#and i published such good angst literally a few hours ago

[hannieween]

lunacy | city lights series | h.js

You could no longer hide your infatuation over Joshua Hong. It was becoming painfully obvious, though you weren't sure to what extent he was aware of this. Or if he even cared, for that matter.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: angst, smut (18+) ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbors with benefits ✮ word count: 18.8k

↣ part i – part ii – part iii – navi post – other fics

₊🎧: underwater - baekhyun ♡︎ | shutdown - moon byul and seori ♡︎ | beautiful liar - monsta x ♡︎ | more - i.m ♡︎ ₊ nsfw warnings under the cut!!

✮ warnings: mentions of menstruation, smut with plot, dom Joshua, sub reader, big dick Joshua, phone sex, dirty talks, foul language, corruption kink, praise kink, exhibitionism: bj in a public space, cum swallowing, multiple sex scenes, masturbation, oral sex (f, m), brat taming: orgasm denial and pussy slaps, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names: pretty girl, baby, princess, sweetheart, bunny (hers) baby boy (his)

part iv

In your few years being a full time writer, you've made little traditions to keep for yourself.

For example, each time you started outlining your drafts, you'd go to a special spot in your favorite library, near the windows to watch people walk by on the streets. It helps your brain flow with ideas and brainstorm for hours.

Whenever you need to come up with stronger ideas for a plot, or find yourself in a bit of a writer's block, you go to the rooftop of your building. A tradition which has started to taint under the memories of you and Joshua, because quite inevitably, you start thinking of him.

And whenever you submit a finished draft, you tend to go elsewhere. Literally, you buy a ticket and go somewhere else, distract yourself for a little while, even sometimes, you give yourself the luxury to stay in a hotel for a night or two and come back feeling like a new person.

This time, you only bought a ticket for same day travel. But the method of transportation was by train. Which suited your needs a little bit more: you could see the landscape roll by your eyes, the openness of the outskirts of your city was beautiful—so different from looking out the window and seeing big tall buildings and billboards.

You've only visited this city once, when you published your first book years ago. As a young writer, you didn't have much money to go anywhere but there.

But you came across a gem: the town was colorful, it had its own quiet magic of a place loved and celebrated by the people who lived there.

When you first visited, you felt alien to the silent movement of the day. It was so strange to you that at first you got an eerie chill that maybe you got to a ghost town by accident, being so used to the buzz of the city throughout the day.

That's why you chose to come here as soon as you submitted your finished draft. It felt like sending a love letter and then hiding under your bed covers.

There was a small creek in the middle of the beautiful town, and a wooden bridge stood above it. You sat on a bench near the creek, the only noise filling your brain was the current of the stream.

Until the buzz of your phone interrupted that peace.

[9: 14 AM] Yen ✿: good news! [9: 14 AM] Yen ✿: you've been green lighted the second installment to your trilogy   [9: 14 AM] Yen ✿: yay! 🥰 [9: 15 AM] you: What? they already finished reading it? I sent it at midnight ???  [9: 15 AM] Yen ✿: of course you're up already  [9: 15 AM] Yen ✿: they haven't read it yet, that much i can tell you but  [9: 15 AM] Yen ✿: idk what to say girl [9: 15 AM] Yen ✿: they already want to know you're working on book 2

That doesn't make sense, you said to yourself.

[9: 16 AM] Yen ✿: why do i feel like this is bad news  [9: 16 AM] Yen ✿: are u not excited or  [9: 16 AM] you: I am! this is great!  [9: 16 AM] you: I'm already working on book 2 :) [9: 16 AM] Yen ✿: great i'll tell them  [9: 16 AM] Yen ✿: btw what happened to mr hot neighbor  [9: 17 AM] Yen ✿: 👀👀  [9: 17 AM] you: Can we have that conversation on another day? I don't want to think about him right now [9: 17 AM] Yen ✿: fine

But it was entirely too late.

Memories of the last night you spent with Joshua started to flood your mind. You saw him last that Saturday night when you asked him to continue with your little agreement of being fuckbuddies.

He agreed. So you agreed to not see each other on Sunday, but what did happen was that he finally asked for your number. Though as expected, he hadn't texted yet.

That was another reason for your departure today. As soon as the clock hit midnight and it was Monday, you sent your file with the finished draft of your book and booked a ticket for the magical town you remember having visited in your first publishing experience.

Will he text? He hadn't all Sunday, so you didn't see it foreseeable that he would on Monday. Well, what do you actually know about him? You knew a few things. You seemed to have measured his behavior really well but what else did you know?

Nothing.

Not his birthday, his favorite color, his favorite song or movie. Does it matter? He's your fuckbuddy. There are no rules as to what you should know about the person you're fucking.

There may be a few details that are pertinent to doing what fuckbuddies do, yes. Like protection and being tested and such, a thing that you already had covered with Joshua, obviously.

But, should you know your fuckbuddy's favorite color? You knew that he didn't like to kiss you while fucking you, for example. And he conveniently fucks you in positions that distance your hands from his face so you can't touch him either.

Why does that feel like a bitter pill to swallow? Ah, yes. You have a terrible infatuation over him. Like a thorn that you do not dare to remove. In fact, you like the pain you get from it because it's the only thing you'll get.

You let out a broken sigh, swallowing your tears. You felt particularly emotional that day—a sign of your upcoming cycle, so your hormones were working twice as hard.

Another reason to stay away from Mr. Hot Neighbour, if you will.

Despite the sunny day, the temperature was growing colder, so that the season was changing to winter. You liked the mixed taste of it, the sunny sky and chill in the air, sitting by the peaceful creak of the ghost town.

You had a pending decision looming in your mind from the moment you took the train in the break of daylight. Should you tell Joshua how you feel? Is it something you thought helped your situation?

There was nothing you could compare your situation to your past experiences. Your past lovers never got to be as relevant as Joshua. No lover ever shook your heart so hard to the point of hurting. It wasn't just the sex, or his crushing beauty—you were well aware of that. 

You just fell in love of the way your bodies synced together. The way that he seemed to hear your thoughts and read the way your body moved so well. He made you feel seen.

Maybe it's not a great idea to confess to him. But you could try another way, maybe taunt him with silly questions about love, like you did before. 

After what seemed like an hour had passed, you opened the small portable cooler you brought with your person. You came prepared with a meal to have in the quietness of the creak, hearing the sounds of nature and the quiet life of the little town around you.

It was a peaceful day, the only thing that disrupted it was your pending talk with Joshua, which still resided in your head, wasn't even a fact yet.

You planned to stay until sunset, which due to the fact that winter was onset, happened early. You chose to read a book on the two hour trip back home, which was a good choice since it had been a while since you read something other than your own work.

In the elevator of your building, you found yourself wishing for a night of peaceful uninterrupted sleep. You didn't want to suffer from insomnia for a good while, although you knew that with your second book green lit, that might be happening soon.

You stifled a yawn as you got to your apartment. It was 7 PM and you decided that it might be a good idea to prepare yourself for bed. You drew yourself a bath, had a small meal and went overboard and induced yourself to sleep with melatonin—for good measure.

The good thing was that it was a dreamless, heavy sleep.

You woke up the next day feeling incredibly groggy and much to your demise, felt the silent announcement of the beginning of your cycle. With a groan, you dragged yourself out of bed and kick started your day.

[11:55 AM] joshua: bunny, are you busy today?

You stared at your screen for a good while. You were in the middle of your daily chores, cleaning your mail and responding to some others when your phone buzzed on your desk.

You turned the silent mode on and decided to respond to it later.

Why does he have to call you that? Does it hurt him to call you by your name?

Easy, you told yourself.

[18:31 PM] joshua: i'll take that as a yes ? [18:34 PM] you: I'm free tonight

You bit your lip. God, why do you feel like a teenager that time you first talked to the person you had a crush on?

[18:34 PM] you: But we can't do anything [18:34 PM] joshua: what do you mean ? [18:37 PM] joshua: are you in?

Your stomach dropped.

[18:37 PM] you: Are you outside my door right now?  [18:37 PM] joshua: where else? [18:37 PM] joshua: open up [18:37 PM] you: Let yourself in

You removed your cancellation headphones from your head and attempted to smooth your hair to appear at least decent and not like the little study mouse you were the whole day.

"Bunny? Where are you?" you heard his sweet voice call from the living room.

"In the study," you replied just as Joshua pushed the door open, sneaking his head in first.

"Hi there," he smiled at you sweetly, looking around like a child in a toy shop. "Wow, this room is so... you."

You laughed. "Is that so?"

"I like it," he nodded, looking at the shelves upon shelves stacked with books and clutter, collection toys and figures from your favorite media. Fairy lights on the walls, a couch on the side that hosted your small army of squishmallows that moved the first night that Joshua slept in.

"Thank you," you replied with an excited smile.

"So? What do you mean we can't do 'anything'?," he did bunny ears over the word.

"I'm... going through stuff," you said, making a circle motion with your palm toward your lower belly.

"Oh," he blinked, then cocked his head to one side. "And?"

It was your turn to blink in bewilderment. "What do you mean 'and'? Is it not super gross for men to even hear the word menstruation?"

"Maybe, for some. I don't know. I don't care," he shrugged with ease. "You've never had period sex, I take it?"

"Joshua! No!" you chastised, your stomach fluttering uneasily when he laughed.

His nose wrinkled as he giggled. "Sorry, but you can't expect me to be grossed out by a little blood. I've done it before, if it makes you feel better."

"It does not," you replied with sincerity, crossing your arms and standing from your armchair.

He was wearing what he usually wore when he was home. Sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. His hair was unlike the last time you saw him, it hung loose and you just loved it, it made you want to run your fingers through his dark locks.

"Well, if you don't want to have sex tonight, maybe we can chill instead, if you want," he shrugged as he took some aimless steps in your office room.

Your stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

"We could watch a movie," his hand brushed his hair distractedly.

"I-I was actually about to go out," you blurted.

"Oh, you were?" his eyes scanned you briefly.

"To the drugstore. I'm... running out of supplies," you muttered, feeling your blood run to your cheeks.

He smirked. "Bunny, you don't have to be shy with me. Come on, I'll come with."

"O-okay," you muttered. "Let me get a bag."

It felt weird to walk down to the drugstore with Joshua strolling by your side. Doing simple ordinary things with him was something new to you, since you only saw him in your bedroom, and occasionally on the rooftop of the building you both live in.

When you found yourself wishing he would take your hand, you dug both your hands on the large pocket of your hoodie.

"How did it go? Your book thing," he asked, breaking the ice.

You smiled at his choice of words. "It went well. They want me working on the second book already."

"Oh, that sounds good," he gave you a gentle smile. "But they don't give you like, time to rest or something like that?"

"Well, I screwed up a bit because I was a little ahead of deadline and told them the second book was in the works, so there's no time to rest," you shrugged.

"I get it," he nodded. "I don't get days off either. It's either recording vocals, writing music, networking or something else."

"Did you have to work yesterday too?" you asked with genuine curiosity.

"I went back to the studio because Jihoon wanted me to re-record some lines. We went on a rabbit hole after that 'cause he's nervous about possibly working with major producers. We're self-produced for now," he smiled and rolled his eyes at the memory.

"Was it good though, at the end?"

"Oh, yeah. The perfectionist he is, he didn't stop until he okayed it," he nodded and opened the door of the drugstore for you and you muttered a word of thanks. "And the day before... Sunday. Yeah, I normally go out with my mom—or try to."

"Oh?" you pushed your eyebrows up. "What did you do this time?"

"We had lunch and then visited a botanical garden. Drove her home after that," he told you with an absent smile, probably remembering his day with his mom.

Your heart swelled with fondness. "That sounds really nice, Joshua," you replied, trying not to show the emotion you felt.

"Yeah," he seemed to snap himself from his train of thought, looking up to the aisles. "I don't know where I'm going, I'm following you."

You laughed. "Don't worry, you won't get lost baby boy," you said with an air of confidence as you turned to the aisle where you'd find what you needed.

"Did you just call me baby boy?" he giggled goofily.

You ignored him, throwing in the basket your supplies.

"You told me you needed supplies, bunny. What's this?" he said, looking up to the shelves. "Snacks?"

"These are my supplies," you said with a whine. "Don't judge me."

"I'm not judging," he lifted his palms to your view. "Whatever you need."

"I actually do need to collect something from the counter," you said, fishing your prescription from your pocket but not showing it to him.

"Oh, are you sick?" he inquired as he followed you out of the snacks section and toward the counter.

You kindly handed your prescription to the lady and she handed back birth control pills. Then when it was time to pay, you tried to hide your blushing face to Joshua, who could probably notice your natural shyness kicking in, no matter if he stood behind your back.

"Are you on the pill? Why did you never tell me?" he muttered beside you as you both walked out of the drugstore with your bag full of supplies.

"Not yet," you frowned, though your face felt hot. "In theory and according to this, I begin today," you told him, keeping your eyes glued to the sidewalk.

"I see," he replied, seemingly thoughtful. But then, he asked: "So we're watching movies tonight?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," you admitted. "It's been ages since I watched a movie at home—or at the cinema, for that matter."

"Cinema," he smiled. "Sometimes I forget that you're an old lady."

"Shut up, Joshua," you scoffed but couldn't help the growing smile on your face.

The only way you could describe your apartment was something akin to a fortress: never short of food or supplies, you had everything you ever needed for entertainment, you worked there most of the time. You were lucky to have made it your little fortress—and well, also you worked hard to keep it that way.

When you got back home with Joshua, you freshened up in the bathroom and changed into comfier clothes and brought a blanket to the living room, where you had a decent tv screen.

"What do you prefer for tonight, princess?" Joshua asked as you returned to the living room wearing your comfiest attire.

"Aren't you choosing tonight?" you asked as you sat beside him on your couch and threw the blanket over your legs.

"What, you're not sharing?" he asked, looking at your fluffy blanket.

"I can bring another blanket for you," you blurted, feeling deeply embarrassed.

"What if I only want to share yours?" he pouted cutely, he even made puppy eyes.

Don't torture me like that, your inner voice pleaded to him. 

"I- we can share," you smiled abashedly. "Sorry, I just didn't think-"

"I'm just playing with you, bunny," he laughed merrily.

You stopped cold. "I- what do I do?" you blurted. "Do you want to share or not?"

"Oh, you sweet thing. Alright, let's share," he exhaled. "We're watching horror, then."

"O-okay," you muttered, feeling deeply flustered at the whole exchange.

The blanket covered you and Joshua perfectly. It was large enough to cover your whole bed. So you confidently propped your feet bundled up in fluffy socks on your coffee table without the blanket falling off or uncovering Joshua.

"You can do the same," you suggested to him after he saw you put your feet up on the surface of your otherwise neat coffee table.

"You're weird," he muttered, but followed you nonetheless, extending his large legs on the coffee table with yours.

"Why?" you frowned.

"You don't seem like the person who would tolerate feet on a table," he laughed. "But you always prove me wrong in something."

You felt your cheeks grow hotter. "What- why? Why does that make me weird? I just wanted to stretch my legs."

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he shrugged. "I mean, your apartment is always super clean and you're a bit haughty about certain things so I just thought-"

"I am not haughty!" you gasped.

"Ah, there we go again," he let out his high pitch giggle.

"Shut up, Joshua. You're not perfect either," you muttered with a pout.

"I know, sweetheart," he laughed harder.

"You-you're cocky," you blurted. "You're... you're..."

Joshua arched his eyebrows, waiting for your best worst descriptor.

But you just sighed: "God, you might be perfect."

He laughed harder. "Are you sure you're not ill? Let's take you to the doctor," he joked.

You scoffed. "Ugh, I'll take it back. You're the worst."

"I'm anything but perfect, baby. Far from it, actually. But I appreciate your lukewarm compliment," he said, sliding a hand under the blanket and finding your thigh, to which he gave a gentle squeeze.

With a jolt, you rose from the couch, visibly startling him. "I almost forgot my snacks! D-do you want something to drink?"

You hid yourself in your kitchen and heard his distant reply. "I'll have whatever you're having."

A silent sigh escaped you. You needed to find some kind of rein to your emotions when Joshua was around you.

"Does hot tea and milk sound okay?" you asked.

"Sounds great. Thanks," you heard.

You returned with a tray with two mugs and a plate full of your favorite sweet snacks. Joshua frowned slightly then you set the tray between you and him, setting a clear barrier between you two.

If he noticed you were creating some distance, he didn't say anything. And you silently thanked him for it.

Joshua chose a horror movie. If he did it because he enjoyed horror, he didn't look the part, not one bit. His face wore a frown in disgust throughout the whole thing—and it wasn't only because of gory depictions.

The film was deeply disturbing, to anyone in their right mind, it would seem. But you occasionally giggled at certain moments when Joshua flinched or even jumped on the couch. You never bat an eye, you even found the story a bit flimsy, reliant in shock value and with very evident plot holes.

"That was... something," you muttered as the credits rolled on the screen.

"You are scary," he told you, still looking deeply startled.

You let out a laugh. "Why?"

"You laughed when the lady found out that her daughter was dead!" he pointed with an obvious tone.

"What, it was funny," you shrugged. "I dunno, the face she made was funny. Thought it was a weird cry face."

His mouth parted, frown deepening. "That's psycho talk," he shook his head.

"Chill, it's just a movie," you huffed.

"You pick next time," he rolled his eyes. "But let's not watch horror in a while. I've had my fill."

You laughed. "You want me to hold you?" you teased.

"Yeah, that would be nice. Please and thank you," he mumbled in a low tone.

You realized he seemed serious for a moment. "Wait, you're not joking?"

"Yeah, I am," he laughed. "Unless you want to, though," he nodded at you with a cheeky smile that could only mean that he was now teasing you.

"I'm fine, thanks," you shook your head. "I don't find cultish things scary."

"What do you find scary, then?" he inquired, he leaned his head back on the sofa and turned to see you.

You were eating on your snacks. You were not hungry, just felt the need to keep your hands and mouth busy.

"I... don't know," you replied after a long minute.

"Interesting," he muttered.

"What is?"

"You are," he frowned slightly.

"Were you expecting me to curl up in a ball and ask you to hold me?" you taunted.

"Kind of? Yeah," he said, his eyebrows arched a bit.

"Well, maybe we can keep searching for the one horror movie that makes me want to do that," you suggested with a playful smile on your face.

He narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you might be a bit crazy," he joked. "Lucky for you, I'm a bit crazy too."

"Oh, yeah? And why does that make me the lucky one?"

"Because I might say yes," he muttered with a smirk.

"Deal it is, then," you lifted your chin almost proudly and tended your hand to him.

He shook it contentedly. "Deal. But not tonight, though. Maybe in a month—or two."

Your chest tightened at the sound of that. Time with him, making plans, made your heart flutter in your chest.

"Sure, whenever you're ready, baby boy," you replied with a grin.

He closed his eyes slowly. "God, why did I do to deserve this," he muttered with a downturned smile.

You rolled your eyes, then threw the blanket off your legs. "Bathroom break," you announced for the nth time, since during the movie you had a few. "I'll be back."

When you finally returned, Joshua was fast asleep on your couch, breathing deeply with his arms crossed on his chest.

The sight of it was warm, almost too cute to even process. You felt the urge to grab his cheeks and pinch them or squeeze the air out of his lungs.

Maybe you are crazy.

You picked up the tray from the couch, the barrier that kept his hands away from you and placed it on the kitchen counter, deciding to clean up the following morning.

Deciding on what to do with the large man asleep on your couch, you sat quietly beside him. Twiddling with your fingers. Should you wake him and tell him to go home? Should you suggest that he stay the night? He lived right next door, he could just walk to his bed in less than a minute.

But you wanted him to stay with you.

Then suddenly, he jerked awake with a loud grunt, throwing his hands at you like big claws. "Bwaaah!"

You let out a screech in sheer terror at having him give you the scare of your life. "Goddamnit, Joshua!" you slapped him on his shoulder repeatedly.

He laughed himself silly. "Got you," he muttered with teary eyes, not even trying to dodge or cover himself from your attacks.

"Yeah, yeah," you stuck out your tongue at him, making him laugh harder again.

"You're too cute," he said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Screw you," you pouted.

He rolled his eyes. "Oof, don't go around saying that. You potty mouth," he teased with a grin still plastered on his stupidly beautiful face.

You scoffed, but fell short of witty replies to give him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

It took you two seconds to understand what he was referring to.

"Oh, I'm okay. Well, not okay but I just don't feel like dying yet," you muttered with an offhanded air.

He pouted cutely. "I'm going to pretend I know what that means."

Joshua was a few inches away from you, just at hand's reach, but you didn't dare touch him. Even if you were dying to.

You laughed. "I'm fine, Joshua. I can deal with the pain just fine."

"Oh, okay," he shrugged slightly. "I was about to offer a back rub, but given that you're okay..."

"I'd like that," you nodded, feeling your cheeks grow hotter. "I'd like that very much, please."

Joshua grinned. "Lie down, princess," he instructed, patting on his thigh once to indicate the place where he wanted you to lie your head.

You did so, lying on your tummy, head resting on his thigh and stretching your legs on the sofa. His large hands started massaging softly on your lower back, over your comfy clothes.

"Oh, oh? That feels good," you exclaimed, feeling bewildered. "You're really good at this."

"Why do you sound surprised?" he asked and you darted a look at his face, he flashed you a grin as he caught your eye.

"I-I'm not—well a little," you muttered as his hand pressed softly on your lower back alleviating the stress from the cramping you've had all day.

You scrunched up your face when he got to a region that activated your nerves, it didn't exactly hurt, but it made you clench your muscles in response.

"Does that hurt, bunny?" he muttered.

"It feels weird," you replied. "Keep going."

You heard a soft chuckle. "Do you like this?"

He used both hands to rub your lower back, fingers digging at the sides of your hips, applying just the right amount of pressure to your skin to make you groan in satisfaction.

"Yeah. Feels so good," you muttered, closing your eyes.

You could feel yourself letting loose, so much that you weren't aware when you fell asleep on his lap. What woke you up with a start was feeling your drool dripping from your parted lips and onto his lap.

The back rubs had stopped, in fact everything had stilled and when you darted a look up, you found Joshua asleep, still in the same sitting position he was when he was giving you back rubs.

It was 2 AM, you suspected that you had fallen asleep around 11 PM. So Joshua didn't dare move under the risk of waking you up.

He slowly stirred after noticing that you had moved from his lap.

"Hi there," he whispered groggily with the ghost of a smile.

"Let's go to bed," you muttered, not caring that you could simply tell him to go home.

You got up from your couch and dragged him along, silently thanking him for not protesting against your wishes.

He took off his large t-shirt as you threw the bed covers and climbed your bed before he did.

"What?" you asked when you saw him standing by the foot of the bed, his bare torso exposed to your view.

"Do you have an issue if I sleep in my briefs only?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You laughed. "Please. We've slept naked before," you muttered, but he didn't budge. "Yeah, 'm okay with it."

He took his sweatpants off and climbed to your bed, lying next to you.

You instinctively scooted closer to him and he smiled, sliding an arm under your body to drag your body so that now his chest was pressed to your back, his arms circling you so he was practically hugging you from behind.

"Are you feeling better?" he muttered, his nose slightly bumping the back of your ear.

"Yeah. Thank you Shua," you replied, snuggling in his embrace.

"Here to help," he whispered before pressing his lips on your hair.

The rest of the week went smoothly.

Joshua had taken a liking to texting you when you least expected him to. Sometimes, he'd ask random questions, just to taunt you and make you blush. As if he knew the effect he had on you even without interacting with him in person.

[18:23 PM] joshua: are you free tonight princess? [18:23 PM] joshua: wait don't tell me [18:23 PM] joshua: you're working

You had been keeping him at bay all week by telling him you have to outline book two of your trilogy. Which was true, you unburied some old drafts, but decided that given the fact that book one underwent a lot of changes, book two would have to adopt those changes too.

But the reason why you made yourself busy was to keep yourself away from him. You were too nervous to face him again after that Tuesday night—in which you purely hung out together, no sex.

You let out a sigh.

[18:24 PM] you: I'm free tonight  [18:24 PM] you: Why?

It was now Saturday. You hadn't expected to see Joshua that night, since he usually had something planned during the weekend.

That being said, you totally weren't expecting a call from him.

"Yes?"

"God, you might be an old lady. Who answers the phone by saying 'yes'?" you heard him laugh.

"I'm hanging up," you cooed, trying to hide your smile.

God, how can he get you this flustered already?

"Wait, wait," you heard a giggle. "What are you wearing right now?"

"Really? Really, Joshua?" you gasped.

"No, wait I mean—don't hang up. I'm picking you up in an hour. We're going out," he told you, and you could tell that he was walking hurriedly, his breath hitching up as the buzz from the street filtered through the phone.

Your stomach dropped. "What, where? Jesus, give me some warning next time," you stood up from your desk and went to your bedroom.

"I am giving you a warning, right now. We have a gig tonight and it's a big thing for me. I want you to be there," he spoke in a lower tone, as if not wanting anyone else to hear.

"Well, I'm in my pyjamas. Hope that's fine with you," you joked. You were in fact not wearing pyjamas, but comfy clothes.

"The bunny pjs?" he inquired in a lower tone, but you could tell that he was smiling. "Oh no, sweetheart. I love to see you in that but I'm afraid that's not going to do."

"Well that's what you're getting," you smiled despite the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Come on, baby. Wear something nice for me?" he purred into your ear. 

You sighed in pure delight and felt lucky that he wasn't there to see that you were aroused already.

"What do you want me to wear?" you almost mewled, not caring about how lewd you sounded.

"Whatever you want, princess. You look good in anything," he muttered.

"I'll wear something cute," you responded, your voice high and almost sweet for him. "And I'll wear something underneath for you only, if you want."

"Fuck, I'm getting hard already," you heard him sigh.

Your eyes widened. "Really?" your voice rose an octave higher. "Why?" you asked innocently.

"Just thinking about you gets me hard," he groaned, but you could tell he was smiling by the sound of his voice.

"Joshua! You're in public! Don't say those things aloud," you chastised him, but couldn't ignore that hearing that made you instantly wet and your core flutter in excitement at his words.

"I just got to my car, princess. Calm down," he laughed faintly. "No one can hear me here. Or see."

"Well, in that case, I'm really, really wet for you right now," you muttered with a sigh as you sat on your bed and slowly lied down.

"Fuck, baby. I love hearing you say that," he purred in a raw tone.

"Yeah? What else do you love hearing me say?" you dared ask.

Maybe your newfound confidence was due to the fact that he wasn't present in your bedroom right now. Your heart was thumping hard against your chest, and your face felt hot at the daring words that were escaping your mouth.

But you didn't care, all your focus was on the voice in your ear.

"I love the way you say my name," he confessed almost sheepishly, as if he was almost admitting that to himself.

"Shua?" you asked, playing dumb. 

"No, no. That's not my name, baby," he muttered in a tone of false reprimand.

"Joshua," you smiled.

"Mmm yeah. I love hearing you say my name. Love it when that's all you can say while I fuck you silly," he admitted, his voice dangerously low.

"Mmm, yeah?" you echoed as your free hand sneaked beneath the band of your sweatpants, burying itself beneath your soaked panties.

You let out a mewling sound when your fingers found your already pooling core.

"Are you touching yourself, princess?" he asked after he heard you sigh in pleasure.

"Yeah," you admitted. Your wet fingertips had already started rubbing circles around your swelling clit. "Wanna come and see for yourself?"

"Fuuuck," you heard him sigh heavily. "I'm a bit far away right now. But I'd love to be there, princess."

"Can y-you talk to me?" you asked with a tiny voice then bit your lip to avoid moaning louder, feeling your legs starting to tense up.

"Are you touching yourself with your fingers?" he asked and you said yes. "God. I'd love to see that one day."

"Yeah? Why?" you asked with a frown.

"I think it's really fucking hot. I want to see you play with your toys until you're spent," he sighed and you imagined him smiling. "I want to hear you say my name while you do it, too."

"You think that I think of you when I touch myself?" you dared ask again as your fingers gently swirled around your sensitive bud.

"You don't?" he bit back.

"Yeah, I do," you admitted despite yourself. "How did you know?"

"Just a small hunch," he sighed, is he smiling?

"I always think of you when I come. I imagine it's you that's making me come," you blurted.

"I'm right next door," he groaned. "You know you can just tell me and I'll be there."

"But what if it's super late?" you pried.

"I don't care,"  he confessed with a low groan.

"Are you touching yourself too?" you asked with a high pitch whine.

"I can't. Not unless I want to be charged for public indecency," he muttered and you could tell he was smiling.

"Are y-you hard?" you asked as your fingers pinched your swollen and slick covered clit.

"Yeah, baby. I am," he sighed. "You've been ignoring me a little this week," he laughed.

Your heart clenched and a moan escaped your lips as your fingers toyed with your clit. "Y-you're not seeing other people, then?"

"You're asking me right now if I'm fucking other girls?" he muttered with a groan that didn't denote his arousal anymore. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I dunno, I figured-"

"You're the only one I'm fucking. I haven't been with anyone else since you," he muttered reproachfully. "We've talked about this before—does this get you off, baby? Do you like to hear that you're the only girl I want?"

"Yeah," you admitted, shutting your eyes close as your body responded with a wave of heat at the sound of his words, you groaned and twitched in your bed a little.

"Is my pretty girl possessive? Is that it?" he muttered again, and in your inner eye you saw him grinning like an idiot.

"Yes, I am," you gasped as your fingers pressed on your clit and massaged it in the only way you knew would get you closer to your sweet release.

"Oh, you greedy, greedy little thing," he tutted. "Are you close, baby? By the way you're breathing I can only assume that-"

"Yes, 'm close, Joshua," you whimpered, your fingers working faster on your clit.

"I wish I could see that right now," he replied. "You don't know how much I've needed you this week."

"Fuck," your legs twitched and a moan coiled in your throat.

"I'd have you every day of the week if you let me, baby," he let out a stressed sigh. "Don't think I would rather have someone else before you."

"Joshua-," you muttered in a broken moan, trying to bite your lip as you came on your fingers, gasping and whining as the wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your jaw go slack and let out his name in low whimpers.

"I know, baby," he muttered as he heard your moans: "I know."

Your body went limp after a long minute and you slowly came back to your senses.

"God, that was embarrassing," you sighed to yourself, moving your hand out of your pants.

He giggled. "Why?"

"I—never mind," you rolled your eyes. "See you in a bit?"

"See you in a bit, bunny," was the last thing he said before you hung up.

The cold shower you had afterwards served two purposes: a cold slap back to reality and a reflection on your crazy toxic behavior.

Joshua was not your boyfriend. So what if he were fucking other people? Even if he were, you didn't have a say in it. You were just fuckbuddies.

You decided to wear something you thought never would, something you bought on a whim. A little black dress that hugged your body in a flattering way and accentuated your beautiful body, it showed some cleavage, but you felt confident enough to wear it now.

You waited in your living room for Joshua, tapping your fingers impatiently and checking your phone every now and then until you heard him knock, and you ran to get your door.

Joshua pushed through the door, grabbing you instantly by the waist and pushing you to the nearest surface where he could sit you down. The table felt cold against your ass when he set you down harshly, making the skirt of your dress fly up as he slotted himself between your legs.

"I'd take you right here on this table if we didn't have to be somewhere else right now," he said in a low tone, grabbing your chin with his fingers.

"Please do," you urged as his lips locked on yours chastely. "Fuck me, please Joshua, please."

"I think it's your turn to wait now," he muttered with a grin.

"But I need it, please," you whined, wrapping your legs around him.

"Touching yourself an hour ago wasn't enough, baby?" he lifted your chin to angle your head for him to press his lips to your own.

"No. You know it wasn't," you mewled. "I want you to fuck me. Right now," you moaned with a sigh.

Your fingers hooked on the hem of his black jeans and pulled him toward you, sliding his zipper down and undoing the button in one move.

"Fuck baby," he muttered in awe at your wild behaviour as your hand slid beneath his jeans to find him already hard beneath his underwear.

"I need you," you whined, ignoring the awe-struck look on his face.

He grabbed both your wrists and pulled them out of his pants, firmly clasping them together, his hand was large enough to secure them together in his fist as the other hand grabbed you by the jaw gently.

"You have some nerve after ignoring me all week," he muttered darkly. "Now you'll have to wait baby until I say so. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

You looked at his lust-lidded eyes bore into you and his smile slowly appeared on his face as you nodded.

"I can wait," you replied with an innocent tone.

"That's my girl," he cooed and sighed into your lips as he captured them with his own, giving you a heated kiss.

You broke the kiss abruptly and brought up a finger to caress his lower lip that was covered now with your saliva.

"You can fuck me raw now, Joshua," you whispered with a soft smile, almost kicking your feet in the air as you still sat on your table.

The audacity that possessed you to say that was totally new to you, it showed up in your crazy outbursts of assertiveness every time you were near him. Maybe you felt confident enough to be like that with him.

He shuddered slightly, but it was enough for you to see. "We're never getting there if you keep going, princess," he pressed his forehead against yours.

"So you're going to?" you asked, your voice dropped to a whisper.

"If that's what you want, baby," he muttered.

He was already breathing hard, his hands had dropped on your bare thighs, where he had started to knead on your skin anxiously.

"I want to," you replied instantly. "I need you to."

"You're killing me right now," he laughed softly before fixing his pants. "We need to go now, or we'll be regrettably late."

"Fine," you sighed. "Let's go."

He grabbed your head with his hands before crashing his lips with yours briefly but heatedly.

"Let's go," he muttered.

The ride there was longer than you expected. Joshua told you beforehand that his bandmates were already at the location where the event was going to be held.

And as he drove there, he started to get more and more jittery: anxiously licking his lips and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"Are you okay, Shua?" you asked. "You're quiet."

He sent a look your way, but focused on the road ahead. "I'm okay. Just a bit nervous."

You gave him a reassuring smile, although he didn't get the chance to see it. "It's going to be fine. You'll see," you tried to comfort him by placing a hand flatly on his thigh.

