Nine To Five, Five To Nine — Jeon Jungkook

Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! To be continued in Part II, here.

Rocket to the Moon | (m)

Jeon Jungkook | Roommates AU |  Smut | Romance | Office Romance | Domestic Y/N | Squirting | Oral Sex | Sassy Characters | Cussing | Christmas

COUNT—20, 805 words ↳ A/N: There you go. 

❝Being Jungkook’s roommate and colleague screws you over in more ways than one. When one door opens, another door down the hall closes.❞

Weiterlesen

Deal

What do you do when your teenage brother’s cancer is too far gone? Well, you summon a cocky crossroad demon to make a deal; your life for Taehyung’s.

pairing: demon!jk x reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut.

word count: uhm, …19.5k

warnings: some parts are very sad, reader is prepared for her life to end and her brother has terminal cancer :/ it’s not really described in-depth since i’m not a doctor and it’s a sensitive topic. she also has the beginning of a panic attack. penetrative sex, switch/very soft dom/slightly sub jk lmao, his dick is…ribbed. also blood, mentions of killing, branding skin, wounds by arrow…

masterlist

© Deal is copyright vinterjeon 2020. This fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: inspired by the crossroad demons of supernatural who seal their deals with a kiss and then collect the humans’ souls. also this is pure shit so im sorry :( tumblr literally did NOT want this fic up because it gave me H E L L trying to upload so if things shit then it is what it is im having an aneurism

It’s empty. Not a single soul present, except for you. You should’ve picked a different location, surely crossroads are abundant. But this one was desolate, no one around to witness the massive fool you’re about to make of yourself. Maybe it’s also due to the fact that it’s in the middle of the night. Probably.

Your trusty old car waits a couple of meters behind, lazily pulled over on the side of the thin, dirt road and with the headlights on to guide you. There are a few sparsely placed streetlights, but none that’s emitting actual light. You’ve retrieved the plastic bag containing the three components needed, and it swings heavily from your hand. You won’t deny that you’re nervous.

Weiterlesen

i wanna be okay. | lee jeno

PAIRING: bodyguard!jeno x fem reader

GENRE: strangers-to-lovers, e2ls, SLOW BURN, celebrity! au, rich kid! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WORD COUNT: 18.1k

NOTES: profanity, alcohol consumption, lots of arguing lol, somewhat heavy violence, blood, hospitals, injuries and im not a doctor so pls don’t come for me, flirting that kinda makes me wanna p*ke, slightly suggestive scenes, kissing

SUMMARY: the one where your rich CEO dad hires you a mysterious bodyguard to stay by your side 24/7. on the contrary, as much as jeno tries to stay away from you- it’s just utterly impossible.

authors note: wow. it’s finally done. akbskdjdks after so many months of hard work, i’ve finally finished and any feedback would be greatly appreciated <33 anyways, so much work and effort has been put into this, so i really hope anyone reading/waiting for this enjoys! thank you all- jae (also yes this is set near christmas time bc i was writing then and just only finished now :))

TAGLIST: @mrkcore @moonbeamsung @neonvision @sunzwoo @neocuddlytechnology @itsveronicaxxx @keemburley @rynshyuckies @neochaeryeong @terjeno @lighthyucks @blank-velvet @kaexloey @aedreamzy @kodasity @dnckfwk

The split second the door is opened for you to exit, the flashes start attacking you with bright and harsh lights, fighting alongside with strong and sturdy hands helping you out of the car. You won’t lie, it put you off a little. You were used to the cameras all your life, but especially today it seemed like the loud, intruding voices and crowded bodies actually made a dent in your hardened shell.

Nonetheless, the party was a success. The articles and pictures of you online were newsworthy (as per usual) even when the process of getting them was quite in contrast to what was actually put out to the public.

‘CEO of Meija Tech’s Daughter, y/n y/l/n, Makes Striking Appearance for the Opening…’

You sigh, scrolling past the articles and comments- the majority were commenting on the harsh conditions of the paparazzi at your entrance.

Ha, can’t they leave her alone for once?

They follow her everywhere… can’t they just let her walk where she wants?

I feel bad… she can’t even walk out of a car before getting mobbed…

Tch. The biggest company in the country can’t even afford bodyguards for the daughter of the CEO?

Enough. You turn your phone off with a sense of finality. You knew this was going to happen. As the years passed and your exposure to the outside public grew, it was inevitable that your life would be invaded by parasites that feed off you and your every move. You’re the host. And they’ll take anything.

The incoming sound of heels clicking against the hard marbled floor catches your attention. You glance up. Your father’s secretary stands with her hands on her hips. “Yes?” you question innocently.

“Your father wishes-“

You get up from your spot in the workers' lounge (as if you belonged there), not caring to hear the rest of her words. “Yeah, I got it.”

Now, the sounds of your heels clicking fill the hallways, people murmuring as you walk past with that air of superiority and your head held high. In reality, it was just the habit formed by countless lessons your father forced you to take beginning at the mere age of six. Not to forget the fact that you didn’t care to hear the people working under your father talk shit about you and the people you cared about.

Exiting the elevator, you’re surprised to see that there’s no one in your father’s office- besides himself, of course. You clasp your hands together.

“Father.” He tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“Is there a reason you called me to your office at this time?” Your father clears his throat, and you know he’s being serious. Then again, when was he not?

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news articles.” Ah. That’s what it is.

He continues, “and I’ve been thinking for some time now…”

Your hands clasp tighter.

“Perhaps we should hire you a bodyguard. A strong and reliable one to stay by your side at all times to keep you safe.”

It sinks in, and you bristle. “Father!”

He shakes his head. “This is imperative now. Especially as your popularity continues to grow and it exposes you more and more to the outside world.”

“But I don’t want one?” you frown. “I think I’m perfectly fine. I feel content with how it is now.”

He sighs. “Your safety, my daughter.”

You cross your arms. “Yes, that’s true, but I really don’t believe I need to-“ He holds a hand up, and you fall silent. This is a one-sided argument.

“That’s all. You can leave now.”

You end up trudging out of his office towards the elevator with no destination in mind. Your mind flashes back. Is it really that bad to have a bodyguard? Why are you so hesitant about getting one?

You don’t actually know. Maybe it’s because you were scared. That’s all. Scared to acknowledge that you were already at that level of fame. It was really scary to face that fact. You, y/n, were at risk enough that you needed a bodyguard to protect you from things you didn’t want to happen. Things you really would want to imagine to either.

But who actually knows, right?

Four. That’s when you lost your mother and instead got raised by family caretakers while your father was busy running just one of the largest franchises in the world. Obviously, you didn’t have a family. Or friends. Or anyone, for that matter.

You suppose you should thank your father for the boarding school he sent you to at age thirteen. Most people would probably object and detest going with all their being, but you saw it as a chance to explore. Explore life past the strict rules, regulated behaviors, constant empty house, and everything that surrounded you.

And people you did meet. Mainly other rich (snotty) kids and teachers, it was a prestigious boarding school after all, but some of them you actually clicked with. And stayed with to this day.

“Minjeong!” You call out happily, running to meet your friend. It’s been almost a month since you last saw her, work being the main priority and barrier between the both of you.

She gives you a small hug, a smirk on her face. “Hey, daughter of CEO y/l/n, whose face is all over the news still.” You roll your eyes.

“Don’t remind me. I hate it.”

“But I like having a famous friend.”

You roll your eyes before abruptly standing up straighter. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Father plans on hiring me a bodyguard to accompany me the entire day, like a pet dog. I think it’s a bit much.”

“If I recall, that’s what a bodyguard does.” She then nods her head. “It makes sense, y/n. You need one.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re on his side?” Her eyes widen and you slump over. “Ugh, Minjeong, I really don’t know what to do. I just don’t want one. Not one bit.”

A hand comes to rest over yours. “Hey, I’m always on your side. That’s why I think having a bodyguard would be good. They’ll keep you safe, y/n,” she insists. “Just think about it. If you really don’t want one, maybe your father will reconsider it. Truly.”

It’s not likely.

But two weeks go on, and it seems like your father has forgotten about it. You feel a bit more relaxed now that it seems to have passed, and you enter the 20-story building that your father runs.

It’s going too well, to be honest. Enjoying a nice, steaming cup of coffee with the bright and sunny weather outside, it was bound to go downhill from here.

A familiar voice calls your name.

You raise an eyebrow. “Chaeryeong? Why are you up here?”

Your other close friend who also attended the same boarding school as you and Minjeong when you were younger, walks in. She decided to get a job at your father’s company just to start her off somewhere since her father and yours were business partners.

She puts a hand on her hip. “Haven’t you heard?” You pause mid-sip. “Huh? Heard what?”

“Lee Jeno’s here.”

You blink. “Who?”

She gets even closer to you, placing both of her hands on your shoulders with an astounded expression. “The bodyguard? Good looking? The kind where everyone is talking about him good-looking?” She emphasizes with wide eyes. You open your mouth but you don’t even know the next words that are about to come out. “I-wha-“ Quickly, you collect yourself, tucking a strand of hair behind you. “Why is he here?”

Minjeong bursts into the room with a wild look in her eyes, the door banging against the wall with a loud bam. Your heads whip towards the door.

“That attractive guy is your new bodyguard?!”

❀

“Father,” you pout, hands placed together as you try your best to work your way out of whatever this is.

“No.”

It feels as if a cold breeze blows past you, and you shiver. Sneakily from underneath your eyelashes, your eyes shift to the person sitting stiffly in front of you.

It’s been five minutes, so you quickly give up. Sighing, you cross your legs, and then your arms as if it would assert your dominance. “Alright, shall we head off?”

The figure says nothing, only imitating your actions as you get up and walk out of your father’s office.

“No funny business, daughter of mine,” yup father calls out with a stern expression.

You roll your eyes.

The sound of the elevator beeping as you go down the many floors of the building fills the air. Soon enough, you can’t stand the silence.

“Y/n y/l/n, but I’m sure you know that already. And you?”

This may be the first time he’s properly looked at you. He clasps his hand behind his back like a typical bodyguard and you observe him carefully.

“Lee Jeno,” he responds curtly.

Carefully, you make a note in your head. “How old are you?” You wait for about a minute before his response comes. “I don’t believe I am inclined to answer that.”

You tilt your head to the side, not paying any heed to what he just said. “2000, right? Nice to meet you,” you comment briefly. Jeno stares out the window with that stoic face of his.

The rest of the ride down is in silence.

Serious about his job, much?

The silence appears to be there for you to contemplate how the rest of your life is going to play out with this man at your side. Or…. perhaps he would get fed up with you. That would be funny, and sadly at this moment, a dream come true.

Jerk. Annoying, straight-faced asshole.

You continue writing furiously at your desk, the pen sounds scratching and stamping against the lined paper while the memory from earlier in the day replays in your head for the nth time.

You scoff, “Mr. Lee Jeno, it’s just a hangout, that’s all. Just my two friends and I. Why can’t you let me go? I don’t think you-“

He stands there with no expression. “Your father said you couldn’t go out past 11 pm, Miss, so I’m not letting you go out. Please get into the car.” You feel your face flush with anger.

“Who said you could command me like that? Huh?”

The air feels cold and hot at the same time. The only thing that cuts through your heated expressions is the lowering of the window by the driver.

“Miss y/l/n? Is everything alright?”

You unfreeze, immediately smiling towards the man. “Of course, mister.”

Jeno next to you quickly bows, voice void of emotion. “Yes, sir. I apologize. I believe Miss y/l/n left something inside the building but it’s too late to get it. We’ll get into the car now, I apologize once again for the inconvenience.”

You stand there for a second, too astounded to do anything except stare at the person dressed in all black in front of you.

The audacity of this man.

You barely make it into the car (or home for that matter), accompanied by a glare from jeno.

You groan loudly, head falling onto the table with a thud.

A face peeks into the room. Your grandma (who wasn’t your grandmother by blood but you still liked to call her as such) stares at you, concerned. “Are you okay, y/n? Frustrated with work?”

You look up with an uneasy smile. “Oh, yeah, something like that…”

After she leaves satisfied with your answer, you properly smile. After all these years, she’s stuck by your side and taken care of you in replacement of your real family. Even now, she stays with you at your own place as the housekeeper.

You hope she never has to deal with dicks like Lee Jeno. You pinch your nose bridge, irked again.

It’s only been a week, and you’re at your wit's end. Why? Just why does the person you have to see every day for 24 hours on repeat have to be him? An aggravating, cocky, expressionless, handsome douch-

You stop yourself. And smack your face three, no, four times for good measure. You stand up violently with your palms planted flat on the table.

Let’s sleep.

You nod to yourself. Great idea.

❀

You stare holes into the man following after you into the building with his hands behind his back. You sincerely hope he gets the memo that you’re cursing him with your eyes.

