from your childhood until now. You nodded silently, grabbing his hand over the console and squeezing hard.
‘Dad, you’re doing great. Christmas is always hard and you’re doing great.’
He shook his head, looking at the way his eyes got lost beyond the windshield. There was a long silence as he still avoided you, before he let out a deep breath.
‘The charity party. Bourbon.’
Your eyes dropped as you remembered that night, the way you left with Steve to save him the embarrassment of seeing his mom drunk. You knew it now; this wasn’t your weight to carry. You’d never get to win. Steve and you would never win.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke first.
‘I’m sorry, flower. I–’ He looked back at you then, reading the hurt in your eyes. ‘I know I’m a terrible dad, but I promise you I haven’t drunk anything else since then. And I try. I want you to know that I try.’
You shook your head, a sad smile on your face as you held his hand again. ‘That’s twenty-five days sober, daddy. It’s good. It’s enough, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He said breathing out. A soft smile lighted up his face then. ‘Thank you, flower. I’ll wait for you here.’
You nodded, letting his hand go, and climbing out of the car to face the coldness that awaited you.
‘There you are.’ Said your mom as soon as you walked into the hallway, blueish lights making you feel sick just by the look of them. She handed you a brown bag and a cup of coffee, and you tried to balance it all out on your hands. ‘Okay so, they’re on the third floor. She left surgery a couple of hours ago, and Roger’s calling the family while I deal with the paperwork of the rehabilitation centre.’
You blinked many times, digesting all the information she rambled about.
‘I’m trying to get hold of some contacts that helped me when you dad got in, so I need you to be useful. Those are for Steve; poor kid hasn’t even eaten since yesterday.’
Your heart beat hard at the mention of his name, thinking about him getting the news, and sitting all alone in this depressing place.
‘…And it’d be nice if you apologized for whatever you said at the Country Club.’ Your eyes lifted to find her looking back at you, tone firm and eyes serious as she spoke. ‘That kid’s been miserable all week. And I hope you’re taking your birth control just like I taught you.’
‘Mom.’ You felt the heat rising to your cheeks then. She started looking for something in her bag, taking out a cigarette case. You felt so stupid for thinking she wouldn’t notice what had been going on.
‘Don’t Mom me.’ She said taking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. ‘It’s important. Now go upstairs and be useful, I’m gonna make some calls outside. I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate hospitals.’
He was sitting outside room number 325. You stood outside the elevator like an idiot, feeling the cowardice all over your body and wishing you could just turn back and tell your dad to take you home. But then he lifted his eyes, brown and exhausted, and you had no other option than to walk towards him.
‘Hey.’ You said standing in front of him, he was looking at his shoes while you put the cup of coffee and the brown bag on the table next to him. ‘Mom got you breakfast. She said you haven’t eaten.’
He sniffed quietly, shaking his head. ‘M not really hungry, but thanks.’
You stood straight again, your shoes in front of his as you thought about what to do. Your hands ached to touch him, resting on either side of you, and you hated yourself for the mess you had made, knowing you probably needed him more than he did right now.
‘Steve…’
His head tilted forwards then, crashing softly against your stomach. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to inhale your perfume, hands finding your hips as your fingers instinctively ran through his hair and your pulse ran fast on your ears.
His firm hands wrapped around your hips, and he pulled you in, sitting straight so his head rested against your breastbone, one of your hands finding the back of his neck, and the other stroking his messy hair, leaving soft kisses that wouldn’t fix anything, but he still needed like oxygen.
You stayed there for minutes or hours, whispering I’m sorrys against his scalp while his soft sniffs echoed through the hospital’s hallway.
‘I owe you a can of soda.’ You told your dad as you stood on the threshold of Steve’s house.
He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, flower.’
Your hug caught him by surprise, you noticed by the way his arms hesitated before wrapping around you.
‘Merry Christmas, dad.’ You said hugging him tighter. He laughed softly, patting your back.
‘Merry Christmas, flower.’ You took a step back, smiling at him. Even though Steve was already inside he was sure to murmur. ‘You take care of each other, okay?’
You nodded, smiling softly as you put one of your hands on your back pockets while the other held the blue gift bag.
‘Your mom’s coming over later, but if she can’t, make sure to call me.’
‘Sure, sir.’
He smiled at you before making his way to the car.
You closed the door behind you, thinking about the little girl that once walked in wearing her little Prada loafers, how scared she was as she made her way to the living room like you were doing now.
‘Hey.’ You said as you walked in. He was sitting in front of the tree, cross sitting with his back arched looking at the presents.
His eyes looked at you for a second before falling on your wrist.