He gently grabbed your hand and took it to his lips, pressing them on your knuckles. "Thank you, bunny. That's why I'm bringing you with me tonight."

Your heart fluttered a little. "Yeah? Why is that?"

"You give me good luck," he smirked.

You snorted, trying to play it cool. "You're so corny," you muttered.

He flashed you a downturned smile, briefly looking your way. "Shut up, I'm trying to flirt with you."

"Why? You're driving, there's not much we can do," you laughed, but then your laugh fainted. "Unless you want me to do something for you."

He blinked slowly as he let out a soft laugh. "Are you suggesting to blow me, baby?" he asked incredulously, glancing your way.

You shrugged. "Mmm, yeah. I thought that's where this conversation was headed."

"God, you are terrible at flirting," he said with a low chuckle, but you couldn't ignore how he leaned his head back and shifted on the seat a bit.

"Yeah, shocking," you smiled.

Joshua frowned, but didn't press any further. "I'd accept your proposition," he smiled slightly. "But we're arriving in about two minutes."

"I feel like there's a joke to be made here," you muttered with a smile.

His jaw dropped slightly. "Oh, no. Don't," he laughed.

"I just need one minute," you burst out laughing by the end of the joke.

He rolled his eyes briefly, but his smile was the biggest you've seen. "You have the humor of a child," he said while shaking his head.

You collected yourself, feigning to brush a tear from the corner of your eye.

"Are you done?" he asked, looking torn between amused and disappointed by your bad joke.

"Come on, laugh a little," you pushed his shoulder slightly.

Your joke wasn't even remotely funny, you knew that, but Joshua was still smiling when he parked in a large parking lot There were a lot of cars around and people gathering and walking in groups towards the entrance of a park.

"Where are we?" you asked as you unclasped your seatbelt.

Joshua appeared to be in a hurry, probably reverting back to his state of anxiousness after being distracted successfully by you. "Come on, bunny."

He jumped out of his large jeep and went around it to get your door.

"Oh, what a gentleman. Thanks," you smiled as he offered you a hand to climb down.

"Here," he muttered as his hands clasped on what appeared to be an access pass, which he put around your neck.

"Oh? Thank you, Joshua," you grabbed the tag to read that it was an all access pass.

"Don't mention it," you looked up to see a light smile on his face. "Follow me."

He led you to the side entrance which was fenced off, a sign at the entrance reading "AUTHORIZED ONLY" and you practically followed him through the maze of sound and lighting equipment carefully arranged on the floor.

There was a lot to be on the lookout for as you tried to keep up with him. There were rows of cables taped or secured to the ground that you almost tripped over.

Joshua seemed to notice your struggle and reached out to grab your hand firmly. "Careful, princess," he showed you a downturned smile, jittery eyes glancing down to his large hand grabbing yours. "Is this okay?"

You felt your heartbeat on your throat as you could only muster up a nod. "Yeah," you breathed, holding onto his hand.

The place he was walking through and to which he was practically dragging you with him was a large tent with long tables, people gathered around, chatting and drinking.

The smell of weed and tobacco permeated the air, laughter and the hum of the crowd with that of the music in the distance filled your ears.

"There you are, Shuji—oh, I see why you're late," Jihoon politely nodded your way and waved.

"Hi," you waved back shyly.

Joshua released your hand gently, smoothly using it to fix his dark hair with a labored sigh. "I thought I was on time," he frowned. "Isn't our go in an hour?"

"Yes, but we were asked for our instruments for soundcheck half an hour ago," the drummer shook his head nervously.

"And?" Joshua smiled playfully. "Did you need me to do that?"

"No, I don't need you, I'm just—forget it. In thirty minutes we go backstage for them to mic us up," he informed, just as jittery as you saw Joshua some minutes ago.

"Got it. Thanks Jihoon," he nodded and then turned to you. "You get drinks and food with your pass. I have to stay here, but you're free if you want to explore the festival," he tugged at the access pass hanging on your neck.

"Right, okay," you pressed your lips into a smile.

"We can meet back here once our gig is over," he offered. "Or I can join you where you are."

You looked up at his doe eyes. "You're going to do great, Joshua," you smiled reassuringly.

God, you wanted to kiss him so bad. In front of everyone, you didn't care who saw. But you also felt pathetic, anxiously eyeing his plump lips then back at his curious eyes.

He read you well. With a soft smile, his hand slid in the nape of your neck to hold you in place as he dipped his head to kiss you sweetly, one peck, then another. A sigh falling on your parted lips as he tenderly slid his lips in between your own.

"I'll be in the crowd," you promised with the faintest voice.

"I'll look for you," he smiled slightly at you, meeting your gaze with such fondness that you almost forgot where you were.

"I better be there then," you smirked at him, trying to contain your eagerness.

"Look at you being flirty with me," his smile grew and you almost died inside when his eyes turned into two crescent moons from how happy he looked.

"I–that wasn't flirting," you stuttered. "I'd better get going so you can get ready," you pulled away awkwardly.

Your heart sank as the smile on his face slowly faded.

Joshua looked at you the way he always did when he figured you out, but just nodded with his head, if he had anything else to say, he kept it to himself.

"See you in a bit?" he asked with a playful smile.

"See you in a bit, Shua," you smiled back and turned around and followed your way back through the crowds of artists and crew men and women and into the actual music festival.

The sun had already dipped, the chill of the air in the beautiful park surrounded by tall trees seemed to be setting in despite the huge crowds of people amassing around the stages, those which were three in total.

In your little exploration around the merch and food stalls, you found out that Midnight Haze were presenting on the main stage, two bands before the headliners. So that's why Joshua looked reasonably anxious: this was hugely important for a local band such as his.

You thought that this could prove an opportunity for them to be scouted for plenty more gigs. And you hoped that would be the case. You honestly wished for his band to have more recognition, they deserved it.

You explored all the food stalls, not feeling really hungry but yet indulging in what appealed to you the most. Everything was free for you, having an all access pass circling your neck, but you didn't feel the need to overuse it.

Except for strawberry mojitos, you were sipping on the third one by the time you circled back toward the big stage, showing your pass to security and they pointed you to the VIP section, directly in front of the stage where Joshua's mic stand stood.

Behind the mic stand the stage crew rolled a platform with Jihoon's bright red drum set, surrounded by a number of large cymbals. The crew expertly made a brief soundcheck and left. Your stomach tightened in excitement for the members of Midnight Haze, not just Joshua.

It seemed they had a plan, Jihoon stepped on the stage first, walking to the platform the crew had set with his large drum set. He sat on the stool and shifted a bit, finding his preferred way of sitting.

You spotted Vernon's bass guitar carefully placed on a guitar stand. It was white and had stickers all over it, some of them had washed over around the pickup area. When he picked it up and threw the red strap around his shoulder he also seemed to shift and get ready.

The crowd pushed you softly around as the people around you moved to get closer to the fences. Even if you stood in the VIP section, it was completely packed, the murmur of the crowd rose, some people whistled loudly impatiently.

When Joshua stepped under the stage lights, the crowd went completely insane. The large screens framing the stage showed the full stage, now complete with the lead singer as he grabbed a white guitar, lifting the strap to place it on one of his shoulders.

Joshua turned around and you saw him nodding his head at Jihoon, who returned the gesture at him to then raise his arms in the air to clash his drumsticks three times before starting off with a loud bang.

The booming sound of the towers of speakers filled your body, vibrating in your insides and making your bones feel the energy that instantly ignited the crowd, including you.

Midnight Haze started their set with one of their songs you liked the most. And you were pleased to see that Joshua smiled as he sang to the lyrics of the song.

The electrifying presence of the lead singer was so mind boggling to you, for a second it didn't seem like you were seeing your next door neighbor singing and playing his guitar as he danced side to side, banging his head slightly to the beat.

People screamed and applauded as the first song came to its end and Joshua bowed his head politely. Then he paused to remove one of his in-ear pieces to listen to the cheering of the crowd properly. He approached the stand, wrapping one hand around the mic.

"How's it going Rock Fest?" his voice boomed with excitement, a small chuckle came out of his plump lips when the crowd responded with wordless screams.

"We're Midnight Haze and we're really excited to be here," Joshua spoke into the mic, his starry eyes lost in the sea of faces, marveling at the sight of how extensive the crowd was.

"I want to see you all singing and dancing. Come on!" he screamed energetically just as the music swept in again.  

You cheerily sung along all of the songs in their set list, swaying your body mindlessly from side to side, looking over at the stage where Joshua also sang and played his guitar.

He looked devastatingly beautiful. His big eyes closed briefly, his brow furrowing slightly in focus, the vein in his neck popping up as he sang his lungs out.

The stage lights bathed his face with red and pink lights as the music wrapped him in a moment for his guitar solo, he looked hypnotic to you, almost heavenly.

You were so attracted to him you felt like a moth flying straight into the flame. You simply couldn't contain your urge to grab your phone and snap a photo of the moment.

God, you're screwed for life, you realized as you watched him.

Their setlist was about to come to a wrap after another one of your favorite songs ended on a strenuous note and Joshua's eyes went through the sea of faces. The stage lights danced around and pointed at the crowd at the same time his eyes zeroed on you, his brow relaxed and he smiled slightly.

"We've come to our last song," he spoke into the mic, his smile broadening when the crowd responded in wordless discontent. "We thank you for being here and for being such an amazing crowd," he paused, seemingly enjoying the roar of the sea of people in front of him. "We were Midnight Haze. Thank you, Rock Fest!!"

They started playing what their last song was, which was a song that you didn't know yet and apparently was a new song, since no one around you seemed to sing along with Joshua, who kept his big smile throughout as he sang and danced around the stage with his guitar.

He looked at you once as he strolled with his guitar directly in front of you. The people standing behind you screamed in your ears and you smiled at the sheer commotion he caused just by stopping by.

You twiddled your fingers at him, which he caught immediately and nodded his head at you, smiling tiredly with his tongue dangling between his chapped lips.

"He's so fucking hot oh my god," someone said with a raw voice from screaming, you turned and you saw two girls holding each other in excitement from the brief exchange.

It was amusing to think that you weren't the only one subdued by the beauty of the lead singer. It was also somewhat amusing that you were exhilarated at the fact that he singled you out from the crowd, but obviously no one around you knew that.

Joshua returned to the mic to sing the last verse, to then thank the other two members of Midnight Haze and say goodbye, promptly leaving the stage as the crowd screamed and applauded for them.

You quickly made your way out of the VIP section and found the nearest entrance back to the tent where you last saw Joshua. There were still some people hanging out in the tent, though admittedly not as many stuck around, possibly enjoying the festival and the food.

When Joshua came back, he looked a mixture of euphoric, tired and happy. As he spotted you, he opened his arms in excitement and you threw yourself in his embrace, lifting you in the air as your lips met briefly in an affectionate kiss.

"You were amazing," you told him, looking at his face briefly before he returned you to the ground.

Then you slowly came to your senses and stepped back from him slightly.

"You think so?" he asked, unaware of your sudden change in behavior. "Cause that felt amazing! That was the largest crowd we've ever performed for."

Your heart swelled at seeing him so excited, he grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you and you laughed at the crazed energy he still had from the stage.

"Come with me," he grabbed you by your hand as he led you out of the tent and to an even larger tent that was more crowded than the one you just left and right behind the stage.

It looked somewhat like a private party, the people in there, the majority of them, looked already intoxicated. The atmosphere was one of fun and a bit of mischief, however, you couldn't help but think that the energy of the packed room wasn't exactly inviting. Despite being hand in hand with the lead singer of one of the bands that had just come off the stage.

Your innate shy behavior kicked in, and you partially hid yourself behind Joshua, lowering your gaze as people not only looked at him, but also noticed you.

Joshua finally found the rest of his bandmates, who were already drinking a beer and talking about the very fresh experience. Jihoon, naturally, was retelling everything that just happened to a couple of faces you've never met before.

"Ah, there you are, Josh," one of them said, which was a woman. "We were wondering about you."

"Sorry, I had to go collect her," he nodded towards you. He then introduced you to the couple of strangers by name. "They're Chaewon and Taewon, from Wilted Willows."

"Hi," you waved at them, pressing your lips into a shy smile. You briefly saw the last bits of their performance, which was very unlike Midnight Haze's.

Chaewon's dark eyes scanned you up and down, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

"Is she your new girlfriend?" she asked bluntly, her eyes moving from your face to Joshua's face.

"Oof, this is going to get weird," Jihoon muttered beside you and sipped from his can of coke zero.

Joshua released your hand. "No," he responded flatly, clearly setting a boundary between him and Chaewon. Then you felt his arm sliding on your shoulders, pulling your body into a tight side hug. "Not yet, at least."

Your stomach dropped, your gaze met his and he immediately winked an eye at you, a thing for your eyes to see only.

"Mmph," the girl flipped her luscious blue hair aside. "When you get bored of that, you know where to find me."

It happened fast: Chaewon took a step forward, her lithe fingers reached out to Joshua's chin, and he instantly pulled back with a flinch, his arm pulling you closer to him as an act of instinctive protectiveness.

Looking deeply startled and just about when he seemed like he was going to tell her off, she left and her bandmate had no choice but to leave with her after the deeply alarming exchange.

Joshua released a labored sigh. "Seriously, Jihoon?" he dropped the arm from your shoulders.

"What, they came to me," he shrugged. "I didn't know she was going to pull all that."

"Who is she... is she your ex?" you asked, trying to appear fine and controlled.

"No. God, no," Joshua shook his head furiously. "She's just really self-absorbed."

"She is also obsessed with Shua. Crazy stalker level of obsession," Jihoon explained briefly.

"Ah," you frowned.

The only reason why you thought she might've been Joshua's ex was because of how comfortable she was to attempt to put her hands on him.

Even if she were his ex, she overstepped by trying to touch him like that.

"Fucking hell," Jihoon muttered to himself, spotting something in between the groups of people. "Vernon's getting fucked up again."

Jihoon left abruptly, towards the direction of the bassist. Leaving you and Joshua alone. 

"I'm so sorry about that," Joshua's face had contorted into a frown. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you smiled calmly despite yourself, trying to not let your anger show. "That was unsettling."

"Yeah, I agree. Really disturbing," he sighed again, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with that, Joshua," you offered with a downturned smile.

"Don't be," he shook his head. "I'm more worried about you, she undermined you and I couldn't say anything about it."

"But I'm unaffected," you countered. "Her problem is not with me, that much is evident."

He flashed you a relaxed smile. "Sorry about the girlfriend stuff, I panicked."

A sudden painful feeling made you almost flinch. "Don't worry, Shua. I would've panicked a little too."

But you were thankful that he was being honest. He still looked agitated from the unfortunate exchange, but his shoulders went slack when you reached out to grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Hey, don't let that ruin your night," you told him encouragingly.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine," he frowned.

"You want me to fuck her up?" you asked bluntly.

His doe eyes widened. "What?!" then he understood you were joking and laughed hard, almost bending over with laughter. "Where did that come from?"

You broke your act and smiled at him. "I wanted to make you laugh. It worked," you shrugged.

"You fighting... now that would be fun to see," he admitted with a smile. "Fun and weird. Can't imagine you doing that."

"Well, don't try me," you quipped.

He chuckled again, brushing a tear from his eye.

A bunch of people stopped by to say hi to him and you stood idly by, watching Joshua expertly navigate through small talks, compliments and questions. And though you mostly didn't get attention within these exchanges, you were happy to be there, experiencing him.

"You are famous," you pointed, impressed by the amount of people that came to say hello and even take pictures with him.

"I'm not famous, bunny. This is kind of a network, everyone here knows everyone," he explained, but the tip of his ears were red.

"Right," you scoffed. "I don't see a lot of people asking others for their photo."

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, it makes me feel weird."

"Are you blushing?" you gasped dramatically. "The Joshua Hong is blushing?!"

He arched his pierced eyebrow at you. "Don't make fun of me," he muttered shyly but you just couldn't help but laugh at how cute he looked when flustered. 

"Aw, baby boy is shy?" you pouted at him.

He blinked slowly, biting his lower lip to attempt and stop his smile. "This is the last time I bring you to something like this."

You simply continued. "Can I get your photo, Shua? Joshie, can I get your autograph?" you laughed as his smile grew, rolling his eyes at you again.

Joshua nodded at you once, letting out a breath through a smirk. "Having fun?"

A shiver ran down your spine. "A bit, if I'm honest," you admitted, but were actually more excited about his sudden change in attitude.

"Alright, princess. Let's have fun," he muttered, clasping his hand around yours to drag you once again through the crowd of people and outside the tent.

"Joshua!" you squealed, your smile had since vanished from your face as you looked around to see that he was dragging you towards a line of parked bus trailers.

You assumed that there was no one around since Joshua confidently shoved your back against the side of a bus trailer, making you gasp at the sheer force he used with you.

His eyes widened in disbelief when you smiled at him deviously. "You wanted this," he realized. "Do you enjoy this, baby?"

"I do," you nodded, breathing hard in anticipation already as Joshua closed in on you.

His fingers grazed your chin. "You want me to toss you around, pretty?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

A shudder ran through your body. "Yeah," you sighed. "I want you to do whatever you want to me, Joshua."

Joshua looked at you in pure fascination, he even let out a soft sigh that brushed your face slightly.

"You..." he breathed but stopped, seemingly at a loss of words.

His head dipped and you closed your eyes, blindly grabbing his head with your hands as he kissed you hard on your lips. 

"I want you, Joshua," you whimpered into his hot mouth, the words felt urgent as you uttered them. "Now."

"What if someone sees?" he incited, his voice low and raspy.

"I don't care," you confessed, the statement shaking deep in your bones.

The fleeting confidence in you stirred something in your brain, telling you to act quick.

It was your turn to push him against the bus trailer behind him. He gasped in surprise as his back hit the metal wall, his eyebrow raising a bit.

You clasped your lips with his, earning a low groan from him that reverberated in his chest and against your hands that were sliding down to the belt of his pants.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his hands stopping you.

You faltered instantly. "I-I want to suck you off," your eyes read his face. "Can I?"

His hand released one of yours to cup your chin. "Why?"

You frowned. "Why, what do you mean, why?"

He nodded briefly. "Tell me you're not doing this because you feel bad for what happened earlier in the tent."

"I want to pleasure you," you explained, then you quickly relaxed, understanding the situation. "Don't think I'm doing this for any other reason than just for you."

His eyes scanned your face, his other hand released you to graze your cheek with his knuckles, the features of his face relaxing. "What's our safeword, bunny?"

You blinked slowly, showing him a smile before giving him your safeword.

"Fuck," he let out a puffy breath as your fingers resumed undoing his belt, to then get the button of his black jeans.

"You're so hard already," you cooed softly, and eyed him as your hand felt him over his underwear.

Joshua was biting his lower lip, looking strained already. "All for you, sweetheart."

You smiled at him sweetly. "Such a sweet talker," you tilted your head as you rubbed his hard cock through his underwear.

You stuck your hand through the slit of his boxers, grabbing his hard cock firmly and effectively pulling it free from the stretchy and wet fabric of his underwear. 

"You're being so naughty, princess," he chuckled at you faintly but he faltered completely as you lowered yourself to your knees before him.

The ground was hard against the soft skin of your knees, the thin layer of your stockings was not enough to protect them. But you knew you wanted to see the bruises by the following morning.

"Fuck," he muttered again, shuddering visibly when you kissed the tip of his cock, to then press your tongue on the slit to lick his precum as you locked eyes with him.

One large hand cupped your cheek, his eyes trained on you as your tongue gave a few strokes to his shaft, feeling the vein that marked in the underside, tracing a long line with your tongue until you wrapped your mouth around his cockhead.

You heard a low guttural groan leave him when you took him deeper in your mouth than you could before, your tongue lapping on the length of him as you moved your head back and forth. 

Darting a look at him, Joshua leaned his head back on the wall behind him, eyes closed and swallowing hard as you bobbed your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, swirling your tongue around his cockhead.

"God. Your mouth feels so, so fucking good, baby," he moaned faintly, his hands grabbing a handful of your hair.

The back of your mouth had started to hurt already from the intrusion each time you tried to take his cock deeper in your mouth. But you didn't care, all focus was in getting more sounds of approval from him. Sounds that were also making you aroused. 

Drool had started to drip down from the corners of your lips and onto your chin, wet sounds coming every time you pulled your head back, hollowing your cheeks to suck hard on his cock just as if it were a lolly.

"Fuck," he exhaled. "You don't know how much I needed you, baby."

A moan coiled in your throat, your walls throbbing desperately at the sound of his words. Your chest swelled proud when you felt his fingers tense up on your hair and you heard him moan faintly, cussing and muttering incoherently about your mouth and how good it felt.

"Fuck, fuck—I think someone's coming," he whispered but didn't make an attempt of stopping you, so you didn't.

Voices echoed in the distance, but you couldn't make out if someone actually saw you and Joshua. There was no actual acknowledgement towards what you were doing, but you felt euphoric all the same.

Being on your knees for him, sucking him off for anyone to see made you moan on his cock. You sneaked a look at Joshua's eyes, that were trained on you while your head bobbed back and forth, committed to the act of pleasuring him.

"Someone just saw you giving me head," his voice sounded raw. "You like this, don't you? Like taking my cock in your mouth for anyone to see."

You moaned a sound of confirmation, making the smile on his face grow just a little. He let out a weak sigh, the tension in his beautiful features showing that he was close.

"I'm close," he sighed and threw his head back a bit. His hand tightened on your hair slightly when you sucked him harder. "Fuck, baby. D'you want me to cum in your pretty mouth?" his thumb brushed your cheekbone gently, as if calling for your attention back to him.

You blinked at him, moaning the same sound again.

"Can I move, princess? You think you're ready for that?" he asked, his face and voice both strained.

You nodded with your head as you pulled your mouth back to suck on his cockhead, blinking an adoring look up at him.

"Tap my thigh if you need me to stop," he grabbed your head firmly and started thrusting his cock on your mouth.

Sloppily at first, almost as if he wanted you to adjust your mouth to his pace as he started to push his cock down your throat faster. You lifted your eyes to see his face deep in focus, probably containing himself to avoid hurting you by accident.

The feeling was so deeply arousing that you were tempted to sneak a hand between your legs and start touching yourself. But you were rendered immobile, not by his hands precisely, but by the sight of him fucking your mouth.

"Fuck, baby—I'm cumming. You're gonna take it all, right baby? Gonna swallow it all?" he groaned, revelling at the sight of you taking his cock, your eyes brimming with tears, your chin dripping with your own drool.

You were gagging loudly on his cock, but managed to get the slightest of nods.

"Yeah, you are," he cooed faintly when he saw the way you responded to his words.

Then he threw his head back, his face contorted in pure pleasure and you almost swore you could come from the sight alone. 

"God, fuck," his voice was a mere whisper as his cockhead bumped on the back of your mouth, his cum spurting down your throat and you instantly swallowed it.

Joshua groaned through clenched teeth as you swallowed the last drops of his cum, he screwed his eyes shut, exhaling elatedly at the same time that his hands gently released your hair.

"That was insane," he muttered slowly, appearing to come to his senses.

Gently, he pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva falling out of your mouth and landed on your chin. He fixed his pants quickly before grabbing your hands that were previously resting on his thighs.

Joshua helped you stand up and immediately wrapped you in a tight embrace. Bringing a hand up to clean your face from your drool and tears.

"You did so good, bunny," he muttered in your lips after kissing you chastely. "So fucking good."

"'m glad you liked it," you smiled in his lips.

"Let's take you home, princess. I want to make you feel good too," he gave you small pecks on your lips. "Is that okay?"

"Can't you take me here? Right now?" you whined jokingly.

"No, baby," he whispered into your lips. "As much as I'm dying to do that right now, I don't want to risk anyone seeing you."

"But you didn't have an issue with it five minutes ago," you quipped.

"Yeah, but that was different. You were fully clothed and the person who saw us didn't see our faces," he pointed. 

"So the problem is that you don't want anyone to see me naked?" you pulled back to meet his gaze. "In that case I can keep my dress on." 

The conversation had shifted between you, and you could tell that he was no longer trying to keep you aroused—he didn't even look like he just got blown. You didn't know what it was, but it troubled him.

Joshua looked up at the night sky, seemingly looking frustrated for a second as he looked for words to say.

"What if I'm a little possessive too?" he asked, meeting your eyes.

You physically recoiled in his arms in a mixture of excitement and uneasiness. "W-what?" you blurted in disbelief.

"What if I don't want anyone seeing what I have with you?" his eyes searched your face. "Even if you kept your dress on, I don't want anyone seeing how good you are for me."

Your heart dropped, pain sinking into your chest. This was totally not what you expected to hear from him. Even if his possessiveness was entirely revolving around a sexual aspect, you weren't ready to hear it.

"Joshua-," you started.

"I know I said that I'd fuck you anywhere but I just can't give you that right now," he smiled, seemingly ashamed of his words.

"No, it's alright," you frowned. "It's just really confusing hearing you say this."

"What, you don't think I'm capable of feeling a little jealous too?" he asked. "You don't like the idea of me seeing other girls, I don't like the idea of someone seeing you."

Was this something you needed to talk in more depth with him? Totally, yes. Were you going to ask him to do so? No, probably not ever.

"Fair," you muttered, mustering a smile to him before capturing his lips with your own. "Take me home, then."

Joshua took your hand again, making your tummy flutter with nervousness that only intensified when he led you back to the tent.

As you both pushed through Joshua's friends and unknown faces, you swore that everyone looked at you differently; not in a bad or good way precisely, just different. As though everyone knew why you and Joshua disappeared, and judging by the fact that someone saw you, they probably did already.

Joshua kept you close, almost as though wanting to make his point across—he felt possessive of you. And you didn't want to know to which extent he felt like this over you. 

But you knew one thing, whatever it was that made him look this deeply troubled, paired with your unspoken feelings for him was starting to taint your already messy relationship of fuckbuddies.

Joshua drove faster this time around, keeping a hand on the wheel and the other placed flatly on your thigh.

"Did you enjoy the festival?" he asked, his thumb had started to draw invisible circles on your thigh.

"I did," you smiled. "Drank mojitos and ate corn dogs," you told him, looking at his large hand. You resisted the urge to grab it and lace your fingers with his.

"Mojitos?"

"Strawberry mojitos," you added. "I took some photos too, of you, on stage."

"You did? Will you show me?" he eyed you excitedly.

"Of course," you smiled at him.

"So you got a good spot to see me?"

"Yeah I got to see you throughout the whole set," you saw him smile faintly.

"I saw you singing along," he seemed to remember suddenly. "You've been listening to our music."

"Yeah," you admitted. "Almost everyday. Does that make me your groupie?"

He chuckled. "I'm convinced that you don't know what a groupie is, bunny."

"Shuddup," you smiled.

"Hey, but it's not fair—you can listen to my music but I haven't read your book," he frowned.

"I'll lend you the hardcopy of my manuscript," you promised.

"I actually looked for you, do you use a pen name?"

Your heart sank. He took the time to search your books using your real name?

You told him your pseudonym and he repeated each name silently and nodded. 

"Yeah, I might've confused the lady at the local library," he laughed.

"You went to the library looking for my books using my real name," he nodded and you laughed. "You should've asked me first."

"You never answer my texts on time," he reproached. "Well but I wanted it to be a secret, actually."

"Why?" you frowned.

"I wanted to impress you," he shrugged.

"You don't have to, Joshua," you told him sincerely.

"But I want to," he pouted cutely. "And now that I know you've been listening to my music, I feel like I have to catch up with you."

"I like your music. I'm not sure if you're going to like my books," you warned him.

"Let me decide that," he smiled at you.

Joshua parked his car expertly with one hand, his other hand still resting on your thigh. He had stopped rubbing circles through the thin fabric of your stockings, but your skin felt hot at his touch nonetheless.

Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of the skirt of your little black dress as you stepped on the elevator, Joshua stood closely behind you.

"Are you nervous?" he asked in your ear, leaning closer to you.

"A bit," you breathed, turning on your feet to see his face.

"Why?" he slowly smirked. "We've done this before."

You were lucky that no one else was in that elevator, but you still waited until you got to your apartment to continue that conversation.

Joshua gently pushed you against the wall as soon as he closed your apartment door.

"Mm? Why are you nervous, bunny?" he asked in a soft tone.

"I've never been fucked raw," you confessed, fighting the blush that crept immediately on your face.

His eyes searched your face briefly. "We don't have to do that tonight, we can use protection."

"No, don't get me wrong—I want to... do it raw," you breathed, your hands fidgeting with the collar of his meshy black shirt. "I'm just..."

You bit your tongue. You felt excited to try new things with Joshua, and what really got you feeling that way was that you were trying these things with someone you were actually falling in love with.

"What?" he egged you on, his curious eyes still trying to read your face.

You licked your lips anxiously and shook your head, reluctant to continue.

"We can take it slow, if that's what you want," he offered.

"No, do-don't hold back," you stuttered. "I want everything."

"I got you. Don't worry," he muttered before placing two fingers to grab your chin and leaned to kiss you.

You melted into his lips, feeling every nerve in your body respond at his touch when he slid his other hand on your waist, giving it a soft squeeze.

"I almost forgot to tell you," he breathed after pulling back from your lips. "You looked beautiful tonight, baby."

"Did you like my dress?" you darted a look down to your little black dress.

"Thank you for wearing it tonight," he grazed your cheek. "I liked it very much." 

"It's a good thing I didn't wear the bunny pjs then," you smirked though your blushing face.

He laughed faintly. "Yeah, good thing," he echoed dazedly, leaning to kiss you again.

God, if you could only just ask him. Does he feel the same way too? When your mouths join, when you breathe against each other, moaning and gasping at the slightest of touches against each other's skin.

Your fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt, your hands sneaking between the split of his shirt to feel his hard chest, the defined muscles of his pecs.

Joshua moaned into your lips, his hands sliding from your waist to find your hips. His hot mouth placed open mouthed kisses on your chin, groaning in approval when you tilted your head back for him to kiss on the underside of your jaw.

Your back was pressed against the wall as his hands searched for your thighs and expertly lifted you up from the floor. You let out a squeal in surprise, your arms instantly locking around his shoulders.

A laugh in sheer joy left your lips when he carried you to your room. "We could've walked here."

"Shh, let me do nice things for you," he muttered as he let you back to the floor of your room and you got to the lamp on your nightstand.

He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you to his body as he sat down on your bed, leveling down to see eye to eye with you. His large hand slid on the nape of your neck as his lips found yours, tenderly locking you into a kiss.

Joshua was still wearing his shirt on his shoulders, the split parting as your fingers caressed the defined lines of the muscles on his abdomen, and then he moaned on your mouth when you reached his lats, that being a sensitive area for him.

"How do I get you out of this?" he smiled sheepishly when his fingers searched on your back and then on your sides.

"It's a slip dress," you explained, smiling too.

Your fingers grabbed the shoulder straps, sliding them from your arms and the dress simply fell from your frame, leaving your body with the light pink lingerie set you chose for tonight.

"Do you like it?" you asked sheepishly when he seemed unable to look back at your eyes.

Joshua swallowed hard, tearing his doe eyes from the lacey fabric barely covering your body and found your expectant eyes. "Yeah, baby," he released a breath through a weak smile. "I love it."

Your hands went to grab the clasp of your pretty bra, but he raised a hand from your waist.

"No, not yet," he muttered. "I want to take it off myself. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. More than okay," you sighed, repurposing your hands to remove his meshy black shirt from his shoulders, caressing his beautiful skin in the process.

His large hands busied themselves exploring your bare skin too, what your thigh high stockings didn't cover, caressing your bare waist as he leaned to press wet kisses down your chest, to the swell of your breasts.

"So beautiful," he muttered, as if to himself.

"Joshua," you moaned with a sigh as his hands circled on your back and slid down to cup your ass with a low guttural groan from his part.

"Don't rush this," he muttered against your skin, then glanced up to meet your eyes.

"Okay," you breathed, your skin already prickled and covered in goosebumps.

He smiled, his fingers reaching up to graze your chin. "We have all night, you don't have to rush anything."

"Oh, so you're going to fuck me all night?" you quipped with a grin.

"If that's what you want," he replied with a small shrug.

"I do. But what do you want, Joshua?" you retorted.

His gaze darkened as it met yours, he seemed to struggle with his words for the second time in the night, something that did not go unnoticed by you, but you decided not to make a big deal of it at the time.

Joshua didn't reply to your question verbally, instead he stood from your bed, your eyes following him now that he regained his natural height, now his frame towered over you.

He pushed you to sit on the bed, wordlessly making you understand that the roles were reversed for now and you resumed to undress him. Undoing his belt and button from his black jeans, hooking your fingers to push his jeans down on his legs for him to step out of them, socks included.

It was your turn to swallow hard at the sight of him nearly naked. He was hard already, as you could see the bulge in his underwear, your hand instantly rubbing his hard cock through the stretchy fabric.

"Lie down, princess," he muttered, nodding to the bed.

You scooted back on your bed covers and lied down as Joshua climbed on top of your body.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with a bit of concern.

"Yeah," he breathed, pressing a kiss on your lower lip. "Never better."

He grabbed your legs and you wrapped them around his body, pressing down on his hips to join them with yours, earning a soft moan from him.

"Joshua?" you breathed when his lips trailed from your mouth, pressing wet kisses down the crook of your neck.

"Mm?"

"Ca-can I be on top?" you asked.

"Do you want to ride me, baby? Is that what you're asking?" he asked with his sweet voice.

"Let me be on top," you muttered, lowering your legs from his body.

He laughed against your skin. "Okay," he sighed, rolling over so his back was fully against the bed and you followed his body promptly, straddling him.

You wasted no time, leaning your body to press your chest against his, burying your fingers in his black hair before capturing his lips with yours.

His hands caressed your back, the pads of his fingers tracing the line of your column and stopping only to unclasp your pretty bra, his hands removed it completely, you heard when it landed on the floor.