You remember the first day of having Lee Jeno employed as your bodyguard. You remember the words you exchanged then.

You're fed up. You stop in your tracks, spinning around with your arms crossed and eyes glinting. “Do you have to follow me everywhere?”

Jeno stands there a few feet away, as he has been the whole day. “Do you know what a bodyguard does?” he retorts, unfazed.

You groan. “You know what? Go home. You can come back whenever my father’s around, so he at least thinks you’re doing your job. How’s that?” You point a finger at him aggressively. “I’ll pay you more. How much? What about-”

Jeno cocks his head. “Are you that much of an idiot?”

You scowl as you cross the lobby. Your bodyguard follows you into the elevator without a word and exits onto your floor without a word.

He’s even got his own personal desk now in your office, and you want to smack all the papers piled on his desk flying off.

Why the fuck does a bodyguard have his own papers to file?

You go to your desks respectively, not a single word exchanged. It lasts for about fourish hours until you give up. You stand up from your chair, exhaling as you glance at jeno. “I want to get something from the cafe. Let’s go.”

He gets up quietly, hands in his pocket as he follows you.

❀

You tap your hand on your chin thoughtfully. This order was especially important, as your day was already horrible enough and this one choice could quite literally change it.

Jeno sighs from behind you, reaching for his walkie-talkie. “No sir, we’re at the cafe. Miss y/n is taking a while with her order, I apologize on her behalf." It’s as if he was purposefully speaking louder for you to hear. You ignore him, gritting your teeth.

You practically start skipping in your designer heels, the taste of the drink makes you feel so giddy inside. Then it hits you. You left your layout plans back at home, so you switch your directions to head back there.

“Hey,” Jeno interrupts. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way back to the office.”

You ignore jeno once again.

Then a rough hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back with so much force. So much that you lose control and your drink is flung at jeno, soaking his neatly ironed suit.

Time pauses for a moment. You gasp, the air rushed out of you. Jeno freezes, the cold drink chilling his bones.

And then, it starts again. You snatch your hand out of his grip. “Are you crazy?” You yell, pissed. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Jeno grits his teeth, closing his eyes in an attempt to control himself. You raise a finger, directing it straight at his face, just in-between his onyx eyes. “Who said you could touch-“

You’re prevented from saying anything else as you feel your body being ripped from its spot and slammed against a nearby brick wall, the pain almost making your eyes well up with tears.

A hand slams harshly next to you, and your eyes flick towards the culprit. You swear you can see his eyes flash red, and his chest heaves heavily with anger.

“Why are you always acting like a bitch?”

He steps even closer and instead of backing down, you meet his intense gaze. After a few seconds, you scoff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms once again.

“Have you always been this spoiled?” He breathes out shakily, nostrils flaring. “Perhaps you should open your eyes to the people around you instead of being a selfish and egotistical brat.”

You notice a prominent vein sticking out in his neck from the close proximity and swallow. You look away and then push him hardly off of you, disgust in your eyes. “I don’t think you have the right to say anything like that as my bodyguard. I also don’t think you have the right to prevent me from going to my own home. Don’t you dare follow me anymore.”

Fuming, you stomp off.

❀

If there was ever a time you wanted to kill someone, now would be the perfect chance.

“Mr. Lee will be moving into your place.”

You clench your jaw. “Father, you can’t possibly make that person live in my home!”

“Who, again, is the one paying for your current residence?”

You falter before gathering your resolve. “Sure, you did. I’m grateful for that. But you only got it through connections.” You sigh, turning your head away. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’ll ever let him take one step in my place.”

Your father’s eyes narrow. “You need surveillance hourly after that cafe stunt, and the only way to do that is by having Mr. Lee stay with you. At all times.”

❀

You don’t like this. Not at all.

Shoulders rigid and tense, you stand in front of the door to your penthouse located on the top floor. Still being a young adult, your father pulled some strings to let you live in an apartment building near the office with your care-taking staff.

Well, from now on, your bodyguard, Lee Jeno as well.

Hesitantly, you type in the passcode and watch the door swing open. Not bothering to look behind you, you call out, “The passcode is 0418. Remember that from now on because I won’t tell you again.”

You see your grandmother and immediately smile. She stops in her tracks, shocked at the appearance of a man in your home.

Jeno quickly bows. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs… ?”

She laughs, already taken in by his appearance and apparent manners. You watch uninterestedly from the side, picking at your nails.

“No need for formalities, just call me auntie,” she smiles kindly.

You clear your throat, calling out sweetly, “Grandmother~”

She raises an eyebrow. You carefully tiptoe over to her, leaning in to whisper in her ear, “That man is my bodyguard. You know, the one I told you about…”

She pulls away, surprised, before looking back at jeno. “Really? You’re that handsome man?”

You choke on your spit. He smiles bashfully, and your mouth almost drops. The first time you’ve ever seen lee jeno smile, and it was… You look away.

pretty.

He bows again. “Thank you, auntie.”

Flustered, you call for a maid. “Take him to his room and tell him all the rules for staying here,” you order. Then you turn around and head towards your bedroom, desperately wishing for this to be a dream. For lee jeno who is currently staying in your home to all just be a dream.

It’s no use.

You get up, sighing. Hours later, you still can’t sleep. You can’t sleep knowing that lee jeno is a few bedrooms away, doing who knows what.

Probably sleeping, you remind yourself with a sarcastic laugh.

But for some reason, you can’t help but wonder about him. You groan, trying to get settled back into bed. And then you see his face again.

Lee jeno, smiling with those stupidly pretty eyes.

You want to rip your hair out.

Quietly tip-toeing, you walk out into the dark living room and across the hall to his guest room. Heart pounding, you stop at the door. Your hand slowly rests on the handle, and you contemplate for a second. Knocking and waiting give you no answer.

So you open it. Only to find the room empty, as if he was never there in the first place.

If this feeling was disappointment, perhaps? you don’t know what you would do, so you head back to your room, feeling as if you could finally shut your eyes.

❀

You get it, after a few days of coming home late at night with him always a few steps behind.

Jeno leaves. That bit was obvious, but it all made sense now. He always left late at night, and always came back early in the morning for you. At first, you thought it was a waste of time (and precious sleep) before you recalled what he said to you that one day.

“Perhaps you should open your eyes to the people around you instead of only being a selfish and egotistical brat.”

You laugh, upset when you really shouldn’t be. That’s right, jeno probably has his own family that he has to return to, that he never sees because of his demanding job. His job where he has to see your complaining, spoiled face every day. He probably has a girlfriend, or wife even-

You slap yourself. Stop wasting your time thinking about jeno. You know what? It’s time to say goodnight.

You needed to rest, after all, tomorrow was a big day. Another one added to the countless big days you’ve already had in your youth and age.

❀

“I conclude my proposition for the upcoming 2022 schedule. I thank you all for your attention and attendance.” You bow, and rounds of claps fill the room.

Unbeknownst to you, jeno stands out to the side of the meeting room, leaning against the wall as he waits for you. He stood planted like that for hours since the beginning of the meeting.

He looks down at the ground, still hearing the lasting effects of the applause from your presentation. Jeno won’t lie- he’s impressed. Okay so maybe at first he thought you were just another snotty rich kid with nothing better to do than spend all your money, but it turns out you can be more than that. He almost scoffs at the thought.

The way you exuded confidence- it was oozing out of you and into everyone in the room, and your voice speaking melodies (and many things he didn’t understand), but it was enough to make him shiver.

After finishing the ending remarks, you finally notice jeno’s presence. How long has he been there?

You walk over with a neutral expression on your face. You’re waiting, you’re not sure what for, but you’re waiting for him.

And all he does is stare.

You don’t get flustered. Not easily. And lee jeno staring at you for a long time made you flustered.

You bite your lip, frustrated. “What?” You finally bark. No response.

“What are you looking at?” You demand, looking disgusted. You walk off without another word. If you were being honest, you may have seemed rude but you were actually fretting internally, heart racing.

Was it your hair?

Self-consciously, you pat the top of your head, looking for a nearby mirror.

No way- this morning you purposely set your alarm early to do your hair for the meeting and so a certain someone would notice- you cough suddenly, thoughts interrupted by the approaching executive director. Immediately, you stop and put your act on, smiling and bowing. “How are you, sir?”

If you had just stayed back one more second, then you might’ve heard jeno murmur,

“you.”

❀

You bite your lip, searching through desk after desk.

Where could it be?

You swear you saw your father put it in the bottom left drawer, but it wasn’t there.

Running a hand through your hair, you quickly double-check that no one else is in the room, and continue the search. Your eyes gleam.

Found it.

The car keys dangle in your hand, practically shining in the light. It’s been months since you’ve last seen your precious baby, months since your father forbid you from driving. Probably to keep you from escaping late at night and doing things you shouldn’t be doing as the famous daughter of a CEO.

“What are you doing?”

Shit. You scramble to your feet, fixing your outfit.

Jeno stands in front of you, looking unimpressed. “What are those?”

You grow defensive, trying not to look as guilty or suspicious as possible while silently cursing him in your head. “Is asking questions the only thing you do?”

He shifts. “Maybe, if those car keys are yours.” He opens his mouth again. “I-“

In two seconds you’re in front of him, hands behind your back. Maybe just this once, it’ll work…

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, trying to muster the most pitiful (and childish) expression you can. “Please, oh please, my wonderful dear bodyguard, will you let me off just this once?” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I promise I’ll never treat you horribly or yell at you ever again. If you want, I won’t even talk to you anymore. I swear, these are the keys to my happiness-“

You peek an eye open, waiting hesitantly for his reaction.

You pout using your special pitiful eyes, leaning in closer. “Please, Mr. Lee, I really need this…”

Jeno stands there, still as a rock and completely unfazed by your little stunt. He blinks, clasping his arms behind his back and clearing his throat. “Are you done?”

You stop the act, deflated. You tilt your head to the side, anger building inside you once again.

He seems oblivious, looking outside the window at the scenery. “I believe your friend requested to have lunch with you at this time, miss.” You stand up straighter, temporarily distracted. “Huh? Who?”

❀

The CEO eventually calls Jeno into his office later that night.

Jeno bows, awaiting his next words. “You called me in, sir?” Your father sighs, hands clasped together at his desk. “I happened to see y/n exit my office earlier today, although I’m certain she did not have any engagements or reasons to be in here. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Jeno inhales, thinking back to this morning with your hands cutely clasped in front of you and eyes shut. That side of you he never would have expected- that made his hands clammy. When was the last time he had clammy hands?

He swallows, bowing once again.

“No, sir.”

The CEO cocks his head. “Really?”

“I believe she was just grabbing her jacket that she left there earlier this morning.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes sir.”

He gestures with a hand, “If that’s all, you’re dismissed.”

Jeno turns to leave, a storm brewing inside of him.

❀

It’s been a week and your father hasn’t said anything. You giggle to yourself before looking up.

“Mr. Jeno!”

He sighs, walking to your desk. “Yes?”

You look around animatedly, humming. “I wonder… could you get me two coffees?”

Jeno’s eye twitches. You never break eye contact, staring deeply into his eyes with a sparkle. “Pretty please? I’ll pay you back. Extra if you want.”

You smile brightly up at him, and he turns away. Once jeno leaves, you get back to your work, humming happily.

Chareryeong’s mouth drops open from across the table after seeing your interaction. She quickly glances around before turning to you and whispering, “I thought you hated that man? All you did was talk shit about him to me.”

You tap your pencil against your papers quickly scribbling something down.

“Well… it’s turned out to be better than I originally thought.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Not sure, he’s just an interesting man. He only talks when talked to, and doesn’t show an ounce of emotion.”

“Except when he’s pissed at me,” you add quickly, frowning.

You dramatically whip your head towards the nearby window, sunlight shining through to light up the best features of your face while you study the beams of light.

“I want to be the one to get him to open up. I want to unlock those secrets of his,” you murmur wistfully.

She shakes her head. “Are you crazy? Or a pervert? No, both?”

You send a deadly glare towards Chaeryeong. “I’m not, I’m just hungry.” You frown, “How long do you think he’ll take to get back?”

❀

Two cups of coffee are slammed onto the desk, and you almost flinch before proceeding to let out a blindingly breathtaking smile once you realize who it is in front of you. “Thanks, my dear bodyguard.”

He stands there, unamused.

Sighing, you pick up a cup and offer it to him. “I got it for you.”

Oh, really? He thinks mockingly to himself. “I don’t drink coffee,” he states simply before turning away.

You stare down the back of jeno, from his perfectly styled hair to his broad shoulders and down to neatly tied shoes. Tch.

There’s no need for you to worry, after all, you’ll have plenty more chances.

❀

This game of cat and mouse continues on, to jeno’s pure dislike. He would never admit it, but intrigue fills him just as much. You intimidate him. Your dramatic 360 change in behavior around jeno confused not only him but the people around you. Either way, jeno refuses to fall into your trap. No matter how sweetly you talk to him with that infuriating (read: cute) look on your face.

