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sugarushsuga · 2 years

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In Your Own Words - CH. 13

Genre/Au's: Rom-Com, fluff with bits of angst - Coworkers!AU; enemies to lovers; Journalist!AU

Paring: RM x Reader

Words count: 6.588

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Cursing; Mentions of pregnancy;

Synopsis: After graduating your dream was to become a journalist and work to one of the biggest magazines in the country. But that pretty dream does not translate perfectly to reality. The magazine is on verge of bankruptcy, great journalists are moving the rival magazines and not being replaced, your boss is a jerk who doesn't even know your name. Fate seems to be toying you around to its own pleasure, can you take control of your life and achieve your dreams, or you are going to be carried away by fate's plans?

Author note: This fanfic follows the world of the Brazilian production Procura-se um marido series. I do not own the series or original content.

@hannahbee12719 always making the best banners for me❤️

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It's okay, calm down. Everything will be fine. It's going to be okay! You repeat non-stop that Monday, while You are untangling your hair, getting ready to go to work. You made the right decision. You mean, break up with Namjoon before the situation got even worse, you mean. End whatever it was that was going on between you before you got even more involved and ended this story in a pile of shards instead of a heart in your chest.

You know that, technically speaking, he was the one who put a full stop, but this detail is irrelevant.

Namjoon disappeared from the wedding after the argument. As far as you know, he hitchhiked back with Hoseok, which only proved your theory that something was wrong, very wrong in the world. Sabrina and you stayed for the lunch wedding on Sunday even though You were too moody and depressed to have fun. Delilah tried to talk to you a few times, but you dodged, that beautiful reminder of long legs how the devil flees the cross. No, you didn’t want to talk to her. You wanted to talk to your grandmother, but she was too busy—or too furious that you broke the cup—to give you attention.

You couldn't tell Sabrina anything because you knew what she would say: you ruined everything! Just like grandma said you would.

Shit! sometimes Grandma Cecilia scares you with her prophecies. So, there you are, getting ready for the moment you dread so much. Finding your ex-lover in the terrifying boss form.

You arrive a little late, but you notice the tense atmosphere as soon as you set a foot in the newsroom.

“What happened? Any new tragedy?” You ask Natacha.

She looks up from the computer screen. “Before it was! Is Namjoon…" She hesitates for a moment, looking for the right word, but ended up shaking her pink hair. “I don’t know what he is. It's not even nine in the morning, and he already yelled at the top of his lungs, yelled into the phone, kicked over a chair and told Yoongi to shut up twice.”

"Hmm... he looks depressed," You cheer. Not that You want to see him suffering or anything like that.

Cracks of shards came from the head-editor's office. Through the window that separate his space from the rest of the mortals, you see Namjoon gesturing, and he looks like yelling at someone on the phone.

"I think it's more like the son of the devil," counters Natacha.

“The agenda meeting is going to be great,” Ella grumbles as she passes.

You go to your desk, occasionally glancing at your boss, who is still arguing on the phone. You slung your bag over the back of your chair, smooth out your pencil skirt before sitting down and crossing your legs under the table. While waiting for the computer to come to life, you discreetly watch his office out of the corner of your eye. Namjoon has turned off the phone and stares at something on the back wall, hands on his narrow hips. He leans his head back, aiming at the ceiling, then rubs his hand over his face, as if trying to get rid of something that torments him. Then he turns around and his gaze meets yours. You shiver at the coldness in him. He looks away and gather some papers, heading for the meeting room.

You quickly divert your attention, trying to look busy and praying that he won’t come talk to you—although a little bit of anticipation burns in your heart.

Namjoon heads straight for the meeting room, through the door almost with a bang, and disappears inside. You looked at the clock. There are still fifteen minutes before the meeting starts.

Ella gives you a questioning look, Yoongi is looking at Julia without understandment, Natacha looks around the room with wide eyes. Irene and Youngjae abandon the new toys sent by a sex shop. Where it is Hani?

"What do we do now?" Natasha whispers to you.

"I think..."

The meeting room door swings open. Namjoon shoots the team with the look. "Is it too much to ask for my incompetent journalists to show up to the fucking meeting?"

"... we should go there. Like, right now" — You end up pouting.

In exactly twenty-three seconds, all the reporters are seated around the long table. Namjoon is at the head, standing.

"I hope you understand that I'm the boss of this shit, not the owner of it." he starts.

Everyone nods, afraid to open their mouths. Even Yoongi looks apprehensive.

"Veiga just called," he goes on. “For the second time today. The article about the diversion of money from the public coffers to the senator's account was vetoed."

"What?!" Yoongi spreads his hands on the table.

"It seems that Veiga and our corrupt senator are close" — Namjoon explains, turning over some papers in front of him. "He doesn't want anything related to the case to appear in the magazine."

"It's an absurd! This is hiding the facts from the people. It's censorship!

"And what do you think I was doing until now, yelling into the phone, Yoongi?" Namjoon spits through his teeth. "Veiga doesn't want to know. The magazine is his. Nothing about the case will appear on our pages. But look from the positive side. He wants the magazine full of trivia. Even suggested an article about traffic,” he finishes, smiling wryly.

"He must be crazy!" Yoongi mutter, flushed with anger.

"Yes. But it's the madman who pays your salary, so unless you want to put your notice, as Hani did, do as he order."

"Did Hani quit?" Irene asks, dumbfounded.

"She got an offer from her competitor," Namjoon explains impatiently.

"Oh no! Did she go to TopNews too?" Ella wants to know.

Namjoon just nods.

You're not sure why that bothers you so much. You liked Hani, she is fun and would definitely be missed, but that isn't what pesters. Suddenly TopNews seems almost a physical presence in Just-Facts, like an executioner ready to do its duty.

"Holy shit!" Yoongi lets go, dropping into his chair. "Everyone is going to disband for that shit magazine?"

"Is it?" Namjoon questions, placing his hands on the table and staring fixedly to his most renowned journalist.

"No, and you know it," Yoongi answers firmly. "But you can't be serious about vetoing the article. You know it's good, I have evidence, one exclusive with the senator. I bet Veiga has his ass stuck."

"It's no use, Yoongi. I tried, believe me. Just prepare an article about anything else. Now the next subject." He turns his head until he finds you. There is nothing but professionalism there. "Y/n, do you think you're fit to take on a column?"

You blink. About five times.

"What's it?"

He huffs, avoiding your gaping gaze. "Do you think you're ready to take on a column?"

"Y-yes." - Oh my God! Is this really happening?

"Excellent. I want you to take over Hani's column."

You stop breathing.

"Hani's?" You ask too loudly. “Like… writing about sex?"

"Some problem?"

Oh, none. As long as Hoseok, Uncle Vlad and Grandma Cecilia didn't read the column. Maybe if you use another alias...

“The Zodiac continues to get rave reviews,” he continues. —"You'll have to stick with both tasks for a while, until I find a substitutes for both."

That's when you understand where he is going.

"And once you find it, you'll fire me," You manage to say without screaming.

"You'll know if I ever intend to fire you, you can be sure of that,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact. "I'm planning to open a new space, something current that talks about nothing, about everything, anything of interest of young people. From the emails I've been reading, I think you have a direct channel with them. When I find an astrologer and someone with at least the basic knowledge of sexual behavior, we will discuss the matter again."

You blush for a number of reasons, but mostly because Namjoon has hinted you don't know anything about the topic. Yoongi doesn't even have the decency of trying to stifle his laughter, as Ella and Irene did. Namjoon pulls out one of his sheets and huffs angrily.

“Ella, please, what were you thinking when you wrote about Angela Kim's mustache?"

"Hey, she has a mustache!" Ella replies, balancing the pen on her finger’s lips drawn in line.

"And six lawyers too," Namjoon continues. "Congratulations, you got another case."

"But she has a mustache! Just because she's rich, I must pretend I don't see that caterpillar. Do me a favor..."

“You already know the procedure. Our lawyers will guide you, from that you don't throw shit on the fan anymore. Julia, stop crying or get out of the room, for God's sake! It's getting on my nerves."

Julia sobs loudly, covering her mouth with her hands and tries to compose herself. At the end of the meeting, people elbow their way out of the room before Namjoon remembers something else and decides to give more scolding. Staying at the end of the line, looking at the man making notes in the margins of a document, oblivious to everything around.

Ella is the last to pass, and you already have your hand on the doorknob to close the door after leaving, but you can't move on. Not before asking:

“Why are you doing this?

“Be more specific, Y/n. I don't have time for guess games" — he grunts, not bothering to lift his head.

"I'm talking about the column. Why did you decide to hit me right now?"

He doesn't take his eyes off the paper to answer. "It makes a difference?"

"For me it does. It seems very strange that just now you are willing to give me what I always wanted. Are you trying...”? You don’t have the courage to continue.

"Trying what, Y/n?" He lifts his head and looks at you with contempt. "Oh! Do you think I'm trying to pamper you for some reason? I don't want anything from you. You clarified your point on Saturday, and I finally understood. I'm giving you the opportunity to take over Hani's column because I thought that text of yours was good enough. And, as you can imagine, we don't have cash for immediate hires."

"Only that?"

His eyes narrow behind his glasses. "You are funny. When we were involved, you didn't want to talk with me about work, because you were afraid of taking advantage of being my lover. Now that all that hell is over, you complain that you don't need to worry about that detail. Do you know what you want, Y/n?"

The sadness you feel at the resentful tone in his voice eclipses your pride. “I was hoping that we could live together in peace, continue to be friends,” you mutter.

“You don't want me as a friend. Neither as a lover, boyfriend, neighbor, or anything that puts you within five meters of me." — he remembers, without even blinking. "Close the door behind you."

You throat feels tight, as if a block clogged the air passage. You don't want things to end this way. However, you can't close your eyes. You can't pretend you didn't hear him say to Delilah, he didn't want you. What is happening now, that devastation inside you, as if all your pillars are crumbling, is proof that if you had let your relationship go deeper, the end of it would have killed you.

It was the right thing to do, but doing the right thing isn't always painless. On the contrary, hurts, bleeds, burns.

You miss him. Not the man who had just spoken to you in that room, but the fun, caring guy you had grown to like and to admire. The world won't end because he is walking out of your life, but it will become cold and empty.

Your eyes start to itch, you hurry out of the meeting room, heading straight to the bathroom. You go into a stall and sit on the toilet seat, hugging yourself and sobbing loudly, trying to ease that burning in your chest, but to no avail.

You reach for the metal paper bin to get a piece of toilet paper to blow your nose, but it’s empty. "Damn it!" you cry even louder.