‘S that for me?’ He asked. The smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, but you could see he had at least found it amusing.
You shrugged. ‘S got your name on it.’
‘Maybe Santa got the wrong address.’ He joked.
‘Maybe he did.’ You agreed, sitting next to him. You removed the bag handle from your wrist and placed the present in front of him. ‘Merry Christmas.’
He bent forwards then, grabbing a green bag from the mess of presents under the tree. You smiled as he placed it in front of you.
‘Merry Christmas.’
The silence was filled with the noise of the bags being opened, childish excitement taking over your body as your curiosity increased.
‘No way.’ You said taking out the pink pyjama set.
‘That’s uh…’ He said lifting the rocket pyjama pants you got for him, a soft laugh leaving his lips. ‘Thank you.’
You smiled at him, eyes looking down at your hands playing wit the pink fabric as you tried to find the right words to say.
‘I, uh… I owe you a huge apology, Steve.’  You licked your lips. When you looked up, his eyes were lost on the patterns of the rug, his pretty brown eyebrows frowning.
 ‘I–’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I just– It’s been a long day.’
You nodded then, looking away so he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were getting glossy. You let out a sigh.
‘Okay.’
You wondered is this was how things would be from now on. The warmth you both shared in the hospital now gone, Christmas lights illuminating the room as the blue shades of winter sneaked into the living room. You followed him with you eyes as he stood up, taking the gift bag with him.
‘I’m gonna take a shower, but just make yourself at home, okay?’ He scratched the back of his neck in nervousness as the real weight of exhaustion fell on his shoulders.
You nodded from your place on the floor, seeing him hesitate for a second before walking upstairs.
Your eyes were absently looking at the TV as the sun set outside. Pictures of little Steve hanging from the wall made you bite your lip as you tried to concentrate on the movie, but the unbearable feeling of knowing he was all alone somewhere in the house was making your hands sweaty. So you put your pride aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
You were about to knock the door when it opened. Watery brown eyes and red nose as he sniffed softly. His hair was still wet, and the sight of him wearing a long sleeve top and the rocket pyjama pants would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was crying.
‘Are you okay?’ You whispered, it was a silly thing to ask, but a good excuse to cup his face with your hands. You got closer, brushing your nose with his as his hands found your hips to hug you tight against him. Eyes shut as you cleaned his cheeks with your thumbs.
‘Can you just…’ He breathed out a tired whisper. ‘Can you just stay here, please? I just– I just need you to stay here, and we can just– just go back to normal when this is over, but–’
‘Shhh.’ You said stroking his nose with yours. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyebrows arched as he tried to hold onto you. ‘I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it, okay?’
He leaned in first, pulling you with him as his needy mouth kissed yours, fingers sneaking under your shirt as you both fell on the bed, and he rolled over to be on top of you.
It was cold. It was quiet. Too many words unsaid as the clothes fell on the floor and you both gave in once more. The taste of his tongue got mixed with his tears as his hands got rid of your underwear, and you let him use you. Your mouth opened to say his name many times, trying to get him to look at you, but every time his mouth found a way to be on yours, shutting you up with sweet desperation.
His breath pattern was getting unusually fast when you felt his dick on your thigh, and you pushed him softly but firm enough to finally break the kiss.
‘I, uh…’ He looked down, eyebrows almost frowning in pain as you tried to look for his gaze. ‘Maybe I c-can’t do this.’
‘Steve. Look at me.’ One of your hands cupped his face, placing his forehead on yours and the other was flat on his chest. ‘Let me see you.’
He looked up at you then, brown pupils confused at the sweetness on yours, glossy eyes staring back at him as you whispered. ‘I’m here. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.’
His eyes turned soft then, shaking his head lightly. ‘Don’t say it if–’
‘I love you.’ You repeated, this time looking for his lips with your mouth as his warmth made you feel needier. ‘And I’m yours. You can fuck me like I’m yours.’
He let out a deep shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His face fell on your neck then, and you released a gasping moan when he finally went inside you.
Your hands held onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your neck, drawing a line towards your ear as he fucked you slowly, patiently.
‘loveyou. loveyou. loveyou.’ He repeated, his nose against your cheekbone as he did. ‘Hmm. ‘M never getting tired of tellin’ you. Gonna f-fuck you until it gets into your pretty head.’
You laughed softly, and he took his head out of its hiding place on your neck to look at you. Pretty brown eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sound of your laugh.
He stared at your body, licking his lips and increasing his speed as your eyebrows arched and your eyelids got heavy with the pleasure. A whispery whine left your lips as you tilted your head, walls squeezing him deliciously.