-except for times such as these, when you act so stubborn and do such idiotic things jeno can’t stand to comprehend you.

So there was a reason you didn’t go far away from your house or father’s building into the public that often when alone.

Your eyebrow twitches. You quietly clear your throat, lowering your head even closer to the ground as if it’ll hide your identity anymore. You prayed that the baseball cap you wore purposefully to cover your face would work, but obviously, it didn’t- judging by the whispers around you.

“Excuse me, are you by chance, y/n y/l/n?”

You smile sheepishly, lowering your head even more while cursing internally. “Oh, uh, you see-“

“Guys, that’s CEO y/l/n’s daughter.”

“No way, you’re right.”

“Do you think I can get a picture? I’ve never been this close to a celebrity before..”

“Damn, she’s a lot prettier in person…”

Before you know it, a crowd surrounds you in the store while alarms go off in your head. You hear their insistent demand for pictures or autographs and see the confusion by the workers in the store. Cringing, you look around for the exit, avoiding hands reaching towards your body as you scramble to escape.

Jeno… you think, panicking. Jeno. Where is he?

That’s right. He said he was going for a walk while you were shopping in the store. Fuck, you curse.

And then, it’s like heaven appears right before your eyes. Amid the mob, you see a hand reach for you, and then a firm grip on your wrist pulls you out.

It’s jeno, gritting his teeth as he takes you away and makes a break for it. You feel like you’re in an action movie, running away in slow motion as jeno drags you along.

He turns left, then left again, and then right. You’re such a mess, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you and jeno turn a corner, almost running into another couple.

Jeno halts immediately, aggressively but still somehow politely commanding something from them. You’re confused, brain feeling like it’s running a thousand miles per hour. He knocks off your hat quickly while still on the lookout- you’re not even sure how he’s doing all these things at once.

You feel something shoved on top of your head and it finally clicks when you spot jeno wrapping the (hideous) jacket the lady was wearing just a few seconds ago around you.

He puts a cap on, presumably the man’s, and quickly thanks the confused couple before pulling you to a secluded corner by the edge of a building.

“What are you-“

You hear voices and you’re sure there was a quick hint of your name, causing you to gasp in fear.

Jeno bites his lip, looking around in desperation before he continues past the corner, revealing a sketchy, dark alleyway.

He starts toward it but you resist, pulling back without budging.

His head whips back toward you. “What are you-?”

You glare indignantly back at him. “I’m not going down that alley. You have no clue what’s in there.”

He rolls his eyes. “We don’t have time.” You pull your hand out of his grip, crossing your arms as you look to the side. “I will not.”

“You’re being a brat,” he snaps, and you nod stubbornly in acknowledgment. “Sure- I am. But you’re not making me go in that awful place.” Right as you finish, you hear multiple voices getting closer, and it takes a lot in you to not whimper.

“Idiot,” he hisses, before peeking past the corner as the voices get louder and louder. You don’t have time to process before you feel jeno push you against the wall with that seemingly inhumane bodyguard strength of his, just like that time before, except this time he leans into you, caging you underneath his arms.

“What are you- why-“ you splutter, but his face comes so close to yours that you simply shut your eyes tightly in response. You wait, feeling his soft breathing right above your mouth and lips hovering- almost touching yours.

But he never does. Even when the crowd walks by, unknowingly passing you two with your disguises, you grip tightly onto his jacket.

Jeno doesn’t let go until you’re safe. He releases you from under him, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

You hate the fact that jeno smelled really disgustingly good. Especially good- you can almost imagine, a pine forest with a woody and fresh scent that was stuck forever in your head. Perhaps the scent just reminded you of things you wished for that jeno carried with him.

You walk behind jeno, following like a lost puppy back to the car pickup area. You feel like you just ran a 5k, the adrenaline still not having faded yet.

You can just tell by jeno’s tense shoulders that he is probably, absolutely furious. When you reach the designated spot, waiting for the car to come pick you guys up, he turns to you with fists clenched.

“Why,” he shudders, “why did you think it was a good idea to go out in public without me? Did you really think no one would recognize you? Are you that fucking stupid?”

You look away, fidgeting. “I thought the hat would be enough to cover my face but…”

He scoffs, putting his hands on his hips. “A baseball cap isn’t enough to hide your identity- you know people can still see you with a hat on, right?”

He looks away, sarcastically chuckling. “Or maybe not, since you don’t even go outside.”

The car finally pulls up as you feel the anger boil through your body.

“Sure. Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself, you entitled prick!” You yell indignantly, two seconds away from flipping him off and calling for an uber.

“You can’t for shit,” jeno growls back. He takes your arm, opening the door, and forcefully putting you in the car. He thanks the valet driver, exchanging places and getting into the driver's seat.

You wait until he gets adjusted on the road again before speaking up, looking straight at his side profile. “I’m fine. Nobody got hurt, so it’s alright. I understand what to do from now on, so you don’t have to be mad anymore.“

The car rolls to a stop at the red light.

“You could’ve died. How can you not get that into your dense brain?” He snaps. “Your life is of uttermost importance- why do you even think people like me exist? To protect people's lives, your life, because you can’t afford to get hurt. You don’t understand the repercussions of your actions.”

The rest of the ride is in silence. You don’t dare to look at him anymore. When he reaches your apartment building, you get out and walk in without a single look back.

He sighs, reaching to move the car out of park when he spots an unfamiliar item.

Your jacket. Jeno sighs, deciding that he doesn’t want any of your belongings left in this car. He hesitates, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue before finally unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out.

When he reaches your door, he’s about to knock before he remembers you told him the passcode before.

“Remember that from now on because I won’t tell you again.”

The door unlocks with a quiet beep, swinging open gently. Jeno goes in silently as it’s in his nature, contemplating if he should just leave your jacket on the couch when he sees your room door open.

Peeking past, the only thing in sight is you, huddled by the foot of your bed and looking so small, perhaps the smallest he’s ever seen you. Jeno stops, confused. It’s silent.

He places your jacket down and takes a few steps towards your figure. As he gets closer, he can hear only one thing.

The sound of your quiet sniffles. That’s when he sees your body shaking.

Instinct kicks in and jeno bursts through the door and runs to your side, grabbing your shoulders and whipping you around so he can assess the damage.

You freeze awkwardly, bewildered. “W-what are you doing?”

He stills, equally as confused as you are. And then you gasp, horrified. “Did you follow me in? Did you watch me the entire time?”

Jeno feels shock and embarrassment course through his veins. You weren’t hurt.

You were crying.

How could he not notice before he saw your fluttering, watery eyes, and red nose?

Jeno looks down, voice soft. “Why… what’s wrong?”

Abruptly, you wipe your eyes and clear your throat. Sheepishly, you laugh. “It’s nothing, I just thought-“

You cut your sentence off midway, bringing a hand to run through your hair while you collect yourself.

This time, your voice comes out small and slow, as if you were a child that just got scolded. “I’m scared, jeno. You were right.”

You look away, head down so your hair falls in front of your face. “It was really scary.” Your voice is timid and hesitant. “What am I supposed to do now when I can’t even go outside without fearing for my life? When did things get like this?”

Your eyes slowly raise to look at him as you try to hold back from quivering. “I just… i wanna be okay.”

A few beats of silence pass. Eventually, Jeno’s hand reaches out, and it falls on the back of your neck, pushing you forward until your forehead rests against his.

Your breath hitches.

“I’m sorry.”

The sound of his voice, so soft and tender, sends shivers throughout your body.

“I promise I’ll protect you. You don’t have to be scared any longer, because I’m here, okay? I’m here to keep you safe, remember it’s my duty to make sure nothing happens to you. I’ll be the one to make you okay.” He stares at you, gazing deeply into your eyes. You can’t seem to break away from his dark eyes, full of compassion and sincerity.

He exhales, slowly releasing you. “Come on,” he stands up and straightens himself, “it’s been a long day and you should go to sleep.”

You nod, head empty except for exhaustion.

You stare up at the ceiling after getting tucked into bed. You can see jeno standing awkwardly by the door at the edge of your view, waiting. Shifting under the covers, you call out hesitantly, “Will you stay? Just-” you swallow, “just stay near me until I fall asleep? So I can feel safe?” Your voice ends in a whisper.

Jeno does. He watches you for a while, not knowing if he should stay or go. Just so he doesn’t feel like those creepy stalkers in movies, he goes to sit by the chair near your bed, staring at your peaceful face and your breaths soon evening out.

Jeno leaves after cleaning up the place a little bit, putting your shoes by the door and jacket up even though he knew you had workers hired to do those jobs.

Jeno leaves after delicately brushing the stray hairs off your face.

❀

It’s a beautiful morning. You wake up feeling strangely refreshed, getting out of bed and padding over to your master bathroom to get ready for the day.

You see swollen eyes staring back at you in the mirror, weird. Leaving over the sink, you turn on the faucet, about to run your hands under the water-

when it hits you.

Everything that happened yesterday. Everything comes rushing back.

You freeze, a hand covering your mouth as you let out a muffled shriek. The crowd chasing you, jeno almost kissing you, him catching you crying, the “will you stay?”

You silently hyperventilate, pacing back and forth across the marbled flooring. There’s no way you can go to work today. Absolutely no way.

❀

You sit rigidly at your desk in the office, too distracted to focus so your hands type random words onto the computer, keyboard clacking erratically.

So far, Jeno hasn’t said or done anything differently. He’s greeted you the same, spoke the same- nothing seems to be off. Except you, obviously.

Your father’s secretary walks in, accompanied by the sharp clicking of her heels. “Y/n, dear, your father was wondering when you would submit the instruction plans.”

You sit up straight. “Instruction plans?” you ask, blinking. She raises an eyebrow. “The one due today?”

Well, shit.

❀

You already knew the moment you screwed up you would be sent to the one and only- your father’s office.

It’s deadly quiet, and you stand with your head lowered to the ground and hands clasped behind your back.

“Y/n.”

You bite your lip. “Father.”

“How can I have such high expectations of you when you forget imperative things like these plans? You knew they were due today. We were counting on you, and we didn’t dare expect them to come in five hours late.”

You breathe in, and then out. “Forgive me, father. It was a one-time mistake that I know I will never do again. I promise to keep track of all my schedules from now on.”

“Should I get you your own personal secretary-“

“No!” You blurt out instinctively, although you catch yourself a second later, swiftly composing yourself. “No thank you. I had some issues yesterday but I assure you it will never happen again.”

He dismisses you with a hand.

Things seemed to settle down again after that. Surprisingly, you and jeno hadn’t gotten in many major arguments after that. It was more of bickering. Friendly bickering that actually left you laughing more times than fuming. It was a nice change to see jeno smiling more often. And unbeknownst to you, he felt the same.

Before jeno clocks in one fine morning, chaeryeong rolls her chair over to your desk. You look at her, waiting for her next words.

“So… you and jeno?” An incomprehensible sound escapes your mouth without warning, causing her to raise her eyebrows higher. Quickly, you clear your throat. “What are you talking about?”

She holds back a laugh. “Every time I see you two around the building, you’re always talking. And smiling.”

You look back towards your computer screen awkwardly- suspiciously. “So? Are we not allowed to do that?” She sends you another knowing look, one that you ignore, instead focusing back on your work.

Jeno comes in strangely late, specifically 40 minutes late. And he’s never late. You watch him plop down at his desk with a disgruntled grunt, sluggishly getting his things prepped for the day. A frown settles on your face unconsciously.

The whole day, he acts strange. He looks exhausted- not the kind that you’re familiar with- not the one you usually have when there’s a big presentation the next day and you can’t sleep, but more just like when you’re tired of life. Done with living. Exhausted from life.

His responses to your questions are short. Even when you ask if there’s something wrong, he just brushes it off or looks away. It throws off your whole day. It's difficult when he spends all his time with you, constantly at your side, and it bothers you much more than you would have liked.

Even the drive home is completely silent. You study him from the side, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw tense like they have been all day.

You wait until he reaches your apartment building before speaking up hesitantly. “Are you really alright, jeno?”

He murmurs an unconvincing, “yeah.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been-“

“I said I’m fine!” he snaps, turning to you with a spark in his eyes before it dissipates. He looks away, fidgeting with his fingers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s nothing you did. Just don’t worry about me,” he says, voice considerably lower.

A tiny nod escapes from you. You both make your way up quietly to your home, the silence feeling strange as you and jeno usually chatted during the way up, but obviously, that didn’t happen today.

Once you enter and greet all the workers, you excuse yourself to wash up in your master bathroom, leaving jeno to linger in the living area. You assume he’s going to leave sooner than later as he always does, never once having stayed the night at your place since your father directed him to do so.