His breath hitched when you pressed your tits against his hard chest, moving your lips to kiss his chin, then under his jaw and  down the crook of his neck, essentially mimicking what he does when he's on top of you.

"Can I mark you?" you asked shyly, darting a look to his face.

A small groan fell from his lips as he nodded with his head. "Yeah," he whispered with a light smile.

You returned the smile as your head dipped on the crook of his neck, his hands kneading on your hips as you landed love bites on the crook of his neck, his throat and finally reaching his toned chest.

Joshua was sensitive. It made you feel so stupid to realize it this far into your countless sexual encounters. He so rarely let you touch him during sex or kiss him that you never knew just how sensitive he actually was.

His hands were going to leave marks on your skin, you were sure of it. Kneading on your ass and hips, fingers digging harshly on your skin as you took your time marking his chest, marveling at the sight of his toned pecs.

"Fuck," he breathed softly, his eyes were closed tightly, so he never saw you smile at his downright restless behaviour. You and him had that in common, at least.

You couldn't ignore how big and hard he felt under you, so you started grinding on him to maybe help him release the growing tension on his cock.

Then you wanted to try something—you ran your tongue on one of his sides, feeling his toned lats, tasting cologne in his skin.

"Mmn—fuck!" his body hardened, his fingers threatening to pierce your skin.

The tip of your tongue traced a circle around one of his nipples to then press your wet lips and repeated the same actions on his other side, earning similar reactions.

A groan bubbled in his chest and suddenly you were being flipped to your back, startled you looked at his dark eyes. Unable to say a word, his mouth was already clashing with yours, kissing you fervently.

"Are you going to tie me up tonight?" you asked shyly.

His pierced eyebrow arched slightly. "Do you think you deserve it, pretty? Have you been bad?"

"Mmm, maybe a little," you admitted.

"Mmm yeah, I remember that you were, baby. Do you like being bratty? Do you like being tied up?" his fingers hooked on the thin fabric of your thong, pulling his body back to slide the thong down your legs, leaving your stockings on.

"Yeah, I do," you breathed, your eyes trained on him as he pressed soft kisses on the softer side of your thighs.

"Then I won't tie you tonight, princess," he smiled deviously to then run the tip of his tongue on the sensitive side of your thigh, dangerously close to your core.

You let out a soft whimper, your body tensed up and your legs instinctively closed a bit, one of your legs bumped with the side of his head.

"Maybe I'll get restraints for your legs too," he quipped, laughing softly. "Would you like that, baby?"

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes when he continued placing loving and soft kisses on your mound. "Mm, I think so," you muttered clumsily.

He used his hands to splay your thighs open for him, dipping his head on your mound to place wet kisses on your soft skin, sighing in the process of kissing your pussy lips, groaning softly with you when he heard you moan and whine.

"Joshua," you called softly when his tongue swiped a line between your folds, humming in response at the taste of your arousal.

One of his hands slotted in your lower tummy, while the other one remained holding your thigh. His face was practically buried in your cunt, slowly licking every inch of it, dipping the tip of his tongue on your entrance to make you cry out and moan his name.

You held onto his hand that was on your tummy when his tongue swirled around your clit a few times. "Oh god," you whimpered

The bed underneath you groaned when you sank your body, completely subdued in pleasure. Your fingers clenching on his fingers, the other had found the soft strands of his black hair, pulling softly when he started flicking your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue.

"F-fuck—Joshua," you breathed, screwing your eyes shut, trying to remain still on your bed but couldn't help but writhe slightly when he switched from flicking your clit to sucking at it lightly.

You propped yourself with your elbows on your bed to see him practically making out with your cunt. The sight of it alone made you almost climax—his dark hair between your fingers, his hands holding you still for him as he lifted his eyes to find yours.

A moan coiled in your throat, your fingers tugged his hair as you felt your orgasm drawing near, and he seemed to know it from the sounds you were making, so he started sucking your swollen bud harder, moving his head up and down slightly.

"Joshua, 'm close," you breathed, your body trembling slightly. "Fuck! Don't stop, please. Joshua!"

You threw your head back, your jaw going slack too as raggedy breaths broke in your chest, twitching and groaning lewdly on your bed. You moaned loudly, your hand pressing on his head as your orgasm continued to wash over you, the waves of pure bliss left tingles on your limbs and face.

You eased your body back on your bed, your chest heaving embarrassingly hard, soft moans spilled from your lips when Joshua's mouth left your throbbing cunt after showering it with tender kisses.

"Feel good?" you heard him ask.

You opened your eyes to find him still between your thighs, smiling fondly at you.

"Amazing," you sighed weakly. "I love how you eat me out so much."

He laughed. "I love eating you out, princess."

"Oh, yeah?" you breathed.

Joshua climbed back on top of you. The dim light from your lamp let you see the pretty features of his face, you reached to wipe your arousal from his chin and he smiled as he pressed his chapped lips with your own.

"Yeah," he answered and you were reminded of how much you liked it when he said that.

He got on his knees to take his sweet time taking your stockings off, his hands caressing your legs in the process, his lust-lidded eyes locking with yours as he did so. 

Then he lied on his side, using his elbow on the bed to support him as his other hand slid between your legs, his pointer finger slid between your pussy lips, playing with your wetness as his eyes searched your face.

Your eyes shifted to the finger disappearing inside your cunt, pumping in and out a few times until you were ready for another finger.

"Joshua," you whimpered pathetically when his two fingers massaged your walls, but really what had you on the verge of insanity was his doe eyes trained on your face.

"Mm?" his eyebrows arched slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I want you so bad," you breathed, your hand cupping his cheek to pull him into a needy kiss, nibbling his lower lip with your teeth when his fingers scissored inside you.

"You think you're ready for me, sweetheart?" he muttered, his voice strained with tension.

You nodded a bit too eagerly.

"No, I don't think you're ready, baby," he replied, introducing a third finger inside you.

"Joshua," you whined, knowing that he liked hearing you beg. "Please. I waited all day. Please take me,"

He smiled, immediately telling on your little game. "Yeah, you waited all day for me princess, after ignoring me all week. Why should I give you what you want?"

"Because you want it too," you replied boldly. "I know you want me as much as I want you."

"Mmm, yeah baby, you're right. I want you but I wait for you," his doe eyes locked with yours. "Can you say you do the same for me, baby? You like having fun by pushing me away, so why shouldn't I have fun too?"

"You're being mean, Shua," you frowned. "I didn't push you away, just–"

"Careful, princess," he warned, the corner of his lips twitching. "I don't like when you lie to me. You know that."

You moaned then he pressed the palm of his hand on your sensitive clit while still pumping three fingers in and out of your wet walls.

When you gave him no response nor explanation, he smiled. "So you were pushing me away. Again, baby?"

You remained quiet and looked away from his darkened gaze.

"Why do you do that?" he pressed, his voice sounding soft, alluring.

You groaned and bit your lip as he continued to massage your walls with his fingers, his palm stimulating your clit slowly toward another orgasm.

"Joshua," you sighed, closing your eyes. "Joshua, I'm cumming."

"No, you're not," he muttered softly, pulling his fingers out of your cunt when your walls had started clenching harder.

You gasped in frustration. "Joshua!" you whined. "I was close."

He let out a breathy chuckle and pressed his lips against your cheek. "I know, baby."

"Then why..? Why did you stop?" you asked.

"You're cumming when I want you to," he replied shortly.

You sighed your frustration, not caring how childish you were being. "You're mean," you pouted.

He laughed softly when your fingers hooked on the band of his underwear and yanked it down, his hard cock slapping his lower abdomen as he lifted his hips for you to tear off the last piece of clothing he wore.  

"And you lied to me, again," he countered as he climbed back on top of your body, pressing loving kisses to your cheeks and chin, each kiss seemed to leave a trail of tingles on your skin.

"I'm s–"

"Sorry?" he muttered, kissing your jaw.

"Joshua, please," you moaned weakly. "I'll be good, just—fuck me. Do whatever you want. Punish me but please, fuck me."

His eyes glinted with awe, and you remembered that he liked it when you begged. "You'll let me do anything I want, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you breathed. "I'm yours."

Joshua cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. "Say that again," he whispered, giving you another soft kiss now on your lips. And another.

"I'm yours, Joshua."

He hummed in satisfaction. "You're mine," he repeated, savoring the statement with his sweet lips.

"Only yours," you echoed dazedly.

"Oh, you cruel thing," he said darkly. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"

No response came from you. If he wanted answers, that was the best you could give him right now. And for a moment, he appeared to know that too.

A shudder invaded your body when Joshua grabbed his cock on one hand, dragging his cockhead on your wet folds. A soft breath spilled from his lips when he felt you, skin on skin.

"Ready?" Joshua searched your eyes again.

You nodded. "Ready," you breathed.

A low whimper coiled in your throat when he slowly eased himself in. Your hand held onto his shoulder, your eyes brimmed with tears from the pain of how big he actually felt without the extra lubrication that the condoms provided.

But you also moaned at how insanely good he felt raw. It was so good to finally feel him, every naked inch of him inside your walls, that you swore you would climax from just having him like this. 

"Breathe, baby," he whispered, kissing your moans with such tenderness that you almost broke.

"Joshua," you whimpered, your fingers digging on his shoulder.

"It's okay. I know, baby," he frowned slightly. "Do you want to stop?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Please," you begged, although you didn't know what you were begging for.

He released another breath when he finally bottomed out, your walls throbbed desperately around his length and he pressed his forehead against yours.

His eyelids fluttered closed before pulling his hips back, the feeling of his cock sliding out your wet walls felt good—so good that you were already whimpering and trembling.

"Okay?" he gasped, starting to push in and out of you.

"Yes, more than okay, Joshua," you stuttered, closing your eyes with a sigh.

"You're crying, baby," he pointed, he was still moving achingly slow.

"It-it's big—you're so big," you stammered pathetically.

He paused. "Am I hurting you?" his voice was laced with concern.

"No, it's not bad, Joshua. I can take it," you breathed.

It actually wasn't that bad—as he pushed his cock in and out you could feel your walls easing and stretching around it, adjusting to his size.

Joshua looked tense, he let out a groan when his hips started moving faster on you, then he pulled his body back, making you cry out in pleasure when the position of his cock inside you shifted, pressing on your front walls.

He brought a hand on your lower abdomen, his thumb finding your clit to start rubbing on it.

"Better?" he asked. He was still weary, his big eyes searching your face as he pushed his cock in and out on you, rubbing your clit to ease you from the lingering threads of pain.

"Yeah. Feels so good, Joshua," you sighed, swallowing thickly at the drag of his cock inside your walls. "So, so good."

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a low groan. "You feel good too, sweetheart. Fuck, so good."

You whimpered at the sound of his words, the way he pronounced each one with a tight jaw, his brow furrowing as he pushed his cock inside your walls at a delicious pace.

"So warm and wet, so fucking good, baby," he sighed.

His thumb pressed on your clit, rubbing it and teasing it senselessly, making you moan and squirm. It was too much, your hands clenched on your bed covers when you sensed your orgasm drawing near again.

"Oh, god. Fuck," you whimpered, writhing against your bed as Joshua dragged his cock in and out your clenching walls.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips buckled for a second. "You're close. Right, bunny?"

You shook your head on your pillows.

Then, his fingers landed a slap right on your clit, making you yelp loudly. Clearly telling on your weak lie.

"Yes! Yes, I'm close, Joshua," you cried out.

He smirked in response, his hands holding your hips a second before he started ramming his cock faster inside your cunt. Your eyes widened at him and bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Fuck," he muttered again before pulling out of you, right as your walls started clenching deliciously near your release.

"Joshua!" you whined, breathing furiously at him.

"Remember what I said," he was breathing hard too, probably because he was resisting his own pleasure only to edge you.

He carefully lowered his hard and wet cock on top of your tummy, you stifled a moan at the sheer size of it and the weight of it too. The reddened tip, the soft marks of a vein along the wet shaft, you bit your lip.

"Shua, please," you pleaded with a desperate sigh.

"That's not my name, baby," he snapped with a dark look.

"Joshua, I'll be good, just-"

"Tell me why I should believe you," he muttered as he moved to slide within your walls again, your heart swelled with a little satisfaction when he groaned in pleasure too. 

"I'll show you," you said weakly.

"Not good enough, princess," he shook his head as he slapped your pussy again, right in your sensitive clit.

"God, fuck!" you yelped loudly. "I'm sorry, Joshua. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

You moaned helplessly when leaned down a bit and spit on your cunt, covering your clit with his saliva to start rubbing circles on your swollen and oversensitive bud.

"Why, do you like to have me at your beck and call? You enjoy to fuck me and toss me away like one of your toys?" he muttered darkly.

Suddenly you regretted telling him to punish you, because he only wanted the truth from you, unlike last time he punished you and you had to try not utter a word while he fucked you into the bed.

But you could see that he was struggling to hold back, swallowing hard, his brow furrowed.

"No! You're not my toy—you're... you're," you stammered. Were you about to confess? Like this?

Your orgasm was threatening close, so you squirmed on your bed, trying to create some distance from his fingers teasing your clit. Joshua understood what you were attempting to do and started caressing it lightly, thinking that he was over stimming you.

"You're close?" he asked, realizing when he heard you sigh a moan.

But he didn't wait for your answer. Joshua pulled out again, his cock landing with a soft slap on your lower tummy. A single drop of cum dripped from his tip, but he wasn't cumming yet, you knew that by the way he was breathing in deeply, trying to contain himself.

If he only wanted the truth, you were deep in trouble. Because you push him away to avoid your growing infatuation over him.

"Joshua?" you called abruptly.

"Mm?" he lifted his gaze to find yours.

"What's your favorite color?" you asked breathlessly.

"What, why?" he frowned.

"Tell me," you pressed.

"Pink," he responded, his brow not relaxing.

"Really? That's cute," you sighed, Joshua's hips retracted from your body and he positioned himself again on his knees, his cock aligned with your core.

"Yours?" he asked with an air of reluctance.

You told him your favorite color.

"Why did I know you'd say that," he replied with a small smile.

"Your birthday?" you asked, feeling utterly pathetic.

He chuckled breathily. "What, why're you asking me this right now?"

"Tell me," you insisted. "Please."

"December 30th," he responded, looking confused.

A loud moan reverberated across your room, so loud that you almost wanted to cover your mouth when his cock sank into your walls again. He thrusted slowly, but then he continued rubbing your clit with his two middle fingers.

"What's yours, princess?" he asked, appearing to be following whatever you were trying to do. 

You told him your birthday through broken gasps.

"Still, I don't get why you ask," he breathed tiredly.

"I want to get to know you better," you told him with a whine.

Joshua smiled sweetly at you and that might've done it for you.

Your walls clenched around him and he groaned loudly, slamming his hips against you, the sound of his skin slapping against you filled the silence that followed between you.

Something you weren't expecting happened:  Joshua seemed to have forgotten about edging you, closing his eyelids tightly, his mouth parting a little. You loved to see when his face scrunched up like that, when he was so close that the muscles around his mouth relaxed, but his frown would deepen sweetly. 

Joshua threw his head back a little, a moan muffled in his mouth, his throat bobbing a little as he seemed to be immersed in pure pleasure. He didn't relent his hard thrusts on you, pushing his cock in and out your sopping walls while rubbing your clit expertly.

"Fuck, I can't—Joshua," you gasped. "I'm close. Please, please. Let me cum?"

Joshua groaned before lowering his gaze back at you. "Where do you want me, baby?"

It took you two seconds to understand what he was implying.

"Inside," you breathed. "Please. Cum inside me."

He nodded before he started ramming his cock in your walls faster, moaning loudly through clenched teeth. You moaned with him and sank your head into your pillows, back arching as the tension in your body only grew more intense.

"Joshua, oh god—Joshua," you called, not knowing what else to say, feeling all sanity slipping out of your mind, coming undone under waves of pure bliss washing over you.

"Baby," he called to you. "Say it again."

You blinked weakly, his words bringing you back to reality.  

"I'm yours, Joshua," you breathed.

"You're mine," he replied with a raw tone. "I'm gonna make you mine, right baby? You want that? Want me to stuff your pretty pussy full of my cum?"

You moaned and nodded desperately, your walls squeezing him hard the moment you heard his words.

"Yes, oh god, yes please," you whimpered.

He cussed and moaned as he came inside you, pushing his hips against you sloppily.

"You're mine," he whispered, his eyes glazing over the sight of you cumming hard with him.

"Only yours, Joshua," you responded wildly.

He groaned, your name spilling from his plump lips, pushing his cum deep inside you with lazy thrusts and came to a stop with heavy breaths.

His head thrown back slightly, his eyelids fluttering shut, his mouth parted. He looked so unreal, ethereal even.

Oh god. What have you done?  

Joshua seemed to come down from his high when you shifted on your bed ever so slightly.

"What was all that?" he demanded in a tone that still denoted his confusion still. "The questions."

"I know nothing about you, Joshua," you explained shyly.

And yet, you told him you were his.

But he blinked slowly and started laughing, his cock was still buried inside your walls.

"Don't laugh at me," you pouted through your hurt ego, though he had no idea why you started quizzing him mid-coitus.

"You couldn't wait till we were done?" he asked and giggled again when you shook your head.

He leaned forward, placing his arms above your head on your pillows and pressed his chest against yours, his eyes looking at you fondly.

"What other questions do you have for me?" he asked.

"I-I have plenty," you admitted meekly.

"Is there a reason why you want to know now? Or can it wait?" he kept his eyes trained on you, you noticed, he was gathering every reaction you showed.

"It can wait," you nodded. "Why?"

"Because you asked me to fuck you all night and I'm in the middle of that," he booped your nose with one finger. "Can you keep your questions until I'm done?"

A sweet smile crept on his face when your core fluttered around him and you groaned in utter embarrassment.

"Is that a yes?" he laughed.

You groaned again and slapped his shoulder slightly.

"I'll get something to clean you up," he muttered with a smile still, pulling his hips from you.

He returned some minutes later with a hand towel, which he had soaked with warm water and he gently cleaned the cum that had already spilled from your entrance.

"I found it in the cupboard. I hope you don't mind," he darted a look at you briefly.

"It's fine," you assured him. "I need to go to the bathroom to take care of everything else."

"Do you want me to carry you there?" he asked, getting up from the bed.

"I'm fine," you sat up on your bed. "Can we shower later?" you asked meekly.

"Sure, baby," he sighed softly.

When you came back to your bedroom, you had half-expected to see him asleep from how tired he actually looked. But he was lying on your bed, one leg crossed over and absentmindedly looking at his phone screen, one arm tucked under his head.

God, he was a sight to see. Chest and throat covered in hickeys, his black hair ruffled slightly, the bedroom eyes when he noticed you walking in.

You climbed your bed and lied on your side next to him.

"You're okay?" he asked after he left his phone on the nightstand and turned on his side to look at you.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Never better."

His fingers cupped your chin softly and you leaned to lock his lips with your own in a tender, hot kiss. Joshua moaned softly in your mouth when you felt his tongue slid in your mouth to mingle with yours.

You gathered in your mind what little and fruitless information you got from your long day with Joshua. Maybe you got it wrong this whole time, and you don't need to know what his favorite color is, although you did want to learn his birthday.

You could no longer hide your infatuation over Joshua Hong. It was becoming painfully obvious, though you weren't sure to what extent he was aware of this. Or if he even cared, for that matter.

There was one more painful realization to all of this, one that you didn't expect and probably overlooked because you were worried so much about your infatuation with him that you didn't care to see him with clarity.

Joshua was lonely.

✮ a/n: i'm sorry

i have nothing else to say.

not really, haha

i love joshua, i loved writing this

if you liked this chapter please show it some love? 🥺

and happy holidays!! ヾ(•w•`)o

READ PART 5

→ join my taglist — to read the previous chapters: navi post

[mins-fins]

dal segno.

&&. you're in a car with a beautiful boy, but he's unfortunately not yours anymore.

pairing: xiao dejun x m!reader

genre: angst

warnings: implied sexual content, kind of toxic relationship, they are both so incredibly pathetic

word count: 1.2k

notes: hello this is a voiceless isa reporting, i am suffering with the most horrible sickness to ever be bestowed upon me (the common cold) and i was originally supposed to post this yesterday but i fell asleep in the middle of my writing process so yeah 👍 also i have a class in like an hour so i just wanna publish this now and be done with it 😿

you're asleep for a while.

sleeping in a car has never truly been your thing, ever since you were a kid, you could never ever fall asleep in a car even after how tired you were. the fact that you were able to doze off, even with the clear tiredness you exhibited, was odd.

you wonder what kind of change was in the air caused for you to finally doze off in the car..

when you wake up, it is not morning, which you honestly expect because you had only fallen asleep for a few minutes, you can tell because guanheng is still inside, chatting up with his friends or whatever.

if guanheng is still inside, that means the one person you do not want to see right now is still right beside you in the drivers seat.

dejun doesn't seem to register that you're now awake, his eyes closed as he rubs his temples, clearly stressed about something. it isn't until you shuffle in your seat, rubbing your eyes that he finally seems to acknowledge your presence, almost startled by how quiet you'd been.

"holy shit you scared me".

he places a hand on his chest, and you can tell he was genuinely surprised by your sudden awakening because he glances at you then glances away, very interested in the window it seems.

"sorry" you whisper. you feel as if you could cut the air in the car with a knife considering how thick it seems. "hi".

why do you say hi? why do you choose to greet him? you two know each other, you know each other very well, much more than you ever thought you'd know each other.

dejun also registers the awkwardness in the air, the two of you itch to escape the situation, but you both also don't want to be the first to leave. he gives a polite smile, finally staring directly at you. "hi" he greets back.

you have the urge to itch your hand, feeling insanely uncomfortable. a small sigh escapes your lips, and you make an effort to look down at the floor of the car instead. "heng still in there?"

dejun is clearly upset at how you changed the topic, but what else were you two supposed to do? greet each other a couple more times? it's all basically come to shit now. "yeah.. he practically knows everybody in that household, it's crazy".

he talks like he doesn't care much, you chalk it up to him being tired, forced to drive home his friend who has a million acquaintances, not to mention he's sitting right beside his ex boyfriend, the same ex boyfriend whose heart he broke in the same car no more than a few weeks ago.

he did it in an almost heartless way as well, he seemed to have no regard for you, the tears streaming down your cheeks must've seemed pathetic to him, the way you tried to get him to change his mind must've completely altered his opinion on you by then.

it's understandable why the two of you are so awkward, why there are no jokes between you, why instead of feeling grateful to be sitting beside such a pretty boy, your stomach curls in an uncomfortable way.

you glance over at him for a moment, watching as he picks his nails, even with the heartbreak he put you through, you can't deny how absolutely striking he is. dejun possesses a kind of beauty you don't think another person could ever display as well as he does.

you hate that he's so beautiful, a literal work of art, but was still the very one responsible for the days you spent feeling as if you weren't enough. he didn't even try to give you a good explanation for breaking off your seemingly bulletproof relationship, just said some bullshit like "we weren't working together y/n".

and yeah, your mad, you have every right to be mad.

it was never supposed to be more than a friday night hookup, nothing more than a stupid meetup orchestrated by a mutual friend of yours, you two should've never crossed over into having an actual relationship, because your demise was very expected.

"i don't know what you want from me".

"i don't want anything from you.." anymore, is what you want to add, but in fear of sounding even more pathetic than you look, you shut your mouth, crossing your arms. "there's nothing more to say, we're over and that's fine, i've gotten over it".

"y/n—"

"dejun" you don't want to hear him speak any more, because the longer he does the more you'll want to break down and cry. "you made your choice and i respect it, i don't want anything from you".

dejun looks hurt by your words, as if he's not the one who decided to break up with you. he's such an idiot, a beautiful, pathetic idiot. he slumps in his seat, as if you just delivered a punch straight to his gut.

you stop looking at him at this point, because you aren't going to be able to resist the urge to kiss him if you continue staring at his face. another wave of silence spreads between you two, and you want to leave so bad, but you can't, because then you'd have to deal with guanheng's fucking interrogations.

you hear dejun unbuckling his seatbelt beside you, at least he's leaving, it'll make everything just a little more bearable. you clear your throat, pretending the prior conversation didn't happen. "could you tell guanheng to make sure he gets back my copy of dracula from yangyang?"

dejun hums, but sighs. "y/n".

you wish you listened to your heart, but your mind was screaming at you to fucking look at him!

so you did, and you almost collapse right onto the floor. he's staring at you with such bewitched, lovestruck eyes, it's as if nothing bad ever happened between you two, as if you were still happy and in love with no issues whatsoever.

"stop doubting yourself.." he whispers, then he presses his lips to yours, it's as impulsive as it is stupid, because dejun is going to regret this the next day, you know he will.

you hate that you kiss him back, you hate how even though he broke your heart in this very place and left you crying in your bed. you should be ashamed of how easily you fall into his hands, you're constantly thinking optimistically, as if he won't just up and abandon you again.

when he separates from you, you almost want to pull him back, your hand fiddling with his shirt collar.

but for once, you listen to your head.

"i love you" he gives a sad smile, letting go of you and exiting the car.

you just sit there, face warm as you try to register what just happened. you watch dejun walk away, as you've done thousands of times before, you still don't feel any better, but the uncomfortable curl in your stomach has subsided for now.

if you just pretend that everything is all going to he okay, maybe it will!

oh xiao dejun, always breaking your heart and leaving you to pick up the pieces afterward.

[forestwater87]

This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever been insanely proud of. I don't even know where to begin with this one. I just think it's cute as fuck.

Heavily inspired by (and maybe a little ripped off of) PadalickingGood's RT Hybrid AU. Their art is AMAZING, and their hybrid dorks are absolutely precious. (Not gonna lie, totally stole some ideas off of them, such as many of the animal ideas and the idea of trimming horns.

Anyway, the fact that David is a cat is entirely the fault of Pheebadohoh and KatykatUniverse, who made the cutest damn catboys and broke my insanely long bunny/dog tie with the need to make him a kitten.

ALSO I’D JUST LIKE TO MAKE IT ABUNDANTLY CLEAR THAT @kittensneezi IS LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON THIS IS BEING PUBLISHED INSTEAD OF LIVING BURIED IN MY WIPS FOREVER. BLAME HER. SHUN HER.

Sometimes Gwen was convinced that God thought He was real funny.

"God damn it motherfucker . . ." She yanked at the comb that was caught, wincing as it tugged but wouldn't budge. "David!"

Yeah, God was a hell of a comedian. Because what would a sheep be without wool?

David burst into the room, half-in and half-out of his shirt. "Is everything okay?" he asked, frantically trying to wriggle into his clothes and hurry to her side at the same time. Tripping over his tail, he stumbled forward, catching himself on one of her horns and nearly sending them both to the floor. "Gah!"

"Sorry," she said, helping him to his feet. "I didn't mean to make it sound like an emergency or anything, I just . . ." She sighed, pulling at the comb with no better luck. "Got stuck again."

His ears perked up. "Oh, no problem!" He hopped up onto the desk behind her and settled into a crouch, flexing his fingers to extend his nails. Gingerly sliding the needle-thin point of his index claw into her wool, he teased apart the strands until the comb was freed, then retracted his claws and fluffed her hair. "There we go! All better!"

"Thanks." She glanced down at herself to make sure everything was more or less in order and gestured for him to get off her desk. "Come on, let's go wake the zoo."

"All right!" As they walked toward the campers' tents, he gently patted her horn and said, "I didn't hurt it, right?"

She shrugged. "Nah, I've got a tough skull. Though . . . aren't cats supposed to be graceful?"

"I couldn't see! No one's graceful when they're blind!"

Rounding up the kids was never especially fun, though at least when they were tired it was easier to keep track of them. Even Nikki wasn't up to much this early in the morning, barely snapping at David's tail before settling in for breakfast.

THUNK.

"Fart nards!"

THUNK.

"Stupid door!"

David glanced toward the entrance to the mess hall, his eyes widening. "Gwen, Nurf's h —"

"On it." She got up, leaving her food behind, and went to where the boy was twisting and floundering, trying to get inside without catching his horns on the doorway. "Can I trim them now , Nurf?" she asked, leaning against the wall and watching him snort and scuff at the ground with his sneakers.

"I don't —" THUNK "— like —" THUNK "— people touching —" THUNK "— my horns!"

"No one does." After a few more seconds he stopped, panting, his tail flicking back and forth. There were some pretty impressive gouges in the frame, and Gwen raised her eyebrows. "But it's just gonna be worse the longer you wait."

He glared down at the ground, crossing his arms. "Fine," he muttered, tugging at his septum ring sullenly.

Gwen looked back at David. "Hey, bring us food when you get a chance? We'll be out back." She liked trimming inside, but there was no way those horns were getting into their cabin, so she settled him down on a rock behind the mess hall and went into her room to get the supplies.

She pawed through her stuff, wincing. Normally she'd shine a flashlight through the horn to see (and avoid) blood vessels as much as possible, but that was for maybe half an inch at most. Nurf'd never been trimmed in his life — and to be fair, she couldn't imagine anyone getting close enough to try without getting gored — and she was going to have to take off a lot more than that.

"All right," she said, setting the box down next to Nurf's rock and running a hand along one of his horns, "this is probably gonna bleed a lot, but it shouldn't hurt. You're off the hook for camp activities, though — don't want you fainting, so you'll be in our cabin most of the day."

"Fine." He looked and sounded angry, but she noticed the way his leg kept bouncing and his hands trembled. "Whatever, I don't even care."

"Close your eyes. It'll be less scary that way."

"Shut up! I'm not scared!" But he did as she said, screwing his eyes shut and taking a deep, shaky breath.

It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't quick, but eventually she'd cut his horns to a manageable length and gotten the bleeding to die down. "Okay," she said with a sigh of relief, gently bandaging the ends, "remember they'll grow back, and if you do it more often they'll look and feel better. It's like a bad haircut, all right?"

Nurf opened his eyes and gaped in shock; the grassy clearing looked like the site of a gruesome murder, bits of bone and huge splashes of blood staining the ground around them. "What the — !" He climbed to his feet and wobbled just a bit, letting her take his elbow and guide him over to lean against the wall.

"I know, I know." Gwen rested a hand on his upper back, hoping she sounded soothing. But she wasn't very good at this kind of thing. Where was David when she needed him?

"Oh my gosh, what the heck happened back here?!"

Oh. There he was.

David's knuckles were white around the tray of food he'd brought to them, the glasses of orange juice-like product trembling in his unsteady hands. His face was pale and cheesy, his hair had puffed out on end, and his pupils dilated into slits.

Well, so much for soothing. She took the tray, ignoring the way he hissed and jerked away from her bloody fingers. "Thanks, David. Can you get Nurf some clean clothes? I'm gonna make sure he eats something."

"I-I . . . um, okay." She'd never seen him this shaken, and it would've been entertaining if she didn't need him to be a functioning adult. "I'll . . . be right back, then."

Once he was gone, Gwen handed Nurf the tray. "At least get through the toast and juice so you don't pass out."

"I won't," he grumbled, but nibbled at the toast and kept his gaze turned away from the bloody patch of grass.

After a few minutes David returned, keeping his eyes on his feet. "I'm, um, here. With clothes."

"Awesome. Take Nurf to the showers and then bring him back to the cabin. I'm gonna change into something that looks a little less Carrie ."

The rest of the day was spent in an armchair, watching old cartoons with Nurf, both of them trying to ignore the way his horns were jagged stubs. He wouldn't look at them, not even when she periodically unwrapped them to put more anti-bleeding gel on the ends, and when she heard the faintest sniffling from his side of the room, she tossed the remote at him without looking and let him turn the volume up.

David wandered in as the sun was setting, bringing them both dinner (they'd wordlessly agreed it wasn't a good idea to leave Nurf alone with their personal belongings, so Gwen was confined to the cabin). He set the tray down and stretched out on the floor, rolling onto his back and watching the television upside-down.

"Nurf?" He glanced up at her with a grunt, and she continued, "I think you're in good shape. Eat something and I'll walk you back to the tents?"

"Yeah, fine, I don't care." He picked at his dinner, frowning, and she suspected the Quartermaster's spaghetti and crickets wasn't the only reason.

Gwen glanced down at David, who met her eyes and shrugged as well as he could while sprawled on the carpet. She rubbed at her own horns, poking the dull tips thoughtfully. "You know, I should probably trim these down too, before I forget. It's been a while." They both turned to her with varying levels of wariness. She met Nurf's gaze, trying to keep her face and voice casual. "Would you mind waiting around a little longer so I can get that done? It won't take long."

"I . . ." He shrugged, still looking sullen. "Whatever."

"Great!" She stood and stretched before heading to the bathroom, making sure to leave the door open. After a second she texted David: 'Come in so he doesn't feel weird about being curious.'

He replied almost instantly: 'but what if he steals something while we're both in there?'

Gwen didn't even bother replying, just cleared her throat loud enough to travel into the next room. Getting the hint, she heard David mumble, "Excuse me!" A few moments later his head appeared in the doorframe. He hopped onto the lip of the sink as though that wasn't the most inconvenient place he could perch. "So why are we doing this?" he asked, drawing his knees to his chest and cocking his head to the side, his tail wrapping around him like a shawl.

"You'll see." She kept her focus on the flashlight in her hands, flicking off the overhead light and shining it through her left horn. (She didn't need to; after enough years of caring for them she'd more or less memorized where the blood vessels ended. But just in case Nurf decided to wander in, she wanted to make sure she showed the whole process.) Marking the place she wanted to cut with a black marker, she turned the lights on just in time to hear clumping, heavy footsteps.

David winced, shifting back as she reached for her trimmer. "Sh-should I move out of the way?"

"Nah, it's not gonna bleed, don't worry." Despite himself, he leaned in closer as she began to work, looking fascinated. "You can ask questions," she added, keeping her eyes on David but really talking to the silent figure in the doorway.

He finally seemed to pick up on what they were doing and scrambled for something to say. "So . . . uh, how often do you have to cut them? I've never noticed."