A thin, delicate hand appears from under the cabin partition. "Don't cry, Y/n."

"Oh, Julia." You take the roll of paper she offers you and hug it, as if that would make you feel better.

“He's been treating everyone badly today. Must have had an awful weekend.” she assures you.

Then the next door opens and seconds later you hear a knock at the door of the booth you are in. You release the latch, still sitting on the toilet.

"You look… awful," she notes as she opens the cabin door.

You shrug.

“I've discovered that I'm not lucky with men. I decided to become a lesbian."

She laughs lightly, leaning back against the partition. “Namjoon must mean a lot to you. Did he... go back to Alexia?"

You shake your head as you blow your nose. “He got involved with a cousin of mine. You believe? The guy goes with me to a party and melts into smiles for another woman! But that wasn't the worst. I heard Namjoon say he doesn't want me. Not that it was a surprise, I already kind of knew, it's just that... deep down, I was hoping that... you know." — you lift your shoulders, desolate. "I'm an idiot, aren't I? Only myself to fall in love with someone I know will come to nothing."

“You need to cool off,” Julia says, dampening a paper towel on the sink. "Get royally drunk, lick your wounds, and move on."

“What bad advice."

"I thought so too." She approaches and carefully pass the moist paper under your eyes, probably smudged with mascara. "But it was you who

told me that, remember? And, amazingly enough, it worked. I am fine, much better now. You will stay too."

You suddenly feel like you were going back in time. As if the months didn't have passed, everyone saying you would be fine, right after you caught Jimin between the neighbor's breasts. And, amazingly, people were right. You were fine. Not right away, but after a while. After Namjoon

invaded your life. And now he is leaving, and you would have to start it all again. Only this time alone.

Completely alone.

"You didn't look good in the meeting room" you tell Julia. "The Hani's exit shook you up a lot."

“I wasn't prepared to lose another friend. she didn't tell me anything. I was taken by surprise."

"Me too."

Deciding to forget about Namjoon, you get up with Julia's help and, after redoing your makeup, you dive into work and spend the rest of the day keeping busy. Which isn't so difficult, since Liz has received over two thousand messages, and you need to think about the article about

sex. But you can’t concentrate. You scrolled through the mailing list without actually seeing nothing for like five minutes. A little pink square on the left side of the screen warns you that you have to cover the car repair check that day.

Yeah, as if money popped into your account like that, out of nowhere...

You watch the calendar more closely. Two lines up, the number five is highlighted. Oh, crap! What did you miss?

You click on the number and look at the caption.

"Oh. My. God."

You do and redo the math at a frantic pace. For eight times! You are on the 17th, that is, twelve days away from the 5th.

Twelve days.

Two whole weeks.

"No!"

The days drag on. The hours do not pass. You don't want to live anymore. You suspect that your co-workers think you are with intestinal disarray. That alone would explain the thousands of times you run to the toilet for the past three days, hoping to find something that didn't have slightest sign that it would appear.

You are late. Fifteen days. The rectangular box with the pregnancy test is still intact inside your bag. You can't even look at it! You didn't tell Sabrina about the delay, as she didn't sleep at home for the last two nights. You also can't talk about it with anyone at work for several reasons. And you can't bring yourself to go into the bathroom and put an end to that uncertainty of fearing the result.

Namjoon remains in his furious state, yelling and lashing out his frustrations in anyone who looks at him. At that Thursday meeting, he looks even more disgusted than on Monday—especially after that you told him that you haven't done the zodiac or came up with anything for Hani's ex-column, but luckily the redhead had left two articles to cover her abrupt departure —and talking to him about what is troubling you seems like such a good idea just as committing suicide.

But it is your only alternative. Besides, if you really are... Oh my God, you can't even think about it... But if you were, he'd is also responsible. It isn't fair to have to deal with everything alone. He has the right to know and to decide whether or not to be part of the life of the...

Images of a chubby little baby plays in your mind: fair skin with fine brown tufts on her perfect head, large, round, eyes like yours, the half-debauched smile — still toothless — just like her father's, the plump little fingers...

You shake your head, determined to put an end to this situation. Regardless of the outcome, you are adults to bear the consequences. At least you hope you are.

You discreetly watched you colleagues. Everyone looks busy. You launch a look at Namjoon's room. He is engrossed in something on the screen of the computer. Keeping your eyes on him, you get up and grab some old papers from your table and head to his room. You stop in front of the door, steeling yourself. Your hands are shaking slightly, and you have no idea how you are going to get into it.

You hit.

Namjoon looks up from the monitor and, after a moment's hesitation, orders you in. You close the door carefully as you walk through it, hugging the papers you have in your hands, as if they could protect you from the icy gaze of the man behind the desk.

"Is that the Zodiac?" he asks sharply, indicating the papers on your arms.

“No.” It is irrelevant to tell him I haven't even started. How could you? You head was turned to your uterus and what could be inside. “I need to talk to you, Namjoon."

He looks at you, an eyebrow raised. "That I had already deduced."

You look back at the closed door, wondering if you haven't made a mistake and what were the chances of slipping out of there without him noticing. The odds aren't very good. So, you approach the table and settled into the chair in front of him. The brown eyes are glued to you, curious and impatiently, his fingers drum on the table.

"And then...?" he urges.

"I don't know how to start…" You declare, staring at your knees.

“You had no difficulty in verbalizing what was going on in your head last Saturday. Nothing you say will surprise me."

"Then well, I'm late,” you blurt out, your voice cracking.

He just smiles, ironic. Nothing worried. “I was at the meeting, Y/n. I already told you I want the zodiac by six. So, I think you better get back to your desk and get started."

"No." You shake your head apprehensively. "I'm not talking about the column, although it is also late. I mean I'm late, Namjoon. My... period."

"Aaaah." And then his eyes lose focus.

It seems you are still able to surprise him, after all.

You wait restlessly for an answer, whatever it is, but it doesn't come. He just looks at you as if he doesn't see you. You realize that you are holding your breath in anticipation and let it out forcefully. It brings him back from wherever he was.

"How much time?" He wants to know.

"Fifteen days."

"That much?"

You nod.

"Have you taken a test yet?" he asks, in an almost complacent voice.

You shake your head.

"And why not, Y/n?" And there goes the complacency.

“Because I was scared."

He takes a deep breath, the features of his face softening slightly. “Don't worry,” he says in a gentle voice. The one he used with you when you were out of the magazine. The one you haven't heard in the last week and which you have missed so much. “You're not alone in this."

You stare at him, dumbfounded. You knew he is a guy of principles and such, but you are no longer together — even though you have never been in fact—and he knows you had made plans with Jungkook in the past, so you were already more than ready to respond, with the greatest outrage, that yes, he is the father—that is, in case you are really pregnant.

"What's it?" Namjoon asks, scrutinizing your face carefully.

"You... aren't you going to make a scene and rant that you have nothing to do with that, that the father can be anyone and I should be damned?"

"No," he replies simply, folding his hands on the table.

"Why not?"

“Because if you're really pregnant, that child is mine."

"How can you be so sure?" — Oh, shut up! Which side are you on?

He fights a smile but ends up losing the battle. “Because I know you, Y/n. Because despite all the madness that happened between us, I know I was the only man who came to your bed in the last months."

“I thought you were going to yell at me when I told you,” You confess, running your fingers along the edges of the pages in your lap.

"You didn't think so, or you wouldn't be here now. How about I buy one those drug tests and put an end to the suspense once and for all?"

You curl up in the seat. “I have one in my bag. I've been walking it up and down since I realized the delay."

"Well... what are you waiting for?"

"But what if it's positive, Namjoon? What if I'm... pregnant?"

He stares at you for a long moment, and you try to guess the direction of his thoughts, but his face remains impassive, giving nothing back.

"Then you and I are going to sit down and talk," he clarifies under his breath.

"And then you're going to yell at me?" You want to know, hopefully.

He pursues his lips, holding back a stubborn smile. "Why do you want me to yell at you?"

"I don't know. I think because I saw how Hoseok reacted when he found out about Lorena's pregnancy"

“I would never yell at you for that. I already told you, you didn't do anything alone. I'm as responsible as you are. This is" — he pushes his glasses up using the indicator — "if there is anything to be held responsible for. And we will only know the answer if you take the test."

It's cool. You can do that. Just go into the bathroom and that's it. You don't even have to look at the result. Namjoon can do that for you. You get up hurriedly and is surprised when he does the same.

"I'll walk you to the bathroom," he warns.

“Oh, I don't think so. People will be surprised."

He frowns. "You're right." He looks at his watch. “Get your things. Go home. It's almost the end of the day anyway."

"Uh... not to be boring, but that will also make people wonder."

Then Namjoon says the only thing that would make you agree to leave early and with him, leaving a trail of gossip that only God would know what consequences would bring.

“We'll do this together, Y/n. I don't care what others think. You are all that matters to me now."

You nod and let him approach, opening the door and stepping to the side, giving you passage. You stop at your desk just to turn off the computer and get the bag. As you had predicted, all eyes are on you, even more so after Namjoon takes you by the elbow with touching gentleness and leads to the elevator. It is a relief when you enter the metal box and the doors slam shut, exiling you from the band of onlookers who, you are sure, will call the bets.

You are shaking from head to toe, absurdly tense at the prospect of the result to be positive. What are you going to do? How will you face a pregnancy alone? How can you have a child with a man who doesn't want you? You don't even have a career, damn it!

Namjoon heads towards your car.

"Keep calm." He strokes your arm gently, as if he wants to warm you up with it.

“It's easy to say. It's not you who's going to throw up for nine months and then have a baby ripping your body to get out."

You get in the car and unlock the passenger door. He sits next to you, slamming the door hard. You start up and start to maneuver.

"You're right," he agrees. "But I'll be by your side to hold your hair when you're throwing up, and when it's time to give birth, I'll force the doctor to fill you up on pain drugs. Then I'll hold your hand until you wake up."

You are already on the busy avenue. You want him to continue talking. Its sooths you.

"And how are you going to make the doctor dope me?" — you want to know.

“I'll threaten to put an embarrassing picture of him in the magazine, of course."

You end up laughing.

"And how are you going to get that picture?"

“Breaking into his house in the middle of the night while he's on call. I'm going to take advantage and hijack his diploma. In case he doesn't give in to the blackmail with just the photo."

"It's a good plan, but after that you'd be arrested, and the baby and I would have to bring you cigarettes on Sundays."

“That I would trade for prison security, to keep my masculinity intact. You know how it is. I'm a very attractive man,” he jokes.