You take your sweet time, allowing yourself to wash away all the stressful things of the day as you get ready for bed. But before you do, you go outside to get a glass of water and chat with your grandmother.

What you did not expect was to see jeno’s sleeping figure on your plush couch, body rising and falling peacefully with his breaths. He must’ve been exhausted, having fallen asleep like that. You stop in your tracks, processing the sight. What in the world?

Swallowing, you decide to carefully walk closer, examining his face and how even in his slumber he still looks stressed.

A sound diverts your attention, a couple of the maids standing there patiently. You silently signal for them to leave you two in peace.

You study him with an unreadable expression. “Did you have a rough day?” You whisper softly, a concerned look on your face. “You seemed so off the whole day, I have no clue what happened to you.” You look around before exhaling and reaching out a hand to fix a piece of his styled hair that fell out of its place.

“I’m- uh, I’m sorry?”

You’re unsure of what to do or say next, so you grab a blanket from the guest room and attempt to cover him as best as you can, especially for the fact that you had never done anything like this to someone else before.

Before you head to bed, you inform the workers to let him sleep on the couch for the night. You have no idea why this instinct comes over you- why it makes you do these things for him.

❀

Jeno wakes up with the sun in his face, an unfamiliar background coming into focus. He rests there for a moment, allowing his body to fully wake up.

He shifts- his clothes, he’s still in his suit- and where even is he?

Sitting up, it eventually comes back to him in pieces. That’s right, he fell asleep at your place on your couch. But the blanket? He has no recollection of anything else.

Jeno spots a glass of water on the table, and he glances around before figuring it must be for him. He takes a gulp, and then another one, and then another before he realizes he’s finished it all.

He hears a familiar voice. “Mr. Jeno?”

It’s your grandmother. She smiles kindly at him. “The missus informed me to tell you that you have the day off. Just rest, alright?”

His eye twitches. “Pardon?”

She laughs. “You don’t have to work today, dear. Don’t go to the office. Y/n especially enforced that.”

He stares at the white blanket still covering him, thinking back to last night. Before your grandmother leaves him be, she has her last remark. “She was really concerned for you after last night. Please take better care of yourself, jeno.”

“Y/n? Really?” All jeno can do is wonder why.

You sit there, as still as a statue while the makeup artists and hairstylists work their magic. It’s been a while since you’ve gone out to a public event due to your father’s advice that the was best to let things cool off after those crazy fan situations. It’s been a while since you’ve attended one of these events as a brand ambassador.

You stand head to toe dressed in their clothes, practically a walking advertisement. The last time you remember doing any activity related to their brand was when you shot for a photo shoot to be printed on magazines sent out all over the country.

After the last finishing touches are put on your face, you thank everyone and head for the car to take you to the event’s location.

Jeno greets you in the car, and you nod with a grim smile. There wasn’t a feeling of nervousness in you, more of a numb sense filling your body. You watch the night lights zoom by through the car window, and occasionally sounds beeping from jeno’s walkie-talkie would fill the air.

You know when you’re getting close because the sounds of fans and chatter and just about everything get louder and louder. When the car rolls to a stop, you brace yourself. Jeno gets out first, and that’s when you suddenly freeze. Someone opens the door, and suddenly all the sounds are amplified. The screams from fans, cameras clicking, employees of the event are all there. But again, just as it once happened before, a hand extends out to you.

It’s Jeno’s.

You gulp, internally commanding yourself to put on your public face while taking his hand out of the car.

The flashing lights and desperate paparazzi reaching out to you are familiar. Instead, you just try your best to smile and keep a cool head. But it’s difficult when there are so many people surrounding you, trapping you.

You look up at jeno.

And once again, it feels like time freezes. Suddenly he’s the one that seems so cool in the midst of flashing lights, the stoic expression on his face as he holds a hand out to make way as your bodyguard takes your breath away.

You’re so caught up in staring at him, gulping, that you don’t know if you’re even moving forward. Or paying attention.

Well, evidently not since you don’t notice a mic shoved at you until it’s right in your face. You flinch, and jeno immediately shields you, pushing it away. He guides you to another route that’s not blocked by as many people. Jeno waits until there’s a moment for you to breathe before asking with the same concern he once showed you before. “Are you okay?”

Throat dry, you can’t bring yourself to respond so you nod quickly. Then you’re swept into the rest of the event and all of its happenings. Luckily, you’re professional enough to compose yourself for the rest of your appearance at the show.

You pose for pictures just like those professional models, answer questions flawlessly, and interact with the other famous people there all while keeping a smile on your face at all times. There’s a chance it all came off looking fake, but you’re hoping that it was enough to convince the public and the people.

The people. The fans. Your fans. Your fans that you love and appreciate the most. (Excluding the crazy ones that completely disregard your rights as a human being.)

It’s only when they ask for pictures or signatures from you that you truly smile. And jeno can clearly see that. Even when he’s farther off, not the one in the spotlight, he can see your felicitous smile as you pose with your adoring supporters. The times when you’re not right in front of the camera, you’ll nudge him, muttering about how cute your fans are or how talented they are with the creative banners they make for you.

Jeno has never seen this side of you before. He’s only seen the fear in your eyes when those intrusive fans suddenly surrounded you. He’s only seen the crying, upset you who’s scared to be who you are.

But when you smile at them, he unknowingly smiles at you.

❀

The event lasts for five hours, including preparation beforehand and closing statements. Not necessarily a long time, but jeno isn’t used to constantly watching over one person's every move or constantly being in fear something will happen to you after those previous times. Every time you leave his sight, he can’t truly breathe until he sees you again.

Finally, when you wave goodbye to all your admirers and get into the car, can jeno’s heart relax. You breathe a sigh of relief, buckling your seatbelt as jeno shifts the car into drive.

“You looked nice today,” he comments out of the blue.

You glance at him, observing as he drives out of the venue. But perhaps, you might’ve looked too much for too long. You didn’t pay attention to how long you really were staring at him.

“Why are you looking at me so much today?”

You inhale sharply, turning away. “H-huh? What are you talking about?” You pretend to act oblivious, murmuring something random about the weather finally getting cooler. Jeno chuckles quietly, driving the rest of the way home.

When he pulls up and opens the door for you, you finally realize the extent to which your feet hurt, having stood around in heels for far too long. You can’t wait to get up to the comfort of your penthouse and take them off- quite actually the best feeling ever.

You take a few steps before unexpectedly turning around to face jeno. He stops, somewhat surprised.

“Why don’t you actually sleep at my place? Why do you leave in the middle of the night and come back early in the morning?”

His eyes widen. A few beats pass with no answer.

At last, you look down, shrugging. “I was just curious, that’s all. You don’t have to answer,” you reply, reassuring him with a smile.

“Go home and get some rest. Thanks for sticking with me today.” You quickly bow and run inside the apartment, heart pounding erratically.  Jeno can only stand there, shocked while watching your silhouette get smaller and smaller until it disappears into the building.

What could this be?

It keeps happening. Whenever he holds a hand for you to take while stepping out from the car or opens doors for you- or does anything more than his job doesn’t necessarily entail. Jeno’s been doing it since the beginning, whether you asked him to or not. So why is it suddenly affecting you like this? Why does it even make a difference? It’s just manners, but to you, it’s more.

When you open the door to the car in the morning and he turns to look at you from the driver’s seat, it’s like a scene from those movies. It always plays out in slow motion, jeno in his clean suit and freshly styled hair turning around to greet you. The first time you experienced this, you almost shut the door and quite literally walked back into the building. It made you feel weird- an unavoidable feeling building inside each time it happened, and you couldn’t describe it.

Things like that would make you wonder. Is it just formality? You’ve seen how jeno acts around others, he’s truly a polite and well-mannered person. Is he just being nice to you since he was hired by your father? Those thoughts would invade your mind from time to time. Then again, you didn’t always have that kind of precious time to dwell on that, you were the famous daughter of the biggest CEO in the country. But that didn’t mean you still couldn’t try.

Tuesday. 8 am.

“Jeno!” You greet enthusiastically as he walks into your office as if you hadn’t seen him just sometime earlier when he came to pick you up to head to work.

“Good morning,” he responds calmly. You watch him get settled in at his desk.

11 am.

You blow a stray hair out of your face, tapping your pen against the table repeatedly as you think of a solution. Your brain feels like it’s hanging on a thin wire, about to snap. This is why you didn’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps, you remind yourself.

You frown silently, eyes wandering around the room. Naturally, they fall on jeno whose attention was focused on his phone, and you assume he’s playing his weird shooting game considering his furrowed eyebrows and hunched shoulders. You’ve watched him play it a couple of times before, whenever he was bored while waiting for you after some long meeting or discussion.

A lightbulb goes off in your head, causing a mischievous smile to appear on your face. Target acquired. You position yourself in your wheely chair and push. If your father saw, you would be scolded for “improper office etiquette.”

The wheels make a satisfying sound as they cruise against the ground, going straight in the direction you wanted. You roll up right next to jeno’s desk, one arm on the armrest as you place your chin in the palm of your hand, lingering. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence so you wait by peering down at his screen, eventually getting into his game.

He gets shot, his fingers flying wildly over the screen, and you let out a horrified gasp. Jeno’s head whips around before his sight lands on you and he visibly relaxes. “Fucking hell, you scared me.”

You smile innocently.

He shuts off the device. “What are you doing? Aren't you working?” You roll your eyes. “I can’t. I’m stuck. Help me, my dear bodyguard.”

Jeno pauses the game thoughtfully, looking at the clock on the wall next to him. “It’s almost lunchtime. Do you plan on going out?”

A wide smile breaks onto your face. “Well, now that you mention it…” Jeno stifles laughter as you eagerly grab your stuff and get ready to head out together.

Friday. Noon.

“Do you like your bodyguard?” Minjeong unexpectedly asks in the middle of your girls’ lunch.

You tilt your head to the side, sipping on your drink. “Do I like Jeno? I mean, sure. We don’t fight as much as we used to…” you nod pensively.

Chaeryeong snickers while Minjeong rolls her eyes.

“Y/n, sweetie. I mean like as in feeling attraction towards him. Any romantic feelings?” she emphasizes. You stop sipping, your mouth parting off the straw habitually.

“What,” you swallow, “makes you ask that?”

They both shrug simultaneously. There’s a certain look in their eyes that you can’t decipher. “You see,” Minjeong starts, “this is the first time in our lives that we’ve seen you act like this towards someone of the opposite sex.”

You think you hear crickets chirping off from far away. In what language would you possibly be able to understand what that means?

Chaeryeong bursts out laughing at the dumbfounded expression on your face before adding, “yeah, and he even calls you by your first name. Did he ask you or did you ask him to do that-”

You clear your throat, “You know what? I think I have to go. Jeno must be waiting for me,” you cough. “Oh dear, look at the time- I need to head out. I’ll contact you guys later!”

You pathetically smile for a split second before gathering your things and dashing off, looking for the nearest exit and private area for you to call jeno to come pick you up.

“Hello? The bill!” Minjeong calls out indignantly.

You curse. “I’ll get it next time,” you yell back before squeezing your eyes shut and pushing past the doors.

While walking away, you round past a corner without paying attention, too distracted trying to contact jeno. You bump into something firm, stumbling back.

You look up, it’s a random man that you’ve never seen and don't want to anymore after seeing how his face changes when he takes in your appearance. You try to smile politely, although you don’t feel like it.

“Excuse me.” Your attempt to sidestep the man fails. He steps in your way purposefully, trying to laugh and smile as if it was a coincidental accident. This has happened to you too many times to count, so it only annoys you even further at this point.

“Hey, are you interested in-"

“Sorry. "I’m busy at the moment.” You don’t even attempt to smile at this point. He frowns, and you try again to pass him.

“Wait-“ he takes your arm and you feel disgust rise through you. “Let me go,” you command. He doesn’t.

“Oh, come on-“

“What do you think you’re doing?” You both turn around, and your heart sinks in relief when you see him. Jeno takes your hand, and you gasp when he pulls you closer to him. “Excuse you, but she’s with me. Thank you and goodbye.”

You can barely stutter anything out as he guides you to a secluded area, sitting you down on a nearby bench. Jeno places his hands on his hips. “Don’t go off like that without letting me know,” he scolds gently. “You scared me.”

You inhale sharply, avoiding his gaze. “A-alright.”

He raises an eyebrow at your reaction but his next words get interrupted by a call on his phone, and he turns around to answer.

You take this chance to place your hand softly on your chest, right above where your heart was. Your heart that was racing.

❀

This is the first time you’ve gone to a party with jeno. A formal one, but it’s still a party nevertheless.

You already spilled all the details to jeno in the car, informing him on what these ‘parties’ were really for. It was for those old snotty rich people to either set up their kids together or gossip to gain information and get an upper hand for their businesses. Essentially- a damn waste of your time. But as your father once said, any way to boost your reputation and public standing is good enough.