"I try to get it over with before showering, just in case I nick something," she replied, "but like once a month, ish? About the same time I shear my hair."

"And it doesn't . . . hurt?"

She shook her head. "Once, at like fourteen, I was embarrassed and tried to cut them all the way off. Didn't get halfway through one before I passed out from the pain. But it's like your claws; fine as long as you don't go too deep. Though sheep horns are a little different from, say, a bull's, which'll probably bleed a little every time." Setting aside the trimmer, she filed the end until it was smooth and rounded.

"Why're you doing that?" Nurf blurted out. He didn't look away as the counselors turned to him, but his jaw tightened, and he reached up and brushed the bandaged ends of one of his own horns. "Why didn't you do it to mine?"

Gwen continued working, focusing on making a straight cut. "Figured I'd wait until it was a little less raw, you know? It wouldn't hurt, but it'd be pretty gross and might fuck up —" David winced and she rolled her eyes, "— mess up the healing. I don't know enough about bull horns to be cool with risking it." He didn't reply, watching her carefully as she finished and cleaned up. "Ready to get out of here, kid?"

"Don't call me that," he muttered, but followed her to the front of the cabin.

"W-would you like me to walk him back?" David asked. He usually was the one who'd do this kind of thing; Gwen wasn't known for being especially nurturing, let alone going out of her way to escort one of their more difficult children to bed. But David was still looking a little pale, his eyes darting nervously to Nurf's horns and quickly away, so she dismissed him with a raised hand and led the way to the campers' tents.

They walked in silence for the most part, which Gwen had expected. Nurf wasn't chatty on the best of days, and this certainly hadn't been one of those. Aside from a muttered obscenity when the Quartermaster flitted low overhead, the boy was quiet.

It was only after she'd bid him goodnight and turned to leave that he spoke, so mumbled and fast that she almost missed it. "It won't be that bad every time, right?"

She shook her head. "Just be smart and don't go another 11 years between cuts, okay?"

"Do you think . . . maybe, next month . . ."

"I'll teach you how, yeah. And I'll ask QM to pick up the stuff you'll need." If it was any other kid she would've ruffled his hair, but even with his horns shortened and stubby, she didn't want to get too close. "Goodnight, Nurf."

David was curled up in a ball on her bed when she returned, his eyes glittering in the light from the hallway. "Everything all right?" he asked, stretching and rolling onto his side as she came in.

"Yeah." Shoving him over so she could sit down, she plopped onto the mattress and started untying her shoes. "He's freaked out, but he'll get over it. And I can't blame him — freaked me out a little, too. Lot more blood than I'd expected." She was quiet for a few moments, waiting for him to agree (and admit how unnerved he'd been), but when she looked over his eyes were glued to her shoelaces, the pink tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. "Oh, for Christ's sake, here ." She swiveled so that she was laying back against her pillows and set her feet on his lap, letting him untie her shoes and play with the laces. "You're fucking ridiculous."

He blushed, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned. "You did a good job today," he said, swinging one of the laces around his index finger. "I'm really proud of you!"

"Why?" Gwen snorted, shaking her head. "I ruined my boots," she glared pointedly at the sneakers she'd been forced to wear instead, "I turned the back of the mess hall into a swamp of evil — almost making you throw up, by the way — and you were left alone the whole day." She flashed him a sarcastic "okay" sign. "Real stellar performance all around."

"You related to Nurf," he replied with a shrug. "That's not easy."

"Eh, thick skulls gotta stick together." He chuckled, finally done with her shoes and sliding them off her feet before laying down next to her. "Besides, it's . . . shitty, having someone fuck with your horns. Especially when you're away from your parents and the person doing it doesn't really know anything about bull anatomy." She hooked an arm around his neck and gently scratched behind his ears, smiling as he melted into her side with a purr. "I felt bad, I guess."

"I didn't know it was that scary," he mumbled against her neck, growing drowsy from the fingers in his hair. "I'm sorry."

She kissed him on the forehead. "It's fine. Beats having a giant tail, at least. I still can't believe you've never closed that thing in a door."

"Just like another arm." His tail came up and clumsily flicked her nose, making her sputter and laugh. "Hard to forget it's there."

Fighting the urge to shove the fuzzy limb out of her face (she'd learned quickly that some things were too sensitive to be touched without good reason), she wrapped her other arm around his waist and pulled him closer until he was laying half on top of her. "Shove me away when you wanna get up," she said; he usually couldn't sleep more than a few hours at a time, and spent most of the night prowling.

He gave a sleepy hum of agreement and licked her nose before curling up and falling asleep.

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[babymetaldoll]

DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen |

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

–

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @fandomtrash2405

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @meowiemari @archer561

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: June 16th, 2021

[luvelyhs]

In the end, we can only save ourselves

harry and y/n are in an open relationship

i’ve been wanting to write this concept for a while cuz i love reading about it so hope you enjoy :)

warning: angst ofc what else do you expect from me 😅

i’m def writing a part two so stay tuned for that :))))

—————

The fresh red marks littered his neck, they showed someone else had claimed him for themself, had marked her husband with their lips. It was a disgusting thought, and Y/N had to turn away before she quite literally threw up.

“Want some coffee?” Y/N shook her head.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t notice anything, fuck, when did he ever? Y/N was getting sick of it, his obliviousness to her tense and off behavior. Y/N thought communication was key, but sometimes she feels afraid of the future, of what could happen if she voices her feelings and thoughts, of saying she wants to end their open relationship. He’d leave her. She knew it.

“Mmkay.” He turned the coffee maker on, and the only sound in the room was the noise it made. Neither Harry nor Y/N were speaking.

She had to leave because she kept taking looks at him, at his neck. Did he even know what that made her feel? Any semblance of feeling? Did he have any respect for her anymore? It would be respectful to not showcase the work of another on his body, open for her to see, in their own fucking home. It was ridiculous, and suddenly the hurt was replaced with anger.

“Have fun last night?” Y/N’s voice was ice cold, something no one could miss, especially not Harry. He glanced up at her over his phone.

“Yeah, ‘t was fun.” He nodded, eyes moving back down to his phone. Great, now he couldn’t even look at her while they were having a conversation.

“I could see. Quite literally.” Harry looked at her in confusion, while Y/N rolled her eyes at his obliviousness.

“All over your fucking neck, Harry. At least hide that shit next time, will you?” Y/N grabbed her laptop from the island table, backing up her chair, making it squeak against the wooden floor.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know.” Y/N scoffed at his guilty tone while she was exiting the kitchen. Y/N didn’t know how much longer she could put up with this. She never wanted this fucking open relationship in the first place. All she wanted was to make him happy, and now she’s so disappointed in herself for lowering herself in that way for a man. Even Harry wasn’t worth it, the man she had loved with her whole entire being and entire soul. Because he’s not who he used to be, and it makes her feel more empty than anything else.

“Be a little more considerate next time, yeah?” She called back over her shoulder, walking to their backyard to get some sun and do some work.

She looked behind to see if Harry was following and couldn’t help but feel a little hurt when he didn’t. The old him would have followed her around like a puppy to see her smile and be happy with him again. This was another example of how much their relationship had changed, for the worse.

Y/N opened her laptop and started looking over a manuscript for her job. It had been an hour or so when she got an incoming Facetime call from her friend back home.

See, Y/N had basically uprooted her life for Harry. She had a good job back home, with her family and friends surrounding her, but she let herself get windswept by Harry and his charm and charisma. He had done everything to sweep her off her feet, even though she didn’t want to be with him in the first place.

He succeeded, eventually, hence why she was in London in their home, where he wanted to settle down, not her. London was cloudy and gray, she wanted the bright sun and blue sky. But she had to follow him, because what the star wants, the star gets.

Don’t get her wrong, Harry and Y/N were so happy during their one and a half year of dating and three years of marriage. They were perfectly happy, she had been enough for him during this time, until six months ago he started becoming distant, wouldn’t come home until late at night and would text her to not wait up for him, he didn’t even know if he would be coming home at all, and that irritated her yet also hurt, because he was growing distant and whenever she tried to initiate conversation about it, he would deflect.

It wasn’t until one evening he broke, started saying how he felt trapped.

“I jus’- we’re good, Y/N, so good. But don’t you think tha’s just not enough? I- I saw someone at the club tonight. I wanted to get her number, I wanted to approach her, and almost did when Mitch stopped me, pulled me back, said I had a lovely wife waiting at home for me.” Y/N hadn’t believed her ears. Her initial thought was- ‘he could go to fucking hell’, but she didn’t want to lose him, she didn’t. Because she loved him. So.. she brought it up. When she shouldn’t have. She should have taken it back as soon as she said it, but she can’t turn back time.

“You wanted to fuck her? That’s what you want to do? Throw a whole 4 year relationship away because you wanted to fuck a pretty girl? Go ahead, Harry. Do what you want.” Harry had approached her, looking at her warily.

“You’re not saying, you want to end us?” Y/N heard fear in his words. He was scared of the end of them, but it wasn’t enough. But in the heat of the moment she shook her head, when she should have said yes.

“No. No.. I.. we can try an... open relationship?” Y/N forced the words out of her mouth, wincing slightly when she saw the bright look on his face. And this is where she was proud of herself for a moment, because she had made him happy again.

“Really? Are you sure?” Y/N nodded, again, forcefully.

“Yeah, sure.” She nodded her head, fake smiling when Harry approached her and granted kisses all over her face, before pulling her into a deep one and showing her how happy she made him with lots of loving through the whole night.

It stopped him being distant for a bit. He would tell her where he was going and with who. She’d tell him to have fun and to be safe, wear protection. He said of course he would. They’d meet for a quick peck, then he was out for the night.

He thought she had nights where she went out too, but she didn’t. And she wasn’t about to tell him that. She had pride, she had suggested it, now she had to deal with the consequences. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep with another person, it was disgusting. All she could have thought about was Harry, and she had months to think about this, about how someone you’re married to would be okay sleeping with another person... it wasn’t okay at all, not for her. She always thought if her significant other wanted to do that, she’d end the relationship, because if she wasn’t enough for him, what was the point of being married?

She had given Harry the benefit of the doubt for a few months, wanted to see if he would end the open relationship himself, but no. He became more bold, this wasn’t the first time he came home with hickeys all over his body. But she had been quiet then, she wouldn’t be anymore.

Y/N quickly answered Anna’s call, greeted by the brunette beauty on her screen.

The excitement on Anna’s face made Y/N miss her more.. made her all the more homesick. She wanted to see this face in person, and it had been a year since she had.

“Y/N!!” Anna screamed, excitedly. Y/N grinned, happy to see her best friend again.

“Anna! I miss you!” She squealed, sitting up a bit to set the laptop on her lap.

“How’ve you been, baby cakes? Still kicking ass at work?”

“I’ve been good... just living life. Of course I have been! Getting promoted soon, just know it.” Y/N smiled, because she genuinely loved her job. She worked at a publishing house and read over new stories, and she loved it because it pulled her into another universe, one where she didn’t think about Harry and reality.

“Still madly in love with your hot hubby?” Anna giggled, clearly teasing, but usually when Y/N would laugh bubbly along with her, she sat silent.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Anna frowned.

“Umm.. yeah.. just-“ Y/N tried to stop it, she tried, really she did. But the first tear slipped past her defenses then another and then more.

“I don’t know what to do, Anna, I don’t.” Y/N sobbed into her hands, breaking down once Anna asked that question. Everything she had been holding in, was being let out.

“What’s wrong, honey? What happened?” Anna said gently, coaxing Y/N to open up and tell her what happened.

“Don’t- don’t judge, okay? I know I said I’d never let this happen, but, but I dunno. I don’t know.”

“Let it out, Y/N.”

“Harry and I.. are in an open relationship.” Y/N looked up at Anna’s concerned face, nodding for her to continue.

“I’m not judging, baby cakes, do you mind telling me a bit of context? How did you get into the situation, huh?” Anna remembered a conversation they had about their future partners. The topic was cheating and Y/N had said if her partner ever slept with another, it was over. She was a little possessive over her boyfriends, not overtly so, but enough to be so jealous if they were to do anything with someone in front of her or flirt and she didn’t think she could ever handle them sleeping with someone else, and Y/N was so in love with Harry, everyone could see it, so how did she get herself in that situation?

“Uh-“ Y/N sniffed, wiping some tears from her face with her hoodie sleeve. “He waa distant and he said he wanted to hookup with someone one night so I just suggested it. He wanted to do it and it made him happy so I agreed too. I haven’t slept with anyone, I can’t, Anna. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Oh, honey.. I think it’s time you came back to us. Take a break from him and gloomy London. Think things over back home.” Y/N knew she needed to get away, and Anna’s words reinforced that thought.

“Alright.. umm.. i’ll book a flight right now.” Anna gave Y/N a sympathetic smile.

The topic switched to Anna’s life and questions about what’s happening back home, all while Y/N booked a flight back to her local airport for two days from now.

It was a one way ticket, she didn’t know when she would be back. Or if she would be back.

The confirmation email sent to her phone and it pinged to let her know it was there.

“Got it! I can’t wait to surprise my mom.”

“So excited for you to get here, baby cakes. Ugh-“ Y/N could hear kids yelling in the background. “gotta go, Ben just spilled juice all over Bran.” Anna rolled her eyes, blowing her best friend a kiss goodbye and then ending the call.

Y/N sat back against the lawn chair, staring at the pool and pretty garden and trees in her backyard.

A warm hand on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts, making her jump slightly.

“Harry! You scared me!”

“You alright, bubba?” His tone was serious and concerned, looking down at her with his gently green eyes that forced her to say what she’s been wanting to say for a while, but she held herself back.

“‘course, do I not look alright, Harry?”

“You’ve just been a little, I dunno, tense.. recently.” He chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset his bubba.

“Tense?” Y/N let out a short laugh, staring back out at the blue pool water:

“Talk to me, darling, c’mon.” He stroked her arm, coming around to stand in front of her before dropping low, now she was looking down at him.

“I’m not tense, Harry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were crying, Y/N. I can see the tears stains and red eyes. Why were you crying?” A dreadful feeling took over him.

“Why am I crying? Why am I crying? It’s because of you, Harry! I’m crying cause of you! You’re not worth my tears, not anymore. Not when I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her tone became more soft at the end, a broken whisper at the realization.

“Darling..” He cupped her face, a frown marring his features. “What did I do, hm? This about the hickeys? It won’t happen again, bubba.” His tone was gentle for her.

“It’s more than that. It’s about the whole thing. I can’t keep doing this.. this open relationship anymore, Harry. It’s hurting me, it’s been hurting me. You never noticed, that’s the thing Harry.” Harry gulped, the words slicing a knife through him.

“I thought you were okay with it, Y/N? You brought it up in the first place.”

“Because you would have cheated on me if I didn’t. At least with this I know you’re out with others. Not behind my back.”

“You think that lowly of me, pet? That I would cheat on you? Never, darling, never.”

“You yourself said you wanted to hookup with that woman from the club a few months ago, remember that, Harry? If I’m not enough for you anymore, just tell me. Because I will end this marriage if you don’t.”

“What? Y/N! You’re everything I ever need, baby. Well end this open relationship, you’re the only one for me. I promise.” Y/N shook her head, because the respect for herself was building, and this was step one to recovery. At this point, she knew she had to do this, to save herself from the inner turmoil, the disrespect she had granted on herself for letting this happen. It’s taken a toll on her mental health, and she had to this.

“No, Harry. What we’re ending is our marriage. If I was ever enough for you, you wouldn’t have wanted to be with anyone besides me. I’m leaving in two days. Leave me alone until then.” With that, she pushed Harry away from his kneeling position, and walked back into their house. It hurt to say the words, it hurt to make what she was dreading a reality. Harry stared brokenly at her, not knowing what to do to fix this, fix them, fix her.

[hatake-no-sharingan]

A Well Loved Copy (PART 1: Magical Places) 

Kakashi x Reader

Story Summary: Your cozy life as a bookseller is disturbed when a box of the worst books you could ever imagine arrives at your store, and with them a certain silver haired ninja to whom you are definitely not attracted.  

Relationship: Kakashi x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I wrote this first part a few days ago, but it still had a few things missing and I finally finished it today. I’m thinking it’s going to be at least 3 parts long (depending on how much my brain allows me to write) and that it’s going to be mostly fluff and romance, but I also want to add some angst. Hopefully you’ll all like it <3 Be kind and enjoy.

Magical Places

“God who even reads this crap” you tell yourself as you arrange the 20th copy of the latest Icha Icha Special Holiday Edition on the hot new arrivals shelf in the bookstore. “It’s unbelievable how they keep making new editions of the same trash and people actually buy them”

Last night, your boss had explicitly told you that he wanted the books in the most visible part of the store, because they were always a massive hit, unlike the beautiful short story books you had been forced to stash in a less noticeable shelf almost at the back of the store.

You spent hours admiring the graceful prose and the magical places they took you to, wishing your own writing was half as good. You knew most of those books by heart, and every time one of your favorite authors published one, you read it so many times until you could almost recite it word by word. That’s why your personal collection of books was small, but very well loved. Whenever you got the chance, you recommended them to customers, though almost none listened to you. However, those who did, always came back to thank you for it.

“It’s better to know one book intimately, than a thousand superficially” your mother told you when you were little, and to this day, the phrase stuck with you.

When your boss, the shop owner, told you to remove your favorite stories, the ones you knew intimately, from the best shelves to make space for what was basically porn disguised as a romantic thriller, it felt personal.

“I’m sorry, I know they’re good, but we need to give up the space for the best selling authors” your boss had told you yesterday night when he saw your frown as you removed them from sight. You ignored him for the rest of the time you were there while going through the new inventory together, and left the new arrivals unopened

“I’ll arrange them in the morning. If you don’t need anything else I’m leaving” you slipped your very worn book in your pocket, grabbed your keys and left.

That’s why people don’t read real literature, because it keeps getting hidden from sight and replaced with trash, you sigh.

Now you look towards the remaining boxes, the publisher sent way too many for your judgement, and decide to put them away in storage until more copies are needed, so you can still keep a few other not so crappy books on the star shelf.

When you’re returning from the storage room, you hear the door chime, signaling that a new customer is here. You check the time, barely 8:00am.

God, who’s here this early?

“IT’S HERE!” A silver haired man acting like a 6 year old in a candy store rushes in, and grabs 3, no, 4 copies of Icha Icha Special Holiday Edition without noticing he’s messing up your perfectly arranged shelf. “I literally waited a month for it! I need to read it now, it’s gonna be so good”

Is he talking to himself? Or to me?

The guy is bubbling with excitement, running his long fingers across the cover of the book on top. You don’t know why, but seeing the motion sends shivers down your very tired spine. You shrug, and start the computer to enter the day log into the system.

He walks to the counter, feeling giddy with the books and you get tense at the realization of who the guy you’ve been gaping at is.

The signature mask, the covered left eye and the nonchalant but confident walk give it all away.

He’s kinda hot in person, but his awful taste in books ruins it, you think.

“Would you like me to wrap those for you?” you manage to ask, pointing to the four copies he dropped on the counter. “Or would you rather do it yourself at home?” If I were his friend I’d kill him if he gave me that as a gift.

“Huh?”

“We offer a gift wrapping service.”

“Oh no, thank you, they’re not gifts. All four of them are mine”

“All four?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, one’s my mission copy, another is my house copy, then the back up one, and the last goes on my shelves untouched”

“You must really like the series.” You say sarcastically, emphasizing on the word really.

“They are really good, contrary to popular belief. I know a lot of people judge them, but I swear if they actually read the series, they’d know it’s not just porn” he says with a chuckle, clearly aware you’re judging him.

“Ummm I don’t know” you say scratching the back of your head “I’d rather stick to real literature”

“Wait, you’ve never read them?”

“Nope”

“Not even one?”

“No no, wouldn’t want to waste my time”

“No wonder you’re staring at me like that” he says under his breath, and you pretend not to hear him. “What do you read, then? If you’re only into real literature”

You nod towards the last shelves in the room and then gesture to your own battered copy of The Cursed Beauties and Other Stories.

“They made me hide them away so I could make space for your special edition.”

“I’m sorry about that, maybe they can share a shelf next time.” Did he just smirk? Is he hitting on me? No, it must be me reading too much into things. “I’m Kakashi, anyway”

“I know, you’re kinda notorious amongst us booksellers, as the guy who buys too many copies of Icha Icha”

“Really?”

“No”

“Oh”

“You’re an important ninja okay?” He’s barely aware of it apparently “I have a few modern leaf history books here that mention you. And I think there might be a biography on you too, you’re definitely in the Yondaime’s. I had to read it for school, though I’m not very sure of how much truth is in it. Non ninja writers tend to exaggerate things huh? Not because I’m a ninja myself, becau-well, ummm I’m not, but I have read a lot, on ninjas I mean.” You get flustered when you catch yourself speaking a lot. He makes you nervous, alright? Even though he has bad taste in books and is a bit of an asshole, you can’t help but feel attracted overwhelmed by him.

You get an embarrassed smile from him too.

“I can’t imagine what in my life would be interesting enough to write about” he says, gently tapping his fingers to his temple “but I’ll tell you something, Icha Icha is interesting, way more fun to read than my life. I’d leave one of these copies here for you, but this isn’t the first book in the series, so you really wouldn’t understand it. But you should give the first one a shot, if you don’t like it, you’re allowed to hate me forever and judge my poor taste in books.” He heads for the door and makes his departure, but not before turning around and flashing you a big smile that you swore his whole face was glowing beneath all those coverings.

Something about him lingers with you for the rest of the day, as if he’d never really left the store.

The next morning when you come in, you notice there’s something inside the mailbox which catches your attention, only for the simple fact that you never get mailed anything small enough to fit in the mailbox. It’s always boxes upon boxes of books and gadgets related to literature.

You open it and take out a well worn copy that has definitely seen better days, of Icha Icha Paradise. There’s a small post it note stuck on the back cover scribbled with messy handwriting

Give it a shot, I promise you’ll like it. 

-K

P.S. Take care of it, it’s my favorite copy. Hopefully by entrusting you with it, you’ll decide to entrust me later with your own book ;)

Despite all your judgements and aversions to the series and the author, you make yourself a strong cup of coffee, sit back on your familiar spot, and open the book to the first page.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 8

Catch up here >> AHBS Masterlist

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1739

Notes: This chapter is slightly graphic on the physical abuse. It's only like two lines, but I wanted to make it known.

Chapter 8 - Sorry for Now

After a while you may forget

But just in case the memories cross your mind

You couldn't know this when I left

Under the fire of your angry eyes

I never wanted to say goodbye

Four months, thirteen days, and ten hours, not that he was counting, since he left. Since the dark haired boy had walked away, leaving Rowan standing on the sidewalk. Since his mind spiraled out of control, and it felt like part of him died.

Rowan had been seeing a therapist for the last three months. It had helped, somewhat. At least he could function as a relatively normal human being again, when he was around people anyway. Most of the time. He almost didn't graduate. Thankfully, his mom, his friend group, and his therapist had helped him get through it.

But all in all, Rowan felt empty. Somehow his heart was broken. He hadn't realized someone could get so attached to someone so fast even though they never really talked or hung out. Maybe it was because they shared such vulnerabilities with each other that day in the park or there really was such a thing as a soulmate and his just left him. Either way, he was broken inside. Yet, he still went to parties with his friends, hung out, but he wasn't always present. Everyone noticed the vacant stares, but they usually left it alone. They all knew the general gist of what happened that day, but they could never understand the emotional gravity well that that day had caused. No one knew that Rowan had fallen for the other boy.

Except the ever observant Elide. She noticed everything. The way Rowan spoke about Lorcan, the way his eyes lit up when he saw the other boy walking down the hall, and the small looks they both shared on cast signing day.

But nobody had seen Lorcan after he had walked away. He never came back to school. No one knew what to think. Most assumed they moved again and they left it at that. Rowan assumed the worst after seeing Lorcan's bruises and him basically saying this was a usual occurrence.

Rowan was brought back to the present when a beach ball hit him in the head. He was sitting on the edge of Aelin's pool, sulking, feet dangling in the water. Aelin was throwing one of her parties, it was nearly the end of summer and soon most of them would head off to college. The noises from his friends finally filtering back into his head, it was suddenly too loud, too bright, and too hot. He ran a hand down his face.

Fenrys had been the beach ball throwing culprit, Rowan just glared at him.

"Come on, Ro. Try and have some fun?" Fen had swam over to Rowan and crossed his arms over the edge of the pool. The roguish blond just wanted him to be happy.

“I’m sorry.” He said that a lot now. Fenrys just raised an eyebrow at the boy… man.

He was eighteen now and he wasn't that scrawny, nerdy looking boy anymore. Rowan supposed that was one good thing that came out of Lorcan leaving, he got addicted to working out. There was a punching bag set up in the garage with some weights. He was fit now, muscles defined, but not bulky.

Elide walked up and mussed up his hair. "Come help me get some drinks." She didn't leave any room for argument.

In the kitchen, Elide just leaned forward on the island and looked at Rowan.

"I thought we were getting drinks."

"Yeah, we will. But-"

"But what?" He really didn't mean to say that with such an attitude, but he was hot and emotionally exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to go home.

Elide was on her phone, waiting for him to chill. Taking a deep breath he said, "I'm sorry. What did you want to talk about?" Rowan was trying, he really was. She just slid her phone over the counter towards him. He furrowed his brows as he looked at the article on the screen.

Consultants for Erawan Enterprises arrested on counts of fraud, child abuse, human trafficking, and other illicit activities

"What's this?" He had no idea what this was about. Why would he care about Erawan Enterprises?

He picked up the phone and kept reading since Elide clearly wasn’t going to answer. It was short and there was a photo of a devastatingly beautiful woman with dark as night hair, that reminded him of Lorcan, and alabaster skin in handcuffs being pushed into a cop car and a very angry man shoved against the hood of the same car.

Maeve Valgerian and James Perrington were arrested Wednesday night. After some anonymous tips to the Morath Police.

"Who are these people?" Rowan didn't understand.

"Pretty sure she's Lorcan's aunt."

Oh.

Rowan had searched for Lorcan online after he disappeared, but there was literally nothing. Absolutely zero results. It was like he was a ghost.

They were consultants for Erawan Enterprises and moved all over the world for the very powerful man. Erawan Enterprises is under investigation for fraud, money laundering, and human trafficking.

After Valgerian and Perrington were arrested, MPD searched their residence and found incriminating evidence against them.

There was also a teenager held captive in the basement. They were taken to the nearest hospital with severely critical injuries. The name and gender of this individual will not be released for their safety.

The article was published nearly two months ago.

Human trafficking…

Held captive...

Severely critical injuries...

"Please, don't break my phone." He was squeezing the device and didn't realize it. Quickly handing it back to her, his hand went straight to his hair.

“Are you sure this is his aunt?”

“Well, not 100%, but they have physical similarities and their hair…” she trailed off. “And Lorcan had mentioned his aunt’s boyfriend living with them one day in class.”

"Fuck!" He felt like he wanted to rip his hair out.

"Ro." Elide's voice was quiet.

"FUCK!"

After a couple deep breaths, he ran his hands down his face, and then turned to face his friend. "Is he dead?" His voice cracked.

"I don't know. All of the other articles I could find are just about them and Erawan Enterprises. No mentions of Lorcan. Anywhere. It's like he doesn't exist."

Elide pulled him into a hug and he broke.

---

Lorcan had been through shit show after shit show since he left the Whitethorn house. As soon as he returned to the apartment, it was packed up into a moving van and they were gone.

They were in Fenharrow for a couple months. Maeve didn't enroll him in school. He was locked in the basement of the small house they rented, it felt like he had gone crazy. He hadn't seen the sun until they moved again. His skin turned a sickly gray. By the time they moved again, he could feel every one of his ribs, and his hips stuck out, his fingers overlapping when wrapped around his wrist.

Next move was to Morath. Lorcan didn't know if he would survive. He didn’t have a good feeling about this place. The basement became his home yet again. It was filthy. There were thick iron hooks in opposite walls and chains hanging from them. This was where he was going to die. He closed his eyes as Perrington latched the shackles around his wrists.

---

One day, Lorcan heard sirens intermittently. He kept passing out. He wasn't even sure he was hearing sirens or if it was just a ringing in his ears. They were always ringing nowadays. A punch to his face made his vision flicker. Blood and saliva leaked from his mouth as his head rolled down to his chest.

The ringing in his ears got louder. There definitely weren't sirens. No one was going to save him. He was going to die here. He knew it. It was what he deserved. The bastard born half-breed that no one cared about, left to die in his own filth in a disgusting basement. The world slowly faded to black.

---

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He was in Hel. He had to be.

Beep.

The incessant beeping was there to drive him insane. And the smell of bleach was there to make him sick.

Beep.

---

Lorcan startled awake. How could he be awake? He was supposed to be dead. Right?

The nightmare he was having felt so real. Probably because he had lived it before. He assumed that was just what Hel was supposed to be, reliving the worst parts of your life.

But instead, he was in a bed, a hospital bed. Why did they save him? Lorcan wasn't worth saving. Yet, here he was covered in wires, tubes, a needle stuck in his hand, a device on his finger. It was dark outside and the lights were dim in the room.

Deciding he wasn’t actually dead, he took stock of his body, he was certain he had some broken ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken which was surprising. He was definitely sore and stiff. And exhausted. So exhausted.

---

After… Lorcan didn't know how long he was discharged. He had put on some weight, though not a lot. The staff made sure he ate. They were all nice and cared for him. But now, he stood outside the main entrance of the hospital in some scrubs they gave him. Now, he had nothing. Nobody. He may as well have been lost at sea.

Why had they saved him? He still couldn’t figure that out.

Somehow, he managed to find the small house that he had been stuck in for who knows how long. There was police tape over the door. The door was open.

He pushed through the tape. The house was a mess. It seemed the cops had ransacked the place. But he finally found his things, they were strewn about the floor. Thank Hellas, his journal was still there. After changing, he packed up his books and journal, some clothes, and a few other other necessities.

He needed money or something he could sell. Maeve's jewelry would help. He could pawn it.

Lorcan asked the pawnshop owner for directions to the bus station, and then he set out to see if there was still one person who cared about him. Hopefully this wasn’t a bad idea.

____

Thanks for reading. Things will get better, I promise! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Edit- oops! I forgot to actually put in tags... My bad. Sorry!

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[scone-lover]

Happy Birthday to Holding Out For a Hero!!! ❤️

art by @subparselkie

I published the first chapter of my longest and most popular fic just about a year ago! And I bet you always wanted to see some shitty outlines. Right? Just giving the people what they want. My brain is chaos and now you all have to be subject to it. Strap in, boys. 😂 Everything’s below the cut!

Read Holding Out for a Hero on AO3

This fic was born because I saw a tumblr post about a hero and villain who are roommates and I just had to Snowbazzify it. I had so many random ideas in my brain, and I’d been engaging with fan content for the CO fandom for a few months now.

So I started off by opening a blank document and writing the Prologue, featuring Shep. I had a few basic facts in mind: Shepard’s a reporter, Simon’s a hero, Baz is a villain, Mage is an evil mayor. And that’s. Literally it. I made it up as I went along. I actually still do that with fics, even though I do try to outline in more detail now—I have to write a scene or two that’s been bouncing around in my head to get a feel for the story, then I can give it a direction.

The document is 337 pages on google docs, LOL. 

Here’s the first ever set of notes I had. I wrote this on March 29, 2020, directly after typing out the Prologue! 

Like I said, absolute chaos. The third Simon bullet point originally said something like “also I’m a superhero and only Penny knows,” then the following day I changed it to “but he’s so handsome? what do???” 

I didn’t publish the prologue until writing 5-6 additional chapters, but I think the only major change was going from Baz being “The Vampire” to just “Vampire.”

Chapter 1 was originally called “not a bloody avenger” before I decided to do the rhyming thing. I actually decided that because I wrote “counter spray and earl grey” down for chapter 2, unintentionally rhyming it, and then @ashspren-writes was like, “you should make them all rhyme”... so I did. 😂 For 25 more chapters.

I have a section labeled “quickie backgrounds” in which I finally sat down halfway through writing Chapter 2 (the blade/vamp fight) and said to myself, okay, maybe they should have backstories or something. Or like, reasons for being the hero and villain. Right, yeah, those would be good to make this into a coherent story. In the first version of that, Simon was a sports coach on the side, not a baker, and Baz was an English teacher. LOL. 

Once I had all that, I literally just wrote for four days. There’s a weird kind of magic to your first-ever fic for a fandom. All your ideas and thoughts and wishes for these characters comes to a head as you suddenly have an outlet for the first time. It’s why I think people’s first works are often their best or most creative or most profound. The first couple chapters took some time and a couple 1am epiphanies, but once I got into a rhythm it was quick going. I wrote a lot of it in a linear manner, but after writing the first Simon/Baz scene (watching the news together in the flat), I doubled back and added Simon going to Penny’s house after meeting the Mage so that I could work her in as a character earlier.

Fast forward to April 5, I had 5-ish chapters written? I thought this fic would have like... 10 total. And be less than 20k. Haha. Ha. I asked @ashspren-writes to beta read for me - I’d been bouncing ideas off her since the beginning - and then I started brainstorming titles. 

The list actually started with that second one. It took a whole 24 hours to decide on the final title. 😂 I thought it might be too cheesy. But hey, it worked out -- now I can’t open AO3 without the damn song getting stuck in my head. 

I worked a LOT with my friend @ashspren-writes on this fic - we were friends long before fandom, and she was the only person I knew at the time who had read CO and was involved in the fandom. I didn’t even have a tumblr at this point, I interacted mostly through Instagram and AO3!

On April 6, right before I posted, I realized that if I was going to actually put this on AO3 I should probably know where the story was going. So I made sure Chapters 1-6 were complete, then I wrote one bullet point per chapter up until 12 or so -- you can read those below.