Oh, you know that very well.

“Three years later,” You say, “you would get out of jail for good behavior and would be unemployed. Baby and I would have to sell candy at the light sign."

“And no serious media outlet would give me a job, which would force me to accept the offer of some unreliable rag."

“But since you made a lot of contacts while you were in jail, you would investigate an old unsolved case and find out the whole truth."

"What kind of case?" he wants to know.

“Hmm… a crime involving a famous football player of fifty's...?"

"Nice!" His eyes gleam. "And I'd get good money for it, because it would sell it to all the media and recover my good name. But I would not accept any of the millionaire job proposals, because after being in prison, I would want to see the world. So, I would take you and the baby and take you to live with me in Indianapolis. Where a scout would see me riding through the city streets in my Ducati and invite me to be a MotoGP rider. But I wouldn't win a single race."

“I'm not so sure about that. You drive like crazy. I think you would be a good pilot, but I wouldn't like it very much. I would be worried if you got hurt."

"Would you?" He asks, looking surprised.

“Of course, Namjoon! Do you think I wouldn't get mess up every time you climb on one of those things that fly at two hundred miles an hour, protected only by a helmet? I am already distressed here where, thank God, there are traffic laws to stop you from going over 120 an hour."

"Are you distressed? Because?"

Because that's what a woman in love does, you want to add. You blush when you feel his eyes on you, waiting for the answer.

“Because… I… It doesn't matter, Namjoon." You shake your head.

The silence that follows is harrowing. You try to pay attention to the traffic and not further worsen the situation by crashing the car. Twenty minutes later you park in front of the building. You turn the key and pulls the handbrake, but you don't move an inch more. Your life could be about to change, how can you get out of the car and face what is to come? having a baby is part of your dreams, but at a more opportune time. When you are financial stable, with a job you are proud of and a man who knead, for example.

“Let's go upstairs and get this over with, Y/n. You look about to fall apart, and I'm not the right guy to pick up your wreckage."

Only at that moment the coldness of the last few days become perceptible in his tone of voice. And it is a shame because you were missing him to death.

Namjoon. Oh my God, you separated the two. Bad Namjoon and Good Namjoon. How the Doctor and the Monster. Or Clark Kent and Superman. Although the last ones are pretty cool... and very cute. Just like Namjoon.

You follow him out of the car, always keeping one step behind, until you arrive at Bea's apartment. Yeotan greet you, and you take all the time in the world to play with him.

"Come on, Y/n, don't be a coward," he teases, nodding his head to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

“I'm scared,” You whisper.

He seems to understand the torment inside of you, his face darkens but his voice is sweet by saying: "Want me to come in with you?"

“Oh my God, Namjoon. Of course not!" But that is all that you needed.

"I'll stay at the door then, ready to greet you when you leave."

"No. I can't do that," You object, embarrassed. "You wait for me here in the room. I'll be back when everything's ready."

The exam box feels like a tambourine in your shaking hands as you make your way to the bathroom. Two minutes later, you return to the living room, where Namjoon is waiting for you on his feet, trying to look calm and collected, but that little V between his brows he gives it away.

"What's up?"

"You have to wait three minutes. I can't look." You hand him the baton.

He takes it, calmly. You back away, standing in front of the window, next to the still messed up by the plastic parts, dining table counting the seconds. When you reach one hundred eighty, you force yourself to face your future, literally in Namjoon's hands.

"Positive or negative?"

He is studying the white stick from different angles, then scratches his head, He adjusts his glasses with his index finger and frowns. "Hmm... I'm not sure. How do I know if it's positive?"

“One line and I'm screwed,” you explain. “Two, we're free."

"Right. And a line and a half?" He raises his confused eyes to find yours.

"How so?"

“There's a line and a half here."

You hurry across the room, picking up the baton, and studies it. "Shit! Didn't work."

"Are you sure you did it right?"

You narrow your eyes. “Peeing on a fucking stick is no secret, Namjoon."

He shrugs. "It must be defective. I'm going to buy another."

You drop on the couch and buries your head in your hands. "I can't believe that when I finally got up the courage, this crap decided to fail."

"It happens. Wait here. I'll go to the pharmacy and be right back."

He is already leaving when you call him back.

“Namjoon…” He turns, eyes bright, anxious. It looks like he is hoping for something, but you have no idea what it could be. "Thanks."

The glow fades a little. “The responsibility is also mine. You didn't do anything alone. I am not going leave you alone at a time like this."

In that instant, you feel proud to have slept with Namjoon.

All seven times.

Namjoon walks into the house with the bag on his wrist and, without saying anything, hands you the test.

"Ah, well... it's just that I don't feel like peeing right now."

"Y/n!" he scolds, frowning.

"What can I do? I just did it now. Nature needs to act huh?"

“Let's give nature a hand."

And with that, he makes you drink two big glasses of water and a can of soda. About half an hour later, you go to the bathroom again, but this time he follows.

“I can't with you here." You stand still, hips resting on the sink, arms crossed, looking at the huge man inside the cramped bathroom.

"It's ridiculous for you to have a fit of embarrassment over a pee, considering everything we've done in bed."

Your face heats up until you can feel all the veins pulsing under your skin.

“I'm not going to pee with you looking at me and that's it."

“I'll never understand you…” He shakes his head, but leaves. "I will stay out here. Do everything right this time."

"I did everything right the first time!" But just in case, you read the instructions that came with the test.

This time, when you open the bathroom door, Namjoon is waiting for you there and he just stretches out his hand, aware that you won't be able to look at the stick that can change your whole life in three measly minutes.

Too impatiently, you go to Bea's tidy kitchen, opening the cupboards looking for something to eat, and you end up getting a tin of biscuits. Namjoon follows you, standing there leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you swallow one cookie after another.

"I eat when I'm nervous," You explain with your mouth full, and he chuckles softly.

"You can relax. Two lines,” he mutters a minute later.

"Oh my God. I'm not pregnant!" You sink into the cream chair, dizzy with relief, and let your head drop to the massive table. A hint of disappointment lurks in your heart as the image of the perfect baby starts fade from your mind until it disappears for complete.

“This deserves a celebration,” you say, straightening up, but your voice sounds a little... despondent.

“Of course, of course. Let's celebrate." Namjoon is still staring at the stick and doesn't look relieved. He looks…disappointed too. But he quickly composes himself and smiles, only it is a kind of weird smile, it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Thank you for being a nice guy and sticking by my side all the time." You thank in a whisper.

“I couldn't have acted any different."

"I know it. You're a decent guy, Namjoon."

"Am I?" His forehead creases. "Are you sure? because on Saturday you didn't seem to know about it. By the way, on Saturday you seemed to believe that I was everything, but decent."

“Look, let's not talk about this now, okay? “You stand up. "I do not want fight with you again."

“Just explain your logic to me, Y/n. I need to understand. How can I be decent now and such a scoundrel on Saturday?"

Here's something you also want to understand.

“You were such a sweetheart to me today, and I hated these last few days, the way how you treated me. Please, can't we forget a little bit about what happened and continue as we were a minute before?"

He blocks the way with his body when you try to pass him. "Answer my question."

"I don't know, okay?" You yell. "I can't understand you. Simply I don't understand you! Maybe you're crazy, maybe bipolar. Or maybe the problem is in me. Maybe I'm really the immature girl you keep saying that I am."

"I'm glad you finally realized that" he says, and the defiance gleams in his sneer.

He is teasing you on purpose. And you, stupid, fall for it.

"Yeah, I figured it out," You roar, feeling the blood bubbling in your veins. "I realized that you're a cocky, too old asshole for me. Who is looking for a mature woman, someone on your level? Like Alexia, for example. I imagine kidnapping a dog sure tops the list of mature acts of an adult. Or maybe you prefer Delilah. You looked like you have a lot in common at my cousin's wedding, a party at which you were my companion. You two have more in common than I realized. Especially the taste for boredom!"

"That's what I intend to do," he replies, straightening his shoulders, looking very pleased. “I can't wait to have a grown-up conversation. Something that hasn't happened since you came into my life!"

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kim! My sincere apologies for my youth. I can't do much about it. As for the mater of me in your life, I can solve it right now." You walk past him with your head held high, glaring at him.

He doesn't return nothing, just that coldness that drives you crazy. A slight pull on his jaw betrays that something in him is also about to overflow. And because of it you stop, realizing that there is nothing you can say, it will do no good to offend him, hurt him—or punch him so that he can stop being such an idiot. None of that would make you happy.

"I sincerely hope that one day someone can make you truly happy." Your voice shakes. “I always knew that this someone wouldn't be me."

Something changes in his face, in his posture. It is as if he had been punched in the stomach. You walk past him, heading over to the couch to grab your bag.

"Wait, Y/n," he calls in a gentle tone, sounding almost regretful.

"No." And you run away before he sees the tears that are starting sting your eyes, behaving just like the immature little girl he believes that you are.

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bts-scenarios-br · 4 years

Text

Legendas:

Fluff -> fofo/romântico/final feliz

Angst -> drama

Smut -> hot/conteúdo explícito

Crack -> comédia/engraçado/bobo

》Kim Seokjin

◇Imagination

Temas: angst, fluff

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: "Oh, aí vai ela de novo

Todas as manhãs é a mesma coisa

Você passa na frente da minha casa

Eu quero chamar seu nome

Eu quero te dizer o quão linda você é

De onde estou observando

Você me faz pensar

No que poderíamos ser "

(Imagination - Shawn Mendes)

》Min Yoongi:

◇They’re not wrong

Temas: angst

Genero: feminino

Sinopse: Às vezes, tudo o que você precisa é que seu namorado fique do seu lado. Acontece que nem sempre ele entende a importância disso.

◇I F*cking Love You

Temas: smut, fluff (friends to lovers)

Gênero: feminino (cisgênero)

Sinopse: Depois de descobrir que seu namorado dava mais importância em satisfazer suas "necessidades" do que em ser fiel à você, a última coisa que queria era que seu melhor amigo brincasse com seus sentimentos. Mas, talvez não seja uma brincadeira.

》Jung Hoseok:

◇Halloween

Temas: sobrenatural, angst, fluff

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: Depois de ter sido tirada do mundo que conhecemos pelo seu pai, rei dos Demônios, você tem a chance de retornar à vida que tanto amava apenas uma vez por ano, no dia trinta e um de outubro, halloween. Mas as coisas começam a desandar quando seu descuidado faz com que uma paixão do passado te reencontre. Será que seus sentimentos são mais fortes do que seu destino?