‘What?’ You were suddenly turning shy at his stare.
‘Just love seein’ you.’ He said. ‘You’re mine, right?’
You nodded as you started moving your own hips, swollen lips partly open as you got lost in the pleasure. He cupped your face momentarily, before inserting two of his fingers inside your mouth. You made sure to make them sloppy for him, holding his wrist with your hands and blinking slowly as you did so. His eyes taking in the beautiful sight in front of him before taking them out to stroke your clit.
‘My good girl.’ He sighed, kissing your temple while he drew the softest circles on your sensitive bud. ‘My sweet girl.’
He placed his forehead on yours again, and your finger drew a line from his cheek to his lips before brushing his mouth with yours. ‘Wanna cum for you. Need you to fuck me harder so I can cum for you.’
He smiled softly, doing as you said, giving into your sweet request that he’d never deny. His tongue found yours as his hips crashed against you firmly, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin.
He got lost in the way your pretty mouth bit his lower lip, in the way your hands scratched his back as he made sure to give you what you wanted, yielding completely to your overwhelming warmth.
You opened your eyes for him when you felt your walls starting to squeeze, and your breath started to get heavier, nonsense leaving your lips as you tried to tell him, but he was so deep inside you, and you were being fucked so nicely that all you could do was let out those choky moans that drove him crazy.
‘Cum like you’re mine, baby.’ He said. He begged. ‘F-fuck. Cum for me, needy thing.’
Your fingers squeezed the skin on his ribs as you moved your hips, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you were getting close. You tried to instinctively move your head to your side, but Steve held your chin firmly so you would look at him.
‘Uh.’ You gasped. ‘Baby, I’m–’
But you couldn’t finish any sentence until his nose brush with yours and the sweet, innocent peck he gave you finally sent you to the edge.
‘That’s it.’ He kissed your sweaty cheek as your frail body convulsed under his and he reached his own orgasm. ‘That’s it. S-Shit. So good– So good for me.’
You stroked his hair as he hid his head on your neck, body falling on yours and arms wrapping you, catching your breaths as the night fell outside and only the reflection of the snow lit up the room.
Steve sat back to grab the blankets on the end of the bed and wrapped you two in them, coming back to his space between your legs. You could notice the way he avoided your eyes as he fixed your hair, arranging the wild strands that fell on your face.
‘Hey.’ You said playing with the hairs of his chest.
His eyes lifted then, full of doubt as you looked back at him. He was almost expecting you’d take it all back.
But all you did was tilt your head, hand cupping his face and thumb brushing the little stubble that was growing. You felt him relax under your touch, eyes getting soft by the way you were smiling at him.
‘You need a nap.’ You whispered.
‘And you need a shower.’ He said in the same tone.
You laughed softly, but you saw the way his eyes had turned serious again.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You said. You’d repeat it as many times as he’d need to hear it.
He moved then, laying on his back and opening his arm so you’d cuddle against him. You saw him swallow hard as you laid on your side, elbow on the pillow and jaw on your hand as you noticed the way his eyes got glossy.
Steve let out a deep breath when your hand drew a line from his forehead to his chin, relaxing under your touch. He took your hand and kissed your palm before holding it against his cheek.
‘Thank you.’ He whispered.
You shook your head. ‘Anytime.’
He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your naked body to him. He buried his head on your chest, letting himself be lulled by your smell and the warmth of your skin, brushing your skin with his thumbs.
He closed his eyes as you kissed the soft brown locks of his head, and he fell asleep on your arms, hearing your soft I love yous in the distance, and knowing it was true. Two lonely kids stitching each other’s wounds on Christmas day.
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this is a repost, because i had a few problems with the tags. tagging everyone who kindly interacted with the first post (if you’re not here it’s because tumblr didn’t let me tag you but ily anyways): @claire0531 @liacrain @aurora-austen @stevesbeautifulhair @idontevenlistentomitski @pumpkinonice
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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ahundredtimesover · 2 months
Text
I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK
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Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.8k
Series Masterlist
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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
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A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
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The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you. 
You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough. 
“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”
“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”
And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse. 
Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that. 
Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you. 
Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him. 
You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet. 
“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now. 
Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.
You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now. 
“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”
“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in. 
He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place. 
The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.
“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous. 
“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast. 
“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.
“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”
“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”
“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing. 
“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen. 
You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.
“And I was thirsty,” she continues. 
He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her. 
“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps. 
“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around. 
“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.
You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.
“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”
“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”
She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal. 
The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.
“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”
Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.
“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”
You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now. 
Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye. 
“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”
Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook. 
She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.
Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing. 
He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy. 
Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does. 
The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.
“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 
He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule. 
“So—”
“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it. 
“Okay, sir,” you say softly.
He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet. 
“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.
“E-excuse me?”
“Breakfast. Have you had it?”
“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.
He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning. 
“Why don’t you drive?”
“I don’t have a car, sir.”
“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”
“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond. 
“Bitna has a company car.”
“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”
“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”
Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.
“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”
Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that. 
He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.
“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.
So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from. 
You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time. 
What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person. 
He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.
The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you. 
You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance. 
He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.
“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says. 
Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic. 
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”
“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues. 
“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”
Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him. 
“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”
“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”
The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started. 
You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now. 
But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know. 
“I—”
“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”
“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster. 
He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed. 
Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.
You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable. 
He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down. 
You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.
“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”
“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar. 
He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it. 
You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this. 
The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little. 
You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern -  should not happen again. 
Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed. 
It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.
You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”
He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.
You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.
Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you. 
“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.
It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.
“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”
You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you. 
“You may leave,” he instructs. 
“What about lunch, sir?” You ask. 
You’d never cared before, why the change now? 
“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”
Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you. 
He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.
It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.
You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this. 
He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps. 
“Do you need that tended to?” You ask. 
He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems. 
“I’m fine,” he shrugs. 
You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.
But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now. 
For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything. 
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It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.
“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”
“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”
“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.
“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”
You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.
“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”
“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”
You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is. 
You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.
Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual. 
“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”
“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”
“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.
“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”
“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”
There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.
“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”
“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in. 
Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents. 
“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”
“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”
“Maybe he’s just concerned.”
You snort at the absurdity of the statement. 
Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do. 
As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in. 
But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.
“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”
“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”
“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”
“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”
“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”
You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name. 
“Okay,” you say softly. 
“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”
“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”
“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”
They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while. 
You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.
“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.
“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated. 
“And you’re gonna eat again?”
“I was actually–”
You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous. 
“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little. 
“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”
With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”
“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”
You smack yourself internally for rambling. 
“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”
“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”
“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”
“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place. 
Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.
“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.
You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too. 
He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.
“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.
“You cook?” You ask too quickly.
“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”
“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug. 
Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.
He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that. 
You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be. 
The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again. 
He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.
Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece. 
You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are. 
You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him. 
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”
He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak. 
“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”
“That soon?” Jungkook asks.
“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.
Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time. 
“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips. 
Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.
As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too. 
“Uh, yes,” you say. 
“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.
You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.
“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.
“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.
“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.
“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”
“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”
“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.
“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”
“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down. 
“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.
It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam. 
Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.
“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”
“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture. 
He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.
“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”
“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle. 
“I guess that’s my answer, then.”
“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”
“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”
You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself. 
“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”
“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”
“That’s not an excuse though.”
“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”
It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it. 
“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.
Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off. 
“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”
“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.
“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”
You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.
“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for. 
“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.
“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”
You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung. 
You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.
“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”
“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”
“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”
“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”
“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says. 
“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”
“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.
“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.
“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again. 
“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”
“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”
“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”
“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.
“Did he tell you off again?”
“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”
“Did you?”
“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”
“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”
“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear. 
It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke. 
But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.
You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.
“All good?” Taehyung asks you.
“Yes,” you bow in thanks. 
“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?
“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”
The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.
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Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.
You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.
They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around. 
“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”
“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”
“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”
“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”
“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”
“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.
Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days. 
“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”
“Except for Jimin,” you correct.
“Except for Jimin,” she concurs. 
“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”
“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.
“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.
“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”
“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.
Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done. 
“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”
“Why would he pity you?” She asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”
“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”
“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly. 
“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.
“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”
“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do. 
She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself. 
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The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment. 
You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day. 
Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out. 
“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night. 
“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”
“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them. 
“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 
Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked. 
You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can. 
Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you. 
Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist. 
“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.  
“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle. 
“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says. 
You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter. 
You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good. 
“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him. 
“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”
You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.
“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes. 
“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”
“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.
You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he. 
But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.
“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”
“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.
“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”
“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”
“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit. 
“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”
“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”
“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.
“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”
“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”
“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”
“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time. 
“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…” 
She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about. 
“Like them.” 
You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair. 
“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”
Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.
From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients. 
Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side. 
But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now. 
He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.
“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table. 
He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why. 
“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”
“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.
“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”
Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. 
Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.
“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time. 
“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there. 
You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal. 
Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at. 
But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.
“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”
“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”
“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”
“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”
“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”
“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”
“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”
“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”
“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.
“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”
“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”
His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace. 