Then I texted ashspren THIS mess:

Some silly notes:

Then I have a section that says “Why do they even have roommates?” because it was a few chapters in and I hadn’t justified richboy Baz and superhero Simon... living together. Cool cool cool

I also did this cool little writing experiment I want to share. Remember that line in Fangirl that’s like—“Once Cath wrote what she thought was a swordfight, and Wren turned it into a love scene.” (Or maybe it was the other way around? LOL.) Anyway, there’s swordfights in this, AND love scenes, so I wanted to do a play on that for two alternate ways Simon might figure it out.

I have a huge Deleted Section in which I wrote an alternate version of Simon and Baz finding out about their secret identities. I have one version where Baz figures it out first—it’s a very tropey yet angsty scene where Simon comes home totally wrecked from a fight, and Baz realizes as he’s helping with the wounds that he caused them. I actually like it a lot, but it ended up not quite fitting with the vibe of the fic (and I rather like them finding out through kissing better). :) I also had an idea where Simon figures it out because Vampire smells like cedar and bergamot, but it really just wasn’t interesting enough. 😂

Now onto... Outlines. 

I say that hesitantly because I think these are literally a disgrace to outlines everywhere. These are the baby ones I wrote on April 6 right before posting. Some are more detailed than others, clearly...

Gotta live up to my username somehow. 

We do love to see it. ​

I love this next one: 😂 CHAOS, SCONEY.

THEN, I wrote this as a very long text to ashspren, when I realized no sconey, this is not going to be under 20k words. LOL. 

And then I did A Dumb Thing and I put it on AO3, having absolutely NO CLUE WHERE THE STORY WAS GOING. 😂 

This is my favorite heading on the document.

Another one of my favorite notes in there.

This next part wasn’t even divided into chapters yet, it’s just a word vomit. I’m so sorry you have to read this mess.

Hahaha, once upon a time there was angst in this story. 😂 

And then I realized my true calling: bakery fluff.

Then and only then, I actually decided to divide into those things called Chapters. This is the point where I made the admission to mr scone (boyfriend, not husband lol, we just call him that) that I write gay fanfiction, whoops, and can he please help me because he’s a HUGE DC comics fan and knows everything. And of course, he was super chill about it, and he did. He really did. He’s the genius behind Egghead!!! And also the entire Mage-Humdrum-Supercomputer/Politics plot. I’m serious. I did none of that.

I can’t even say I’m trying anymore. “Flort”??? I AM LITERALLY NOT TRYING.

Why yes sconey, so very specific. 😂 

This is what qualifies as a “good” outline for me, that heading was just for my betas. Isn’t it fabulous to see that some of this actually made it in and I’m capable of planning in advance? 😂 

Get ready for the shock of your life, though -- I actually have a SUUUUPER detailed outline for the two finale chapters. Because, well, it’s the finale. Wrapping up loose ends does actually require planning, WHO KNEW. Also I’d been writing and posting for a couple months at this point and it had been several more weeks in quarantine so maybe I’d regained some sense of reality? It’s like two pages but still shittily written, so I’ll just share a couple tidibits.

That bullet point is extraordinarily cracky BUT actually, Baz shooting up from the cloud like an awesome fucking hot dramatic person was one of the very first scenes I envisioned for this fic :D 

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my writing brain! It’s a terrifying place. I love all of you that say Holding Out For a Hero is a well-crafted masterpiece, but respectfully, no ❤️ 

(Though I swear I AM super, super happy with how it turned out - it’s still my favorite thing I’ve ever written. Read it here!!!)

[oh-my-damn]

The Kiss

Chapter 3 of my Stucky x OC story on Wattpad; Electric - Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Find the first two chapters here. 

Check out my Wattpad for more chapters, there’s currently more than 150 chapters published, as of 15/8-21. 

Story is rated M for mature as it contains a lot of smut. Kink warnings can be found in the Author’s note on Wattpad (there’s a lot..)

Warnings for this chapter: Kissing, make out session (Stevie moves fast in this story), some grinding and pining. Also a bit of angst and confusion. 

MADELINE

Lunch was awkward.

After I brought up Bucky, Steve continued to act weird for the rest of the meal.

He barely said anything.

After a while of awkward silences, we finished eating and Steve left the kitchen. I went to the gym to get some basic training in, expecting Steve to come meet me as planned.

After about an hour or so of me training weights I realize Steve is not coming to train me as he was supposed to, and so I decide to go back to my room.

I honestly thought he knew and that bringing up Bucky would be a good thing. I had no idea he would react like this.

I am lying on my bed contemplating what an idiot I am as I hear a soft knock on my door.

It's so quiet that I barely hear it but I do.

"Who is it?" I yell out.

It takes a second for someone to reply but when he finally does I hear his magnificent voice.

"It's Steve. Can I come in? I won't dare to open the door before you allow me to."

I chuckle to myself. "Yes Steve. It's safe. I am dressed. Come on in"

I sit up on my bed as the door opens and I see Steve standing in my entryway.

He is looking at me in a way I can't decipher.

Is he mad at me? I don't know how to read this man.

"Madeline" he says as he closes the door behind him, "I'm sorry for the way I reacted earlier and that I didn't show up for training. I just didn't know that was how you met or got your powers, and the mentioning of Bucky in that context was a surprise to me."

He looks wounded as he speaks and it makes me feel instantly guilty.

He walks a few steps into my room and continues, "Bucky and I are at a fragile stage. He is still getting rid of the programming HYDRA did to him and he has been back and forth to Wakanda. I was his mission so it's been difficult for him to get fully back when it comes to our friendship. I hope you know my reaction had nothing to do with you but mainly due to mine and his relationship currently."

He looks down to his feet and he seems so vulnerable, my first reaction is to hug him.

I want to touch him and hold him close and make him feel better but I restrain myself.

"Steve, it's okay. I understand. I'm sorry for bringing it up."

He walks a bit further into the room and is now standing at the edge of the bed where I'm sitting.

He looks to the bed and then at me and asks "Can I sit?"

I nod silently and he places his beautiful self on my bed.

I could have jumped out of my own body right there.

As I look at him he continues.

"It's not your fault Madeline. You didn't know. How could you know? I understand you were just trying to find something we had in common and I appreciate it."

He smiles to himself as he looks down.

I reply "Yes well, I guess I was just trying to make it seem less awkward between us..."

He suddenly turns to look at me.

"You think it's felt awkward between us?" He looks at me with a confused expression.

I look at his beautiful blue eyes and reply, "Well... Yes. I haven't been sure if you really enjoyed my company or not. Half the time I feel like I'm a burden to you. So I was just trying to help you relate to me."

He looks at me for a second and then turns away and chuckles to himself.

"What's so funny?" I ask him, annoyed.

He looks back at me and then says "Nothing's funny. Actually, it's all very frustrating. I'm very sorry you thought I didn't like you. It's actually the exact opposite."

He studies my face as he finishes his sentence and I freeze.

What did he just say?

Before I can even think properly his face is right in front of mine and he breathes heavily as he says "Madeline? Can I kiss you?"

I study him and he looks so genuine and pure and I instinctively nod.

He puts his lips on mine so fast I don't even realize at first but once I do, I feel it.

I feel it all. The heat. The impulse.

The electricity.

As he kisses me deeper I feel my energy surge through me.

I have never been kissed like this.

I have been kissed before, yes, but it was never like this.

It never felt like electricity.

And for a person with actual energy coursing through her body, electricity is well.... electric. Quite literally.

As he puts both his hands on my jaw I put mine on his neck to grab his hair and as I do, a tiny electric shock comes out of my finger tips where I touch him.

I hear the spark and I quickly pull away in panic.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

He rubs his neck and looks at me. "Doll, what was that?"

I blush a bit and look down.

"That might have been me..."

He tilts my head back up as he locks eyes with me.

"I thought you said you were in control." He smirks.

My cheeks turn even more red as I reply "I guess I lost it a little bit there."

He grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls my hair, his lips almost touching mine.

"I will never blame you for losing control with me because I have been losing mine since the first time I saw you. And you could never hurt me darling... I'm Captain America, I can handle you when you lose control" and then he crashes his lips onto mine.

Our lips move in perfect synchronization and it feels amazing.

He pulls me closer and as a result, pulls my hair a bit harder and a moan escapes my lips.

This seems to affect him and he deepens the kiss.

I open my mouth a bit and suddenly our tongues collide as well.

He moves while kissing me and I feel him position his body between my legs, his manhood throbbing against my crotch and I moan once again.

As I do he pulls away and watches me intensely.

I see the lust and heat in his eyes and I feel the same.

He must see it because in one swift motion he switches around and pulls me onto him so that I am sitting on his lap. He grabs my hair again and pulls me into another deep kiss and as he does I am grinding on him. I can't help myself. This feels so good I just want to feel him deeper. I want more.

I grind against him and I feel him hardening underneath me.

As I start to rub myself against him a moan escapes my lips once again and it fuels him further.

He pulls me away, his breath heavy and quick as he studies my face.

As he is about to pull me back in for another kiss, a loud noise interrupts everything and I quickly jump off his lap.

"Hello, Madeline. Are you there?"

Visions voice interrupts us abruptly and his loud knocking ruins the mood.

Steve and I look at each other as we try to gather ourselves before allowing Vision entry but he doesn't wait and suddenly he storms through the door.

I scramble to compose myself in the few seconds I have and Steve does the same.

As Vision enters my room he keeps speaking.

"Madeline, I couldn't wait to meet you, Wanda has told me so much about you so I thought I would introduce myself and we could..." he pauses as he sees Steve Rogers sitting at the end of my bed.

I managed to hurl myself off his lap but I doubt my cheeks have reached their natural color yet and I can tell that Steve is still on edge after what happened.

Vision looks from me to Steve and he pauses and looks at him for a second, tilting his head to the side. Only after that he speaks again.

"Captain! I didn't expect you here. I was just coming to introduce myself after Wanda has told me so much about our special new recruit."

He moves a bit to the side and I suddenly see Wanda smiling at me and once she realizes what she just walked in on, she waves at me awkwardly and then says "Maddie, it's just been so long I wanted to say hi. And Cap.. Hello. Hope we didn't interrupt anything."

I look at Wanda with widened eyes and I don't know what to reply.

Luckily, Steve replies quickly "It's all good you guys. I was just talking to Madeline about our training sessions for the next few days.."

He turns to me and we lock eyes and I can tell he was hoping for much more than what's happening right now.

As he gazes into my eyes he says "Madeline.. I will see you later and we can discuss further. I will come back once you're done catching up. Is that okay?"

As he says the last part I see the spark in his eyes.

"Yes, of course Captain Rogers. I appreciate your understanding."

I smile back at him shyly and after I do so he looks back to Wanda and Vision standing in my doorway.

"Alright then", he stands up from my bed and walks towards the door. Vision and Wanda move away a bit to give him space.

He turns back to me and says "I will see you soon then. I have some stuff I need to handle now..." He smiles at me shyly but Wanda and Vision don't see.

I am still sitting on my bed as Wanda walks towards me.

"Maddie! Come up here! Give me a hug! It's been so long, I've missed you!"

I stand up and she pulls me into a warm embrace. Behind her I can see Vision staring at me, probably trying to figure out what just happened here.

He's not the only one who would like to know.

What did just happen here?

Wanda sits down next to me on the bed and we catch up.

She tells me stories about her latest adventures and I listen as attentively as I can.

In the back of my mind I am still thinking about Steve and the way he was kissing me just a few moments ago.

She introduces me to Vision and they talk for a bit and although they are very sweet and interesting, I am still thinking about Steve. I feel guilty but I just can't keep my mind off him.

After a while Vision leaves to go work in the lab and I am left with Wanda. She turns to me.

"So. Vision is not human and doesn't understand these things. But I know what I saw. Now that he left... tell me everything."

I look back at her with a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

I try to sound nonchalant but by the look on her face I am failing. She grins at me and taps me slightly on the shoulder.

"Maddie! Stop playing! Steve Rogers was sitting on your bed when I walked in! You can't fool me!"

She looks at me and her gaze is locked in. I try to avoid her eyes but there is no way. I'm not getting out of this.

"Well..." I say.

I look down at my fingers as I twiddle my thumbs and I can feel my cheeks blushing.

I look back up at my beautiful friend who has been one of my closest confidants since I gained my powers. Wanda knows, she understands everything I went through. We shared many memories and thoughts during my trainings and I do trust her more than anyone right now.

I look away for a bit to gather my thoughts and as I look back at her she looks at me with expecting eyes.

"He kissed me."

Her eyes go wide and she slaps my thigh a little harder than I would have liked and yells "WHAT!"

She looks me up and down with a surprised look on her face and once again I have to look away as to not blush.

When I turn back to look at her she grabs my hand.

"Maddie. That's crazy. Do you understand what this means?"

I furrow my eyebrows and look back at her, "No, what does it mean? What do you know?"

She sighs and gathers her thoughts before replying, "Steve Rogers met the presumed love of his life during World War II. He went in the ice and came back seventy years later only to find her old and having had a husband and family. He never moved on. He has never loved anyone else. Either this is very important to him or you are just a distraction to him. I know how you have felt because you've told me however you need to figure out whether this is real for him or just a distraction before this goes any further."

I look Wanda in the eyes to try and study what she really means but she is sincere. All I get from her is honesty. I look down to my hands and realize what a bad mistake I've made.

I don't want to be Captain America's distraction.

I don't want to be anyones distraction.

As I look at Wanda and the serious look on her face I realize I must distance myself from whatever entanglement this would have been until I know what he wants for sure.

[mithrilwren]

Fanfic ask game for procrastinating on writing, which as of this week is actually accurate, since I’m finally writing again! (or, more specifically, editing what I wrote two months ago so I can get back to writing.)

Tagged by @essektheylyss! Thank you, this is exactly the kind of activity my brain needed tonight.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

72! I was hovering at 69 for quite a while, sad to break the streak haha

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

~550K, which is somehow both more and less than what I expected

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Many, lmao. According to my Ao3 (omitting any blanket tags) I’ve got 22 there, plus at least two more over on ff.net from back in the day, and probably a couple more just on Tumblr. Most of them I’ve only written one fic for, though. I think the only fandoms where I’ve written more than one are Critical Role (35), Supernatural (15), Haikyuu!! (3), The Exorcist (2), Dimension 20 (2), and Yu-Gi-Oh! (2)

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Pick a Number, Any Number

Surprisingly, my number one is NOT a Critical Role fic, nor is it even one of my longer multi-chapters! It’s actually a one-shot I wrote for Haikyuu!! back in the day that took off far beyond what I expected. I wrote it for DaiSuga week, which was a ship I (to be completely honest) wasn’t even terribly invested in, but I had a fun idea and people seemed to like it! (It’s also much fluffier than what I usually write, which might be part of its broader appeal ;))

A Winter’s Ball

Unsurprisingly, the next four are all CR ;). This one was a M9 x VM crossover that I primarily wrote between the hours of 3-8am over the course of two insomnia-wracked nights and honestly, I think it shows in its uncharacteristically unstructured format (compared to my typical style, which tends to favour shorter scenes with very intentionally-placed breaks between, as opposed to scenes that flow into each other without pause). That’s not to say I think it’s a bad thing! The story, which follows Beau as she drifts through a party in Whitestone and observes the interactions between the various guests, actually flows better without that kind of interruption. This was also my first Beaujester piece. I started writing it right before Beau’s confession aired, and published it the week after, which definitely pushed me to make what had been only subtextual in the first half of my draft into the emotional lynchpin of the story.

Only the Nightingale Sings

I’m really glad this one still ranks as high as it does, because this story is absolutely my pride and joy. At one time (though I’m not sure that’s true anymore) it was the longest gen fic in the fandom, which is pretty cool! Plot-heavy, twist-heavy, angst-heavy, with seven points of view to follow and multiple interwoven storylines, it was a beast of a thing to write, and took almost exactly a year to finish, but the long process was oh-so worth it. Literally nothing makes me happier today than seeing a new comment or kudos on this story.

Closer Still

One of my earliest shadowgast fics, this one asks the question “how can you make the ‘stuck in an elevator trope’ fantasy?” The answer is, as always, demiplanes. This fic, perhaps more than any of my other shadowgast fics, is interesting to revisit, because it was written before the ep 97 reveal, but literally everything Essek does in it would suggest otherwise. It reads like I already knew he was a spy working with Trent, and yet I was firmly in the “Essek is NOT the spy” camp at the time. Gotta chalk that up to Matt telegraphing his growing guilt into the preceding episodes - even if I couldn’t see it, it was clearly there.

your dust from mine

My other novel-length CR multichapter, this fic brought me so much joy in the otherwise bleak summer of 2020. Most of my best memories of those four months come from working on this story. A Fjorclay adaption of The Goose Girl (my favourite fairytale) this story is about healing, growth, and figuring out what happiness means to you. While I know most people don’t read stories for this pairing anymore, for obvious reasons, I still cherish your dust from mine for how much of my heart I poured into it, and I look back on it with a huge amount of fondness.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my absolute best to respond to every comment someone leaves on a story of mine, even if it occasionally takes a month or two. Replying to comments is one of my favourite parts of the fic-writing process - it gives me a chance to revisit peoples’ kind words and (often, incredibly insightful) observations, and I hope it also shows how appreciative I am of each and every one. 

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Though I write a lot of angst, I honestly tend more towards bittersweet endings than straight-up sadness. The only one I can really think of is What You Own - mind the tags if you follow the link, this is definitely one of the gnarlier things I’ve written for CR - whose ending is, admittedly, bleak. But this story so far removed from canon that I don’t think it’s the kind of angsty ending that lingers with you, as much as it packs a punch and then lets you go on your way.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I tend to enjoy thinking about crossovers moreso than actually writing them. I’ve brainstormed a few, but none have ever made it much farther than the first page.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A few times! Not often, thankfully. Only one time in particular really sticks out to me, mostly for how it rocked my confidence in a way that I don’t think any comment could now, since I’ve had a few more years to build up faith in my own writing.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Very, very occasionally.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not! 

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh man, back in the Glee days... yeah. Yeah, I have. Nothing that ever got published, though ;)

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Not sure I have one! Ships come and go with the seasons, and sometimes they’re best left in the era you found them.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Shadowgast figure skating AU. It’s never going to happen, but I wish it had.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I would say probably structure, in terms of constructing narrative arcs and through-lines. I’m organized with my writing in a way that I am in few other areas of my life, haha. I’d also say my sense of place - I think I’m pretty good at constructing living, breathing settings and exploring how my characters interact affect/are affected by them.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to be wordy (which you might surmise from the length of this post, lol) and repeat myself, usually by going over emotional beats that don’t need the extra reinforcement. On the other hand, I tend to underexplain certain elements (particularly, important plot details in fic, and character motivation in original writing), which can lead to confusion.

A couple years ago I would have said dialogue, but I’ve put a lot of practice into it and I honestly think I’ve improved a lot, which is pretty cool!

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve never done it myself, and it’s not generally my favourite thing to read (like @essektheylyss said, it makes me hyper-aware that I’m reading words on a page, especially if I have to follow a footnote somewhere). That said, I’ve definitely also seen it used effectively, so I think it’s more down to whether it suits the particular story!

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

As mentioned above, Only the Nightingale Sings.

[upamongthestarss]

Perfect Timing//Bill Denbrough x fem reader

Please be kind! This is only my second time publishing on tumblr, so I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but here we are!

Warnings: smut, brief mention of fem oral receiving, swearing, mild angst, underage drinking

Spring break came way too slowly, especially for Y/n. Freshman year of college is said to be one of the best years of your life, but it’s definitely the worst. Her high school was entirely too easy for her, probably because her teachers were just idiots. Then college hit, and the workload was unbearable. Not to mention, she grew homesick for her parents and her best friends and even a tiny bit for Bill. 

Oh, how she hated Bill back home. 

Well, okay, she didn’t hate him, it was more of just a mutual tension that sometimes led to the Losers separating them at all costs. 

They went on a few dates freshman year, and even kissed once, but it all ended when popular Autumn asked Bill to “help her with English” at lunch one day. He completely forgot to tell Y/n, but didn’t think much of the whole affair anyway. When Y/n walked out of the lunch line, she smiled at her newly official boyfriend. He was hunched over a piece of paper, diligently writing with ginger hair falling into his eyes. When Autumn saw her coming over, she tapped Bill on the shoulder, and kissed him full on the mouth when he turned to her.

Y/n’s hands went slack, causing her tray to clatter to the ground. Tomato soup splattered all over her new white Keds. She obviously looked down to see the damage, and missed Bill pushing Autumn off of him. He went over to check on her and help her clean up, but she stormed off to the bathrooms. 

From then on out, there’s been so much tension between them. Even though Bill explained what happened countless times, she’s absolutely refused to listen. She’s had trust issues after her biological father cheated on her mother when she was little, and this, well, this basically made them inflate like the economy. She wasn’t on speaking terms with him until the end of the school year, and even then their friendship was rocky.

But there was also a sexual tension. Bill and Y/n still had blatantly obvious feelings for each other, whether they wanted to admit or not. In fact, they even went to senior prom together, but it ended in disaster. There was a dramatic exit from Y/n when he mentioned how he was on good terms with Autumn now, and she was really sorry for what happened. 

“Why the hell would you bring that up now?” Y/n rose from her seat.

“B-b-because she t-told me she w-wanted us to-”

“Can’t we just completely forget what happened back then? It was so long ago.”

Bill flushed. “Well, it r-r-really seems l-like you’ve n-n-never forgotten ab-about it these past th-three years.”

She threw her napkin on the table and left after saying, “You’re a dick.”

That night she vented to Eddie and ultimately admitted to having feelings for him, but he knew that all along anyway.

That night was the last time they talked until it was time for Bill to leave for NYU.

“Good luck,” she told him, bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously. 

“Th-thank you, Y/n, y-you too!” he was so excited that day that he even pulled her into a hug, much to her surprise (and delight). 

And now, here she is, on the plane to Palm Springs. It’s a long flight from Marywood, so Y/n uses her time to finish her homework. She’s majorly jetlagged by the time she lands at Palm Springs International. Luckily, the cab ride isn’t ridiculously long. When she gets to Richie’s beach house, he’s on the porch with his feet up and a daiquiri in hand.

“Y/N!!!!” he shouts, putting his drink to the side and running down the stairs.

“RICHIE!!!!” she yells back, dropping her bags to run and hug him. 

“Oh, it’s been so long!”

“I know!! And holy shit, your house is gorgeous!”

“I’m telling you, Y/n, I lucked out so much by scoring that audition. Can you believe it? Rich Records Tozier, the nation’s youngest beloved DJ.”

“Hardly,” she chuckles. “So how is the life of fame treating you?”

“Oh, brilliant. Come on in, I’ll give you a tour,” he scoops up her bag and leads her to the door. It’s an incredible house, with a beautiful kitchen and even a movie theater. 

“And here’s your room,” he gestures to the first door upstairs. 

“May I?” she asks, hand on the doorknob. 

“Be my guest.”

She swings it open to a redheaded girl on one of the two beds. She looks up from her magazine, smirking. “Hey, roomie!”

“Bev!” Y/n shrieks as her best friend runs to her and practically knocks her over. 

“When did you get here?!” 

“About an hour ago. Stan’s here too, but he’s taking a nap.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Y/n grins mischievously. 

“Everyone else is supposed to get here tomorrow morning, except for Mike. He’s coming tonight.”

“Oh, thank God. No Bill for a half day more.”

“Oh, Y/n, don’t be so close-minded,” Bev giggles and they sit down on the same bed, bursting with so much to catch up on. Richie doesn’t know if he should sit down with them or just go back to his daiquiri, but the doorbell rings.

“Saved by the bell,” he says, getting the side eye in response. 

The girls talk for hours until they decide to say hello to Mike. Y/n stops at the bathroom first, and it takes her a while to find the kitchen after that. She has to follow the voices and Richie’s booming laugh.

“Sorry, I got lost,” she says, turning in the kitchen. “Hi, Mi-”

The third person talking to Richie and Beverly is not Mike.

It’s Bill. And she looks like a total bum in her old sundress and messy ponytail. She isn’t wearing a drop of makeup, either.

“Y/n.”

“Bill. Good to see you,” she holds out her hand professionally. He shakes it.

Is it good to see him? Looking at his cerulean eyes certainly sends butterflies through her stomach and through… other parts of her body.

“Y-you too.”

That immaculate stutter. She sits down at a barstool and crosses her legs together tightly. Richie and Beverly are quick to notice it, but restrain from commenting.

“I thought you were coming in tomorrow morning?” 

She doesn’t sound rude or accusatory, just curious.

“M-my flight got c-c-cancelled.”

“Okay, gotcha.” 

She drums her fingertips on the counter restlessly, not really knowing what else to say.

Luckily, Richie has a plan in case things get awkward between these two- and he’s already having to use it.

“Anyone want a drink?”

************************

“Nursing school is so insane. In anatomy, our teacher dissected a literal human body, and we had to examine it.”

“Eddie, please. We’re eating,” Y/n coughs. 

“It was disgusting, but it was also fascinating,” he defends himself.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Ben shrugs. 

“Y/n, tell us more about Marywood,” Eddie says, but she’s way too busy watching Bill talk to Richie’s cute next door neighbor while holding her little sister.

“You’re so good with her!” she simpers, tossing her shiny brown hair.

“Y/n? Earth to Y/n?”

“What?” 

“How’s Marywood?” 

“Oh, it’s… fine.”

“Just fine? Did you pick a major yet?”

She shakes her head.

“What about that guy? Are you still with him?”

“David? No, we were together for a while, but I guess the spark just kinda died. I mean, he initiated the breakup, but it was all mutual.”

Eddie squirts a dollop of sunscreen the size of a clementine in his hand. “That sucks. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” Y/n shrugs, averting her gaze back to Bill. She’s very glad that she's wearing sunglasses, to hide her stares.

The cute girl was right, he is good with that little girl. Her heart would be melted, but Bill keeps flirting with the older sister. It’s disgusting.

And then, that girl has the audacity to drop the rattle she shook in the baby’s face. Y/n is close enough to hear the conversation, or at least read lips.

“Oh, l-l-l-let m-me get that.”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” she smiles, bending over so stealthily so that her breasts are all but out of that bikini.

“Ugh,” Y/n rolls her eyes.

“What’s up?” Ben asks.

“Nothing. I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” she stands up and walks almost catatonically to the door.

Instead of going to the bathroom, she finds a glass and slams it on the table. 

“D-damn, Y/n. That’s n-n-not a napkin, you kn-know.”

She jumps at Bill’s voice. He obviously followed her in, and she’s not too thrilled about it.

“Funny,” she replies, searching the cabinets. “Do you want anything?”

“I-I was ac-actually getting d-drinks.”

“Oh, for you and your new girlfriend? Hey, let me know when the wedding is. That is, if I even get on the guest list.”

“What’s your p-p-problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Y/n finds a bottle of straight vodka and pours it right in the glass.

“Hey, its eh-eh-eleven AM,” Bill warns her, reaching for the glass. Unfortunately, their hands grab for it at the same time and it goes crashing to the ground. 

“Great, thanks,” she says.

“I didn’t w-want you to be w-w-wasted all d-day.”

“Listen, Bill,” she takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate your concern. I do. But it’s my life, and if I want to get wasted this early, then no one should stop me.” 

He doesn’t answer. They both grab rags and start to clean up around their feet.

“Th-this kind of r-r-reminds me of a certain sit-situation involving t-tomato soup,” Bill risks saying.

It was a terrible idea.

“Are you kidding me? I thought we moved on from that!”

“Yeah, so w-w-we can j-joke about it now!”

She’s silent for a minute, a blend of wrath and sadness.

“Just,” Y/n says, “Just go back out with your girlfriend.”

“I-I-I h-hardly know- o-okay, what the hell is y-y-your problem? We’re n-not together an-anymore!!! You sh-sh-shouldn’t c-care about my l-l-love life.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” she stands up, vodka dripping from the rag to her toes. “I don’t care that I shouldn’t care. I do care! I’ve always cared!” 

Bill is speechless, and she honestly doesn’t blame him. Y/n assumes he doesn’t feel the same about her. After all, they haven’t dated since freshman year. Sighing, she puts the rag in the sink and walks back outside.

She’s opening up her book and lying on her stomach to get a tan when Y/n hears an obnoxious “Excuse me?”

She looks up to the girl, who could literally be a bikini model.She looks at Y/n like she’s a piece of dirt, and Y/n just wants to smack her. She could never hurt anyone, though.

“Um, do you know when Bill will be back with the drinks?”

“Not a clue.”

******

Bill absolutely could not stop thinking of Y/n all day. He never really can, ever, but his thoughts have been out of control all damn day. They range from wild fantasies to regrets from way back when to just simply: She still likes me, she still likes me, she still likes me!!!!

He wants more than anything to talk to her and confess he’s been in love with her since high school, maybe even before that. But some small voice in Bill’s head tells him that even if she does have feelings, she won’t want to act on them. After all, he’s been nothing but an asshole to her.

Then again, so has she.

It’s really ironic that they’re so abrasive towards each other. Y/n is so kind and friendly to everyone she meets; that’s why Bill fell for her. And everyone tells him that he’s nothing but a sweetheart. And he’s always treated his every girlfriend like a princess. 

But it’s Y/n he wants as a girlfriend, and it always has been. 

Y/n comes running down the stairs, using the bansiters to prop herself up and skip the last couple steps. She’s been strangely lighthearted after she made that confession to Bill. It had been a weight on shoulders for the longest time, after all. And now that it’s out of the bag, she feels as if she can finally move on.

Holy shit, she’s so cute, Bill says to himself. She has this youthful energy, but the looks of a gorgeous young woman. Not to mention her outfit- a pastel yellow halter top, short jean shorts, and a sky blue scrunchie- looks magnificent.

“Okay, I’m ready to go!” she grins widely. “Sorry for the holdup!”

“You’re good,” Richie replies. “We were just figuring out transportation, considering I can only take five of us in my car.”

“I don’t mind taking the trunk,” Y/n shrugs. “Anyone else?” 

“I will,” Beverly volunteers. 

“Okay, great, and five of you can squish in the backseat. Mike claimed shotgun earlier.”

Everyone else groans while he flashes a smile and gives them finger guns.

“So charming,” Bev laughs and grabs Y/n’s hand. They run out to the car and squish in the trunk.

“Bev, I have to tell you something,” Y/n whispers.

“What?”

“I’m still not over Bill.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” she responds sarcastically.

“How did you know that? I only told Eddie!”

“It was just a little obvious,” she laughs. “And the good news is that we all think he feels the same way!”

“I don’t think he does, Bev,” Y/n shakes her head.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I told him today-”

“You what?”

“Shush!” she scolds as the boys get in the car. Luckily they’re all talking and can’t hear the girls if they whisper. “It just sort of... slipped out. But he didn’t even say anything. He just kind of… froze? It was so awkward.”

“You know he’s a little awkward around girls that he likes.”

“Is he, though?”

“Sure he is!”

“I don’t know, Bev. He stood there for a full thirty seconds without saying anything, and he just let me leave,” Y/n explains. “I think if he really liked me, he would have told me by now.”

Beverly gets quiet. “I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Hey, it’s okay! The timing was never right, and that- that happens. And it’s better I know now so I’m not hung up on him for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the drive is mostly just Beverly telling Y/n that there’s someone out there for her, and to keep her eyes open at the restaurant. 

It’s a bright restaurant, very tropical and very flamboyant. A lush plant, obviously made of silicon, is the centerpiece of every table. 

Good, it can hide me from Bill and spare my embarrassment, Y/n thinks as she sits opposite him. Unfortunately, Ben asks the hostess to take it away so he can see everyone. Y/n is mortified. Being directly across from her, he can watch and judge the girl the entire dinner.

She tries her hardest the whole meal not to pay Bill any mind, but it gets difficult when he starts getting tipsy. And drunk Bill can be wild. Singing and dancing on the tables wild. Luckily he isn’t at that point yet.

She doesn’t even know how he was able to buy drinks here; he’s only nineteen. The waitress must have a crush on him or something. Maybe she and Richie’s neighbor could start a Bill fanclub.

Y/n has a feeling the waitress would ask for her ID, though, so she sticks to soda. And three Shirley Temples is never good on anyone’s bladder.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces. “Anyone else?”

Everyone shakes their heads. Everyone except…

“Me! M-m-me!” Bill waves his hand around like a hyper child.

“Great, I’m a babysitter now,” Y/n murmurs.

She starts walking to the bathroom, Bill hot on her heels. Surprisingly enough, when she finishes peeing, he’s actually waiting for her. 

“F-f-finally. G-g-girls take so long in the buh-buh-bathroom.”

She ignores him.

“Y/nnnnn,” he slurs. “I’ve been m-m-meaning to t-t-tell you, your a-a-ass looks fantastic in th-those shorts.”

“Because that’s not a rude thing to say at all,” she replies, feeling her face burn up.

“I’m n-n-not trying to be r-rudeeee,” Bill grabs her waist and pulls her in. Y/n can smell all the alcohol on his breath, and it’s disgusting. He kisses her full on the mouth.

She shoves him off, embarrassed by his behavior. “You’re drunk.”

“If b-b-being drunk makes me w-w-want to m-make out with you, I-I-I never want t-to be so-sober.”

That hits Y/n hard. Bill Denbrough wants her. But only when he’s drunk. 

He doesn’t love her in his right mind. This is all she has, and she can’t even fathom just taking advantage of him when he’s drunk. Using someone would hurt her in such an inexplicable way, and not to mention it would tear whatever small bond she had with Bill into shreds.

She plops back down in her seat, barely touching the rest of her food or speaking for the rest of the night.

When she gets to her shared room with Bev, Y/n takes a shower. She’s always loved showers because they’re a place where you can cry without risk of anyone hearing over the water running.

And that’s exactly what Y/n does. She lets the tears stream down her face, washed away by the showerhead’s water.