》Kim Namjoon:

◇No Judgment

Temas: fluff (friends to lovers)

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: Seu relacionamento com o Namjoon é... inusitado. Não importa se vocês se encontram todos os dias durante semanas ou passam meses sem se falar, sempre podem contar um com o outro para quando precisam. (Inspirado na música "No Judgment" - Niall Horan)

》Park Jimin:

◇Life Goes On

Temas: fluff, angst, leve smut

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: A vida às vezes acontece mais rápido do que gostaríamos. Mas, no final das contas, o que importa mesmo é que aproveitemos dos seus melhores momentos, especialmente se for ao lado daqueles que mais amamos.

》Kim Taehyung:

◇La Vie En Rose

Temas: angst, fluff

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: Seu casamento com o Taehyung acabou de uma maneira que destruiu ambos, e a única coisa que ainda os conectava era seu bebê. Bom, pelo menos era o que pensavam, até uma certa música despertar lembranças fortes demais para serem ignoradas pelo seu ex-marido.

◇Shower

Temas: smut, angst, fluff

Gênero: feminino (cisgênero)

Sinopse: Uma briga boba por um motivo idiota foi o suficiente para deixar você e o Taehyung completamente para baixo. Mal sabiam vocês que um banho compartilhado era tudo o que precisavam para resolver seus desentendimentos.

》Jeon Jungkook:

◇Not important

Temas: angst (idol!au)

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: Seu passado com o Jungkook foi doloroso, mas fez quem se tornou hoje. Conseguiu o superar mesmo com inevitáveis encontros dentro da indústria, mas quando seus grupos são os únicos coreanos em um evento estrangeiro, acabam se vendo obrigados a interagirem mais do que o esperado. Será que os sentimentos do passado vão voltar à tona? E se sim, por parte de quem?

◇Make It Right

Temas: angst, fluff

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: Namorar um Idol jamais será algo fácil, e você já sabia disso quando decidiu entrar em um relacionamento com o Jungkook. Mas ás vezes, certas coisas ultrapassam alguns limites... como ele esquecer uma promessa especial.

◇Let's Make Love Tonight

Temas: angst, smut, fluff (friends to lovers)

Gênero: feminino (cisgênero)

Sinopse: O que poderia dar errado em uma amizade colorida com o seu melhor amigo mundialmente famoso? Com certeza, se apaixonar por ele não era a resposta que tinha em mente quando fez a proposta... e muito menos não ser correspondida.

◇I'll Protect You

Temas: Angst, fluff

Gênero: Feminino

Sinopse: Alguns podem até achar que, por ser a chefe de segurança do grupo, jamais algo aconteceria com você. Mas certas pessoas deixam suas obsessões a levarem à fazer coisas surreais.

◇Yes or No

Temas: Fluff Gênero: Feminino Sinopse: Are we Falling in Love? If so, then I think I know What´s Going on

》OT7:

◇We are not seven with you…

Temas: fluff (não-romantico)

Gênero: feminino

Sinopse: "A música é nosso idioma e nossos sonhos são os nossos mapas. Cada um de nós segurando bandeiras com cores diferentes, cantando contos diferentes em idiomas diferentes, marcharemos juntos até o fim dos tempos. BTS não é apenas uma história de 7 pessoas. É uma história de você, eu e todos" -Namjoon

Domestic Bangtan:

Maratonando uma série com o Namjoon

Volta de carro noturna para comprar làmen com o Jin

Café da manhã na cama em um dia preguiçoso com o Jimin

Banho de banheira com o Tae

Acampando com o Jungkook

Spa day em casa com o Hobi

Especiais de Natal 2020:

Stars (Kim Namjoon)

Hot Chocolate (Kim Seokjin)

Candles & Wine (Min Yoongi)

Part of The Family (Jung Hoseok)

Christmas Tree (Park Jimin)

Cookies and Socks (Kim Taehyung)

My Present (Jeon Jungkook)

#masterlist #imagines

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ninasousa21 · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Laura Barton Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Maria Hill, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Jane Foster (Marvel), Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne Additional Tags: Romanogers Appreciation Week 2020, Tony é o irmão que Natasha nunca teve, Wanda e Pietro são Romanoff, Romanogers Queima lenta, Todos são protetores de Nat, Clint e Laura são policiais, Fury é... Fury Series: Part 1 of Recomeço Summary:

AU.

Natasha finalmente está de volta após um divórcio conturbado e ainda o congelamento de seus bens pelas acusações contra seu ex marido. Decidida a se estabilizar em NY, ela está contente, pois tem o apoio não apenas de seus irmãos, Pietro e Wanda, como seus amigos, inclusive Tony que insiste para que tenha uma vaga em sua empresa, acreditando que assim, poderá salvá-la.

Enquanto Steve está amargurado, mesmo após anos depois de um acidente no Afeganistão que o levou ao coma, ele se concentrou em seu trabalho, tentando e fazendo o possível para ajudar seu amigo Tony, e tentar esquecer a traição sofrida pelo amor de seu passado.

Poderiam essas duas almas tão diferentes e tão parecidas, não apenas resolverem as diferenças e desconfianças como acreditarem no amor de novo?

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ao3feed-stevenatasha · 4 years

Text

Duas almas

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2EDY4er

by Marisousa3

AU.

Poderiam essas duas almas tão diferentes e tão parecidas, não apenas resolverem as diferenças e desconfianças como acreditarem no amor de novo?

Words: 3918, Chapters: 1/7, Language: Português brasileiro

Series: Part 1 of Romanogers Recomeço

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Maria Hill, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Jane Foster (Marvel), Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Laura Barton

Additional Tags: Romanogers Appreciation Week 2020, Tony é o irmão que Natasha nunca teve, Wanda e Pietro são Romanoff, Romanogers Queima lenta, Todos são protetores de Nat, Clint e Laura são policiais, Fury é... Fury

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2EDY4er

#romanogers #stasha #stevenat #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #captain america #black widow #natasha

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contosdeeldrichalewpenumbra · 3 years

Text

O cenário era familiar, a cama grande de lençóis brancos, a sacada com vista para o mar esmeralda e areia de cascalhos brancos. No céu escuro de poucas estrelas havia uma lua tímida brilhando por trás de algumas poucas nuvens, a brisa era quente e tinha cheiro de sal, passava pela porta balcão aberta balançando de leve as cortinas de tecido leve.

Ao longe o som do mar quebrando na praia me deixava com uma sensação leve como se estivesse flutuando. Era uma lembrança viva como eu nunca havia tido antes, desde a madeira rangendo de leve sobre meus pés até os cabelos balançando nas costas.

Foi a primeira viagem que fiz com Tooru, estamos num período de calor ele queria conhecer o resort então nos planejamos por alguns meses. Também me lembrava daquela noite, porque foi a primeira que ele me tomou, eu fiquei observando do balcão à vista enquanto ele resolvia algo em relação a chave do quarto na recepção.

Depois de algum tempo o rapaz voltaria, reclamando do atendimento e eu tentaria o acalmar falando que não precisava de tudo aquilo. As mãos subiriam devagar pela minha lateral enquanto o espaço entre nossos corpos diminuía, beijos preguiçosos sendo depositados na pele acompanhada de carícias sedutoras.

Ele estava ali, sentia seu tronco batendo contra as minhas costas, o calor da pele irradiando através das roupas e os dedos que encontraram o caminho por debaixo da barra da camisa para tocar minha cintura. Suspirei pela dor da lembrança tomando coragem para ir contra o próprio sonho e virar.

Enganada estava quando achei que veria o meu ex. O rapaz que mantinha as mãos na minha cintura era mais alto, tinha os cabelos cor de tinta nanquim e os olhos afiados num tom de amarelo cintilante, os lábios eram rosados e se levantavam num sorriso debochado deixando levemente a mostra uma fileira de dentes brancos. Ele era lindo, uma beleza deslumbrante que nunca tinha visto antes.

-O que foi meu amor? - a voz dele calma e profunda me alcançou os ouvidos enquanto franzia de leve a testa - Cansada demais pra nossa lua de mel?

Na mão esquerda, no dedo anelar um filete de ouro que nunca esteve lá antes. A mão dele se ergueu na direção do meu rosto e ajustando alguns fios atrás da minha orelha estendeu o carinho para a nuca puxando a minha cabeça de leve para trás deixando o caminho para o meu pescoço livre.

-Eu não sou casada.

A risada rouca roçou contra a minha pele - Não, mas não ligo de brincar de marido de alguém tão deliciosa como você. - se pressionando mais contra mim senti seu membro rijo na minha perna. - Já faz tanto tempo, eu estou faminto.

Essa última fala veio acompanhada de um grunhido quase animalesco, levantando o rosto apenas para me encarar nos olhos.

-[Nome] [Sobrenome] a partir de agora você é minha.

Aestethic Au! Ticket para Estocolmo Kuroo x Leitora(+18) Alerta: Abuso psicológico, Shibari, Palavras de Baixo Calão.

youtube

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todo7roki · 2 years

Text

JAEHYUN EX MARIDO!AU (S)

jaehyun x leitor

gênero: smut, ex marido!au, exes to lovers.

conteúdo: jaehyun pai, leitor mãe, linguagem imprópria, dirty talk, breathing kink, sexo sem proteção (usem camisinha), menção de gravidez, oral feminino.

jaehyun é um bom pai, ele sempre foi, você não costuma elogiar o seu ex marido porém, você precisava assumir que ele fazia muito bem para seu filho de cinco anos.

ele estava saindo do carro, com o filho de vocês nos braços, adormecido, e com a mochila do homem-aranha em uma de suas mãos desocupada. você já estava com sua roupa de dormir, apenas esperando jaehyun chegar com seu príncipe.

— parece que alguém se divertiu hoje, nunca vi esse menino dormindo antes das nove da noite. — você disse enquanto passava as mãos pelo seu braço, você estava arrepiada por conta do frio que estava fazendo naquela noite.

— ele se divertiu muito na casa da minha mãe, meu sobrinho estava lá então ele brincou bastante. — jaehyun olhou para seus braços e viu que você está a arrepiada, ele sabia que você estava sentindo frio. — posso entrar para deixá-lo na cama? quero me despedir do meu garotão e não quero que você congele nesse frio.

não foi apenas uma despedida inocente, após deixar o filho no quarto dormindo, você e jaehyun estavam fazendo o que sempre acontece quando ele coloca os pés em sua casa, a recaída de um casal que ainda sente atração um pelo outro.