He nods, soaking in all your words. You take his hand and squeeze it gently. “Sorry, Jen,” and the nickname makes his chest tighten, “but it’s going to be a whole lot more boring than my father’s meetings.”

❀

Turns out that you’re very right.

Jeno spends most of his time people-watching. Of course, he was still guarding you, his eyes would flick over towards you occasionally, but there’s wasn’t much to see when 99% the time you had a fake smile on your face. Yes, the business-friendly one that most people wouldn’t catch, but jeno has seen it enough times to know what was a real or a fake smile from you.

He can easily describe the way your eyes crinkle and your mouth splits into a wide grin- he swears your dark orbs sparkle every time. But that wasn’t the kind of smile you wore now.

Jeno politely declines an offer for a glass of champagne for the 10th time- he doesn’t dare drink on the job. He looks over to where you are, and immediately his eyes capture the picture of you by the bar, drink placed next to you as you stare up at whatever stupid show is on the widescreen tv, the colors flashing back down onto your skin.

His gaze never breaks until he sees an unfamiliar man slide next to you. His bodyguard instincts go off but you don’t seem to notice the man and he doesn’t do anything to interact with you. Jeno hesitates, it wasn’t his duty to cut in whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. He watches you talk for a couple of minutes, not paying too much attention.

He sighs, about to turn away when he catches a flash of something in the man’s hand, reflected off from the tv screen’s lights- the hand that’s moving away from your glass.

Well, shit. You’re completely clueless, having looked in the opposite direction of that man and therefore didn’t see anything suspicious of the sort. Immediately, jeno gets up from his spot leaning against the wall, making his way over to you. In the process, he encounters at least five groups of people that get in his way and prevent his path towards you.

Puffing a breath of frustration, you’ve moved to another part of the room with the glass in your hand by the time he gets over to the bar, seemingly very deep in conversation with a few important-looking people judging by their outfits.

Jeno’s sweating nervous sweat in his suit and he absolutely hates it. Every single time you raise the glass to your lips only to bring it back down because you have something important to contribute to the conversation, he feels like a piece of him has shriveled up and died.

It’s not as simple as it seems. More specifically, it’s just not his right to jump in whoever he wants. It’s rude etiquette and one of the first things he’s ever learned at his training school. Yes, there’s the whole you could die shit, and yes that’s a huge deal. But for some reason, all his instructors also made it a huge fucking deal not to interfere in business talk. Because for some ridiculous reason jeno will never get, rich people can’t stand it when “lower class” people interrupt them. And it makes jeno utterly furious when he just wants to walk over to you and rip that cursed drink out of your delicate, manicured hands.

He waits for a good moment. Any moment. He also forgets how popular you are. Jeno doesn’t want to admit it but it certainly irks him to see so many guys confidently walk up to you as if they think they can even get close to receiving your number. Except, jeno also feels a gratifying amount of satisfaction seeing the look of rejection on their faces just mere seconds later.

Jeno wants to go to you. He also wants to find the dumbass who spiked your drink in the first place, but the fear that you’ll take a sip the second he looks away overpowers him. It seems like there’s never going to be a moment he can jump in, and he contemplates just interrupting your conversation. What would the consequences be?

The split second you turn away from those dumb entrepreneurs or whoever jeno doesn’t care about, to raise that glass to your lips, he practically charges forward, ripping your wrist away and effectively spilling the drink in your hands all over the floor.

Astounded, you look up to see Jeno’s intense stare, breathing heavily. There’s complete silence around you, and luckily only in your proximity did by-passers notice.

Your expression says it all. What the hell?

He clenches his jaw, leaning in. “Spiked,” he mutters. Your eyes widen, and a bazillion thoughts course through your head before you remember where you are.

The people next to you are still just as speechless as you were, and once again you thank your years of practice that have led you to this day.

Your face automatically corrects to your business face and you start laughing, making eye contact with all the bewildered people in front of you. You throw a hand out, pretending to cover your mouth to stifle the laughs.

“It’s my father. Apparently, he gave directions to make sure I didn’t drink tonight.” You smile apologetically to the servants cleaning up the mess.

“I have an important meeting tomorrow,” you add, and the people begin laughing nervously and in relief. “-you know my father,” you quip and the laughter after that seems more relaxed. Crisis averted, you internally pat yourself on the back.

Most of the drink is already spilled all over the ground, but just to seal the deal you smile reassuringly to everyone nearby again before just completely trashing it, dropping the entire glass and all in the trash can without a second thought.

❀

The rest of the night goes by quickly- mainly since you ask jeno to take you home asap, and he quickly obliges. When he drives off, he shifts his gaze over to you. He can’t read the expression on your face as you stare straight ahead at the road.

“Are you okay?”

You exhale, looking at jeno. “Honestly? I have no idea.” A beat passes before you speak up again.

“But thank you for saving my life, again.”

Jeno swallows. He’s familiar with this. You’re doing it. Deflecting.

The sound of your hand slamming against the side of the car door almost makes him jump. He looks at you, concerned. There’s a determined expression he sees on your face, one he hasn’t seen often- if not at all.

“I’m not doing this anymore.”

He almost has a heart attack the moment you say that. “What-“

“I’m done being scared. I’m done pretending I’m okay and that nobody is trying to kill me, and I’m done doing nothing about it.”

You press your lips together. “Jeno,” you state firmly. The car rolls to a slow at the stop sign. “Did you happen to see who it was?”

He bites his lip, almost ashamed. “No. It was a man. Dark styled hair, gray suit. All I got was his backside, I’m sorry y/n.”

“No,” you shake your head. “That’s good. That’s better than nothing. But,” you fidget, wanting to curl up into a ball, “Why would anyone try to do this to me?”

Jeno tilts his head, “Most likely it’s someone trying to get to your father through you. Don’t worry, we’ll report it and find whoever’s behind it if there’s one at all.”

“Right.” Your head falls against the window with a thud. “This is annoying.” Jeno and you share a look, a grin coming up on both of your faces.

“Well, all I can say is that I’m impressed by your cover-up. It’s just like you were a professional actress in a movie. You handled that very well,” he speaks up.

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck, and you clear your throat. “Thanks,” you mutter. Jeno cocks his head. This isn’t the first time you’ve reacted like this.

He calls your name, and your head shoots up. “yeah?”

“Do you always get this flustered when I compliment you?”

You scoff exaggeratedly, looking anywhere but at jeno’s face. “Yeah, right.” You cringe, your sudden voice crack really did you dirty.

Jeno bites the inside of his cheek to suppress the smile and laughter that so desperately want to bubble out of him.

❀

This is bad. This is very bad.

It seems as if jeno is taking advantage of this newfound weakness against you, and you do not appreciate it one bit. You enjoyed holding the power over him, but now that he can make you become the sweatiest, stuttering mess in the room when you were specifically trained to not do that since you were (basically) born, it makes you wonder if you took it for granted.

“You look pretty today.”

“Your hair smells so nice.”

The one time he called you princess you swear you almost fainted.

And the worst part is?

You have no clue why this occurs. Your body simply reacts without thinking. It makes you want to pull your hair out and keeps you up all fucking night long.

Jeno’s cocky smirk shows up in your nightmares or in reality, dreams.

“Hey, y/n,” he asks one day. You hum in response. “Who’s that one friend of yours that works here?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Chaeryeong?”

If you would have bothered to look up, you would have seen the cockiest and most mischievous smile on jeno’s face. “Right, that one. I just thought she was pretty,” he states casually, preparing for your reaction.

Your pen falls flat on the table. Your eyebrow twitches. Three, four, five seconds pass.

“What?” You ask in the quietest, calmest voice Jeno has ever heard since he’s met you.

Was it just him or did the temperature in the room drop three degrees?

He looks so innocent you don’t know if you want to punch him or hug him as a five-year-old would do to a teddy bear. “Hm? I just said she was pretty, that’s all. Right? I mean, she’s your friend.”

“Yeah, right…” you reply, distracted. Jeno counts five seconds, pretending to walk off a little way.

You let out a huge scoff, suddenly scribbling furiously in your notebook like you did the first week you met jeno.

“…are you okay, y/n?”

“Perfectly fine,” you respond with gritted teeth. You weren’t bothered at all. You didn’t care about jeno at all. No, none. Nothing. You don’t care about the fact that jeno and chaeryeong would look so good together and no, you don’t fucking care at all.

You hear small snickers off to the side, and you glare furiously at jeno before he quiets down.

It’s not until you wake up in the middle of the night at 2 am with a horrible pillow head that you realize it.

That fucker’s been doing it on purpose.

Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, name it and Jeno has seen you wear it before. You undoubtedly possessed one of the most extravagant wardrobes with pieces from famous designers all over the world. Decorated with expensive, rare crystals and accessories that probably cost more than jeno’s life and worn all on you like it was nothing.

But it was never like this.

No one can deny your beauty, radiating from every part of you. It’s always been there, only today the clothes you wear make it even more noticeable. Your bold, sleek (and quite revealing) dress paired with sharp high heels. The first thing that catches jeno’s eye is your hair, styled up high so delicately that makes him think it must’ve taken at least 3 hours.

They all make a huge dent in Jeno’s shield.

The whole day he was told that you were busy, and now he suddenly understands why, gulping. “W-where exactly are we going again?”

You smirk, pretending to act innocent although nearly the whole room stares at you in shock. “A cocktail party. I have to meet a potential partner.”

Jeno’s too dumbstruck to ask you what kind of partner (and he later regrets it.)

Alright, so maybe the idea popped in your head soon after your father informed you that a potential business partner was attending the party later today. It gave you an excuse to get dolled up- who doesn’t like to do that every once in a while? Besides, there was no way you would pass up an opportunity to catch jeno off guard.

❀

This strange, foreign feeling that derives from the bottom of his stomach and rises up his throat makes him sick. It forces jeno to want to punch a wall or anyone nearby, and he almost obliges. More than once, the wine glass in his delicate hand almost shatters and he doesn’t drink. Jeno hasn’t, and he most certainly will not, but he’ll accept anything to just ground him, ground him before he does something he’ll definitely regret.

Bodyguards weren’t allowed in private rooms. Jeno can only stand outside the door, pacing back and forth as he tries to identify what this horrid sensation is. The only thing that reaches his ears is the sound of your laughter. Pressing his ear against the door in an attempt to eavesdrop (he was that desperate apparently), produced no results when the only noise was your soft murmurs muffled by the door. Your giggles were ones that he got to hear, not whoever this “potential partner” of yours should even deserve.

It just irks him. That’s it. His worst fears come to light when he recalls this afternoon. You look ready to kill in that attire of yours, and your mention of a partner.

There’s no way…

marriage?

The glass in his hand cracks and it immediately breaks his stupor. He awkwardly places it down before he does any more damage. Anything, jeno does anything ranging from squats to lunges to distract his wild mind. Until finally, the door opens and in a split second, he’s back to his formal self. One man walks out, then another, and finally one last one who waits for you to shake your hand politely before bowing and heading off with the others.

He tries, hard, to pretend he’s unbothered, but his eyes flicking back between you and the leaving men reveal his true intentions. Still smiling, you sigh contently before greeting your bodyguard.

“How,” his voice is gruff and scratchy from not having used it for a while, and he swears your smile grows just the teeniest amount, “how was it?”

You start walking at a casual pace, dress flowing behind you as jeno deftly avoids stepping on it while following. You could get used to this.

“Good.” Suddenly, you turn around to face him. Taking a step closer to jeno creates a ripple effect as he takes a step back, and another one, and another until shit- the wall’s there.

You search jeno’s eyes, unwavering no matter how close your body gets to his. You’re much taller with those heels, jeno notes as he avoids eye contact.

Keeping a distance you deem appropriate between your bodies, you lean the slightest in, and jeno gets a whiff of your sweet perfume- it’s almost sickening as he pleads for his eyes to stay open. Jeno prays that someone walks past the corridor so you’ll step back, give the man some room to breathe, but it seems that he’s out of luck.

Your voice is so full of fake concern, even he can see through it.

“Are you alright?” you look at him from under your eyelashes. His nod is almost indiscernible as you lean in closer, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sure?”

He chokes out a ‘yes,’ and you finally take it, stepping away. You pretend you don’t see his sigh of relief and give him a couple of breather seconds.

“So,” he finally gets out, “who was that?”

You feel giddy. Exiting the party into the chilly night, you shiver before shooting him a look. “No one important. Why? Are you jealous?”

Jeno actually scoffs at that, shoving his hands in his suit pockets. “Yeah, right. I don’t care at all who- but uh, if it’s really a mar-“

You continue walking, allowing the smile to break fully on your face. “It was just a potential business partner for our upcoming exhibition. No need to get jealous, Jen.” He stops walking at that. You can hear the lack of footsteps and turn around, crossing arms to keep in the heat. That’s when jeno notices. His eyes rake over you, and suddenly, the cold doesn’t bother you. Jeno sniffs, looking away as he grumbles, “Then there was no need to wear all that..”