*******

Bill knows he got plastered last night, so it’s no surprise when he wakes up with a pounding headache. But he isn’t sure why Y/n is so quiet, especially around him. Usually she has a remark or at least a glare for him, but she seems almost meek today.

He pulls Beverly aside at one point, and asks if he did anything to her last night.

“I don’t know, Bill. You guys went to the bathroom at the same time, and when you came back, Y/n seemed really upset.”

“L-l-like angry, or s-sad?”

“Sad. But she didn’t tell me anything that happened. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“It’s o-o-okay. Th-Thanks, Bev.”

He spends the rest of the day trying to remember something- anything- from last night. Bathrooms. Bathrooms.

There are some vignettes. Y/n across from him, in that pretty top. Watching her ass as she walked to the bathrooms. 

Oh, shit. Bill made some sort of comments about those shorts. What happened after that? He kissed her, didn’t he? But why would that make her sad?

When evening rolls around, Bill still doesn’t remember anything new. He’s the only one in the living room, not even paying attention to the TV. His friends come bounding down the stairs, all wearing sneakers and athletic outfits.

“A-a-are you g-guys going somewhere?”

“Yeah, to the new rope climbing place,” Stan replies. 

“Where’s Y/n?”

“She has vertigo, and wanted to stay here. We thought you could stay here so she’s not alone all night.”

“You d-d-didn’t th-think about asking me f-first?”

“We drew names out of a hat,” Beverly steps in. “You just weren’t around when we did it.”

“Isn’t that a l-l-little ruh-rude to Y-Y/n? One of us is g-g-going to st-stay with her instead of h-having fun?”

“No, Bill, it was the opposite!” Richie tries to save the group, much to their chagrin. “We were voting on who didn’t get to stay home with Y/n. And you won! You get to!”

“Wh-what i-if I want to donate m-my win?”

“Doesn’t work like that. Wins are final.”

It’s all BS, and Bill knows it. There never was a hat draw, everyone knows that Bill and Y/n have a lot to work out, and they don’t want the two to go back from spring break with even more animosity for each other. 

Also, they know that the two have feelings that have been expressed so wrongly over the years. Maybe now it’s time to work them out.

“So we’re going to head out now; have fun with Y/n!” Eddie waves, and they run out excitedly.

 Bill sighs, not knowing what he’s going to do with Y/n all night. Maybe she’ll just be antisocial and hide in her room all night, but he personally hopes she won’t. He decides to hang out by the pool for a while, and changes into his swim trunks.

By the time he gets outside, though, Y/n is already there. She’s hugging her knees to her chest and watching the little waterfall intently.

“Hey,” Bill says, making her jump.

“Hey.”

“C-c-can I join you?”

She nods. 

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

“B-because I w-w-won their ‘contest,’”

“Contest?” she shakes her head, not understanding.

“To b-b-babysit you, ap-apparently.”

“Ah. Sounds legitimate.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just lets the sounds of the waterfall and the faint grasshoppers fill the silence. He’s sure Y/n doesn’t mind, though. When everyone else complained about the summer grasshoppers as kids, she would always dote on how they’re melodious and comforting.

Bill can’t hold himself back any longer.

“Y/n, what d-d-did I do l-last night?”

She turns to him. “You really don’t remember?”

“I re-remember making a com-comment, which I-I’m sorry about b-by the way, th-that was an a-asshole move. And I-I remember kissing y-you. But then what?”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n continues. “Well, then I pushed you off and told you that you were drunk.”

She pauses.

“And th-then?”

“Then you said, ‘If I want to make out with you when I’m drunk, then I don’t ever want to be sober.’”

That’s it? Bill thinks. He’s not stupid enough to voice his thoughts, luckily.

“Oh, Y-Y-Y/n, I w-w-was drunk. I d-didn’t know what I w-w-was saying.”

“Listen, Bill. I know you remember what I told you yesterday in the kitchen. And what you told me at the restaurant really hurt, okay?”

“Why? I-I wanted to k-k-kiss you,” he asks, genuinely confused.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes!” Y/n laughs incredulously. “You wanted to kiss me when you were drunk, not in your right mind!”

“I al-always want to k-k-kiss you in my right mind!”

“What?!” 

“I-I think I love you, Y/n.”

She’s frozen. Could he actually mean that? Has he been drinking again? Hearing that from Bill Denbrough has been her dream since… forever.

“I think I love you too, Bill.”

He jumps up from his lounge chair, and leans over Y/n. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and kisses her tenderly, gently. Her lips are just as soft as he remembers them to be all those years ago, softer than any other girl he’s kissed.

“Wow,” she beams as they pull apart. “I guess I knew this, but you’re a much better kisser than my ex.”

He laughs. “W-why, thank you. You’re n-n-not so bad y-yourself.”

“Thanks,” she giggles. “I just… I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like doing something crazy now, something outrageous.”

“L-like what?”

“Hm…” she thinks for a minute. “Do you want to go skinny dipping?”

“Okay, sure,” Bill chuckles. 

Grinning, she begins to peel off her one piece. She slips the straps off, and the rest slowly slides off her body. Her breasts are exposed first, then her stomach, then everything. Her skin is smooth and glorious.

Bill pulls off his swim trunks and throws them behind him. Y/n wants to tease him about his erection, but she’s way too shocked at his size.

They bask in the beauty of each other for a moment before they dive into the water, crisp and cool on their bare bodies. Y/n splashes Bill right in his face.

He pushes wet strands of hair from his ocean eyes. “H-how dare you?” 

“What are you going to do about it?” she taunts.

“This,” Bill says, throwing Y/n over his shoulder and taking her outside the water. She’s both screaming and laughing her head off at this point. He carries her all the way to the deep end and tosses her in. 

When she surfaces, Y/n makes sure to flip him off. 

“So r-r-rude.”

He cannonballs in, and they swim around, and eventually go under the waterfall. They end up making out and gasping for air.

“D-d-do you want to tuh-take this inside?” Bill whispers.

She nods, and they get out. As Y/n shivers, Bill gets them fluffy towels from a bin by the chairs.

Grabbing his hand, she pulls him through the sliding glass doors. They run around the house in nothing but towels, giggling and kissing and dripping pool water everywhere. The two finally make it to Bill’s room and go directly to the bed (after locking the door).

“Spruh-spread your legs,” Bill breathes in her ear, sending goosebumps up and down her body. 

She obeys and lets him kiss her knees, her thighs, and eventually her core. He pleases Y/n in a way her old boyfriend never did.

When she finishes, Bill holds her for a minute so she can catch her breath. Then, when he turns around to put on a condom, she moves against the wall.

“Oh, s-s-so you w-want wall sex n-now?” Bill raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Instead of using words, Bill throws Y/n up against the wall and kisses her roughly. Their tongues clash, and she loves every second of it. Then he goes in. He starts slow at first, but begins to pick up the pace with her approval.

“D-damn, you’re so t-t-tight,” he whispers while she keeps muttering his name.

“Probably because I wasn’t with someone as big as you before.”

Hearing that makes him turn redder than his hair. “Really?”

“Really,” she sighs. “Can you go a little slower?”

He listens to her, and almost screams in pleasure when she starts to suck on his neck.

They both finish in a couple minutes, and are pretty burned out- Y/n especially because she’s never made such rough love before.

She lies in his arms, back on the bed, and traces the love mark forming on his neck.

“I think I love you,” Y/n says for the second time tonight. 

“I-I th-think I love you t-too.”

They can’t help smiling for the umpteenth time in the past hour. Their stars had never aligned until now, and it couldn’t be a more perfect exchange of love. The wait was unbearable, but incredibly worth it. 

Y/n and Bill make each other feel whole, like there was a sort of void within each other, unfilled until now. 

“Hey,” Y/n’s voice is soft and gentle. “I’m so sorry about these past years. You know I have trust issues, but I took them too far and didn’t treat you right. And I’m so sorry.”

“I’m s-sorry, too. I’ve been an ass-asshole to y-y-you, a-and it’s m-m-my fault we broke uh-up in the f-first place.”

“Don’t say that,” Y/n frowns. “It was Evil Autumn’s fault.”

They chuckle. 

Resting her head on Bill’s chest, Y/n asks the dreaded question. 

“So what’s going to become of us? After spring break.”

Bill thinks for a minute, stroking her hair, and admits, “I don’t w-w-want us to c-c-cut each other off again.”

“Neither do I.”

“I think our sc-sc-schools are like t-t-two hours ap-apart; that’s n-not terrible.”

“It’s not,” Y/n agrees. “Maybe we could take turns driving every weekend, and find a halfway point or something.”

“A-an ex-exact halfway point,” Bill adds.

“An exact halfway point.”

They can make it work, they’ve got to. Both Bill and Y/n are extremely optimistic about the future ahead, now that every feeling has been sorted out between them. And even in the unfavorable event where things don’t work out, there will always be Palm Springs. 

Bill presses a kiss to her forehead. There’s not a chance that they won’t make it. The timing is finally, after all these years, perfect. 

[1dcraftawards]

October Author of the Month...

Drumroll please... our author of the month for October ended in a tie between three wonderfully talented authors!

@bopbopstyles @oh-honey-styles @stylishmuser

Congratulations to all three of these absolutely amazing girls! Check out our interviews with each of them below!

Author of the Month interview with @bopbopstyles !

Did you start writing fanfiction for One Direction, or was there another fandom that you wrote fanfiction for before this? The only fanfiction I’ve ever written has been 1D! I wrote Liam back in the day (oof) but now I’m a Harry girl - but I’ve been considering doing Niall at some point!

How old were you when you started writing fanfiction? I think I wrote some bits of fics back when I was probably 13 or so, but I wouldn’t really say I *wrote* fanfic at that time. I only started writing fanfic in January of this year, but started doing it a lot this summer.

What’s been your favorite fic that you’ve written to work on so far?100000% Rose Colored Glasses. I write historical fiction outside of my fanfic writing life, so RCG  was the combination of all the things I love: history, Peaky Blinders, boxer!Harry, and as my agent calls them “cinnamon roll boys”.  

Is there a fic that you really wanted to write, but you just never did? I have this idea for a time travel fic but haven’t decided if I want to take that idea and use it for a non-fanfic story or not yet, so I haven’t written it. It would definitely be a similar vein to RCG if I did write it though!

What’s your favorite trope to write? FRATBOY HARRY HOLDS MY HEART! (If you couldn’t tell by my multiple fratboy/college!harry fics lol) Also, friends to lovers. The pining. The character development. Ugh. I LOVE.

What’s your ideal space to write in? I can kind of write anywhere, but lately I’ve been writing the best in the evening on either my couch or at my desk! Just someplace that’s comfy and I can completely focus is the main thing. I’m also a bit coffee shop writer (but not when doing smut!!!!!!!)

What inspires you to write? Everything. Music is probably the biggest one, second would be television and movies. I love taking something creative someone else has done and twisting and reinventing it. But also things I see, people I know, my own experiences, art -- everything. (Bad For Me is literally based on my best friend, for example.)

Do you typically like to listen to music when you write? If so, what do you listen to? ALWAYS. I’m genuinely always listening to music, and it influences my mood and my writing, so it’ll change depending on the project and the scene. I’ve had playlists for some of my work, but a lot of times it’ll be some moody or lovey playlists I have, other times I’ll just listen to an album I’m loving on repeat. Completely depends! For Elevated Surfaces, for example, it was mostly written to frat party music because that’s where the story was set. You can check out my Spotify here if you want to see some of what I listen to!

Do you have any plans for any future fic ideas you’d like to pursue?I’ve been dying to write my Jane Austen series but haven’t gotten the time yet! It’ll take a while, so I’ve been putting it off, but I reaaalllyyyy want to do it at some point. There’s a couple others, but that’s one I really want to do at some point.

Do you have any advice for other writers in the fandom? Read, read, READ. That’s my advice for writers in general. Read widely (across genres, age groups, etc) and read critically! A lot of what I learned about how to write has come from analyzing books I read. I used to review books, actually, and it has definitely helped form how I write. I think for fan fiction specifically, though, I think a lot of people have a tendency to struggle with feeling pressured to write or rushed or judged for what they write. It’s definitely the result of the way we consume fan fiction, but I also think that it’s helpful to think about why you’re writing. For me personally, I write because it just genuinely brings me immense amounts of joy and I like sharing that with people. Writing for yourself takes a lot of the pressure off, I’ve found. It’s when you start writing for others that it can turn into a more difficult place. So: try to write for yourself first, before others!

How long does it normally take you, idea to posting, to post a fic?This completely depends on the fic! Once I get an idea I can write it pretty quickly, so I can churn out content quickly if I have the time. However, my pieces are long (most are in the 15-30k mark) which usually will take me a few days. Usually I’d say somewhere in the ballpark of like 10-20 hours total per one shot, but completely depends. Multi-chapter definitely take longer!Right now, for example, I haven’t written fanfiction in two weeks because I’m working on other projects. It really is dependent on what else I have going on in my life, because I also work full-time now, and so my posting has definitely declined in the past two months.

Is there a schedule you follow in terms of when you write? Or are you more impulsive and just write where and when you can? 100% impulsive, but mostly I write in the evenings and on weekends (aka when I’m not working). But no specific schedule -- I think if I schedule it then it takes some of the fun out of it.

What is one thing you wish you would’ve known before you started writing? How much FUN it is! I genuinely adore writing fanfiction and have made so many amazing friends through it. I wish I’d started earlier, in some ways.

What do you prefer writing, multi-chaptered fics or one shots? One shots for SURE. I don’t really plan on doing multi-chaptered again for a while, actually. Partly because it’s just more work, but also because it prolongs the wait for people to read it, and part of why I love fanfiction is the immediate gratification you get from it.

What was your favorite scene to write in “The Only Exception”?OOOOOH. I loved the early scenes when they were still getting to know one another. I’d say probably the scene from Harry’s release party and their emotional conversation after (from Ch.3) were really fun to write because they were so vulnerable. Also their fights. LOVED writing their fights. The Dunkirk premiere from Ch.3 and 4? One of my favorites. So probably the entirety of Ch. 3, I guess!

What is one moment from “Rose Colored Glasses” that you never got to write but wanted to? I struggled SO MUCH with their reunion scene. I re-wrote it like twice and played with a couple of different ways it was going to go, before settling on the final result. I had this one concept, though, where Cicely was going to ride her horse into Birmingham and Harry was going to be called to the stables to pick her up, and Cicely was going to just be so happy and excited to see him and Harry would be so overwhelmed he wouldn’t care about what his friends saw and would just be so tender with her.

What scenes/scenarios are most fun for you to write? I adore writing pining. The pining in Good Together is probably my favorite I’ve done -- the photo shoot scene? *collapses* I also love banter, which was one of the reasons Behind the Bar will always hold a special place in my heart.

Some readers are wary of leaving feedback because they're unsure how the writer will take it, how do you personally like to receive feedback? Do you want to be critiqued, or would you like to just know if they did or didn't enjoy what they've read? Feedback is literally what I thrive on. I’m in constant need of validation, to be honest, so please tell me when you like what I write! I love it! As far as types of feedback, I think that for my fanfiction, I’m not really posting it to get critiqued. Personally, it doesn’t help my writing in any way, because I’m writing for myself more than for others -- their enjoyment is just an additional plus. So I take critiques in kind of an “okay?” sort of way. It just doesn’t really affect me. I think the other thing about critiques (sorry I’m going off on this question lol) is that you don’t have to take them. I have people in my life whose opinions I trust and those are the people I want to critique my writing. The one caveat here is if my writing is offensive in any way. In that case, I want to be told so that I can fix it, learn from it, and make my future writing better. I will also say that I think part of it is that my fanfiction isn’t really the writing I’m the proudest of. I write outside of fanfiction, have an agent, etc. and so that part of my life is definitely what I care more about. For those projects, I desperately seek critiques, but from people whose opinions I trust!

Is writing a hobby or do you have aspirations of writing professionally outside of fanfiction? Writing professionally is the dream for me! My agent and I put my last project on submission but it wasn’t picked up, so I’m working on something new right now. Hopefully that will end up getting published, but we’ll see!

And finally, What's your purpose for writing? What do you hope to accomplish? I hope that my writing brings people joy and helps them learn something, whether that be about themselves or the world. Books are what helped me learn about the world and have brought me such happiness over the years, so I hope that mine can do the same. 

Author of the Month interview with @oh-honey-styles !

Did you start writing fanfiction for One Direction, or was there another fandom that you wrote fanfiction for before this? Just for Harry! He’s that obnoxiously endearing, isn’t he?

How old were you when you started writing fanfiction?Okay okay, I guess I wrote something that resembled fanfiction (non-Harry) when I was fifteen or sixteen. That was all extremely idealistic cringy teenage angst that will live under a rock for eternity. But as far as Harry fanfiction, it was about a year ago when I started ‘Met Your Match’.

What’s been your favorite fic you’ve written to work on so far? My personal favorite is ‘January in Japan’. It was the first time I really dreamt up and developed my OFCs. Between Harry’s healing from heartbreak storyline, as well as Stella’s strong, feisty personality, all mixed together against the backdrop of Japan. The entire vibe was, and still is, so special to me. Plus, Japan!H is something else - peak boyfriend material.

Is there a fic that you really wanted to write, but you just never did?I mean, sure, there are always ideas floating around. But nothing that’s really kept nagging at me.

What’s your favorite trope to write? Fluffy mutual pining between strangers/friends to lovers with a tiny dash of angst.

What’s your ideal space to write in? I don’t really have an ideal space! But I will say, I’ve found that writing tends to really flow during AM hours. I’ve written most of my stories laying in bed, in the dark, between the hours of midnight and 4AM.

What inspires you to write? That bloke Harry Styles is the most endearing menace, so he’s generally my number one inspiration. But I also have a few bad ass women that inspire me more than they’ll ever know. They are my ride-or-die encouragement whose writing and brilliant ideas continuously motivate me to be a better writer.

Do you typically like to listen to music when you write? If so, what do you listen to?This is probably an unpopular opinion, but I don’t! I do have artists/songs that inspire my stories (for example, The Sugarhill Gang for ‘Hazy’ and ‘Rise Up’ by Andra Day for ‘Black & Blue’). But for the most part, I love silence while writing.

Do you have any plans for any future fic ideas you’d like to pursue?At the moment I’m only focused on ‘Collide’. However, it really doesn’t take long for the bug to bite!

Do you have any advice for other writers in the fandom?Well, since I started writing, I’ve been extremely lucky to have amazing advice poured into me by some of the most phenomenal writers in the fandom. So I guess one thing I would pass along is that writing fic is meant to be fun! Continue to write as long as you’re truly, truly loving it. If you’re not having fun writing or enjoying the process, step away and circle back during another season in life. When fic becomes a stress or a burden, it’s time to step away.

What is your writing process like?Honestly? (insert cringe face) It’s a hot mess. I don’t typically do outlines and if I do, they’re always changing. I usually write raw dialogue first and then add in the rest. Sometimes I’ll write a scene out from beginning to end, but I’m generally filling in the gaps. I always keep a doc open on my phone for ideas that pop into my head throughout the day (a conversation or a visual). And then once a scene is completed, I send it off to my betas and they’re the ones who let me know if I’m completely off my rocker or not.

Is there a schedule you follow in terms of when you write? Or are you more impulsive and just write where and when you can?100% impulsive. I write and post when inspiration hits and when life allows it.

What is one thing you wish you would’ve known before you started writing? That once you start, you can’t stop. The writing bug is fucking relentless.

What do you prefer writing, multi-chaptered fics or one shots?All of the above! Multi-chapter fics are nice, having the freedom to really develop your characters as well as elaborate on a concept. But they’re definitely exhausting. And one-shots are such a good way to bust out an idea with no strings attached. I really enjoy writing both.

What has been your favorite scene to write so far in “Collide”?‘The Wedding’ has been my favorite scene in ‘Collide’ so far. I absolutely adored writing the initial nervous attraction between Harry and Franki. It’s really the initial point in the story where they start to realize that there may actually be deeper feelings there on both sides. Plus, who doesn’t love a nervous, flirty Harry?

What is one moment from “Met Your Match” that you never got to write but want to?Oh wow. ‘Met Your Match’ rounded out pretty well, but I guess I had one moment in mind that I never wrote. It was basically a scene where Harry and Kate are in LA on their way to a BBQ at Niall’s house. One way or another it comes out that Niall was Kate’s favorite during the 1D era. The scene would have included loads of teasing and maybe a tinge of jealous Harry.

What inspired you to write “Collide”? How did you come up with the story idea?The whole concept of ‘Collide’ came about when quarantine happened and the world went into lockdown. With there being hardly any new content, we were all basically just reblogging old Harry posts. So each part is inspired by and based off of a past Harry photo/event etc. It's been really fun to tie them all together in one story.

Some readers are wary of leaving feedback because they're unsure how the writer will take it, how do you personally like to receive feedback? Do you want to be critiqued, or would you like to just know if they did or didn't enjoy what they've read? Every writer loves feedback. Honestly, feedback is the most incredible gift a reader could give a writer. Pressing ‘post’ on your own blood, sweat and tears is one of the most nauseatingly nerve wracking things ever, so to be acknowledged for it (through messages and sharing) is priceless. As far as a critique goes, there’s a fine line. Personally, if there’s something I’m writing that’s offensive or off putting, I absolutely want to know (in a positive, uplifting, non-anon-asshole way). But if my story’s just not their cup of tea, I’d rather they move along to the next fic out there.

Is writing a hobby or do you have aspirations of writing professionally outside of fanfiction?Only a hobby!

And finally, What's your purpose for writing? What do you hope to accomplish? My purpose in everything I write is to provide a little escape for myself and my readers from this crazy world. Most, if not all, of my stories are meant to be lighthearted and fun - a decent way to step out of yourself for a short moment.

Author of the Month interview with @stylishmuser​ !

Did you start writing fanfiction for One Direction, or was there another fandom that you wrote fanfiction for before this?The first ever fanfic I wrote was actually for Gossip Girl. It was horribly written, but I had so much fun. After that I wrote Harry Potter fanfiction for about a year, and then I started getting into 1D, and I don’t imagine I’ll ever write for another fandom.

How old were you when you started writing fanfiction? I think I was a sophomore in high school, so… 16, maybe?

What’s been your favorite fic that you’ve written to work on so far?Oh this is hard to answer, to be honest. It probably sounds cliche but I’ve had a favorite aspect in every one of my fics. I think Timeless will always have a special place in my heart, but I have a favorite thing each one of them.  

Is there a fic that you really wanted to write, but you just never did?Oh hmmm I think there are a lot of tropes I want to try my hand at, but I don’t like writing a story that’s been done a million times before, so it’s kind of finding an aspect or angle to it to make it different.

What’s your favorite trope to write? Idk if it’s a trope but, angst with a happy ending!

What’s your ideal space to write in? Honestly, I can write almost anywhere. It just needs to be quiet. I like to write in my living room or at the kitchen counter at like 2 am when everyone else is asleep.

What inspires you to write? I really just like to tell stories. I think words kind of have this power to them. I also am inspired by Harry and Niall, their lifestyles/music/careers, and telling stories about/for WOC. When I was growing up, I always thought that people like me didn’t really deserve love stories. So I guess it’s kind of destroying that notion that inspires me too!

Do you typically like to listen to music when you write? If so, what do you listen to? I used to, actually. That first fic I ever wrote was fueled by listening to Mind of Mine on repeat haha. Now I like the quiet, but sometimes if I’m stuck I’ll listen to the playlist for whatever story I’m writing.

Do you have any plans for any future fic ideas you’d like to pursue? This made me laugh because I have four in my mind at any given time. You’ll have to wait and see what they are!

What is your writing process like? It goes something like this: vague idea > random scene ideas that bug me into writing it > visuals > outline > actually writing it.

Do you prefer Au or OU? I prefer OU because I like writing about the music aspect of the boys’ lives. AU is fun too, but it’s a lot more work in my opinion. It needs to be a specific idea or trope or I’ll just go with OU.

Is there a schedule you follow in terms of when you write? Or are you more impulsive and just write where and when you can? I try to keep myself to some sort of schedule, like 1000 words a night or 1 chapter per weekend or I get off track.

What is one thing you wish you would’ve known before you started writing? Oh hmm… I think I would go back and tell myself that it’s okay to want to write WOC characters and it doesn’t matter who likes it, or who doesn’t, or how many notes you get. I think it’s really easy for writers — no matter what they write — to feel like they aren’t living up to whatever popularity standards are going on in their fandom, but at the end of the day it’s about what YOU love to write about. That’s what makes a good story, in my opinion, and as a reader you can tell when an author is really putting their heart into something, and that’s kind of inspiring.

What do you prefer writing, multi-chaptered fics or one shots? Multi chapter. I freak out about one shots now because they end up being 15 or 20k words anyway when I write them haha!

What has been your favorite scene to write so far in “Rumor Has It”? I think my favorite scene from that story was either their first kiss, the morning after they get intimate for the first time, or the scene where Ishika comes clean to Harry about how she feels/why she lied. I remember those three scenes came so clearly to me, I was just stabbing away at my keyboard like a cartoon.

You have such complex characters that readers adore, do you have any advice on planning well written and planned characters?  AH that is a very nice thing for you to say! Thank you! I like to think of characters in terms of fatal flaws. It sounds weird but like: What makes your character cry? What keeps them up at night? What makes them happy, or mad? What makes them, them? That’s kind of how I approach it. It’s kind of finding a balance of those characteristics and ‘why are you so frustrating I want to THUMP you’ and ‘I adore them, let’s protect them at all costs.’

What inspired you to write “Kiss and Cry”? How did you come up with the story idea? So I watched this show called “Spinning Out” on Netflix and kind of geeked out about figure skating. I knew nothing about it, which is kind of what got me thinking, this would be cool to learn about and writing for me is the best way to learn. At first I was like, nobody cares about a figure skating fic, and then I was like: good, write it. So here we are!

Some readers are wary of leaving feedback because they're unsure how the writer will take it, how do you personally like to receive feedback? Do you want to be critiqued, or would you like to just know if they did or didn't enjoy what they've read? I think feedback is a really personal thing, but there’s a really fine line (haha) approaching it. I really think constructive criticism is an important part of feedback — but it’s often done very poorly. There is a big difference between pointing out to an author what they could’ve done better, or even asking why they wrote something the way they did (because I promise you, they did it the way they did for a reason), and simply telling them they are either a bad writer, have poorly written something, or something worse because god knows we’ve all gotten it lmao. For me, I don’t mind either. But if you’re going to criticize my writing, do it one on one, not on anon where you can add a bite to your words. Feedback is kind of a two way conversation, and I think that’s often forgotten about — especially on Tumblr. And it’s very, very obvious when people do want to act unkind, and say unkind things behind the anon veil on purpose. It’s ok not to like the way someone wrote something, but it’s not ok to be vicious about it, ESPECIALLY on anon. That just makes you a coward. I guess my rule of thumb is: Is what you’re typing out going to hurt the person on the other end? Is it worth it to do that? Or can you reword it in a way that starts a conversation instead of bullying someone for putting their work out there, something that’s vulnerable no matter how many times you do it.  But, this is just how I feel. Every writer is different (and valid!)

Is writing a hobby or do you have aspirations of writing professionally outside of fanfiction? I’d love to write professionally one day! We’ll see what happens. I think whether it happens or not, I just love it so much, I’ll do it for a long time because it’s a big part of who I am.

And finally, What's your purpose for writing? What do you hope to accomplish? My purpose of writing… that’s so philosophical. I guess, I honestly just like to tell stories that are important to me, and remind people that life sucks but it’s also pretty damn good at times too. I hope to keep making myself happy writing whatever it is I’m writing, and challenge myself to try my hand at stuff that’s daunting, and hopefully people like what I’m doing and if not, that’s ok, because I do! And to remember that’s my real purpose for writing, it’s never been a numbers game or keeping score, it’s been about telling stories that I love crafting.

[heyitsyn]

ehehehe so like my entire fyp in tiktok is just ‘in another life’ bokuaka angst videos and idk if ive just plunged deep into haikyuu tiktok or its telling me a sign like PLS I DONT KNOW WHY THESE VIDEOS ARE FOR MEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!

(it doesnt help that i literally reread it like a few hours ago so the fbi might be stalking me and hacking into my fyp to switch it to in another life content)

(jk yall should actually read it if you havent and i mentioned it in my bokuto one and everyone lost their minds so that should tell yall how good it is 😂)

i started sobbing around 1/4 of the story and i even surprised myself bc i didnt know that i was that much of a crybaby or its just bokuaka or just bokuto being like that in general. i dont wanna spoil anything but in my future works, its going to be heavily referenced just bc of how beautiful the entire fanfic is and it just took over my life and i cant stop thinking about it and i read it like forever ago so imma just put it out there and i got to go so byeeeeeeeeee

(totally didnt just write all this so that the fbi in my house could see this and notice that i actually dont want to see anymore of this sad angst content on my fyp and hope they would stop soonnnnn)

p.s. the story is in ao3 by littleluxray (such a phenomenal writer like she could change their names and just publish it as a short story) and has about 22,000 words but just one chapter so its a ‘quick’ read 

p.p.s. dont read it if youre already sad bc it doesnt hit as different as it would if you were completely fine and happy and you would get sadder and i dont want you to become sadder :(. and make sure youre not around people bc you will literally bawl your eyes out like full on sobbing and crying and whining (the sounds and stuff) and have something to wipe your eyes and screen with bc you need to continuously get rid of the tears to prepare your face for the next round

okay thats it byeeeeee

[smoochkooks]

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst 

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed. 

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

 May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

 Park Jimin

 Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

[jksmoongf]

Kissing Fire [pt. 12] *final*

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x girlfriend (oc) Genre: cheater!AU, angst, smut Wordcount: 16.7k Warning: smut, lies, heartbreak and more lies and maybe fluff if you squint

Summary: It always feels like there is only one person in the world to love. And then you find somebody else.

a/n: I don’t condone cheating on your s.o., so please don’t read if you have a problem with this! (also I’m not saying this is something Jungkook would actually do!) **a/n: It’s been a long time coming but it’s finally here and I really hope none of you are disappointed! As always, some feedback would be lovely! I wanna thank @struggleofarmy​ for always helping me, and encouraging me and sobbing with me through the long process of writing this chapter! Thank you D. - I love you!!! 💕💕💕 And I need to thank @jaxonah​ for her big brain and planning with me, literally, the entire fic ( y’all can thank her, bc Sammy inspired KF and without her, it would've never happened!) Thank you bby! I love you so much, you don't even understand!  💜💜💜

Warning chapter 12: crying (it’s an emotional rollercoaster or maybe just an angst-fest who knows), smut ( handjob (female/male receiving), minor tiddie play, grinding,  good ol’ vanilla sex with a surprise at the end, as always unprotected, but pls use protection ), profanities, fluff (you’ll need a magnifying glass to find it), Jk doing dumb irrational things (no spoilers on that tho) Song rec: Every Avenue - Between You and I (please listen to it, it’s beautiful and just reflects the entire fic so well. it really sets the tone for this last chapter.) 

Namjoon was hiding in his studio; hunched over, he cowered at his desk just tiredly scrolling through his favorite online clothing store. Distraction was his main priority at this point, he tried so hard to not overthink or go looking for more hateful comments that would send him into a downwards spiral. His face was hidden underneath the hood of his big comfy sweater, his eyes quickly scanned each item but ultimately deciding that he didn’t really like any of them enough to make a purchase. Whenever he stopped, his brain went into a frenzy the past few days, the exhaustion creeping up on him; he always thought he should have everything under control but the current situation proved him wrong. He felt powerless, not knowing how to handle all the negative articles that were being published in an abundance every hour. A weak knock made him flinch involuntarily, and when the door quietly opened bare feet waddling on the hardwood floor told him that he wasn’t alone anymore. “Hyung…” He knew the soft familiar voice all too well, but for reasons, he couldn’t explain goosebumps traveled down his back before he slowly spun around in his chair. The youngest was standing by the small wooden coffee table, dressed in all black as if he was mourning the death of a loved one and to a certain extent, Namjoon was sure, he was. He was mourning the loss of his relationship that had only just begun. “What’s up?” He had avoided being alone with the maknae; he didn’t quite know how to speak to him at this very moment in time. It was almost like an invisible barrier was separating them, making it awkward to even look him in the eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you…” “About what?” His heartbeat was quickening, Jungkook wasn’t a kid anymore but he still needed his older brothers, maybe now more than ever before. “You know…” He shuffled his feet, looking uncomfortable and out of place like he was about to change his mind and leave but he made his way around the table to sit down on the small couch. His eyes rested on him as he inhaled deeply to gain more time. “About everything that has been going on…I-I just want…” Without warning the younger boy bowed, averting his gaze to his knees. “I’m sorry, I really am.” “Jungkookie, don’t do that. You-“ The words got stuck in his throat, Namjoon knew how much it must have taken out of him to even come here and try to talk to him. Jungkook looked up to him, it wasn’t a secret that he had always had a big impact on the youngest member. But right now, the queasy feeling in Namjoon’s stomach made him feel like he failed not only as a role model but even worse, as a big brother. “No, I have to. I know, I disappointed you.” He wanted to object but couldn’t. As much as he blamed himself for what happened, he was disappointed in Jungkook and his reckless behavior. After all those years in the industry, he thought that all of them had a better understanding of how careful they had to be when it came to their privacy and personal lives. He wanted to chalk it up to Jungkook being young but he should’ve known better. 

“I hate to say it but you’re right.” A shaky breath left his lungs when he finally managed to speak, tearing down the wall that had kept all of his emotions and thoughts at bay. “I am disappointed in you. You know, I keep asking myself where it all went wrong…did we not teach you right from wrong? Did we, no - did I fail at teaching you that you need to be careful and that your personal life should never interfere with our job? Have you not learned anything from being in the industry for years? Why didn’t you think ahead? Why didn’t you delete those videos? Why did you even take them to begin with? Why didn’t you break up with your girlfriend before you started cheating on her? I have so many questions and I’m not even sure I want to know the answers because I’m afraid that it will hurt and cause more pain. You’re still my little brother but I’m questioning everything these days - I feel like I’ve failed you in so many ways.”

Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat; he didn’t know how or where to start with explaining himself. Did Namjoon even want to hear what he had to say? Would he even believe him? 

The palms of his hands were clammy as he folded them together to keep them from shaking. “Hyung, you didn’t fail just because I make mistakes. Please don’t blame yourself for something that I did…” He didn’t want to cry but the tears were already prodding at the corners of his eyes. All of them were mad at him and disappointed, it wasn’t just his image that was ruined, he tarnished the group's image forever with his stupidity. The voice inside his head that had been fairly quiet was getting louder with every second that passed - his heart hurt that he didn’t think far enough ahead to know that what they had been doing was reckless and could cause so much trouble and harm but alas, he knew that you’re always smarter looking back on your previous actions. 

“I do think I am at least partially to blame. I know, I have been busy and I wasn’t always there for you when you needed me for guidance but a part of me was hoping that you would make the right decisions regardless…I don’t want to lecture you, I don’t want to act like I can tell you what to do, Jungkook but I do feel responsible for you and your actions.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his fingers intertwined with each other, his nails pressing into the delicate skin on his knuckles. “I don’t condone that you cheated on Yina and lied to all of us for so long but I do understand that you fell out of love and fell in love with someone else. It hurts that you didn’t think you could trust any of us enough to tell us or come to us for advice. We’re a family, yes, we will tell you the truth when you fuck up but we will always be here for you, we always have each other’s backs. I really thought you would have stopped for a moment to think of the consequences it could have when you took those videos but I guess, I expected too much from you. You’re only 22 years old and you are allowed to make mistakes but I just can’t help but think that somewhere along the way I messed up when you needed me.” Namjoon blinked when he saw a few stray tears rolling down Jungkook’s puffy cheeks; he didn’t want his words to hurt him but he needed to get them off his chest and if he didn’t do it now, he would probably never get a second chance. “You really didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t even know why I did most of those things. I know, I knew better even back then.” His hand automatically slid into the pocket of his hoodie to wrap around the white gold bangle, he had been carrying around ever since she gave it back to him two nights ago. “I know, I should’ve come to you, but at first I thought I just had a silly crush on y/n and it wasn’t even worth mentioning. I thought it would fade away over time but it didn’t, it only got stronger and I was too weak to fight my feelings and when we got into this web of sneaking around and lying, I just couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me because… I-I look up to you so much, what you think of me matters to me and seeing that look of disappointment on your face…I never wanted to see that…” He croaked, trying to dim the tears flowing down his face with his sleeve. “I just wanted all of you to be proud of me, especially you, hyung but I knew that once you found out about what I did, you would be ashamed so I kept it a secret.” It felt like someone was standing on his chest, making it harder to breathe with every word he spoke.

The countless times Namjoon had seen Jungkook cry before never hurt as much as it did now; he was breaking down in front of him. Tears spilling from the big brown eyes with no sign of stopping; he wanted to get up and comfort him but he couldn’t move, it was almost like he was glued to his chair; forced to endure the punishment of seeing the youngest falling apart. “Why did you take those videos and for goodness sake why didn’t you delete them right after?” “I don’t know, it was the only thing we had when we couldn’t be together. After y/n had taken the first video…it was exciting, I liked watching it back and I’m so stupid for not thinking that it could get me in trouble.” The pressure inside his head was building up rapidly as the tears just kept coming, making his vision blurry. “We were so caught up in our little bubble of lying that we thought we were safe. We had minor scares here and there but nobody ever caught us so it never crossed my mind that somebody might get a hold of those videos after we managed to keep us a secret for so many months.” 

The older one took the inside of his cheek between his teeth, index finger tapping on his lips. “When I think back to all the excuses you made to leave with her, or how many times I saw you two leaving rooms at the company, I never would’ve thought that you were capable of doing what you did…”

“I was selfish, I put myself first to get what I want. I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Yina’s heart and I felt horrible but I hurt her in so many ways and I know she will never forgive me and now I’m paying the price for what I’ve put her through.” His quivering lips pressed together tightly as Jungkook tried to stay in control of his body that was flooding with all the things he didn’t want to feel. “Y/n broke up with me…” He finally pulled the bracelet from his pocket, closing his eyes as his fingers traced the metal, wishing he could melt it to fix the cracks in his heart. “I deserve it, I don’t get to be happy after what I did and if I could turn back time and do the right thing - I would but I can’t. I deserve all the mean comments people are making about me, and they would rip me to shreds if they knew the whole story.” “You’ll have to forgive yourself; every day you’re growing and learning more. Next time you won’t make the same mistake again.” “How am I supposed to forgive myself when everyone hates me? Especially you guys…I can see it when you look at me, how disappointed and disgusted you are. You’re trying to be nice because we’re family but I broke your trust and I don’t even know how to fix things with Tae. He won’t even look at me, it’s like I don’t exist. I feel so lost, I want to fix everything but how do I do that? How do I get all of you to trust me again? How do I get Taehyung to forgive me? How do I make all the mean things people are saying go away? How do I get y/n back? I miss her.” In order to suppress a sob, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip - replacing the painful contractions of his heart with a stinging feeling that would soon subside.   A sigh escaped Namjoon’s lips before he rubbed his face with both of his hands. “I honestly wish I had the answers to all your questions but I think you need to focus on yourself right now. Be open and honest, not only with yourself but with the other members and you’ll see they’ll learn to trust you again. As for Taehyung, he needs time and you’ll just have to wait it out until he is ready to talk to you.” “W-wouldn’t it be easier if I just left the group? I don’t want to drag you down with me more than I already have.” He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the youngest statement. “Jungkookie, no! It’s either sink or swim and right now is the time to swim to stay afloat. You’ll have to fight to make things right again but you can come back from this. Right now it seems like you won’t; like it is the end of the world but you can and you will come out of this stronger.” Jungkook looked up and for the first time in days, he locked eyes with the leader. “It’s a little too late now, I know, but what would you do if you were in my shoes, hyung?”  Namjoon took a deep breath; he wasn’t sure if Jungkook would like his answer or not but after thinking about the options, he came to the conclusion that there was only one thing that would calm down the raging fans and the rest of the public who seemed to care too much about celebrity gossip. “If I were in your shoes, I would make a public apology. Get in front of the camera and own your mistake. Promise them that you’ll do better in the future. It will be a lot easier than hiding and waiting it out until they find a new scandal to bad-mouth somebody else.” Jungkook nodded, Namjoon only had his best interest at heart but the thought of having to stand in front of the cameras and owning up to his mistake scared him to death. What if they attacked him like starving animals? What if he messed up again and he would have to flee the country so they wouldn’t be able to lapidate him?

* After buttoning up her jacket, she looked in the small mirror on the wall - shocked to see that the concealer she had put on before work, had lost its power, making her look like she was ready to star in a zombie movie in a just a matter of hours. Sleep wasn’t easy to find; her thoughts always circling in around Jungkook and how much she missed him, missed his voice and his touch. She knew, she would be feeling like this for a while, yet she didn’t know how draining it would be. Of all the boyfriends she had been with before, none of them had anchored themselves inside her heart, unlike Jungkook who seemed to have superglued himself in place and there was no way to rip him out like an unwanted parasite. But maybe she was the parasite who poisoned his life and ruined his career; maybe all those girls were right when they said that she was the one to blame - that she was standing in the way of his future as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. No matter how badly she wanted to believe that their love was real, maybe it wasn’t. He was too good for her and she began to feel like she should just go back home to get as much space between them as possible - just in case their paths would cross again and she would get another chance at ruining his life. Shaking her head to banish the bad thoughts, a small smile tugged at her lips. Ha-na had told her not to read what people were saying online but she was weak and some girls made excellent points, she wasn’t pretty enough for Jungkook and maybe she should be pushed down the stairs because nobody would miss her anyway, especially not Jungkook. “Y/n, don’t forget to take home your new blouses.” Byungchul called as he passed by the staff room, stopping in his tracks. “I won’t.” She bowed to her boss. “What are you still doing here anyway?” He cocked an eyebrow, eyeing her suspiciously. He had told her to go home a while ago but she couldn’t bring herself to leave because if she did, she would have to be alone in her head and work was the only distraction she had. “I-I…I’m leaving now.” “Good, go home and get some rest, you look tired.” “I will.” She smiled weakly as she shouldered her bag and grabbed the little bundle of neatly folded white blouses. When she stepped outside, the cold air immediately filled her lungs and clearing her head momentarily. It would take her a lot longer to walk home but it was better than being crammed into the metro with people and even worse, maybe hearing his name somewhere that would send her into a downwards spiral of hurt and guilt. Her legs felt heavy as she dragged them over the concrete, the other people around her seemed to not have a care in the world. Everyone looked so happy, especially the couple in front of her holding hands. It wasn’t that she didn’t want others to be happy but the simple fact that Jungkook and her had never got to do just that, brought tears to her eyes. It all ended too quickly - if only they could have had one more perfect day together. 

The hard sounding footsteps of someone running echoed loudly in the store lined street but when she turned around, she only saw people walking alongside her, some of them even turned their heads to make out where it was coming from. “You’re in the way.” A girl brushed past her, bumping into her arm. “I’m sorry.” She bowed her head slightly, deciding that she probably had just been in her head too much and it had just been a figment of her imagination when suddenly someone ripped the bundle from her hand and ran down the street. It took her a moment to wrap her head around what just happened before her instincts kicked in and she hurried after the person in the black jacket. “Hey! Stop!” Her voice was weak, but to her surprise, her legs moved a lot faster than she had anticipated and she never lost sight of them, even with all those strangers around who’s faces were just a blur.

The person made a right turn into a smaller street off the side and when she finally turned the corner, she stopped in her tracks. The bundle had been ripped apart and the crisp white blouses were lying on the dirty street. Dropping her bag on the floor, she scurried to pick them up, trying to prevent them from getting ruined when someone yanked her ponytail. * Ha-na was sitting on the comfy sofa in the living room, Taehyung was resting his head on her shoulder while he busied himself on his Nintendo Switch. She was glad that he tried to distract himself and finally came out of his room, at least for a few hours, although he wasn’t speaking much to anyone that wasn’t her or his best friend. Jimin was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, the hood of his sweater pulled down deep to cover most of his face while the youngest was sitting on the floor next to him staring blankly at the tv just like the rest of the members. The atmosphere felt dense, everyone was just waiting for Sejin to come back to the dorms - he had texted Namjoon earlier that they had finally gotten a lead on who had leaked the videos. Ha-na still felt bad about everything that had happened, she had only wanted for Jungkook to do the right thing and everything just got out of hand. Her eyes rested on the bracelet he was holding, his fingers clinging onto the metal so tightly that the blood flow was low and his hand was shaking ever so slightly. When Jin had jokingly tried to take it away from him earlier, Jungkook had almost started throwing a tantrum. Would things ever go back to normal again? Going against everything she had told the others, it had become part of her routine to check any social media and news outlets for articles. She hated seeing that everyone seemed to have an opinion on Jungkook and y/n and spreading false rumors and lies that made everything worse. She was glad though that neither her boyfriend nor the youngest went online to see what people were saying, it would only put more strain on their already broken friendship. For once there had been no new publications but twitter was chaotic as always when she stumbled upon a tweet from a fan that caught her attention, linking to a video. ‘The bitch got what she deserved!’ Hesitantly Ha-na clicked on it, the quality was shaky and someone was breathing heavily and running while filming the street when loud voices could be heard in the near distance. “Oh my god! No.” She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes focused on the screen. She wanted to look away, yet she couldn’t despite being repulsed by what she saw. “What’s up?” Taehyung sat up, trying to get a glimpse of what she was watching. “Nothing…” Not managing to lock her screen in time before he had already snatched it from her hand. The pure expression of shock on his face sent shivers down her body - she didn’t want him to see it, it would hurt him so much. He mumbled something, the others’ attention now on him as his eyes grew wider by the second. “What is it?” Jimin scooted over to his best friend to see what he was looking at. “Y/n…” In the blink of an eye, everyone had gathered around them, watching how a group of girls was pulling her hair, slapping her and calling her names, while she was on the ground trying to cover her face, pleading with them to leave her alone. The video wasn’t long, and after watching it a second time, Taehyung quickly dropped the phone and got up, hurrying to the small bathroom. Carefully her eyes wandered to Jungkook, his whole body was shaking and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Ha-na wasn’t sure how he was feeling; was he hurt, angry, disappointed or sad? His face showed no emotion, simply staring into nothingness, yet she knew there was a storm brewing inside of him. Seeing faceless comments through a screen was bad but actually hearing the words ‘you ruined his career, kill yourself’ coming from someone made her feel sick to her stomach. “That was…wow…” Hoseok breathed out, before rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “We have to do something, we can’t just let this happen.” “I’m going to see if she’s okay!” Jungkook grabbed his hoodie, ready to head for the door when Jimin quickly hopped over the back of the couch to stand in his way. “You can’t do that, you’ll get in trouble. You know, y/n wouldn’t want that. I’m sure, she’s fine.” He grabbed Jungkook’s arm, stopping him from pushing past him. “How can you say that? Those girls hit her because of me! I know her better than any of you, I know she’s not okay, I can feel it.” He tried wrenching his arm from Jimin’s grasp. “Hyung, get out of the way.” It was a weak warning, his voice getting caught in his throat. “Jungkook-ah, sit down.” Namjoon finally spoke up. “We can text or call her but you’re not allowed to leave the apartment without supervision so calm down.” The youngest caved in under the stern look on their leader’s face and slumped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. “They say, she ruined my career but do they not know how much it would hurt me when they hurt her?” The eldest gently wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “I don’t think they were thinking that far ahead, they wanted to protect you-” Jungkook scoffed. “Protect me? From what exactly? From the girl I love?” “Or protect your career? You worked so hard and they didn’t want it to be in vain?” “But that doesn’t justify their actions, they could’ve seriously hurt her.” Yoongi murmured while nibbling on his thumb. “They covered their faces like cowards.” Jungkook’s brows furrowed as Taehyung’s voice came from the bathroom. “We have to tell someone who can do something.” 

“Already sent the link to the managers.” Namjoon reassured the youngest members. “And I texted her, she says she’s okay and at home and doesn’t want you to worry, Kook.” Ha-na tried to cheer him up with a weak smile but he didn’t reciprocate it, he just gently pressed the white gold bangle to his lips. “She’s lying so I don’t worry about her…” With a drawn-out sigh, he let his head fall back; the pressure in his chest was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to do something, he wanted all of this to stop so they could go back to being together. There had to be a way and he was determined to find it. * “I’m very sorry, I won’t disappoint you again.” Jungkook finished, looking up at Jimin in the mirror. “How was that?” “It was good. You’ll do just fine.” A forced smile spread on his face, trying to encourage the youngest while he was practicing his apology that was scheduled for this afternoon. “You think? I mean, management approved it but does it sound… sincere? I don’t want to sound like I rehearsed it.” The older boy nodded. “Jungkookie, don’t worry so much! It will be okay.” “Okay, I trust you. You’re right! I can do this.” He looked down on his script. Jimin carefully eyed him, he still looked miserable but maybe this would encourage people to finally back off and drop the story. Taking a deep breath, he plugged the power cord into the wall socket next to the table. “Are you sure, you still want me to do this? You know, you really don’t have to!” “Yes, just do it. Get it over with.”

With shaking hands Jimin picked up the small black machine, turning it on with his thumb. “Where do you want me to start? On the side, so you can hide it in case you change your mind?” “Do whatever you want, I’m not going to look until you’re done.” Jungkook closed his eyes, silently mouthing the words of the script that was resting on his knees. The buzzing noise seemed to amplify in Jimin’s ears; he had promised to support Jungkook and to help him but now that he was actually going through with it, his mind fogged up with doubts. This was a stupid idea, nobody had asked for this gesture from him but he wanted to do it anyway - he wanted the fans to know that he was sorry for his actions. So now they were hiding in the youngest bedroom, just two hours before he was supposed to stand outside the company building and deliver a heartfelt apology to the public. An apology that Jimin thought was uncalled for; neither Jungkook nor y/n had leaked those videos on purpose, they weren’t to blame but the public’s opinion was different - they demanded a statement, an apology for causing such an uproar and breaking people’s trust. But as much as he hated how everything went down, Jimin still wanted his baby brother to be happy; he deserved to be happy and perhaps this was this only way of getting a tiny piece of happiness back. His eyes looked so - lifeless, that he almost couldn’t bear to see Jungkook like this any longer. His eyes scanned the blades moving at a rapid pace when he slowly raised his arm and held it to Jungkook’s hairline. “Are you still sure you want me to do this?” He asked again, making sure Jungkook really wanted this. “Hyung, yes!” He said firmly, as Jimin carefully cut off the first lock of raven hair, watching as it fell to the floor, followed by many more. It pained him to cut Jungkook’s hair short, only a few millimeters of it still covering his scalp. “I’m all done.” He announced, turning off the razor and putting it back down. “You can look now.” Nervously, he watched Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, fixating on his reflection in the mirror. His expression was blank as he ran his hand through what was left of his hair. Jimin wasn’t sure but he could’ve sworn for a millisecond he saw tears glistening in his eyes. “It’s not too bad, right?” “Yeah, it really brings out your eyes and it will grow back in no time, you’ll see.” He patted Jungkook’s shoulders, letting his fingers dig into his shirt for a brief moment. “And there’s always wigs or hats if you hate it later.” The younger boy chuckled. “I should get cleaned up.” “I’ll help you pick out an outfit if you want.” Jimin offered as Jungkook headed for the bathroom. “Thank you.” Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, letting his eyes wander around the room - not much had changed, apart from the box by the closet door that had y/n’s things in them that Jungkook couldn’t get rid off; a few clothes, a bottle of perfume and a few letters tied together with a ribbon.  Only now he had noticed that over the past months, he had not really been in here spending time with his little brother like they used to, playing video games or watching movies on his projector but knowing what had happened in here - it left a feeling of uncertainty floating in his stomach. Of course, he knew now that Jungkook had been hiding y/n in here a lot, trying to keep the secret well hidden from the other members. But Jimin couldn’t help but think that he had started to slip through their fingers a long time ago. Back in the day, they would’ve known immediately if something was wrong but ever since Jungkook had gotten older, he had developed a tendency to lock himself in his room whenever he could and if there was no schedule then he wouldn’t leave it for days. Jimin made a pact with himself - when all of this was over, he was going to make sure Jungkook was okay, that he would force him to come out of his room and go outside with him; it just didn’t feel right to leave him be, he needed to know that they all still wanted to spend time with him and that they would always be by his side, no matter what. * Jungkook was nervously hopping from one foot to the other as he was standing behind a screen waiting his turn while someone from the PR team was outside the company building, dealing with the press. He was used to all the flashing lights of the cameras and microphones being shoved in his face but this felt different - he was alone, his brothers weren’t by his side for moral support. His fingers wrapped around the bangle in the pocket of his blazer; for some reason, it comforted him. Although she had given it back to him, it was the only thing that kept the tiny spark of hope ignited in his chest. “We have found out that our artist’s private account was hacked by a third party, we are taking legal action against the hacker who invaded his privacy and we ask you to respect everybody’s privacy regarding the issue.” Jungkook’s ears picked up a few things here and there but his mind was preoccupied with the task at hand as his stomach churned. He wanted to throw up and run away; far, far away from all the people eagerly awaiting his apology but his legs felt like jello. [Jimin - 1:42pm] You’ll be okay! Just take deep breaths, it will be over before you know it! A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he read his brother’s message. Sometimes he really needed the encouragement from them; without them, he was lost. Sejin stuffed his own phone back into his pocket and nodded his head. “Are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be…” He mumbled, as two of the other managers and a few security guards surrounded him. “Just stick to the script and you’ll do just fine. You don’t have to answer any questions. Just apologize and we’ll head back home right after.” Sejin gently rested his hand on Jungkook’s back. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.” Jungkook sunk his teeth into his lip balm coated bottom lip, as his legs involuntarily started moving with people around him. The glass door opened and the sea of flashes drowned out the sheer amount of people in the street. His heart was pounding against his ribs, as he walked up to the microphone stand. As the whispers died down, he could feel his throat closing up and his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara Desert. Eyes wandering over the blurry faces, his breathing became labored. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t get a word out. Maybe he should have had a sip of alcohol to calm his nerves but it was too late. In a knee-jerk reaction to buy more time, he pulled his cap off, revealing his buzzed off hair and bowing down as deep as he could as gasps echoed in his ears, mixed with girls calling his name. “Jungkook..” His manager’s voice was very close to him. “Say something…” In slow-motion he lifted his upper body, carefully scanning the crowd when his eyes found her face - he knew she wasn’t there and that his mind was playing tricks on him but it was the small push he needed to find his voice. He was doing this for her, he wanted people to just leave her alone. She didn’t deserve any of this, she didn’t deserve to be attacked online and especially not getting beat up by fans in an alley at night. The stinging pain in his chest subsided when he finally cleared his throat and found his voice again. “Thank you for taking the time out of your day to be here.” He paused, bowing his head again, trying to remember his lines but the memory of them got blurry, they were escaping him too quickly as he tried to hold onto them. “I-I just want to say, I’m very sorry for my actions. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I let down so many people with my reckless and shameful behavior.” His shaking fingers gripped on to the wooden stand of the mic for some support; Sejin’s hand calmly rested on his shoulder while the pressure it was executing felt like a ton of bricks was coming down on him as if Jungkook was about to run away and needed a reminder to stay still. “I’m so sorry to everyone and especially the fans who had to see me like this. I know, I broke your trust and disappointed all of you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me in the future and I promise to never let you down again. Army, you’re always on my mind and it really hurts me to have hurt so many of you with what I have done. Please forgive me.” After delivering his lines, he exhaled shakily; his face felt like it was on fire. “I won’t disappoint you again, I’m sorry.” The crowd was silently watching him, eagerly waiting for him to say something else as his mouth opened and closed without making a sound. “Let’s go, PR will do the rest.” His manager muttered, his hand scooting to Jungkook’s elbow to get him to turn around and go back inside. “One more thing…” Jungkook took a step forward again. “Please, leave her alone. We’re not seeing each other anymore. I-I… all I ask of you is to just leave her alone, please. She’s not in my life anymore…” He trailed off, his lips felt tense as he tried to hold it together. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled more to himself, slowly sinking to his knees on the pavement to bow one last time. The clicking of the cameras was overwhelming his senses, it almost felt like he wasn’t really inside his body anymore when he felt hands holding onto his arms and pulling him to his feet. Not needing much force, he wrenched his right arm free, hiding his tear-stained face in the crook of his elbow. “Come on…” Sejin’s voice was close to his ear as he let him guide him back inside, unsure of whether he did good or not but as soon as doors closed, the babel of alarmed voiced told him that he had gone too far. “What were you thinking going off script? Do you know how bad this could’ve been! We told you to stick to the script. Oh god…” The head of the PR team gestured wildly in front of his face. “I don’t know if we can fix this…Jungkook why do you always have to cause so much trouble?” She puffed up her cheeks before letting out a disappointed grunt. “I’m sorry.” He fixated his eyes on the ground. “It’s just…some fans attacked y/n and I-I just wanted to protect her. I wanted the fans to leave her alone. They should take their anger out on me and not on her.” He felt the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, immediately trying to dry them with a tissue. “He didn’t say anything bad. He just asked them to leave her alone, it’s not a big deal.” Sejin interrupted before Hyejin could scold him some more. “I’ll take him home now.” Gently he nudged the raven-haired boy towards the elevator that would take them to the car. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?” Jungkook mumbled as he sunk deeper into the passenger seat, avoiding his manager’s gaze at all costs. “I mean it’s not ideal but it’s okay. I understand why you did it…” He trailed off, averting his attention to the road until they stopped at a red light. “I saw what they did to her, so I understand that you want to do something to protect her. If you want, I’ll request security for her until it all blows over.” Jungkook shook his head, still not used to not feeling his bangs brush against his forehead whenever he moved or touched his head. “I don’t think she would like that but I’ll have Ha-na ask her.” * Jungkook was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, emptily staring at his laptop where he had put on a let’s play to keep his brain and body from going stir-crazy. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok opened the door, sticking his head inside his room. “I thought, maybe you wanted something to eat? You haven’t had anything all day.” The older one came in, closing the door behind him before proceeding to sit on the foot of the bed. Carefully he placed the plate on the mattress between them, pulling a can of coke from the pocket of his hoodie. “Did you make that?” Jungkook eyed the sandwich from all angles, lifting the plate up to eye level. “Jin hyung helped me, he said I was stacking the ingredients in the wrong order.” The older one rolled his eyes before a smile spread on his face. “But I think there’s no wrong order, it’ll taste the same no matter what.” He winked, opening the can, and placing it on the nightstand. Jungkook chuckled. “You’re right.” He wasn’t particularly hungry but since his brother had been so kind as to make him something to eat, he eagerly took a bite. “Delicious.” He pressed out while chewing the bread. “Good, I’m glad you like it.” Hoseok reached out to pat his head but Jungkook pulled away immediately - he felt self-conscious, even more so after getting scolded by his hyungs for cutting his hair short. Not wanting to admit that he had lost some of his confidence with each strand that had been cut off - but maybe that was what he deserved, after putting everyone around him through so much. For a while they just sat on his bed, Hoseok watching him devour the food and sipping on the sugary beverage - neither of them saying a word but the silence didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it did just days ago, at least to the older one it didn’t. “Jungkookie, listen…” With wide eyes, he stared at Hobi when he finally spoke. “I didn’t just come here to bring you food, I actually wanted to say something.” “Okay?” Anxiety was making his chest feel tight; instantly regretting eating the sandwich as he was about to throw it back up. He didn’t need to get scolded again, he didn’t want to hear yet again what a terrible person he was and that he couldn’t do anything right these days. “I just wanted to, you know, tell you that we’re okay.” Almost choking on his own saliva, Jungkook cleared his throat. “We’re okay?” He repeated dumbfounded. “Yes, we are. I know, I wasn’t really supportive and judgmental at first but I just didn’t know what to think or how to handle the situation. I hope you understand where I’m coming from… I had to sort through my thoughts and came to the conclusion that I was just worried about you and our career. You are like family to me, JK; I want what’s best for you and I know, you’re probably mad at me too but I’m here for you now.”  “I was never mad at you.” He mumbled, averting his gaze to white bedding between them. “I know I disappointed all of you. I never wanted you to find out what I did, especially not like this.” “I know that but let’s just put in the past, okay?” Hoseok carefully placed his hand on Jungkook’s knee. “You’re going through so much right now and I just want to be here for you and help you. It really hurts to see you so sad all the time.” A weak smile tugged at his lips. “I’m going to be okay, you don’t have to worry.” “I worry about you all the time, we all do. So please, Jungkookie, if you need to talk to someone, we’re all here for you, you know that right?” “Hyung, I know that.” 

* Jimin knocked on the door, a short knock followed by two quick ones - their not so secret sign that it was either one of them before he entered the youngest room, who was busy pulling out clothes from his closet and throwing them on the floor. 

“Is that what you wanted help with? Sorting out your clothes?” Jimin mused, trying to find a free piece of flooring for him to step closer to Jungkook. “Hyung, no…I-” He gasped, practically ripping a hoodie from a hanger. “I have a plan, and I need your help.” “A plan? A plan that involves donating clothes to charity?” “No…” Jungkook held two identical-looking black hoodies up. “I’m going to see y/n.” “WHAT?” Jimin’s eyes grew wide, the sheer panic was straining his voice. “You’re not allowed to do that, you will get into trouble.” “I know but I don’t care. I just want to see her and I’m not going to wait any longer.” “And how do you plan on doing that, huh? We still have security around and last time I checked, the press is still waiting outside.” “That’s where you’ll come in…” There was a dangerous twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes that could only mean trouble but Jimin was more than intrigued and willing to help. “Do you want me to call you a taxi? Because I have my phone right here.” “No, you’ll help me sneak past security and the press, I’ll take care of the rest.” “I will need more details…” “Go get your black sweat pants and Vans, I’ll explain it to you when you get back here.” Jimin was confused, but he blindly followed the instructions as he quickly walked back to his room. For once happy that Hoseok was so adamant about his skincare routine that he had the room to himself for a bit. “What are you doing? I saw you sneaking into Jk’s room.” A deep voice made him spin around on his heels. Taehyung was walking towards him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’m just helping him with something.” “With what?” “I can’t tell you.” Immediately he regretted saying those words to his best friend, who looked so hurt that his lips pursed trying to hide his dismay. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you but you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul what we’re doing.” “Promise.” He held up his pinky, so Jimin could wrap his own around it. “Stamp it.” They said in unison when they twisted their hands so the pads of their thumbs could meet. “We’re trying to sneak Jk out of here so he can go check on y/n.” “What?” Taehyung whisper yelled.  “Yeah, please don’t tell anyone.” “I won’t.” Taehyung locked eyes with him. “I will help you.” “What?” Jimin was confused, Taehyung was still mad at them, why was he now offering to help Jungkook? “Yes, I want to know if she’s okay too…” He muttered, his cheeks turning pink. “Ever since I saw what happened to her, I’ve been worried sick. I know she loves Jungkook and she probably wants to see him too…so I’m going to help him.” An overwhelming feeling spread in Jimin’s chest, although Taehyung was so deeply hurt by what they had done, he still loved them; putting aside his own hurt to help his friends. Jimin felt his eyes tearing up, quickly wiping them with his sleeve. “I’m sure, Jungkookie will appreciate your help, Taetae.” He ruffled the younger one's hair. “You’ll need black sweats and a matching hoodie, so go grab them.” Tae nodded, hurrying back to his room to grab his clothes. A small part of Jimin was unsure whether Jungkook would approve of this but for the time being, he was just glad that Taehyung was coming around; it was the first step to mending the broken friendships. They stood in front of the mirror, the three of them wearing matching black outfits, a black mask to cover half their faces and the hoods pulled deep down their foreheads. “I think this will work, it’s dark outside if we move fast, they won’t notice a difference.” Taehyung muttered, adjusting his mask once again. “Jungkook-ah, don’t do anything stupid. If it’s too risky, we will find another way, okay?” “Sure, yeah.” He lied, not an ounce of his body was going to give up on seeing her tonight. Every nerve inside of him was missing her, he couldn’t wait - each minute that passed felt like torture. He was losing her, she was getting further and further away from him and there was nothing he could do - it was like he was trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. “Then let’s go.” Jimin clapped his hands together and they quietly walked out into the hallway, trying not to make a sound. Jimin knew that this idea was stupid beyond belief and he didn’t quite understand why he was participating in it but helping Jungkook was more important, they could deal with the repercussions later, together.  “Where do you think you’re going?” Jin’s voice made the three boys flinch when he turned on the light. “Why are you dressed like that?” “We…uhm…” Jimin tried to come up with a white lie but his brain was slowing down.  “I’m going to see y/n!” Jungkook said bluntly. “And they’re helping me.” 