— você sabe o quanto eu amo te comer? mesmo você me deixando, você sempre será minha buceta preferida. — ele falava enquanto te chupava, ele parou e olhou no fundo de seus olhos. — você sempre será minha favorita.

estava tão bom, era gostoso sentir a língua de jaehyun em você.

— por isso não estamos juntos, seu canalha. — você falava entre gemidos. — eu sempre vou ser a favorita, mas você sempre terá outras.

jaehyun sempre foi mulherengo e sempre foi bom de lábia, ele te conquistou em alguns dias e um ano depois vocês se casaram e meses depois você estava grávida de seu príncipe. jaehyun pode ser o homem mais babaca do mundo, porém ele te deu o presente mais precioso do mundo.

vocês estão separados a alguns meses devido a brigas, para não tornar o ambiente tóxico para o filho de vocês, a melhor decisão foi morar separados por um tempo.

mas o tesão que vocês sentiam um pelo outro nunca passou.

— eu quero de foder com força, beijar você até tirar sua respiração, quero fazer você sentir meu pau indo fundo dentro de você. — você estava montada no pau dele, subindo e descendo lentamente enquanto ele sussurrava em seu ouvido.

— amor você é tão bom...

— eu sou assim pra você, mesmo você me achando um babaca, eu sempre vou ser bom pra você. você quer que eu vá mais forte em você? mais fundo? quer que eu te engravide de novo? você ficou tão linda grávida.

seus gemidos estavam se tornando mais altos, então jaehyun pegou você e te deitou de bruços em sua cama, forçando sua cabeça contra o colchão.

— linda, apesar de amar seus gemidos e amar o quão gostosa você fica, eu preciso mesmo que você faça isso bem baixinho aqui no meu ouvido, não se esqueça que nosso menino está dormindo no outro quarto. — ele falou enquanto enfiava em você e beijava lentamente seu pescoço.

— você consegue fazer isso por mim, minha favorita?

2023 © TODO7ROKI TUMBLR

clique aqui e me mande as ideias que passa na sua cabecinha, vamos conversar?

#todo7roki #smut #nct smut #imagine nct #nct 127 #nct x reader #nct headcanons #nct #nct pt br #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun headcanons #nct jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun #nct reactions #nct 127 smut #🌶️; todo7roki pt br.

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 4 years

Text

Filmografía

Cine

1943: La Boîte aux rêves de Yves Allégret: una silueta en la película"

1943: Les Petites du quai aux fleurs de Marc Allégret : Jérôme Hardy

1945: Le Pays sans étoiles de Georges Lacombe : Simon Le Gouge y Frédéric Talacayud

1945: El idiota de Georges Lampin : El príncipe Muychkine, inocente de espíritu

1945: Schéma d'une identification, cortometraje inédito de Alain Resnais

1946: Ouvert pour cause d'inventaire, cortometraje inédito de Alain Resnais

1947: Le Diable au corps de Claude Autant-Lara: François Jaubert

1947: La cartuja de Parma de Christian-Jaque: El marqués Fabrice Del Dongo

1947: Les Drames du bois de Boulogne, cortometraje de Jacques Loew: comentario

1948: Une si jolie petite plage de Yves Allégret: Pierre Monet, el viajero

1948: Tous les chemins mènent à Rome de Jean Boyer: Gabriel Pégase, geómetra

1949: La Beauté du diable de René Clair: Enrique y Fausto joven

1949: Visite à Picasso, cortometraje documental de Paul Haesaerts: récitant du film

1950: Souvenirs perdus de Christian-Jaque : Gérard de Narcay, el loco evadido del asilo

1950: Juliette ou la Clé des songes de Marcel Carné: Michel, el soñador que busca a Juliette

1950: La Ronde de Max Ophüls: El Conde

1950: Saint-Louis, ou L'Ange de la paix, cortometraje, documental de Robert Darène: comentario

1950: La paix vaincra, documental polaca de Joris Ivens: comentario de la versión francesa

1950: Avec André Gide, documental de Marc Allégret: comentario

1951: Avignon, bastion de la provence, cortometraje de James Guenet: él mismo

1951: Vedettes sans maquillage, cortometraje de Jacques Guillon: él mismo

1951: Fanfan la Tulipe de Christian-Jaque: Fanfan la Tulipe

1951: Los siete pecados capitales, sketch El octavo pecado de Georges Lacombe

1951: Fêtes galantes : Le peintre Watteau, cortometraje, documental de Jean Aurel : comentario

1952 : Les Belles de nuit de René Clair: Claude, compositor oscuro de música

1952: Les Amants de la villa Borghèse, sketch La Rupture de Gianni Franciolini: El joven en el banco

1953: Les Orgueilleux de Yves Allégret: Georges, ex médico alcohólico

1953: Monsieur Ripois de René Clément: Mr André Ripois, marido de Catherine.

Teatro

1942: Une grande fille toute simple de André Roussin, casino de Nice: Mick

1943: Une jeune fille savait de André Haguet, tournée Rasimi.

1942: Sodome et Gomorrhe de Jean Giraudoux, Georges Douking, Théâtre Hébertot: l'Ange

1944: Au petit bonheur de Marc-Gilbert Sauvajon, Pasquali, Théâtre Gramont

1945: Fédérigo de René Laporte, Théâtre des Mathurins: prince blanc

1945: Calígula de Albert Camus, Paul Œttly, Théâtre Hébertot: Caligula

1947: Les Épiphanies d'Henri Pichette, Georges Vitaly, Théâtre des Noctambules: le Poète

1948: K.M.X , Jacques Deval, Théâtre de la Michodière: Harold Britton.

1949: Le Figurant de la gaité de Alfred Savoir, Théâtre Montparnasse.

1951: Le Cid de Pierre Corneille, mise en scène Jean Vilar, Festival de Aviñón: Rodrigue

1951: Le Prince de Hombourg d'Heinrich von Kleist, Jean Vilar, Festival de Aviñón: Prince Frédéric

1951: Mère courage de Bertolt Brecht, Suresnes: Eilif, l'un des fils.

1951: La Calandria de Bernardo da Bibbiena, René Dupuy, Festival de Aviñón: Artemona.

HONDURASQUEDATEENCASA

#ELCINELATELEYMICKYANDONIE

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lainfaustus · 4 years

Text

Fictober Day 26

Prompt number: "how about you trust me for once?"

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia AU

Rating: Teen+

Warning/Tags: None

Count word: 1544

(NOTA: He estado viendo La Ley Y El Orden, así que eso explica porque tanto lenguaje florido 😅)

El Verdadero Sentimiento del Alma IV

—“¿Qué tal si confías en mí por una vez?” —dijo Iida molesto.

—Será porque te acostaste con él.

—Ya te lo dije, él casi me obligó.

Shinsou abrazó a su marido y lo besó.

—¿Quieres un hijo, no? —dijo Iida.

—Sí, lo quiero mucho, pero él dijo que tenía pruebas de violación…

—Eso, o pruebas de que le gusta el sexo duro.

—Sí, supongo, pero…

—Debes ayudarme a hacer esto, y si dices exactamente lo que te diré, tendremos un hermoso niño de cuatro años.

—¿Y crees que te creerán si dices que fue consensual?

—Piénsalo, quién le va a creer a alguien con esa espantosa sonrisa.

—Cierto… Al menos nuestro hijo no será rubio.

***

Monoma llevaba a su hijo al pre-escolar. Aun seguía inseguro con lo de su sonrisa así que a veces llevaba un cubrebocas, pero no volvió a tocar el tema con su hijo, siempre alegre, siempre sonriente, brincando y corriendo. Era un niño muy activo.

Después de dejarlo, fue al trabajo. Estaba un poco corto de dinero, no ganaba lo suficiente, y tenía que comprar algunas cosas para la casa, como una cama para Kaito, su hijo, pues ya no podían dormir juntos. Ahora que tenía ese tipo de problemas, había dejado de pensar en Shinsou e Iida, hasta se creyó libre, pero ese día, al volver a casa después de hacer unas compras, sus miedos volvieron.

Mientras Kaito miraba la TV, el revisaba el correo, cuando vio una carta del juzgado familiar. Sintió que el corazón le dolía, y sus miembros fríos. Lo abrió, y palideció: ese hombre quería quitarle a su hijo.

—Papi —dijo Kaito—, te ves asustado, ¿viste un fantasma?

—No… No, nene, yo… Necesitamos hablar.

Monoma apagó la televisión y lo sentó de frente a él.

—Kaito, sabes que yo soy tu papi, verdad? Y sabes que los otros niños tienen un papi y una mami, o dos papás, o dos mamás…

—Eso sí lo sé.

—Bien… Tú…tienes otro papi.

—Ah… —dijo sin mucha emoción.

—Pero él no vive con nosotros porque se casó con un hombre muy amable.

—¿Por qué no se casó contigo?

—Él no me amaba… Él me lastimó mucho… Y luego tú naciste.

—¿Yo también te lastimé?

—No —lo abrazó—, tú curaste todas las heridas que me hizo —le besó el rostro haciendo reír al niño.

—¿Y papá vendrá a vernos?

Monoma perdió su sonrisa.

—Él quiere llevarte con él y con su esposo.

—¿Para visitarlos?

—Para vivir con ellos.

—¡No! —gritó asustado y se abrazó a él— No dejes que me lleven, papi, yo no quiero irme de aquí, yo no quiero otro papi, sólo te quiero a ti.

Comenzó a llorar. Monoma lo consoló, abrazándolo.

—No llores, Kaito, yo jamás permitiré que te alejen de mí lado, no llores, papá va a cuidarte.

***

Monoma dejó a Kaito en el preescolar, y fue a buscar a un abogado barato. Aizawa Shōta era el indicado, era bueno y aceptó que Monoma le pagara de a poco, dada su situación.

Ambos fueron a la cita, dónde Monoma volvió a ver a Iida y Shinsou, junto con un atractivo abogado de nombre Hizachi Yamada, que, según decían, era un abogado cruel.

Aizawa-san mostró que Monoma no tenía deudas, tenía un departamento propio, y su hijo contaba con buena salud. También mostró los documentos que demostraban la tortura y violación que Monoma vivió tres días seguidos. Pero Yamada-san mostró que la evidencia policial podía mostrar también los gustos sadomasoquistas de Monoma, que, según ex compañeros, decían que eso era normal en Monoma, quien miró indignado a la pareja.