A puff of air leaves your mouth as you laugh, visible in the frosty air. You open your mouth to respond but your lips part without any sound leaving. The feeling of jeno wrapping his suit jacket around you has your blood-chilling even more if that was possible.

“Come on, let’s go home, y/n.” When he receives no response, he turns to find you as still as a statue, staring off into the distance. He squints. Are you blushing?

His hand waving in front of your eyes allows you to unfreeze, jeno’s concerned face coming into focus. “Why is your face red?”

“What?” You jolt, “N-no it isn’t,” you lie, although you quickly start hitting your cheeks as if it would magically will them to stop.

“You know doing that is only going to make it worse,” he remarks, amused.

“Stop being a smartass and drive me home, will you?”

He salutes jokingly. “Anything for the missus,” and you push his shoulder playfully.

❀

It’s nearing the Christmas season. For you to get into the spirit, there’s only one thing that you do every year. An unbreakable rule, a small self pat on the back for all the hard work you’ve done this year.

Of course, it’s splurging-

on yourself.

Jeno rolls his eyes at the sight of you. You couldn’t decide between an orange Hermes bag or a Gucci handbag, so you weigh the two options in front of him, frowning. Both ridiculously expensive that he doesn’t bother looking at them.

“Which one looks better on me?”

“Both.”

You pout, “Come on, I’ve been switching back and forth for two hours now.” You continue, “the orange looks better with my-“

Two hours too many, his eyebrow twitches as he tunes out the rest of your words. Puffing out a breath of exasperation, he pinches his nose ridge. “You look the prettiest, alright? So don’t go asking me anymore because either doesn’t compare to you…” he trails off in frustrated mutters while pinching his nose bridge.

You fall silent.

❀

The gift is held out, a dainty box with a glittering silver bow wrapped around it. While jeno was answering a call, you quickly ran off to the designated store that had been in your sights since the moment you arrived at the shopping centre. Having brought proper disguise to wear this time, you felt safe enough entering without him.

Jeno’s eyes widen in surprise. “What’s this?”

You shrug. “Just something for coming along with me today,” and before he can say anything, you swiftly intercept, “I know you’re forced to since it’s your job, but really.” You glance down at the ground in embarrassment. “It’s a thank you gift, so I won’t allow you to return it.”

He holds the box in his hand, admiring the packaging. Throat dry, he swallows before opening it.

A pristine silver watch presents itself to him, almost mockingly- something he could never afford. Reading the brand, he grasps a rough estimate of the cost, and honestly, jeno can’t expect less from you. It’s beautiful, yes, and he’s been needing a new one for a while now, but…

“Y/n, you know I-“

You raise a hand out to effectively stop him. “None of that. I won’t have any of it.”

He presses his lips together, examining the watch once more as it ticks silently, the sleek finish gleaming against the streetlights. “Okay then,” his voice floats over to you softly, “thank you, y/n.”

“I owe my life to you-”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s my duty, and… I never want to see you hurt.”

You nod, replying with a tender, “I know.”

And with that, you quickly bid him goodnight with a pacing heart.

❀

Your father calls you early in the morning to his office. You’re greeted by his stern expression, a usual that you’ve come to expect. But what you don’t expect is to see jeno sitting across from you, akin to the first day you met him. The look on jeno’s face makes you stop in your tracks. His hands rest on his knees, hands clasped firmly together as his eyes stare at the floor and the floor only- the unreadable expression makes you frown unconsciously.

Your father calls out your name, and you bow with your gaze still focused on jeno.

“Why… why did you call for me?”

The CEO lets out a long, heaving sigh. “I’ve been thinking. After I found out about your spiked drink at the party three weeks ago, a suggestion was made that we obtain a proper squad -a team of bodyguards- to protect you. Lee Jeno is a fine man,” he pauses to glance at the unmoving silhouette, “but it seems that more protective measures need to be taken.”

You get the underlying message. Everyone knows, Jeno doesn’t work with others. That means replacing- you fucking hate the word- him with a whole squad just to watch over you all the time.

You tense. “What are you implying about Jeno? Are you saying that he can’t protect me? Father, that’s completely absurd. He has been trained-“

“You know very well that’s not what I have said.”

You bite your lip. “And therefore? Jeno has been protecting me since day one, and he will continue to. I allowed you to hire me bodyguard, how much more do you want from me?“ your eyes flicker to jeno. “I put my faith in you to trust Jeno wholeheartedly and have done so. Don’t tell me false lies without thinking of your daughter.”

At that, Jeno is stunned. For once, he looks at your asserted figure, unable to move until you call out his name, instructing him to follow you out of the room. Jeno follows you silently as you cross the hallway into an empty staff room. He patiently waits for you to speak up.

There’s so much you want to say, and no words to put it into effect. You turn around, and he automatically notices the storm brewing in your eyes. That conflicted look makes him want to bury you in his arms. He does.

The wind is knocked out of you, body freezing in his warm embrace. Eventually, your arms come to wrap around his waist. Your head falls to lay on his shoulder, and it feels way too natural to make sense. “Jeno…”

“Y/n.”

“You’re not going. I’m not letting you.” You pull back, letting him see the sincerity in your eyes, and he does, adam’s apple bobbing slightly. Then a certain thought strikes your head, and you quickly release him, embarrassed.

“Unless- you, unless you want to stop being my bodyguard.”

He frowns. “I never said that,” he quirks an eyebrow, and you sigh in relief. He places a hand on your shoulder and you meet his gaze. “Don’t worry y/n, I’ll never leave your side.”

The evident happiness shown in your eyes is enough to make him happy too. Perhaps it’s the new environment you’re placed in or the situation that just occurred, but it’s almost as if a filter was placed over jeno’s eyes when he looks at you. His eyes can follow your every action and he becomes conscious of your remaining warmth that came from being pressed against him. Your outfit, hairstyle, scent, all feel so fresh to him. He wants to shake it off- it’s somewhat overwhelming.

After seeing you stand up for him, stand up against your father, it’s like a switch flipped and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

❀

The long-awaited holiday of the year is coming up, and Jeno soon realized the extent to which he desperately needs to buy gifts. Desperately so, or else his friends would beat him up. Not that they could or he would let them, but jeno’s generally known in the friend group for lagging behind due to his work schedule, and he’s determined to make a difference this year. Jeno doesn’t have much time off- barely any at all, but the one day he does, a sense of loneliness washes over him. The one day he convinces himself to go out to buy presents, the reluctance of being alone stops him and before he knows it, his phone is dialing a number- your name flashing on the screen.

The rush of delight that fills him when you almost immediately agree unnerves him. Before hanging up, jeno quickly reminds you to cover your identity- mask up, wear a hat, do whatever- and you reluctantly comply. You don’t question who or what he’s buying gifts for, you just tag along.

At the crowded shopping plaza, the festive cheer fills the air, and finally, it sets in. Jeno grabs your hand instinctively as you weave through the crowd. You go through a total of six stores until jeno feels satisfied with all his gifts. You helped him pick out an ugly sweater and he swore he’s never laughed harder than at your expressions of surprise and confusion from all the bizarre patterns. "Why do people like to wear these... kinds of clothes?" you wonder out loud, and he bursts out laughing.

Before you leave, there seems to be a band playing celebratory music in the center of the plaza, and you can’t help but drag jeno across to the growing crowd that listens. Finding a good spot near the back of the crowd just for safety measures, you and jeno stand there. He silently watches you bounce along to the music, body swaying back and forth as you listen in glee. Chuckling, he almost glances away until he hears your voice. A strange man stands to the left of you, leaving over to ask you a seemingly harmless question. It really shouldn’t bother Jeno, but an unsettled feeling unnerves him as you answer casually, quiet enough he can’t hear what you said. Still, he stays silent.

That’s when he catches the man’s hand and glint reflecting across the light, the distance between his knife and you decreasing. Instinctively, Jeno lunges forward and grabs your arm to pull you to him quickly as he tries to get between the two of you. It all happens in a split second- in one moment he’s wide-eyed and springing forward and the next he’s gripping onto you tightly, almost shaking your body as he questions you. For a minute he thinks you’re fine, your wide and flustered eyes staring back at him as you hold just as tight onto his tensed arms.

Then he follows your eyes, your very eyes that trail down to your side, and his blood runs cold. He sees the blooming patch of red, and immediately he whips around to find the damned culprit but there’s no one. You stumble, and that’s when Jeno begins to panic, no longer caring as he yells out to the people around you to call for an ambulance.

The last thing you remember before blacking out was jeno’s eyes shining with alarm and distress as he calls out your name.

❀

This may be the first time Jeno’s completely out of his senses. His leg bounces in front of him as he clasps his hands together, praying that you’re okay. The hospital is mainly quiet, the noise dying down after the couple of hours that have passed since you were admitted. Once the sound of footsteps approaches him, he jumps up to see the doctor, waiting with a neutral expression.

You’re going to be okay. You’re alive and well. It was just the situation and sight of blood that must’ve caused you so much shock that you fainted. Fortunately, you were pulled away by jeno enough so that the knife wasn’t able to impale you- jeno nearly gags- but only leave a long scratch that ran across your side. It was enough to keep you in the hospital for a set amount of days, but nothing that would impair you. Jeno isn’t allowed to see you yet, and he goes to testify to the police and your father. It pains him to describe the scene in detail- the sickening man who did that to you, but he finishes one way or another. Jeno knows it’s deeper than this, there’s more to this and he’s had a feeling for a while. All he’s told is that your father is keeping the situation quiet in order not to arouse the public media (although it obviously has) and that a private investigation surrounding the attempted murders is ongoing. Jeno’s left to sit in the cold hospital waiting room, alone with his thoughts and feelings.

He feels the guilt breaking him- he’s the one who made the promise and he couldn’t protect you.

The first time he saw you, his eyes almost well up with tears. No matter how much you’ve been through, how much you’ve suffered- you’re always so strong. Your gentle smile and tired eyes tear his heart even further. Jeno states your name quietly, trudging closer. You pat next to you, implying for him to come closer. Where does he even start?

“I’m so sorry. It was all my fault. If only I had-“

“Why are you apologizing?” You stare at him with an incredulous look, and he blinks.

“What do you mean why? You got stabbed, y/n. I wasn’t fast enough so you got hurt and now you’re here, in the hospital.”

“Are you serious? Or is this some kind of joke?”

Jeno can’t believe it. Was it the medication making you loopy? “You’re hurt. I couldn’t even do my job properly and he was right there-,” he clenches his fists and lowers his face in regret.

Your warm hand placed on top of his gets him to shut up. He looks up and sees your tiny smile, hidden with a secret emotion he can’t discern. “Jeno,” you say.

“Stop looking at this,” you gesture to your wound, “and start looking at this.” You open your arms wide, showing you in all your glory- including the dumb hospital gown and iv drip attached to your arm. Your eyes soften. “You saved my life, and I’m only here because of you. Think of how much worse it could have been,” you press and he doesn’t say anymore or want to imagine anything more.

“Okay, y/n. Just please forgive me for breaking your trust. You put your faith in me and-

You roll your eyes stubbornly. “I forgive you, now please stop with that depressing talk. I’m completely fine and honestly more irritated at the fact that I have to stay here confined while everyone gets to do exciting stuff.”

“Chaos happening at the office because of your almost death isn’t exciting- at least, I don’t find it to be,” he jokes, finally feeling the mood lighten. You scoff.

Your father spending most of the time conferring with the police and media sources instead of visiting you at least once could mean more or less to you at this point.

He scoots his chair closer to your hospital bed. “You’re not… bothered by him? It’s like your own father and only family doesn’t even care for your safety, just the public’s opinion on the company.”

You manage a tiny shrug in order not to mess with your stitches. “That’s just how it is when your father is the CEO of the largest shareholding company in the country.” You look down to fiddle with your fingers. “Besides, I don’t know what I’d do if he did care.”

That’s when Jeno realizes how alone you are. You have friends but they have their own appointments. You have family but they never visit. Jeno resolves to make up for all of the absences in your life.

❀

You’re surprised by how much Jeno stops by and keeps you company at the hospital. Without fail, he brings snacks or random stories every visit. He’s not officially on duty since you’re restricted to the hospital, but he still tells you the happenings at the office, or which two workers have been revealed to be secretly dating (and every time you clap your hands together and yell “I knew it!”), or sweet messages from co-workers that aren’t able to visit you in person. And, the update on the case. They got the guy who stabbed you- the same one who tried to poison you that one night, and it makes Jeno feel a little better. For now, the motive is just trying to get to the CEO by using you and he hopes the police stick with it.