Jimin quickly rammed his elbow into the youngest ribs to shut him up but it was too late. They would now have to go back to their rooms without even the slightest chance of leaving the building. “I’m appalled.” The eldest clicked his tongue. “There’s no way for you to get past security, especially for you Jungkook.” “We’ll find a way. We have to.” He stuttered, not having an idea of how to even leave the apartment without having to face the guard outside. “You should’ve just come to me earlier.” “What?” “I’ll help you. Wait by the door, you’ll know when the time is right.” Jin winked at them, before grabbing his car keys from the sideboard and leaving the apartment. Taehyung quickly grabbed the door-handle, making sure it didn’t close and they could listen to what was going on. “I just need to grab something from my car, I’ll be right back.” “Alright, sir.” The stern security guard said, not moving an inch from his chair. “How is that supposed to help us get out?” Jungkook rolled his eyes, he was getting antsy waiting for something to happen. The others shrugged, pressing their ears to the door, focusing on any sign from the oldest member. Only a few minutes later, Jin’s panicked voice suddenly echoed through the hallway. “You need to go down to the parking garage. I saw some people down there sneaking around.” “What?” “Yes, I think they’re trying to get access to the building.” A lot of rustling was making it difficult for them to understand what was going on but soon Jin pulled the door open. “Go.” He whispered. “They should be distracted for a while.” “Thank you.” Jungkook mouthed, as he hurried towards the stairs, following the older boys as they sprinted down to the exit. For once, luck was on their side and they soon stood underneath the trees, hiding in complete darkness. “How are we going to do this now?” Taehyung was trying to catch his breath, his hand pressing into his side where he felt a sting. His heart was racing and his breathing was labored, the adrenaline rush was making him feel lightheaded. Jungkook exhaled. “You go out first, make sure they see you. You’ll have to move quickly and then Jimin will do the same and if the timing’s right, I’ll go.” “Do you think that will work?” Jimin questioned, still not convinced that the plan was well thought out. “I don’t know, we will see, I guess.” They quickly moved to the exit, where the press was still gathered at this hour. Quietly they hid behind a wall, giving them the perfect view of their playing field. Jungkook watched how Taehyung pulled the hood deep down his face, speed walking on the right side to sneak away behind the spectators but they easily spotted him, almost attacking him with microphones and cameras. “Jimin-ah, go.” He nodded, making sure the mask was covering his mouth before he ran out on the left side, making the paparazzi almost break their necks. “That’s him! That’s him!” A woman screeched and they collectively hurried after Jimin, who was running like the devil himself was chasing him down the street. Taehyung was leaning against the wall, waving his hand by his side of his body and that was all Jungkook needed to sprint past him as fast as he could. There was no time to thank his brothers, he would do that later, now he had to focus on running and getting enough distance between him and all those people. He didn’t care that the cold air was making his eyes water, he didn’t care that his legs were starting to feel weak; he had to keep going; repeating her name over and over in his head. A loud banging on the door made her sit up straight in her bed, her body involuntarily started shaking right away. Did they find out where she lived? Did they follow her home? She wasn’t quite sure if she really heard someone calling her name, or if she was imagining it as she slowly got up and quietly walked towards the door. “Y/n open the door, please.” She recognized his voice instantly, her fingers wrapping tightly around the handle before pressing it down; she had no strength left in her to fight the need to see his face. “Kookie, what are you…” Without a word, he stepped inside closing the door with his foot before wrapping his arms around her to hide his face in the crook of her neck. Hesitantly her nails dug into his hoodie, bunching up the fabric in her fists. He didn’t say anything, she just felt his tears on her skin burning like acid rain. When her grip loosened, he pulled away from her but keeping his gaze low. “We should go to my room.” “Okay.” He followed her with his heart hammering in his chest; he had noticed her hesitation and it made it harder for him to breathe. What if coming here was not a good idea?  Reluctantly they stood facing each other but her brows furrowed and her hand went up to his head, pulling the hood down - eyes widening when she saw it. Jungkook felt queasy, he didn’t want her to see his hair this short. “I-I…noona…” “I like it, you look manlier.” Biting down on her bottom lip, she forced her lips into a smile to suppress the tears that were about to spill from her eyes. Gently, she ran her hand over his head, making him lean into her touch. “I really do like it, you look handsome.” Jungkook let out a staggered breath; what she thought mattered most to him and if she liked it then he would be able to like it too, eventually, maybe. Only now he noticed the bruises on her cheeks, the little cuts on her forehead. “I’m sorry they did that to you.” He swallowed an invisible lump, his fingers gently reaching out to touch her cheek but she moved her head away from him. “It’s okay, I’m fine.” “Are you really?” She nodded but it wasn’t convincing enough, he pulled her in close, ever so lightly he cupped her face to press the lightest of kisses to her cheeks and forehead. Eyes swimming in tears, she looked up at him. “You still love me…?” Jungkook felt tears running down his cheeks. “Yes, I still love you.” He didn’t know why but he leaned in for a kiss - he just wanted to be with her and not think of anything that happened over the past couple of days. The moment their lips touched he felt a hiccup in his heartbeat like when he missed a step. Everything just felt for so right again like they belonged together and he was sure she must have been sensing it too. Deepening the kiss, his tongue was practically begging for access when out of the blue she pushed him away. “What’s wrong?” He asked, not able to wrap his head around what just happened. “Go! You need to leave. This isn’t good, okay?” “Wait! Why? I don’t want to leave, I want to be with you!” “Jungkook you have to go!” He didn’t understand; mere seconds ago she was kissing him back and now she was telling him to leave, but he didn’t want to, not yet at least. His eyes were focusing in on the bracelet that she was still wearing, and so did he. She never took it off, not even after she broke up with him, just like he promised her on that day at the beach… To Jungkook’s own surprise, lies were rolling off his tongue so easily these days - without batting an eye, he had told his hyungs that he was taking Yina out for the day. When in reality, it was y/n’s day off and he wanted to spend it with her, far away from people they knew to lower the risk of getting caught. In the early hours of the morning, he had picked her up to take her to Naksan beach which was four hours away from Seoul, on the opposite coastline. Contrary to road trips with Yina, who enjoyed just watching the scenery, the drive with y/n was different - they would sing together, she’d feed him snacks she packed and when they got quiet, she played with his hair while watching the sunrise. In Jungkook’s opinion, the drive itself was perfect - even if they would never arrive at their destination, he was truly happy that day. After exploring Yangyang and eating a ridiculously big lunch, they finally went to the beach, walking along the pier to the little red lighthouse to take some pictures. He recalled being here for a photo shoot not too long ago but back then they didn’t have time to wander around and enjoy the beautiful view of the ocean. The weather was dreary, clouds in all shades of gray forming a big cluster on the sky, making them the only two people who dared to visit the beach that day. “Can you put him in your pocket?” She held out the little plush bunny in swimming shorts that he had bought for her at a small souvenir shop in town. “I don’t want to get him wet.” “Of course.” He neatly tucked the bunny in the pocket of his jacket, making sure the button was secured, not wanting to risk losing it. She smiled up at him while rolling up her jeans and stuffing her socks into her sneakers before she ran towards the shoreline to dip her feet into crystal clear water. “It’s so cold.” She squealed, jumping from one foot to the other. “Come on, hurry up!” “I’m coming.” He called, slowly slipping off his own shoes but watching her run away from the waves that crashed on the sand was a lot more fun than doing it himself. The sand felt soft underneath his feet when he made his way over, making sure his eyes never left her. It dawned on him that he had never noticed, until now, how cute she actually was. Of course, he knew how beautiful she was but her little squeals whenever a wave caught up to her made his heart melt - he really was the luckiest guy on earth to have found his soulmate without even having to look for her. It was almost like he had never properly understood what real love felt like until he looked in her eyes; the thought often crossed his mind but a part of him thought it was ridiculous to even think that way. His heart, on the other hand, was sure that she was the girl he’d be spending the rest of his life with. “What are you doing?” Her voice caught him off guard, he hadn’t noticed that he was standing still, just looking at her. “I-I was just thinking…” He trailed off, ears turning a deep shade of pink underneath his cap while she was walking towards him, her hand stretched out for him to hold. “Kookie, don’t think about what happens when we get back to Seoul, please. I want to have a nice day, okay?” He nodded, lacing their fingers together - if only she knew what had been on his mind. She lifted their hands up to press a chaste kiss on the back of his hand before she started running, pulling him along with her. The water was cold but it felt unbelievably good, he couldn’t remember the last time he went to a beach just to have some fun and not for something work-related. For a while, they played catch with the waves and splashed each other with water until he felt exhaustion spreading to his limbs.  He sat down in the sand; just far enough so the water couldn’t reach him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, letting the fresh salty air fill his lungs and the gusts of wind caressed his skin and at that moment he felt complete, the missing puzzle pieces were all in place like nothing could go wrong. He felt her presence, his eyes fluttering open as she was about to sit down next to him but he quickly pulled her in between his legs so she could lean against his chest. Tightly he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. Neither of them said a word, just watching a few stray clouds letting hints of the hidden blue sky peek through the cracks; the calming sound of the waves crashing on the shore seemed to drown out the whole world around them. Her fingers gently played with his as she shifted a little to rest her head against his shoulder. “I wish every day could be like this.” She mumbled softly, making his heart ache. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, he really did and he would go to the end of the world for her if that meant she was happy. Jungkook leaned down, gingerly pressing his lips on top of her head. “Then I’ll take you to the beach every day and every day can be like this.” And although they both knew that it was just a fantasy and would never be possible, he heard the smile in her voice when she whispered “Okay.” Suddenly she untangled his arms from around her torso and kneeled down in front of him, still between his legs. “I wanted to give you something…” Her hand slid into the pocket of her jacket. “Close your eyes.” He did as he was told, her shaking fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Hold still.” He could hear she was concentrating when something cold touched his skin and he fought the urge to flinch. “Okay, you can open your eyes.” Looking down on his wrist, there was a black leather bracelet with a silver plate. “I- y/n, you didn’t have to..” “Yes I had to, you did all this for today.” She paused, pulling up her sleeve to reveal the same bracelet on her wrist but the delicate metal plate was rose-gold. “Thank you for making our 100th day anniversary so special.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his and his heart stopped. He didn’t know, he had absolutely no idea it was their anniversary. Maybe because they were keeping their relationship a secret and they never had a real official first date, or maybe it was because she had mentioned that those things didn’t really matter to her anyway that he had paid no attention as to how many days they had been together. He felt like a jerk but he knew that if he told her the truth it would break her heart and that was the last thing he wanted. “I’m never taking it off, thank you.” He pulled her in closer, crashing his lips on hers; hoping that she could feel how much he loved her. “Can you at least look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to leave?” His voice was fragile; he was scared that she would do it and he could already feel the cracks in his heart getting bigger with every breath he took without her giving him an answer. “If you can’t say it when looking at me…” “Then what? You’re not going to leave?” He shook his head, ready to stand his ground; he wasn’t going to leave now, not after what he had been through to get here. “No, I won’t because I don’t really think you want me to…” Throwing her hands up in frustration, she let out a sigh. “What part of us being together is bad, don’t you understand?” “I don’t understand because you and I is the only good thing that has come from all of this.” “But there is no you and me anymore! I ruined everything.” “What do you mean you ruined everything?” “I ruined your friendships, as well as my own and your career. I shouldn’t be around you and that’s why there is no you and me anymore. Got it?” His mouth opened and closed without making a sound; did she really think she was the only one responsible for what happened - that she was the only one hurting all the time? “So can you please just leave?” She mumbled, looking down at her feet but he couldn’t get his own to move. “No, noona... I don’t want you to think that you ruined everything. You didn’t, you made everything better for me.” Carefully he moved in a little bit closer, wanting to wrap his arms around her and just hold her until she understood that he was all in and wouldn’t go anywhere, even if she didn’t want him to stay. She let out a sigh. “You say that now because you don’t want to see that I fucked everything up.” Slowly she sat down on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her pajama top to keep her busy from doing something she’d regret. “You really didn’t, I promise.” Sitting down next to her, he got a good look at the bruises on her legs; he wasn’t the only one who had been through hell and back these past days. He was desperately looking for something he could say - something that would make her change her mind and just take him back. It didn’t matter that to him that he would’ve lied to everyone again, he needed to be with her and if that meant the end of his career then so be it; he was willing to give up his dreams for her but he knew that if he voiced his thoughts, she would never let that happen. After a while, he cleared his throat that was threatening to close up. “So…do you really want me to leave?” His tongue had trouble forming the words; he had imagined that him showing up at her place would go differently. He had been sure that she would’ve been happy to finally see him again but he had never been so wrong in his life. She adjusted her position to face him; Jungkook was preparing himself to go home and hide in bed when her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips hungrily pressed on his. He was in shock; he didn’t see it coming so all he could do for a moment was stare at her face before his eyes fluttered shut and kissed her back. Licking into his mouth, her hands started pulling at his hoodie, wanting to remove the unwanted item of clothing. Firmly his hands wrapped around her wrists as he broke away from her. “Noona, what does this-“ 

Her index finger pressed to his open mouth while she placed soft kisses to his jawline. “Ssshhh just be with me now…” Jungkook nodded, despite being confused. His mind was racing but he still couldn’t bring himself to say no to her, although he had so many questions that were still unanswered. Deliberately she pulled the hoodie over his head before reconnecting their lips in a somewhat innocent kiss. Almost immediately he felt her fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweat pants, rushing to get rid of everything that separated them. “Noona…” He attempted to mumble into the kiss, this time she pulled away. “Kookie, please.” Her whiny voice was the last push he needed to gently push her down into the pillows on the bed. Kissing her again, his trembling fingers started unbuttoning her top; his nerves were getting the upper hand like they did the first time they slept together. Their tongues were shyly playing a game of catch as her nails gently scratched over his bare shoulders; he could still taste the all too familiar traces of her vanilla lip balm, maybe not everything had changed. Blindly his hand cupped her breast, rolling the bud between his index finger and thumb, instantly evoking a soft whimper from her as her hips bucked up, colliding with his.  Leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down her neck to the rosy mounds of flesh, sucking the hardening bud into his mouth. Jungkook groaned when a delicious moan reached his ears, making his member twitch excitedly in its soft fabric prison. Gingerly he let his hand followed the curve of her body when he licked his way back up to her mouth.  “Please touch me…” A whisper that held so much power over him.  Her skin was covered in goosebumps as he reached the waistband of her panties, letting his fingertips slip inside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” Jungkook mumbled against her neck as she held on tightly to his shoulder while his middle finger ventured down her core; gasping when it dipped inside just a bit to gather some of her juices. Lips glued to her neck, he let his fingertips trace her lips, wanting to remember how every inch of her body felt - he needed to engrave it into his memory just in case this was the last time he would get to touch her. “Baby…” She whined when he finally circled in around her clit, avoiding the spot that would soon make her squirm. Peppering soft kisses up to her ear, where he gently nibbled on her lobe. “I missed you so much, you don’t even know…” Jungkook’s voice was low and raspy when he spoke, eliciting a small cry from her when his fingers applied more pressure around the sensitive nub. “I missed kissing you…” Her nails dug deeper into his skin as she tried to keep quiet, only betrayed by her own hips who tried so desperately to get more friction than Jungkook was supplying. He exhaled, stopping the motion of his fingers, nervous anticipation filling the gap between them. “I missed touching you…” Arching her back off the mattress when he finally grazed the spot he’d been avoiding deliberately, her legs squirming against his at the newfound waves of pleasure coming down on her. “Stay still, baby.” He softly chuckled, managing to trap at least one of her legs underneath his right. Fondly he smiled down on her as he watched her blossom under his ministrations, pressing her arm to her mouth to muffle the repeated moans of his name. Until now Jungkook had never realized how amazing it was to watch her fall apart; he did enjoy using his tongue but being able to see how her face flushed and her lashes fluttered from the little circles his fingers were drawing was out of this world - making him fall in love with her all over again. 

“P-please stop.” She tried to wiggle away from him a little; normally he would keep going, knowing that she was getting close but he paused, giving her enough time to slip her hand down his sweats and wrap it around his length. “Noona…ahh.” His voice hitched and his head fell back when she slowly started rubbing her thumb over the tip, coating it with the beads of precum that just kept spilling. Her touch was very light but he was so desperate to feel her that his body reacted erratically, bucking his hips into her hand; never wanting her to stop. Trailing sweet kisses up his neck until she reached his lips, she delicately sucked on his bottom lip, making it throb in her mouth; her hand moving up and down his dick painfully slow, feeling him getting harder by the second. Jungkook whimpered, almost melting in his briefs. He was getting ready to distract himself from his own pleasure by touching her again when she broke the kiss. “Kookie…” There was no moaning, no outcry to get him to touch her and his heart sank for a second, fearing that they had gone too far. “Love me…” She whispered softly, looking up at him, her other hand cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, relishing the warm feeling spreading in his chest before shifting his body weight to his knees, he placed a kiss to her lips, fully prepared to show her how much he loved her. Kneeling down between her legs, he gently lifted them to roll her panties up to discard them on the floor next to the bed, before spreading them again. “I’m so lucky, you’re so handsome.” She smiled lovingly, wanting to reach up to touch his face but he wouldn’t let her, making her pout in return. A little too eagerly, Jungkook pushed down his sweats and briefs - his heart hiccuping in anticipation of being one with her again. Holding and kissing her was amazing but sleeping with her always felt different to him; it was some form of a deeper connection he couldn’t even begin to explain. Lying down on top of her, supporting most of his weight on his arms next to her shoulders, he started peppering small kisses all over her cheeks to her lips, letting his tongue disappear in her mouth to taste her again. Slowly grinding against her core, just to make sure she was still wet enough for him when she whimpered into the kiss; the engorged tip of his member applying enough pressure to her clit to send her flying again.  Shoving his one hand between their bodies to line himself up, before he pushed the tip inside, the feeling of bliss washing over him as he felt the velveteen walls hugging his dick. “Is that okay?” He asked, brushing her hair from her face. “More than okay.” She smiled, puckering up her lips for yet another kiss.  Jungkook was moving slowly, taking his sweet time, enjoying every little noise he was eliciting from her with each stroke. Her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, clinging onto him for dear life, as if it was just a dream and he would disappear the moment she woke up. Their lips were glued together, only ever breaking apart to up their oxygen intake before diving back in for more. He adjusted his position, pushing her legs up to his sides so she could rest her calves on his lower back - his body was ready to chase his down his high but he had to shift his focus on hers first. When he bottomed out after a hard thrust, she pulled away, letting her head fall back. “Oh god, right there.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; he loved that she always let him know when he was hitting the right spot. “’s that good, baby?” He asked, hips slamming into her much harder than before but she couldn’t answer him, too busy trying to muffle her moans against his skin. He wanted her to let herself fall and just bathe in the waves of pleasure washing over her body but he could tell she was holding back a little. Jungkook sucked on his fingers, letting his hand venture down to the swollen bundle of nerves to rub it again. Gasping for air, she locked eyes with him as she let out whiny moans of his name. “Jungkook-ah…” “It’s okay baby, you can cum. Don’t wait for me.” He encouraged her, sucking a small bruise on the column of her throat. Bottoming out with every thrust, he knew that she needed him to go faster to reach her high. Alternating between little figure-eights and flicking her clit, he knew she would soon reach the point of no return. Her moans were fogging up his brain - each one higher in pitch than the last, making it difficult for him to keep a steady pace. The knot in his stomach that was pulling itself tighter and tighter was about to snap but he had to keep going, they were both so unbelievably close that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, her hips now meeting his halfway. “You feel so good.” Jungkook panted, her convulsing walls trying to milk him dry; his scrotum contracting dangerously.  “Baby!” She whined a heads up, her left hand fisting the sheets while the other tightly squeezed his biceps, the stinging feeling of his skin completely subdued by the rush of her high. He was in a daze, watching her come undone, her loud moans ringing in his ears as his member suddenly erupted when he bottomed out, hot white streams of cum painting her walls as white as snow. Letting his body sink onto hers, he buried his face in the crook of her neck as his own orgasm washed over him. “I love you, baby…I love you so much…I love you” He let out a slurry of moans against her sweat glistening skin, thrusting sloppily to get every last drop as deep inside of her as he could, never wanting to come down from this high. Breathing heavily but staying still, he softly pressed little pecks to her shoulder when a sob shook him to his core. He lifted his head up to look at her but hers was turned the other way. “Noona, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” “No, I’m fine…j-just ignore me.” She blubbered, trying to wipe the tears away without him noticing. He pulled out to lie down beside her, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. “Tell me what’s wrong…let me fix it.” He whispered; the dopamine from his orgasm that had rushed through his veins, vanishing instantly. “No, no it’s okay…just give me a minute.” But he couldn’t, the world no longer made sense to him; he just couldn’t come up with a reason why she suddenly broke down in tears after he had just told her how much he loved her when she had wanted him to make love to her. “Noona, it’s not okay. You wouldn’t be crying if it was.” She turned around in his arms, burying her face against his chest, her tears feeling like a thousand needles poking and prodding at his skin. “I-I…” A choked sob riddled her body, his embrace tightening around her. He felt so lost, not knowing what to do or how to comfort her. Was he supposed to just hold her and let her cry? But that was easier said than done when he felt tears pricking at his own eyes. “I love you so much, Kookie and it just sucks that we can’t…be together anymore.” “Yes, we can be together, don’t say that.” Desperation was flaring up in his chest as the tears finally escaped their prison. “No, we can’t and you know it.” The sniffles were muffled against his quickly rising chest. “But why? I’m here now. I will always be here.” “Because I’m holding you back and…” He wanted to go deaf so that he wouldn’t have to hear her say any of that nonsense. “- and I’m just standing in your way and ruining your career and I don’t want that. I want you to be happy even if it’s without me.” “But how am I supposed to be happy without you?” His heart was slowly crumbling to pieces, not able to grasp the concept that he could ever be okay without her in his life.  “I don’t know but eventually you’ll move on with someone else…” Untangling his arms from her, he sat up, forcing her to do the same. She didn’t know one bit, how much he had suffered from being separated from her, his heart felt like it was incomplete, missing its other half.  “I won’t! After everything, we went through…I don’t want anyone else. I want you, don’t you get it?” Averting her eyes to the pillows, she tried to avoid looking at him - tears rapidly flowing down his cheeks. “I want you too but you know, sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how badly you want them to.” “Bullshit! You just let those stupid comments get to you and now you’re pushing me away because those people made you believe you’re not good for me.” “But they are right…” She weakly protested. “If you truly believed that, you would’ve taken your bracelet off but you’re still wearing it…do not lie to me like that.” He inhaled shakily, feeling like someone was standing on his chest, infringing on his ability to breathe properly. As if she was reminiscing, her fingertips traced the metal plate on the bracelet. “I just want what’s best for you…and it’s not me.” “Y/n, you know that we are meant to be together. You have said it yourself that we are soulmates, how can you even say that we’re not supposed to be together?” “You have to grow up and learn that you can’t always get what you want. This isn’t a candy store…” “Are you even listening to yourself? You’re trying so hard to keep us apart with those stupid reasons…” He got up, pulling his pants up and reaching for his hoodie on the floor. He could tell that she wanted to say something but she kept quiet, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks and onto her bare chest. “I’m not going to give up so easily…you will see that we are meant to be together and I don’t care what anyone says and you shouldn’t either…maybe you can grow up and learn that we are a thing that’s worth fighting for.”  His hand slid into the pocket of his hoodie, holding tightly onto the white gold Love bracelet, before placing it on her nightstand.  “This is yours because I’m yours.” 

*

“Where is he?” Namjoon was pacing up and down the living room, checking his watch for the hundredth time in the past 20 minutes, after they had noticed that Jungkook wasn’t home or nowhere to be found anywhere in the apartment complex, or around on the premisses to clear his head. “I’d like to know that too…” Yoongi was unusually worried, eyeing the other members who were quietly sitting on the sofa, pretending they couldn’t hear a word they were saying. “You guys know something...” Hoseok contemplated, tapping on his chin with his index finger. “I’m sure of it, you all look really suspicious…” “Exactly! Spill it!” Yoongi agreed while Namjoon tried calling the youngest yet again. “What? We don’t know anything.” Jin shrugged his shoulders. “I think, we should just calm down, he’ll be home soon. I’m sure, he just needed to blow off some steam. Did anyone check the gym?” “He’s not picking up.” The leader informed the group when the heavy front door opened and closed and Jungkook dragged his feet into the living room. “Where have you been? We were worried about you!” Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon scolded him in unison. “Out.” He mumbled, his eyes were puffy from crying and he wanted nothing more than to hide in his bedroom and don’t see or talk to anyone. “Out?” Namjoon repeated. “You do know that you are not allowed to go out without supervision? We were worried that something happened to you and all you say is ‘out’?” “But it didn’t. I’m fine, nobody saw me.” “Jungkook-ah…” Jimin said softly, he could tell by the look on his face that something wasn’t right. “What did she say?” “Who?” Hobi interrupted but Jimin indicated with his hand for him to stay quiet. “We’re not getting back together…” “You went to see y/n?” Usually, Namjoon always stayed calm but the tension on his face told everyone that he was getting upset at the youngest for breaking the rules when they all needed to be extra careful. “I’m sorry, Jk.” Jin smiled sadly. “It’s okay…if you don’t mind, I wanna be alone for a bit.” “Sure thing.” Jimin reached out and gave his hand a light squeeze. “If you want some company, we’re here for you, okay?” The youngest nodded and disappeared down the hallway to seek comfort in his bedroom. Namjoon scoffed. “I can’t believe, he actually did that…he’s trying really, really hard to get into trouble these days.” “Lay off him! He’s having a hard time right now!” Jin furrowed his eyebrows, letting out an elongated sigh. “Are you serious? He’s doing one reckless thing after the other.” “Maybe it was bound to happen that he acted out…” Yoongi pondered. “I mean, he always had to behave and stay in line…” “He’s not acting out, he just wanted to see her after what happened to her. It’s normal, he’s in love with her.” Jimin defended Jungkook, who wasn’t present to fight for himself. “We should be supportive now. You guys heard that they’re not getting back together. I think he needs us.” “You’re right…” Namjoon gave in, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He really does need us right now.”  While the others were discussing how they could cheer their little brother up, Taehyung slipped out into the hallway unnoticed; quietly he walked towards Jungkook’s room. Stopping a few times, wanting to turn around but he couldn’t. A part of him was still hurt, his heart aching every time he thought about either one of them but the anger he felt had subsided slowly, at times he felt an overwhelming amount of disappointment flooding his mind but he kept telling himself that it was natural to feel that way after being lied to by two of your best friends. It struck him as odd to feel pity for Jungkook when he had caused all of this trouble in the first place, but he did - seeing his little brother heartbroken wasn’t something he could ignore and he knew that y/n was feeling the same, the urge to comfort her as well rearing its head in the pit of his stomach. Taehyung inhaled, as if to gather up all the courage he could muster and knocked on the door, faintly he heard the youngest mumble a ‘yes’ and he quickly opened and closed the door behind him. Jungkook was lying on his bed, trying to hide the tissue he had used to soak up the tears under his pillow, while Taehyung sat down next to him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay..” “Oh yeah, I am…” Jungkook didn’t even have to fake a smile; he was genuinely happy that Tae was finally speaking to him again. “You didn’t have to check on me but thank you, hyung!” “I was worried about you…you said, she doesn’t want to get back together?” He shook his head, his eyes drooping in sadness. “She says, she loves me but we can’t be together.” “And why’s that?” Taehyung tilted his head, confused as to why his best friend didn’t want to be with his little brother anymore. “Stupid reasons like she’s holding me back and ruining my career. I think she let those people get into her head.” Jungkook’s eyes shot up when his older brother chuckled. “What’s so funny?” “Ah, Jungkookie…” Tae patted his head. “I don’t know if you know this yet but y/n can be very, very stubborn. She thinks she’s right about something but eventually, she will realize that she’s wrong and I’m pretty sure she will come around.” “How do you kn-?”  “I’ve known her my whole life, remember? It’s her thing, always been like that.”  Jungkook sighed, his lips jutting out into a pout.  “I wish she would hurry up and realize how wrong she is…”  “Don’t worry, it’ll happen sooner than you think.” They fell silent for a moment; it wasn’t uncomfortable this time around. It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders and they both knew, that they would be able to overcome this hurdle in their friendship. 

“Hyung…” The younger one muttered, piddling at his comforter. “I’m sorry, I lied to you. I should’ve been honest with you from the start. I really hope, you can fully forgive me one day.” “I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt but I’m not mad anymore…and I’d like that.” Tae smiled shyly when Jimin barged into the room without knocking, stopping in his tracks when his eyes fell on both boys sitting across from each other on the bed. “What is going on?” “We were just talking.” Taehyung assured him. “What’s up?” As soon as he asked, the other members squeezed through the door, piling up in the small space between the door and the bed. “It’s only 10pm, let’s go out to eat and maybe karaoke after!” All the members were nodding enthusiastically behind Jimin. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jungkook questioned, not wanting to get into any more trouble. “Yes, we talked to the managers and they said it’s okay if it’s just us. They’re sending a car, so go get dressed.” Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, welcoming the distraction with open arms. “Jungkookie you think of a restaurant where you want to go.” Jin called as he was walking away to his room to get dressed as well. It was almost like nothing ever happened between them, they were cooped up in a small private room at Jungkook’s favorite restaurant, eating and drinking while talking about anything that popped into their heads. Jungkook hated to admit it but he had missed his brothers very much; all the sneaking around and hiding away from them, had involuntarily built a barrier between them and with each laughter that filled the room, he could feel it breaking down. After Jimin had recovered from sliding off his chair from laughing so hard after Hoseok had spilled beer all over Yoongi’s new phone, Jungkook cleared his throat. “So…you’re all not mad at me anymore, right?” Carefully he looked at his older brothers, eyes swimming in tears as he waited for their reply. He knew, he was ruining the mood but the question was eating him up inside - he would’ve hated to find out later that they were all just pretending to make him feel alright for a couple of hours. To his surprise, Namjoon wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “We were never mad at you, just a little disappointed. You’re still a part of us, Jungkook.” Hiding his face in his hands, he let the tears fall freely but he didn’t want his hyungs to see how relieved he was that they still loved and cared about him. “Is he crying?” Jin asked astounded, looking at the others. “I think so…” Yoongi couldn’t tell until Jungkook let out a quiet sob. “Oh Jungkookie, don’t cry!” Hoseok got to his feet, hurrying around the table to give him a hug.  “When you cry, we all cry. Don’t do that!” He softly chuckled, letting his brothers hug him and wipe his tears away, thinking that maybe one day he would be okay as long as they were by his side.

                                          *~~EPILOGUE ~~*

It was a cloudy day, the sun was hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds while she was confined to the car, staring at a row of buildings that all looked the same to her. Deliberately she was pulling at her sweater to make it wider and comfier. “Not long, five more minutes or so.” She nodded, fiddling with the strap of her purse - her nerves getting the better of her. “Aren’t you excited?” “I am…” She replied, trailing off; unsure whether she was actually excited or scared. They had never talked about it, really but she was hoping it would all turn out just fine. Nervously she stepped out of the car, leaning against it to keep a close eye on the door, wishing she would have brought Taehyung or Ha-na for moral support but they were busy visiting locations for the party after the wedding reception. The unusual loud beep of her phone made her flinch when it snapped her out of her thoughts. [Jimin - 2:28pm] Don’t tell Jungkookie about his surprise party later! 🤫 And don’t worry y/n, I know he will be very excited when you tell him 😍 She let out a sigh, it was easier said than done - she had been on edge since last night, only tossing and turning all night. What if he wasn’t happy about it? The others had reassured her a million times by now that it was all going to be fine but now she was contemplating waiting a little longer, maybe even a few months, as ridiculous as it sounded in her head. She was checking her watch yet again, thinking that a minute could easily feel like hours when suddenly a door opened and a few people left the most official-looking building of them all. Her eyes found him, surrounded by the guys in his unit as they were walking towards their families after the ceremony, which she hadn’t been allowed to attend for privacy reasons, but that didn’t matter now. The tingling feeling in her legs, made her impatient and she just couldn’t stand still and wait for him to get to her, so she started running towards him. The moment he spotted her, Jungkook’s face lit up, his stomach was swarming with butterflies as he dropped his bag on the ground, ready to catch her in his arms. “Jungkook-ah, is that your girlfriend?” Minhyuk laughed next to him, nudging him with his elbow, watching as she came running, her skirt blowing in the wind. “Yes.” He said proudly, getting ready to wrap his arms around her for the first time in almost three months. “Looks like she’s really excited to see you, you really should’ve taken a shower this morning.” Junyoung teased him, making the other guys chuckle as they all seemingly waited to watch the reunion. “I saw Jungkookie using perfume before the ceremony, he’ll be fine.” Hyunwoo added, patting his shoulder. “Your teasing is definitely something I won’t miss.” Jungkook winked at them before shifting his focus back to her. He had become good friends with some of the guys in his unit after spending day and night with them - maybe it reminded him of the old days with the other members but it comforted him and made his military service not as bad as he had imagined it before enlisting. His heart was hammering against his ribcage when he picked her up right before she could crash into his chest. His arms securely wrapped around her thighs, he slowly spun around in circles with her. She gently cupped his face, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, only deepening it for a few seconds. Carefully he set her down, her fingers digging into the rough material of his uniform jacket. “Hey.” She smiled shyly, looking up at him. “Hey.” Jungkook gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I missed you.” “We missed you too…” “We?” He asked; confusion painted all over his face. He had been told that his members would stay at home and they wouldn’t get together until after his little meeting with the press and fans outside the company building. “Yes, we…”  Taking his hand, he could feel hers shaking when she placed it on her stomach. “We missed you a lot.” Jungkook froze; unsure of whether his ears were playing tricks on him or not. His heart was racing again, but this time it was different - a fuzzy feeling rushed through his body as he slowly started to move his hand over her stomach, feeling the small bump that was well hidden underneath the oversized sweater. “Are you serious?” He swallowed hard, trying to stop his eyes from watering. “I am, I went to the doctor a few weeks ago…” She trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty for not having told him sooner. “I’m sorry, I should’ve… I wanted to tell you in person.” “No, no..it’s okay!” He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was going to be a father just yet. “I-I’m happy you told me like this, it was perfect.” He smiled, cupping her face to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Noona, I love you.” Ever so delicately he kissed her before he sunk to his knees to press his lips to her stomach, an overwhelming feeling of happiness spreading in his chest.

* “Kookie, she woke up again.” Y/n sighed, hearing the faint little cries coming from their bedroom as she put away the last few dishes. “I’ll go check on her.” He put his laptop down on the couch to get up. “No, it’s okay. You’ve had a long day, I’ll do it.” Quickly he crossed the room to stand in front of her. “No, you go sit down and rest. Dasom was asleep when I got home, so this is my chance to spend some time with her.” “Okay fine, but don’t start playing with her again or she will be up for hours.” “I won’t, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and quietly made his way to their bedroom, only turning on the small light on the bedside table. “Hey, little one.” Gently he picked her up, sitting down with her on y/n’s side of the bed, drying her cheeks with his sleeve. “What’s wrong?” He could tell from the way she was crying that she wasn’t hungry, y/n had fed her before putting her down and it was too early for her dream feed. “You don’t need to be changed either.” He concluded after checking her diaper. “Wanna tell appa what’s bothering you?” Dasom made a few unidentifiable noises in between yawns, looking at her father with those big brown doe eyes that she could’ve only gotten from him. “Hmm….yeah…” Jungkook nodded his head. “I understand, I missed you too while I was at work…” He trailed off, reminding himself what he had promised y/n but he was so tempted to tickle her, simply to hear her laugh - he really needed to hear it sometimes, especially after a long tiring day of filming. “I promised mommy I wouldn’t keep you up so, how about I tell you a bedtime story instead?” He cradled her in his arm, making sure she was comfortable. “Where did we leave off last night before you fell asleep? Right, you know there was a time when the princess really didn’t want to be with the prince because of what the people in the town were saying; they were really mean to both of them and the princess wanted to protect the prince so she left him heartbroken and to fend for himself. But the prince loved the princess so much that he did everything in his power to show her his love - it took him months of slaying dragons and all the monsters in the far-away land but eventually, she realized that the universe had always wanted them to be together, they weren’t doomed to be star-crossed lovers…” Dasom’s little snores interrupted his recollection of his relationship with her mother, lovingly his index finger followed the perfect slope of her little nose. Without waking her, he put her back in her crib, making sure she was surrounded by all her favorite plushies, all gifts from her uncles; before he gently kissing her forehead. “I love you and mommy so much, I hope you know that, baby girl.” He whispered, slightly pulling on the string of the little moon above her bed that played the melody of Euphoria.