Yamada-san continuó diciendo que el departamento era pequeño, pedía que otro doctor revisara la salud del niño, pues, según decían, se veía muy delgado y pequeño para tener cinco años, y que Iida y Shinsou le darían una mejor vida, con más oportunidades a Kaito, sobre todo porque Monoma trabajaba hasta tres horas después de que las clases de Kaito terminaban, y el niño se quedaba en la dirección de la escuela.

El juez dio por terminada la sesión y los citaron para otro día.

Al salir, Monoma los miró.

—¿Cómo se atreven…? —quiso acercarse, pero Aizawa-san lo detuvo— ¡Es mi hijo!

—También es mío —dijo Iida con tranquilidad, mientras Shinsou se abrazaba a su brazo, sonriendo—, tengo derecho a darle lo mejor, y eso no está a tu lado.

—Él está bien, yo lo he protegido, lo he cuidado, ¡tú me violaste!

—Si te lastimé, no lo hubieras tenido.

Monoma quiso lanzarse a él, pero Aizawa-san logró meterlo al elevador, cerrando las puertas.

—No hagas eso —le dijo—, tratan de hacer que parezcas inestable.

—¡No es justo! Yo no quiero que Kaito…

—¿Hay algo que le falte a tu casa? ¿Lavadora, estufa, ropa?

—Ah… Una cama, para Kaito, duerme conmigo, pero le compraré una cama para él solo.

—Hazlo pronto, quizás envíen a una trabajadora social, y ellos utilizarán cualquier cosa, hasta una ventana sin cortinas.

—Sí.

***

Monoma fue a recoger temprano a su hijo y lo llevó con él a comprar una pequeña cama y un colchón que entregarían más tarde ese día, y luego fueron por algunas cosas más.

En casa, Kaito observó a su padre pintar la única habitación, y luego la sala. No había muchos muebles, salvo el sofá y en la pequeña cocina, una mesa con dos sillas. Sólo para ellos.

Cuando llegó la cama, Monoma la acomodó, puso el colchón y mientras, Kaito pintaba la barra de la cocina. Monoma terminó con las paredes cuando ya era de noche, así que pidieron comida.

—Papi…

—Fuí a ver a tu papá, su nombre es Iida Tenya, y su esposo se llama Hitoshi Shinsou… Ellos se aman.

Kaito se sentó al lado de su padre.

—Yo te amo, papi.

—Lo sé.

Lo sentó en sus piernas y terminaron de comer. Se dieron una ducha, dónde Monoma puso incluso calcomanías para evitar que el niño resbalara con el agua.

Kaito estrenó su cama, durmiendo en el momento en que se acostó. Estaba cansado. Monoma también, pero no durmió. No dejaba de pensar en la horrible posibilidad de perder contra el poderoso Iida Tenya.

***

La trabajadora social llegó dos días después. Revisó el refrigerador, la habitación, el baño, y hasta el diminuto balcón donde Monoma colgaba la ropa y sólo tenía espacio para una persona y la lavadora. Revisó los contactos, la sala y la cocina y hasta las dos sillas. Las ventanas, las puertas, y miró el techo unos segundos. Le hizo unas preguntas a Monoma, y luego a Kaito. Agradeció y se fue. Monoma no comió ese día, ni un día antes. Sólo miraba a su hijo, sin saber qué haría si decidían que Iida podía visitarlo, o se lo darían definitivamente. Y él se quedaría sólo nuevamente.

Al día siguiente, Aizawa-san fue a recogerlo. Debía llevar a Kaito.

***

El juez habló con Kaito a solas. Monoma estaba desesperado, no podía creer que Iida y Shinsou estuviesen tan tranquilos. Quizás sabían que iban a ganar.

Kaito volvió a los brazos de su padre. Miró sobre el hombro de su papá al hombre de anteojos que lo miró y le sonrió. Kaito se escondió en el pecho de su padre.

—Tengo miedo, —dijo— quiero irme a casa.

—En un momento.

El juez volvió. Parecía pensativo. Dio un discurso sobre la familia, y la importancia del desarrollo mental de los niños.

—Con eso en mente, declaro que el señor Iida Tenya puede visitar a su hijo…

Monoma estrechó a su hijo.

—… pero será una visita supervisada, dado el trauma evidente en el joven Monoma Neito. Iida Tenya deberá darle una pensión para el niño, pero tiene prohibido llevar al niño a su casa.

—¿QUÉ? —gritó indignado Iida— Eso no es justo, es mi hijo, no es seguro que esté con ese hombre, mírelo, ¿cree que alguien con esa horrible sonrisa merece tener a un niño?

—Señor, desde que comenzó este juicio nunca he visto sonreír a Monoma Neito.

—No debería verlo porque es horrible.

—Esa no es forma de hablar de su madre frente al niño que trata de proteger, le recuerdo que está aún en juicio, cuide sus palabras.

—No, quiero a mi hijo, y no quiero tener que ver a ese horrible tipo.

Shinsou y Yamada-san miraron a Kaito, asustado en los brazos de Monoma, que tenía la mirada baja. Esto no terminaría bien.

—¡Basta! —gritó el juez— Si no se calma, revocaré sus derechos de paternidad.

—¡No puede hacerlo! Ese niño es mi hijo, nadie puede quitármelo, nadie y si es necesario me lo llevaré ¡y no lo encontrarán jamás!

El juez lo miró.

—Su paternidad está revocada, Iida Tenya, tiene prohibido acercarse a Monoma Neito y a Kaito Neito, de lo contrario irá a prisión.

Como Iida continuaba con su discusión, los guardias tuvieron que sacarlo. Monoma agradeció y salió acompañado de Aizawa-san. Monoma y Kaito volvieron a casa, pero Monoma no estaba tranquilo. Quizá era hora de huir de nuevo, lejos de todos los que lo conocían.

Lain Faustus 🍁

#fictober 20 #fictober 2020 #fictober day 26 #fictober español #fictober #Lain Faustus fictober #fictober Lain Faustus #Lain Faustus 🍁#bnha fanfic #fanfiction bnha au #fanfic espanol #fanfic yaoi #bnha au yaoi #bnha monoma neito #shinsou x Iida #fictober20

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mechanicalrebellion · 7 years

Photo

La siguiente es una pequeña búsqueda que hago por relaciones con mis personajes, pongo una breve introducción y lo que buscó, algunos son de temáticas algo apretadas pero bien se pueden hacer AUs/Verses o hacer algunas adaptaciones, siempre estoy abierto a cosas para armar algo interesante.

Si alguno de los personajes te llama la atención puedes dejarme un mensaje por ask o por chat, quizá tarde en responder pero ten por segur@ que lo hare.

Kim Jae Sehun

― Trama Moderna / Futurista ― Bromista, inteligente, un poco retraido pero una vez que se le encuentra la mano se puede tener conversaciones largas con el. ― Una persona con dos fachadas, por un lado, es una popular estrella de pop seguida por miles de seguidores alrededor del mundo, su otra cara es la de un hacker que en últimos años se ha encargado de poner en jaque a políticos corruptos, acciones cuestionables del gobierno y demás bajo el seudónimo de “Libra”. ¿Qué busco? ― Amigos, Conocidos, tanto de su lado conocido como el que mantiene entre las sombras. Quizá una relación con alguien que sepa su secreto y sea su confidente y quizá cómplice.

Anri Sugura

― Trama de mitología moderna. ― Juguetona, bromista, picara pero que guarda un dolor muy grande en ella. Dragón proveniente de un grupo de guardianes que se oponen a la corrupción del Yomi. ― Leal compañera, buena cómplice y una magnifica peleadora todo eso oculto bajo la fachada de una maestra de preparatoria. ¿Que busco? ― Romance, quizá alguien que haga que le brote la lesbovena o un hombre, aunque en este caso deberá de enfrentar la sombra de su ex-marido Daichi. ― Un chico estudiante suyo que la vea como su crush, quizá sea que no pase nada entre ambos o quizá si.

Neeve Huxley

― Trama Sci-Fi Espacial ― Una mujer inteligente, demasiado para su propio bien, desapareció cuando vio que sus creaciones eran usadas como armas biológicas, aunque esto ha provocado que sea perseguida por la ley. ― Sarcástica, de humor ácido pero es todo un amor con la persona con las personas que se ganan su confianza. ¿Que busco? ― Amistades de todo tipo. ― Relación sentimental con una mujer.

Sonya Romanova

― Trama Sci-Fi Espacial ― Mujer fuerte de carácter y físico, antiguamente participante de una competencia de MECHAS actualmente perseguida por la ley. ― Tiene un lado dulce y bastante femenino. ¿Que busco? ― Amistades de todo tipo. ― Relación sentimental hombre o mujer esta bien.

Nanami Hiroko

― Trama Slice of Life ― Alguien que es completamente un dulce pero que guarda bastante tristeza en su corazón por la muerte de su esposo por un ataque al corazón. ― Ha llevado el sueño de ella y su esposo de hacer un lindo restaurante. ¿Qué busco? ― Amistades de todo tipo. ― Una personita que le enseñe a enamorarse de nuevo, hombre o mujer.

#― search

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sugarushsuga · 2 years

Text

In Your Own Words - CH. 18

Genre/Au's: Rom-Com, fluff with bits of angst - Coworkers!AU; enemies to lovers; Journalist!AU

Paring: RM x Reader

Words count: 8.606

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Cursing; Angry Namjoon; ANGST

Tigering: Mentions of cheating; Fist fight (violence is never the answer); Drinking to cope;

Author note: This fanfic follows the world of the Brazilian production Procura-se um marido series. I do not own the series or original content.

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You look at the latest issue of Just Facts with a frown. There's the zodiac that should put an end to all that mess. You have no feelings of victory, relief, ecstasy, or anything. All you feel is fear, dread, pure and simple terror. What will Namjoon do when he finds out you had switched the zodiac? What will he say when he realizes that all zodiacs have the same message?

You tried to tell him a few times, but you lost courage and... deep down you hope nothing will change between you. Vanda had said that what's real will resist, and at times you are so sure that Namjoon it's part of your destiny that it hurts.

Like yesterday afternoon. You wanted to avoid Namjoon as much as possible on Friday, at least until you found a way of saying what you had done and why. You owed it to him —and to your guilty conscience. In the late afternoon, the heaviest rain of the year fell, and you ran out of electricity, even though no one left the magazine before six. Some — Natacha, Irene, and Yoongi — killed time playing cards, others — Ella and Youngjae — filing their nails.

So, when the clock struck six o'clock, you ran to the elevator, mad to get to the car before Namjoon and get rid of the copy of TopNews before he remembered that and returned to the subject. The hall of the building was crowded with people wanting to go home.

You didn't even realize you were being followed.