“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”
You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.
You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.
“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”
You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after. 
The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.
“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”
You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”
The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though. 
“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk. 
Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way. 
“Your girl?” He scoffs. 
The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you. 
Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you. 
“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts. 
“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”
Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.
You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top. 
“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead. 
You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing. 
“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes. 
It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably. 
“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.
“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”
“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”
“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”
Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…” 
The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.
“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins. 
You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.
You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.
“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–” 
You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body. 
You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs. 
“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom. 
“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”
You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting. 
“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be. 
He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot. 
The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he��s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.
“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”
“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds. 
“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”
“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters. 
You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”
He calls your name before you turn around to leave. 
“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”
You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.
Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.  
“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”
You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you. 
You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.
“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you. 
You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter. 
“A… a little,” you admit, looking away. 
You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him. 
“I’m so—”
The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri. 
From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.
“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”
“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously. 
“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”
“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”
“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”
“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”
Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience. 
They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily. 
“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”
Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do. 
You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you. 
“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off. 
“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”
You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.
“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car. 
“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”
So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.
You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything. 
“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”
They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.
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mstase · 3 months
Text
🤱🏻 Moon & Mother
the moon in your birth chart can offer insights into the mother’s personality and your relationship with her ~ 🌙
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SUN-MOON: your mother is confident and direct, likely pushing you to toughen up and build confidence, shaping your identity and the way you carry yourself. however, this encouragement may come across as controlling, as she may have a specific image or standard she wants you to meet. this could create tension as you navigate between fulfilling her expectations and developing your own individuality. at times, she might seem arrogant and boastful, adding complexity to the dynamic
MERCURY-MOON: your mother is talkative, expressive, and enjoys logical discussions, but she can be critical, nitpicking, and lacks tact in communication. she values rationality over sensitivity and may often disregard or overlook your feelings. you might find yourself having frequent verbal arguments with her, but also chitchats. overall, her influence on you is significant, shaping how you think and communicate and likely instilling a preference for logic and directness.
VENUS-MOON: your mother is charming, sociable, and probably popular. her ability to effortlessly get her way into people has influenced you, leading you to believe that charm can make life smoother. despite your mother’s appealing qualities, there may be a two-faced and shallow side to her. your relationship with her is probably good, with few arguments, unless other aspects say otherwise. she played a significant role in shaping how you approach making connections and socializing.
MARS-MOON: your mother’s assertiveness and impatience, coupled with struggles in expressing emotions, likely resulted in frequent outbursts. her combative and defensive nature might have contributed to a home environment marked by conflicts and arguments. in response to this, you may have developed a heightened sense of alertness and the tendency to react quickly to diffuse or navigate such situations. your mother’s influence shaped the way you deal with emotions, leaning towards an aggressive approach
JUPITER-MOON: your mother is joyful, open-minded, and generous. however, her indulgent nature suggests a tendency to be overly lenient. your mother’s strong and dramatic reactions suggest that she responds intensely to various situations. perhaps she easily takes things personally and often makes small things a big deal. she may have influenced your wisdom, religious, and philosophical views, as well as your general outlook on life.
SATURN-MOON: your mother could have been emotionally guarded and strict, but she was also diligent and hardworking. early on in life, you were given a strong sense of responsibility, as your mother may have been preoccupied with her other duties. the bond between you two is serious and reserved, marked by limited displays of affection. growing up in an emotionally distant family taught you how to manage your emotions without support, which led you to develop emotional resilience.
URANUS-MOON: it seems that your mother exhibits moodiness and emotional distance, indicating a potential absence or distance in your relationship. childhood experiences marked by changes and unpredictability may have contributed to the inconsistency in your connection with her. despite this, she instilled in you a sense of independence and the ability to handle your own things. however, growing up, you may have likely felt like the odd one out in the family.
NEPTUNE-MOON: this can suggest that your mother may have been absent, either physically or emotionally, perhaps due to substance use or illness. another possibility is that she experienced abuse, and you had to bear the weight of her suffering, making you very sensitive to her emotions. despite your mother’s selflessness and compassion, there’s a deceptive side to her, meaning you might not have fully understood the true depth of her nature as you grew older.
PLUTO-MOON: your mother possesses a complex mix of traits, as she is both deeply loving and controlling. this can make you feel suffocated because she switches between being affectionate and dominating, showing strong and unpredictable emotions. it creates a storm in your relationship with her, sometimes leaving you confused as to why she acts that way. the power struggles you have with her add to the overwhelming feeling of conflicting forces in your relationship.
this is based on my observation & interpretation. take what resonates 💜 @mstase
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