“You know,” you speak up one afternoon, “you don’t have to be here. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get a break from being my bodyguard and seeing me 24/7.” The look Jeno sends you in response effectively shuts you up.

On the days you force him not to come in or he’s reached the maximum limit of visiting you for the week- stupid, he knows- he sends you messages that leave a smile on your face and your heart fluttering.

❀

Well, this a certainly a predicament you would have never thought to find yourself in. Jeno’s foot taps the floor in a random beat as he recounts the drama that occurred at the office today. Your eyes keep slipping towards the simple clock on the wall, and you feel your palms grow increasingly clammy. Jeno, of course, takes note of this. You always listen intently to his stories, so the one time he feels the absence of your gaze on him, he knows something is wrong.

“What is it?”

You almost jump. “Huh?”

He purses his lips together, “Something’s bothering you.” Internally, you debate the consequences of revealing the issue. Would you regret this? And then you remember you have almost been murdered multiple times. This one thing couldn’t possibly kill you, right?

You take a deep breath. “The nurse said that today, I could finally change into my normal clothes and you know how much I hate wearing this stupid hospital gown.” You bite your lips and jeno’s eyes subconsciously follow the action. “But it’s four o’clock and she still hasn’t come in to help me so… couldyoupossiblyhelpmetakethisoff?”

As if realizing what you just said out loud, you shoot your gaze to the nearby window in the room, heat filling your body. Silence permeates the room and you so desperately wish you could reverse time and keep your damn mouth shut. Why, of all times, do most hospital gowns not have zippers, and the one you’re currently wearing does?

“You know what, forget-“

“Okay.”

You speak at the same time. You whip towards him. His ears are flushed red as he avoids your gaze awkwardly.

“I-I won’t look, I’ll-“

You blink, a sudden feeling of helplessness rising within. “I know. I can’t reach it because of my stitches so can- can you just unzip the…”

“Y-yeah, I got it.”

You hold your breath as he approaches you, fingertips delicately placed near the top of your back. His hands hesitate before softly reaching for the zipper, pulling down slowly. You can feel the coldness of his fingers seep into your back but you grit your teeth and mention nothing, heart pounding.

“I promise I’m not looking anywhere like that,” he mutters while zipping it down further. You reassure him that it’s fine before shivering when his cold fingers come in contact with your bare shoulder to help take the gown off. There’s this sudden urge to turn around to face him, but it’s practically impossible in your current state, so you close your eyes instead and focus on your breathing. He stills for a second, but his eyes can’t help but slowly get pulled into your wound now in plain view, and he swallows. Luckily, most of your body is covered still by the gown, but he still sees the broad amount of smooth skin that wasn’t attacked or worked on.

Jeno whispers a soft, “I’m done.”

The door clicks open noisily and your heads both whip towards the source of the sound. A nurse stands there, one hand on the clipboard and another still on the door handle, observing the scene.

“It’s not-“

“I wasn’t doing anything, I…“ he splutters.

Excuses and explanations fill the air until eventually Jeno feels it’s best to leave and he practically dashes out of the room. You can only sit there, astounded.

The nurse clears her throat, “Well then, I guess I’ll finish helping you change.” You nod wordlessly.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

You jump and it stretches your stitches, causing a wince to erupt out of you as the nurse calms you. “Oh my, I didn’t mean to startle-“

“It’s fine,” you mumble distractedly, apparently more preoccupied with the aforementioned thought. Does jeno look like your boyfriend? Has the media noticed and misunderstood? Was there even something to misunderstand about?

❀

December 25. AKA, Christmas Day.

You receive the green light from the doctors to go home. After expressing your uttermost gratitude to the doctors and nurses that took care of you, you feel the rising excitement at the prospect of finally returning home. You get to see your grandmother who wasn’t able to visit with duties at your penthouse and all your friends consumed by work.

And there was one other person. The one that you wanted to see the most, but you sent him home. It was Christmas- there was absolutely no way you would make him work, forced to stay next to you the whole day. (although, he wouldn’t be complaining, and neither would you.) You remember commanding him to stay home the night before, Christmas Eve, and celebrate with whoever he wanted. No matter how pleased you were when he protested, you make him promise to not worry about you and enjoy the day off.

“It’s Christmas, Jen.”

“Yes, but…”

“Go home and stop worrying so much- at least for one day, okay?” Your thumb softly smooths out his furrowed brow. “For me?”

Reluctantly, he responds, “Fine. As long as you promise to text me tomorrow night.”

You beam. “Of course, I promise.”

On the other side of town, Jeno checks his phone anxiously. He swears his anxiety (or possible separation issues?) has never been this bad.

“Dude, how many times are you gonna check your phone?” Haechan snorts, jumping over the couch to plop down next to him. “Every time it goes off you’re scrambling for it like you’re in the Hunger Games or whatever.” He slides even closer, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and jeno grimaces.

“Could it be," he taps his chin cheekily, "your secret girlfriend?”

When jeno’s ears turn red and he doesn’t respond, haechan’s eyes grow wide, contrary to Jen’s belief. “No way, is it actually? I was just joking but-“

“Leave him alone,” Mark shakes his head helplessly. “It's probably his work- you know he’s always on call. Give him a break,” mark finishes while leaving haechan to splutter and jeno to heave a sigh of relief.

Although jeno agrees with you, it was nice to finally see his friends and have a day off while celebrating Christmas, he can’t help but wonder what you’re up to. How are you? Are you home now? Are you alone- who’s celebrating with you? Is he the only one thinking this much about you?

Hours later, jeno finally returns home before midnight. His excuse to his friends? He had to wake up early tomorrow to work. Lame, yes, but he needed to see you. He exhales, finally in solitude after spending the whole day with his rowdy friends. Throwing his jacket on the couch, he lays on the bed before taking out his phone.

His stomach flips- two unread messages from you.

[11:38 pm] you: Hey jen

[11:38 pm] you: How was your Christmas?

[11:40 pm] jeno: it was good!

He sighs while typing out a response, before shaking his head and backspacing to write another.

[11:42 pm] jeno: are you free

[11:42 pm] you: Right now?

[11:42 pm] jeno: uh

[11:43 pm] jeno: yeah

If any bystander were to see the scene in front of them, they would almost believe it was a clip playing from a k-drama. Jeno smiles shyly, giggling at his phone as if he was a teenager talking to their crush.

[11:46 pm] you: Yeah, I’m free ❤️

Jeno gasps audibly, placing a hand on his chest as he lights up like a little child. No way, you sent a heart?

[11:46 pm] you: Sorry!

[11:46 pm] you: That was a typo…

He quite visibly deflates at your text. He presses his lips together in a thin line while his fingers briskly move across the screen.

[11:47 pm] jeno: then ill see you outside your place in 5 min?

[11:48 pm] you: Sure ❤️

Beaming at your next message, he throws his phone haphazardly somewhere while getting ready as fast as possible, scrambling all over his apartment.

[11:48 pm] you: That wasn’t an accident this time ;)

His breath floats away from him in the cold air, coming out in visible puffs while he runs towards your apartment building. It’s never once felt that long of a walk with you, but now it seems as if it stretched on for miles.

His legs come to a stop once he sees your figure just feet away. It’s far enough that you could barely shout to each other, but enough to see the expression on your faces. A wide split grin, eye-smiles, sparkling pupils, cheeks protruding so much it hurts.

It’s been a while. It’s taken a while, too. Jeno finally sees you. He finally sees your rarity-the one lone, twinkling star in the sky- and he never wants to lose it. The time it’s taken to build up the courage over fear is uncertain, but the sight of you in a matching set of purple pajamas with cute designs printed all over and is that his suit jacket that you’re wearing? Either way, he’s certain he can’t hold it back anymore (and probably couldn’t for much longer).

“I don’t think I can run right now,” you call out, and he laughs from his spot. Jeno looks on as you hold your arms open wide, so welcomingly, and he runs.

Right as he reaches you, he purposefully slows to embrace you in a gentle hug without hurting you.

“Welcome back, y/n,” he murmurs into your hair. You squeeze tighter, inhaling his comforting scent. Pulling back after a couple of moments, jeno looks down at your choice of outfits. “Wow,” he breathes, “you look beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “In my pajamas?” He nods. “Of course.”

You look away, face burning, but the white powdery substance falling onto your face grabs your attention. Your head shoots up, as you look on delightedly. “Jeno! Look!”

He can only stare at you admiring the snowfall with a red nose and bright, twinkling eyes. You glance towards him, catching him in the middle of staring at you. You call his name out. Jeno bites his lip, taking one of your hands. Your face turns to one of confusion at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?” He pulls you closer, taking in a deep breath before looking into your eyes.

“You mean a lot to me. Like, a whole fucking lot.”

Your eyes widen. Alarmed at the sudden confession, you bring your two cold hands up to hold his face, searching his eyes with a question hidden on your tongue.

On impulse, jeno leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. At first, you can’t move, only noting the warm and foreign sensation on your lips. Then it hits you.

Why aren’t you pushing him away? …why doesn’t it feel wrong?

At the lack of a response, jeno pulls back. You stare at each other for a second before he opens his mouth to say something, and you cut him off.

“Kiss me again,” you command, and he enthusiastically does. His arms wrap around you as you grip the sides of his jacket in your cold fingers, allowing warmth to envelop you both inside and out. The taste of his lips on yours becomes addicting, and you force yourself to stop.

Breaking part, you share bashful smiles. Jeno swallows.

“Merry Christmas, y/n. I didn’t really think about getting you a gift but….” he trails off.

You giggle, “Merry Christmas, and me neither.” You beam at each other, the unspoken feelings shared between you two.

“How do you feel?” Jeno asks, bringing you close to him as he admires the tiny snowflakes resting on your eyelashes.

Although it’s freezing outside, and there’s a big fat chance you could get caught by paparazzi right now, you could care less. You can’t help but reply with a tiny smile,

“i think i’m okay right now.”

p.s. there will be an epilogue released jan 28 ;))

Lights, Camera, F*ck You → LDH

🎥 PAIRING: Haechan x Fem!Reader

🎥 CONTENTS: Hollywood!au, co-star!Haechan, flangst, swearing, enemies to lovers, smut [all suggestive scene headings are marked with a star (★). They’re not necessary to the plot, so you can choose whether to read it SFW or NSFW]

🎥 WORD COUNT: 31k

🎥A/N: Inspired by the lyrics ‘don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms’ for @legendnct​’s Bingo Collab. Find the character/film vocabulary guide here. 

🎥 EPILOGUE: A Night at the Oscars

INT. BYUN STUDIOS - DAY [AUGUST]

“You’re kind of a princess, you know that?” He takes a drag from his cigarette, leaning back lazily, slick honey-colored hair and leather jacket stark against the cherry red of his Mustang.

“And you’re a little dangerous,” you say. His eyes follow as you walk towards him, plucking the cigarette from his hand and placing it between puckered lips. When you pull back, exhaling a thin stream of smoke, the paper is stained a shiny pink from your lip gloss. “Mama warned me about guys like you, you know.”

“Yeah?” he leans forward, one hand sliding to your hip, the gesture casual, yet possessive. “And what did she say?”

“She said you’ll break my heart.”

For one heartbeat, then another, he stares at you, then he pulls you roughly towards him, crushing his lips to yours. He tastes of salt, heat, just a tinge of nicotine, which sets your lips tingling as you fall into his kiss. Your hands press into his chest, leather and vinyl crinkling under your fingers…

“And cut!” The soundstage bell rings, and the muffled sound of check the gate sounds as various PAs and PD personnel run forward. You and Haechan break apart, already staring daggers as a PA approaches, holding two windbreakers.

“What the hell was that?” you hiss, eyes narrowing as you allow her to place the coat around your shoulders. Haechan just hands the prop cigarette to the PA, pulling a slim Juul from his costume jacket and taking a long hit, smoke pearly white in the warm summer air. “I almost fell.”

“Doesn’t matter, they would’ve called it in a second anyway,” he says, wiping a smudge of gloss from his mouth with ill-disguised disgust. “You know you kiss like a fish, right?”

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Shield || jjk

⇢ pairing: security guard!jungkook x bartender!reader ⇢ genre: fluff, romance, smut ⇢ word count: 18.6k ⇢ warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex, rough sex, lots of dirty talk it’s pretty filthy, a brief scene of harassment (it’s not graphic, no touching involved), spanking, hair pulling, jungkook has a big dick, jungkook is the cutest shyest boy to ever exist, reader and jk blush A LOT, jk in a leather jacket that’s about it ⇢ summary: An unfortunate, messy situation involving a drunk asshole not taking no for an answer prompts your boss to hire a new security guard to stay near, just for safe-keeping. When all you were expecting was a guy in his late thirties who couldn’t bother to smile, much less be friendly, you’re pleasantly surprised by the cute, rather shy guy whose job is to keep his eyes on you and protect you for five nights a week.