"Y/n!"

You turned on your heel and searched the room. Jimin waved at you, diving into the sea of heads.

"Oh, it can only be a joke!" You muttered. You already have too many problems to have to deal with your ex right then and there.

"I really thought it was you," Jimin said, a little tired after he has passed through to trying to reach you.

“Well, it's no surprise, since you know I work here."

He smiled apologetically. His pale hair is plastered to his forehead, his eyes glued to yours. And that itch you felt whenever you saw him has completely disappeared. For the first time since... There is long time you don't tremble in Jimin's presence.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was passing, then the rain caught me." He eyed your body.

Funny, you didn't have that urge to run your hands through your hair, which was probably bristled from the humidity.

"You look great…" he said, after a close examination. "Wonderful, in fact."

"Jimin, what are you really doing here?" You repeated, annoyed. You needed to get rid of that magazine before Namjoon comes down.

"I just wanted to see you." He shrugged. “Apologizing for Tatiana. I didn't know she was going to invite you to the wedding."

“That was kind of her. Send her my regards. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

You walked back towards the door that led to the parking. Before you could escape, he grabbed you by the arm, spinning you around until you are facing him.

"I miss you, Y/n. This thing that's going on with Tati... I think, I let myself go. I just wanted... I found out she's not the right girl for me. You are. We on match everything, we like the same things, we think the same way..."

“We don't think anything a like. You think it's normal to cheat, and I abhor it." You tried to free yourself from that hand, but he tightened his grip. "Let go of me, Jimin."

"I was wrong, Y/n! But I learned from my mistake. If you say you accept me back, I'll call Tatiana now and cancel all this fucking wedding. You just need to say a word and I'll be yours again. I was always yours."

Dumbfounded, you stared at him like an idiot. You had dreamed of hearing him say that so many times that you had lost count. Now that the thing was finally real, you didn't want to hear it anymore. A little abruptly, he pulled you against his chest. It was to be expected that you'd feel something, for old times’ sake at least, but all you felt was a violent indignation at him touching you like that.

“Jimin, take your hands off me." You struggled under his grip, which was getting harder, more threatening.

“You still love me, Y/n. I know you love me!" He raised his arm in an attempt to touch your face.

“Unless you want to end up in the hospital, you better let the girl go now." Namjoon came out of nowhere and grabbed him by the wrist in a way that made shivers run up your spine.

"Get your hands off me, you crazy!" - Jimin complained, trying to free his wrist from Namjoon's grip and letting go of you. "What's up man? I'm just talking to my girlfriend!"

Namjoon shot me a questioning look.

“Ex-girlfriend,” You hurried on, noticing the tension exuding from every pore of his body. Namjoon looked highly dangerous. And beautiful! He relaxed a little, releasing Jimin with a jerk.

"I'll walk you to the car," Namjoon told you, taking your elbow with delicacy.

"Hey, don't touch her!" Jimin intervened, pushing Namjoon away. "Who do you think you..."

"I'm the guy who's going to break your face if you don't get out of here now and leave Y/n alone!"

Jimin took a step back, frowning at you.

"The doctor...?" And then he measured Namjoon like a boxer does.

"And if I am?" Namjoon gritted his teeth and seemed to grow taller and wider.

Oh shit, why did Jimin have to show up? Why couldn't he just be... mute?

“You're not her type." Jimin crossed his arms.

"You don't know her as well as you think," Namjoon snapped.

“She's not the saint she appears to be."

"I know." Namjoon flashed a wide smile. "And I thank God all the time we're together for that."

Ever since you caught Jimin cheating on you, you had tried to put on that expression of pain and defeat in his face, to no avail. And Namjoon, with half a dozen words, managed to do it. But now it made no difference.

"All right. You can have her." Jimin gave in disdainfully. "She always goes with whoever pays the most."

You are not a violent person. You've never thought you could solve anything thing in a fight—except when it came to Hoseok— but, you know, a girl can change her mind at any time. You advanced on him, only, unfortunately, Namjoon was faster and hit a punch on Jimin's jaw. Off guard, your ex's head lolled back, and he fell awkwardly to the floor. Namjoon was already on to him again, and even though you'd like to see him like that - you know, dangerous, defending you and everything else— you didn't want to get him into trouble. And that's why you stopped him, interposing between the two, and you were only able to keep him in place thanks to Yoongi, who took him by the forearms.

“No, Namjoon,” you pleaded.

“That's enough, Namjoon. The guy already understood,” Yoongi said.

Namjoon gritted his teeth, bulging eyes glued to the guy on the floor. "I'm going to kill this guy, I swear..."

"Okay, okay!" You assured him, trying to calm him down. "I don't care for what he says. Just... take me home. Please, Namjoon, take me home!"

At some cost, he tried to control himself, ceasing to struggle to rid himself of Yoongi, but he looked at Jimin so hard that even you cringed.

"Don't approach her again," he warned.

"Come on, Namjoon. Forget this guy." Yoongi pulled him back, dragging him across the marble floor.

Namjoon eventually gave in and let go of Yoongi.

“Alright, you can let go of me. I'm not going to kill anyone today," he assured him, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

You thanked Yoongi for his help, but you know how journalists are. They always want something in return.

“Fine, doll, but everything has a price. And you know well what I want to know, although after today I don't think there’s, any doubt left. It's all very clear."

"Leave Y/n alone, Yoongi," Namjoon warned.

"And who's asking this, Namjoon? The boss or the lover?" The reporter provoked.

Namjoon let out a long sigh, shook his head, and, catching you by surprise, he clasped your hand. Yoongi's eyes did not miss a single movement.

"It's her boyfriend asking," Namjoon said simply.

Yoongi opened a huge mocking smile and, before he could say something, Namjoon took you to the car. As soon as you settled down, you turned to face him.

"Are you okay?" he muttered, looking worried.

You thought for a moment. Were you fine? Regarding Jimin, yes, but with Namjoon...

“I'm sorry about this mess. I didn't know he was going to show up here. And I'm sorry he thought you were a doctor. The last time we met was at your hotel's restaurant, I had just been stood up and meet his fiancée. I invented an imaginary boyfriend." you shrugged your shoulders embarrassed.

"I imagined." And he smiled a little crookedly.

"You shouldn't have told Yoongi that we're dating."

"Yes, I should. If I don't make it clear what's been going on between us, I'll open up space for another guy to approach you, like this asshole, Jimin, and I don't want it."

He fixed his eyes on yours, with such disconcerting sincerity in them, that all you could do was stare at him dumbly.

"Because?" You asked. The car windows were starting to fog up.

"Because..." He ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair from the rain. “My palms sweat when you arrive, my chest expands, my mouth tingles with longing for yours, for your skin, for your taste... Have you already told me a million times that you don't want to get involved with your boss, let's not mention that you are not in favor of large age differences in a relationship, and I'm seven years older than you. But we can't keep on hiding that we're together," he muttered in a very hoarse sexy voice. You tried to ignore the fact that your insides were twisting. "What happened just now made it clear that I won't be able to pretend that you're not important to me."

A lump formed in your throat. Namjoon was opening up to you, inviting you in, confirming that he's allowing you to be part of his world. And how did you repay? Lying to him, cheating on him, changing the zodiac without explaining anything.

You opened your mouth, willing to tell the truth and face his anger. But he spoke before.

"I'm really looking forward to making this work, Y/n, and I hope you also. We fit into bed in a way that... I've been with other women, and I've never felt what I feel with you. What we have is explosive and sweet at the same time, and I want to go deeper, I want to unravel you, each corner, every thought, dream, disappointment, I want it all."

You wanted too. You wanted all that, but you wanted even more, in a desperate way, what he left out: his love.

And with the realization that Namjoon didn't love you, you backed away, unable to tell the truth to him. Or yourself. So, after you'd spent the night together once more—and the blame was on you.

Namjoon leaves your apartment early the next morning. Yeotan needs to walk a little, and he would take the opportunity to stop by the market to prepare a special dinner. You left soon after, just to run to the corner stall and make sure the horoscope had been exchanged.

And there you are, face down in the magazine, praying that Namjoon won't discover. It's the weekend, you think hopefully. Why the hell would he check if the magazine been published as he had ordered? You mean, he doesn't check all the issues, right? There is a possibility he won't even know. That is, if Ella cooperates.

Besides, if he didn't read the text that undoes the magic, you don't know, maybe the spell remains, at least until he starts to really love you. And then, a while later, you could make him read the message by chance, so that the spell breaks — of course you aren't willing to spend your whole life living in make-believe — but then it would be too late, not even the breaking of the spell would be able to destroy his feelings for you.

Yeah, and maybe pigs lay golden eggs...

You let out a sigh, tossing the magazine onto the couch and sinking your head into the back. Of course, he would find out. Namjoon is anything but silly. What if you want his forgiveness, spell or not, you know you have to tell him everything. And there's always the possibility that you are wrong. You just remembered the way how he had looked at you under the rain of fireworks at his parents’ house to you heart fill with certainty and hope...

The door suddenly opened. Namjoon stomp in. You jumped.

"What a scare, Namjoon!" you say, putting your hand to your chest.

He doesn't bother to apologize. In fact, you don't even know if came to hear you. He's different. A different bad, very bad. There's an icy, furious aura around him, and it spread across the room, leaving your hair standing.

He knows.

"How much did she offer you?" Namjoon asked in a low, monotone voice eyes opaque, pointing a copy of Just Facts in your face.

You take a step back. "She who?"

“Don't play innocent, Y/n. I don't fall for it anymore," he spits, still in that terrifying murmur. "How much did Jessy offer you for you to sabotage my magazine?"

"What?!" You exclaim, surprised. “Neither Jessy nor anyone else has anything to do with what I did."

“Very flattering to know that you think I'm a complete idiot." He showed a smile, but it was cruel, vile... and a little agonized. "That article from TopNews, the girl who exchanges letters. L. Lovari." He hits the back of his hand in the magazine. "Would it be Y/n Lovari?"

You throat closes up.

"You weren't supposed to find out like this," You whisper, pulling away a little more. All that anger made you nauseous.

“Oh, wasn't it?" he yelled, coming towards you with long strides, but stopped a few centimeters away. "And how am I supposed to know that you were sabotaging me, Y/n? Perhaps on the next issue of TopNews? What else did you set up? Did you pass on any important information to her? Were you who gave Jessy the contact details of my journalists? How much did she pay you?"

"Jessy has nothing to do with what I did!" You snap, startled by those wrong conclusions. "I never gave any information to Jessy or anyone else! When I accepted to do the articles as a freelancer, I was still on the phone at Just Facts, I thought I would never have an opportunity and..."