A/N: I am SOSOSOSO happy with this fic. I had so much fun writing it. This was written in a couple of days where I just sat for straight HOURS writing like,,,,5k words a sitting. I love this with my whole heart and I hope y’all do too. Please, let me know what you think, feedback is, as always, very much appreciated!

Banner was made by the wonderful angel @mikrokosm​ thank you sm baby!!! this looks so much better than the trashy one i made asjsksj

tag list: @sscarletrrose @giadalin @out-of-jams @kookoo-kachoo @teresaisla @wickizer @fakeleaves @el-mc @smol1 @luisafuchs @athenakyle @claude-y 

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It'll grow back

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You miss Rafe's long hair after being dared to cut it, and he convinces you it looks good

Warning: mentions of sex, slight smut, breeding kink, 18+

a/n: just a surprise hey heyyyy, this is slightly edited and very rusty my apologies. This is about that one tweet i saw where people were complaining about drew’s ‘ugly’ haircut and i decided to put my own twist to it, enjoy!

please do not post this anywhere without permission, thank you!

━━━━━━

"You did not." the words rapidly left your lips as your boyfriend stepped right through the front door, sunglasses still on as he came back from his barber.

This was Barry's fault. The dare was just a suggestion in your mind, and even after begging on your knees, you can't help but feel a twinge of regret for not speaking up more and stopping him from cutting it.

The hair you loved to pull while he licked through your folds and ate you out like it was his last meal on earth, hearing nothing but muffled groans between your legs as you pulled and gripped.

His smile was wide, and cocky even as he closed the door behind him and saw you sitting on the corner of his couch.

"I miss your long hair already," you say with a small pout.

Rafe chuckles as he sits next to you, getting comfortable before he pulls you closer to him. "Really? I kind of like it like this," he says, running a hand over his head.

You look up at him skeptically, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you. You can't deny that he still looks handsome, even with his hair shorter than you're used to.

"You're lucky, that I love you," you mumble against his lips that had now pressed themselves against yours, his tongue sliding easily against yours and using his arms to pull you on top of him.

"Yeah?" his hands had found their favorite spot against your ass, moving your hips slowly against his, "It'll grow back," his lips wrapped themselves around your tongue as he sucked it gently, pressing you back against the sofa.

The man walked in and saw you wearing nothing but his shirt and underwear, the smell of sex lingering in the air after hours of pounding you down into his mattress all morning.

Like a man still starved, his lips had made their way down your body, lifting off his shirt from you and groaning at the sight of you with no bra, "Tsk tsk, you're practically begging me to take you right here,"

you squirmed against his lips as they pressed themselves against your stomach, hands cupping your breast, "and you fell for it," you giggle as he bites down onto your thigh playfully, your hands going to hold onto his hair, "I'm gonna miss being able to grip your hair," his buzzed hair felt rough yet soft against your touch.

In a swift motion, you were flipped onto your stomach and pinned down by his hands, feeling his breath hit your right ear as he bit your earlobe gently, "even better, you won't be able to pull me away when I eat that pretty pussy of yours," he hummed, as you hear his belt getting thrown to the side, his one hand pulling down his shorts slowly, "and I'm just gonna keep going, even after you've begged it's become too much,"

You moaned against the pillow that had muffled your sounds in the last few seconds, back arching back against his growing bulge that kept pressing itself against you, "and just when you think I've stopped," he pressed his lips against your neck, pulling your underwear to the side as his tip kissed your entrance, the pre-cum mixing with your juices, "I'm gonna slide my cock in," he hissed as he spoke, slowly pressing his hips forwards and happily being welcomed by your warm cavern, "and pump you with so much of my fucking cum, buried deep inside, and get your belly big and round with my children," his breath was shaky as he slid all the way inside of you.

Your legs were spread, back arched against him as he deliciously split you open, never getting used to his monster cock.

"Fuck, Rafe.." was all you could let out, as his hand pressed your head deeper onto the pillow, the other hand smacking your ass and savoring your cunt that gripped onto him, "My hair should be the least of your worries right now, better hope that pill of yours works," he slid out of you before slamming back into you, earning a gasp from your lips, "cause you're in for a long afternoon, mama."

-----

Taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed, or if you changed your username!)

@maybankslover @phildunphyisadilf @ailee-celeste @onmykneesforrafe @rafesrings @unbelievablystillafangirl @fashphotolife @rootbeerfaygo @ishipit1420 @babeyglo@georgiaxxxx @stevesmixtape @cityofidek

Let’s Try Again [KTH]

Let’s Try Again [Taehyung x Reader] ⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq​​ ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+| Slice of Life AU | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: pregnant!reader, married, some nipple play, slightdom!tae, fingering, ass play, cock warming, oral (f), spanking, finger sucking, biting kink, impreg kink, semi roleplay, explicit, slight edging, penetrative/rough sex, cursing, cunt slapping, small praises, oversensitivity, unprotected sex, creampie, a mess and a half, etc.  ⟶ WC: 7.1k ⟶ Summary: Taehyung, your husband and father of your child(ren), continues to lead a teasing game which consists of persistence, dedication, dirty talk, and more. He just wants to try again!… and again, and again, and again.  ⟶ Teaser: “You nod innocently and he coos at your negligence. His knees dip into the bed one by one, hand fastening its pace along his length. He glistens from the precum that leaks freely from the tip, slicking the liquid around as much as possible to give him the much needed friction he craves.” ⟶ Author’s Note: I have no clue why this idea popped up in my head randomly, but here it is. I felt the need to do something for Taehyung, especially due to his birthday month, possible KTH1, Snow Flower, and the holidays. I just wanted some warm feels with some dirty thoughts. Also - unedited because I don’t care. Quick thank yous to @jamaisjoons​, @balenciaguks​, @joontopia​, @lemonjoonah​ and @out-of-jams​ for giving me some ideas and tips for this cream scene.

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TONIGHT YOU ARE MINE [s. neteyam]

pairing neteyam x metkayina!fem!reader

summary fed up with his siblings stealing you away while the sun shines, neteyam decides it's best to see you during eclipse

wc 1.2k

warnings mentions of jealousy, probably littered with grammatical errors (oops)

note first actual neteyam oneshot 😋 it took me WAYYYY too long to actually finish this. i must admit i’m a bit embarrassed lol. also this is heavily inspired by this song !!

glossary yawntutsyìp (darling), skxawng (idiot), oel ngati kameie (i see you)

neteyam wasn’t jealous. he wasn’t. he swore to both you and himself that jealousy was something he felt a lack of, always trusting in you and the relationship you both upheld. he took great pride in not having experienced the pesky emotion. but now, as he stood watching you from the shore of one of the reef’s many beaches, he was trying to force down the bitter feeling that caused his jaw to tighten and stature to straighten.

the na’vi stealing your attention away from him weren’t even strangers. neteyam felt more betrayed that you were making more time for his siblings than you were for him. he supposed he could join in on your fun, integrate himself into the smiles and laughter, but he wanted time with you and you alone. so as he turned away, gears beginning to turn in his mind, he worked out a supposed better moment to approach you.

“there you are! i’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

your words carried a lilt to them, and you wore an exhilarated smile as you walked up to neteyam, reaching for his hand in earnest. 

“that’s funny, ‘cause i’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he replied gingerly, his lips pulling into a grin similar to yours. he took notice of the way you were practically bouncing on your heels as he began to tug you in the direction of the water.

it was just after eclipse, and you could sense that his family (or parents in particular) would be worried about him, but you didn’t question when he said, “come with me.” 

his braids fell past his shoulders as he walked, and you squeezed his hand tenderly as water started to lap at your ankles, the waves pooling around your feet. out beyond the beach, the reef glowed with bioluminescence. you had always thought it to be prettier now than when the sun touched it.

“where are we going?” you asked.

neteyam shook his head, smile refusing to feign or falter. “you’ll see, yawntutsyìp. we’re not going far, just…out.” his tone of voice was stoic, and a small part of you thought there might be more to his answer than he was letting on.

“just out,” you repeated, hyper-aware of the way his hand felt in yours. “i like the sound of that. it has been a while since we have been together. alone.”

scoffing out a laugh, neteyam nodded, stealing a glance your way as you both walked along the shoreline. “indeed it has. you’ve been spending all of your time with my brother and sisters.”

you frowned at his words, mentally recalling your activities throughout the day. much to your dismay, neteyam was right. “they’ve required my attention; their breath hold is getting longer and longer each time we practice,” is all you told him.

“yes, but i require your time too,” neteyam drawled, his face morphed into an expression of longing. he pulled you to a stop. “you’re so distant when the sun comes out. why don’t you let tsireya take over. just for a day. i miss being with you.”

lips stretching into a soft smile, you released neteyam’s hand before bringing both your palms to his freckled face. his cheeks were warm against your skin as you said, “you’re with me now. and yes, i can talk to tsireya. she will take over tomorrow’s lessons.” after a slight pause, you stepped closer to him. “there’s no need to be so jealous, ‘teyam.”

your lover rolled his eyes, large hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them from his face. his thumbs smoothed over your knuckles as he said, “i’m not jealous. just…”

“envious of your siblings?” you finished for him, a teasing smile stretching your lips.

neteyam gave you an unamused look, but you noticed the way he was biting back a grin. “you’re such a skxawng.”

“says you!” there was no point in trying to hide that some part of you found it humorous and sweet that neteyam was jealous of his siblings for ‘stealing you away.’ you found it to be quite cute.

instead of trying to find a proper rebuttal to your intended banter, neteyam only sighed and guided your hands to rest behind his nape, his own fingers finding themselves latched to your hips. your front pressed against his, and he sighed as his amber eyes met yours.

intimidated by the sudden closeness, you found your insides twisted with anxiousness. in your peripheral, you noticed the way neteyam’s tail flickered behind him. 

“what do you want to do tomorrow?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. his gaze consistently jumped to your mouth as he awaited your response.

hit by the abrupt urge to kiss him, you shook your head. “ask me when i’m not distracted by your presence, okay?”

neteyam grinned, and you caught sight of his elongated canines as he stroked the outline of your jaw with his right thumb. “when are you not distracted by my presence, yawntutsyìp?”

giving him a disgruntled look, you rolled your eyes, leaning into his touch regardless of your annoyed facade. “just shut up and kiss me, skxawng.” using the heels of your palms, you gently urged neteyam closer and pressed your lips against his, instantly losing yourself in his taste.

your mouth moved with his, fingers splaying and threading themselves into the roots of his braids. he was so close, and yet you wanted him closer, forever engraved into your skin and mind and soul. as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you moaned quietly before pulling away. neteyam followed suit, though, and you found yourself exhaling as his mouth began to trail the column of your neck.

“neteyam,” you said, failing to steal his attention away from the marks he was branding onto your skin. “neteyam.”

he breathed heavily against your throat. “what?”

“people…” you started, mind clouded with the sensation of his warm tongue. “people will notice marks, neteyam.”

“good,” he regarded with no hesitation, placing chaste kisses on your jawline. “let them notice.”

you let out a strained whine, your eyes locked on the blazing stars above, hands sliding down to his biceps. “my parents will notice. yours will too.”

at this, neteyam finally pulled back, his gaze lidded. his head tilted ever so slightly to the left. “what is so bad about them noticing?”

exhaling through your nose, you shot him a pointed look before shifting yourself against him. you rested your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. “there’s nothing distinctively wrong, i suppose. everything about this—about you—just makes me nervous. or, rather, excited. my mind and senses feel tuned to a hundred percent when i’m with you. i have never felt this way. i think i am scared to express whatever this is.”

neteyam’s gaze softened with understanding, leaning down to rest his chin atop your head. he embraced you tightly—to which you were quick to do the same—and he said against your hair, “i have never felt this way either.”

you pulled away, just enough to properly look at him. “oel ngati kameie, neteyam. oel ngati kameie.”

he did not hesitate to say the phrase back, his fingers splaying across the small of your back. “i see you, my love.”

neteyam let the words hang in the air, their weighted meaning bringing heaviness to your heart. and it was at this moment, as you both stood facing each other, skin against skin, that you deemed the entire sully family to be a gift from eywa herself—it had never been so clear to you than it was now.

© luvsellie 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

Neteyam Has Something Important To Tell You As You Patch Him Up (SFW)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluff, Neteyam is smooth asf, little bit of blood, Neteyam is a simp, Mo’at is an awesome wing-woman, Utral Aymokriyä is where Jake and Neytiri mated

“Be sure that mushroom is ground well, (y/n). We will need it when the hunting party return,” Mo’at instructed, implying the bioluminescent fungi that sat next to you.

You nodded firmly, placing the plant into something that was the earthly equivalent of a mortar and pestle, and promptly starting your work.

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