"You're right, you won't have," he cut you off, his glacial eyes were just contempt.

You sigh, exhausted.

“Listen, Namjoon, you got it all wrong. Jessy has nothing to do with what I did in this week's Zodiac. I had..."

"Listen to you, Y/n!" He interrupts you, yelling, walking away. When you try to reach for him. "Nothing, absolutely nothing you say will have any credibility! You're nothing but a treacherous rat that I let in too close. You don't know how sorry I am about that."

"No! Please, Namjoon, just listen to me, okay?" You beg, approaching him hesitantly. “I never meant to harm you. Just the opposite, I wanted to get things right. And I had to change the files for that. I couldn't bear to know that I had messed with so many people's lives and... It wasn't sabotage! I swear!" You are shaking. “But Sabrina was right, Namjoon! what I wrote was happening in the lives of the column's readers. That's why I made this last reading. To undo all the harm, I've caused."

He just stares at you, his revulsion as sharp as a razor. And hurts you a hundred times more.

“The deck has magical powers,” you continue. "You may not believe me. It took me a while to convince myself that the deck has that power but is the truth! It's powerful, it belonged to a famous Romani who always got it right simply because the deck was in charge of making everything, she said true. And I didn't know that! I ruined my friend's life and many other people because of it. Including yours,” You conclude, looking at your own feet. “Alexia dumped you because of what I wrote for her sign."

A loud laughter ripples through the walls of the room.

“So creative and ingenious. I should expect an excuse like that. Given that you wove a web of lies in which I, very stupid, allowed myself to be entangled."

Building up courage, you lift you head to meet his fiery eyes. "Stop saying that! I never did anything to screw you. This has to do with the lives I manipulated. I interfered and changed the fates of hundreds of people, and not always for the better!"

His jaw throbs. “You really think I'm an idiot. And with good reason. I gave you all the reasons to believe this."

"Don't talk like that!" You try to touch his arm, but he recoils, looking disgusted. “Don't do that, Namjoon. I never did anything to harm you. You know that I lo..."

"Don't you dare," he snaps. "Don't you dare say you love me! Never!"

"But I love!" You lift your chin in defiance. He could doubt all the rest, but not what you feel for him. Not that. "I've loved you since my car broke down and you gave me a ride. Since I really met you."

“My God, you don't even blink,” he grumbles contemptuously. "Your lies are so natural that it seems sincere. You have the appearance of an angel, but inside you're ugly and... rotten." His voice cracks. He looks away from just a moment, he balls his hands into fists and clears his throat. When he lifts his eyes at you, you have to take a step back, it is as if thousands of needles pierce you flesh. "Jimin was right. You always stay with who pays more. I hate you for everything you've done. For having deceived me to get where you wanted. I hope it was worth it."

Assessing you from head to toe, you see a spark in his dark eyes. Minuscule of something you aren't quick enough to identify. His voice is morbidly cold when he speaks again.

“Starting today, I want you to stay away from me and my team. I hope I never have to look at you again."

"What?" You gasp.

"You are fired."

At that point, you don't really care about the job, but he is too angry to notice.

"Are you…breaking up with me again?" You ask, and a sob escapes you.

He laughs out loud. A kind of laugh that makes your whole-body twitch. “I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You can't finish something that never existed." He turns and walks out of the room, slamming the door.

But you aren't going to let him walk out of your life like that. You go after him, clumsily descending the steps, tripping over your own feet to try to keep up with him.

"Namjoon, wait!" You try to stop him, holding him by the elbow, but all what you get is a push. "I won't let you out of my life, so, you have to believe me. Where are you going?"

“Anywhere away from your fake crying."

Only when another sob reverberates in your throat you do realize you are crying. But what did he expect? He is leaving thinking horrible things about you. Blinded by tears and staggering with fear, you lose your step in a step, knocking you down the stairs. You just have time to close your eyes and pray, you don't roll down to the lobby. But before you crash in the steps, strong hands hold you, pulling you back.

"Bloody hell, Y/n!" He growls furiously, trapping your body between his and the wall. "What are you trying to do?"

"I-I just want you to listen to me. The deck is magical. I swear! I can prove you. If you let me show you the texts, you'll see that..."

He closes his eyes, shaking his head, his face contorted with anguish.

"Enough!" he begs on a painful groan.

“Please believe me."

You try to hug him, but he takes your wrists, pinning them against the cold wall, while his body hold you in place.

“I bought this deck because I lied to you when I said I understood something zodiac. I even tried to learn how a birth chart works, but I couldn't, so I went to this little shop to look for something easier, because I wanted to go back to reception. Then Vanda showed me the deck and said that it had belonged to a famous Romani who never missed a prediction in all her life. I didn't believe her, but the deck looked a lot simpler than the maps. I used it to create my texts. But everything I write happens for real for those who read. It happened to hundreds of people. You said you read some emails, destined for Liz, you must have noticed that. Happened to Sabrina, with these people, with me. And with you too."

He stares at you, sinking his fingers into your wrists.

“It doesn't make any difference to me if the fucking deck is magic, Y/n. You betrayed me by siding with Jessy. Can't you understand? You... cheated on me!" His voice sounds loud, but it shakes at the end, and for a brief second, he lets that mask of fury slip. There's heartache, agony, and devastation in his eyes. And they are so deep, so exposed, that they bled, as does your heart. "Can you at least once be honest with me?" He asks in a low voice, body still glued to yours.

"I've always been honest with you!"

He huffed in disgust, and you wish you were dead.

"Were you the one who gave Jessy Yoongi's contact?"

You blink. Hot tears roll down your cheeks.

"No! I didn't give her anything other than my article. A single freelance article, Namjoon. And I only did it because I didn't want to be a receptionist forever. You can accuse me of being ambitious if you like, but I've always been loyal to you, even when you didn't deserve it. I didn't betray you. Never could. I changed the horoscopes without saying anything because I was afraid you wouldn't publish them, and I had to put an end to that crap."

His gaze searches your face, lingering on your lips for a second, and you even think he's going to kiss you. He wants to kiss you. You see how his eyes warm and his mouth part. You also see the effort he makes to stay in control. He keeps you immobilized by his fists, his body still crushing yours, so all you have to do is crane your neck and kiss him. Namjoon stiffens as soon as your lips touch, but a second later, he relaxes the fingers on your wrist twitch, his hip presses on yours, his mouth open to yours.

Unexpectedly, he walks away, staggering a few steps until he imposed a certain distance. He watches you with anger, fear, passion, disgust.

"I love you," You whisper, knowing you have lost him.

“I would give anything to believe you right now." He looks at you for what it feels like an entire century. All those conflicting emotions warred

in his face. Eventually, fury and bitterness prevail. "Stay away from my magazine."

With that, he turns his back on you and practically runs the two sets of missing ladders.

You stand there, pressed against the wall, fat tears running down your cheeks. As much as you screamed the truth in big letters, Namjoon have already decided to not believe. He's a journalist, he believes in facts, not in stupid arguments based on Romani magic.

Namjoon will never believe you.

And cut you out of his life forever.

You open one of the kitchen cupboards and finds the bottle of rum Sabrina has saved it for occasions like this.

Sabrina.

You best friend, who is probably somewhere in that exact moment taking a drink too. You wish you could comfort her. Wanting to be comforted by her. You wish you haven't screwed up.

You empty the bottle, and all you know is that you wake up the next day with a headache next to the washing machine. Breaking all etiquette rules pertaining to relationship purposes, you send two text messages to Namjoon. And a dozen of them to Sabrina.

Neither of them answers you.

It's late afternoon, you are trying to get your thoughts in order, convince yourself that things aren't as ugly as they look, that maybe Namjoon needs some time to cool off. He has just heard about the article at TopNews, about the exchange of zodiacs and, apparently, Yoongi is also leaving to join the competitor. You have to admit that the conclusion which he has arrived at is the most plausible. It even seems, from his point of view, that you are working for Jessy. But that means nothing. Life is not always black and white. It is sometimes gray and, very rarely, colored. How it was those few days with Namjoon.

You hear the slamming of door in the apartment opposite echo down the hall. Without think twice, you run over to his house, hair disheveled and clothes crumpled, ready to do anything to make him believe you.

You knock on the door non-stop. Almost falling backwards when it opens.

"I know you don't want to see me, but..."

"And why wouldn't I want to see you, girl?" Taehyung smiles.

"Oh... hi! You guys came back!" You hug him. "How was the trip?"

“Very well, at least until we came home. Beatriz is in the room crying. She just saw what her brother did to Yeotan. Namjoon has no heart."

"Uh… he had to have him shaved like that. It wasn't out of meaningless. Tell Bea that I'm sorry and that I miss you. And... can I talk with Namjoon?"

“He isn't here. He met us at the airport and said he was sorting it out a problem."

"Right." You avert your eyes to Taehyung's mint green sneakers. "As soon as he gets back, can you tell him I really need to talk to him? And what... if he doesn't show up, I'll... blow up his bike with blue paint."

“You'll have to get in line. Bea wants to do the same. But I tell him with the greatest pleasure if I see him."

Shit, where did he go?

The hours pass and nothing from Namjoon. At the beginning of the night, you decide to go down and wait on the sidewalk, in case he isn't intimidated by your threat, but someone knocks on the door before you can leave.

Namjoon!

You heart skip a beat and speeds up so fast you thought it's going to explode with such excitement. Namjoon is there. He will listen to you, and everything will be fine. You open the door in a rush and a shy smile plaster your lips. Your smile trembles.

It isn't him.

However, it's just as good.

You both stared at each other for a full minute without saying anything until...

"I'm sorry!" you say together, throwing yourselves against each other.

Sabrina hugs you around the neck, burying her head in your hair as she steps in, you stand on tiptoes, resting your head on her shoulder.

"I was so cruel to you…" she whimpers.

"Forgive me, Sam. I did not know! Didn't believe I could be messing around with the fate of people."

She shakes her head and straightens up, still holding you by the shoulders.

“Of course, you didn't. You never believed in anything! You are the first tarot reader I know that doesn't believe in mystical forces."

“Maybe is because I'm not really a tarot reader." You pull yourself together to look at your friend's face. The face that you missed so much these last few days.

There are deep dark circles there, and she looks like she had lost weight. "Damn it, Sabrina! You are a horror!"

"Look who's talking!" She laughs. "That zombie face of yours is because of me, or did something else go wrong?"

"You have no idea what a mess I've gotten myself into."

She closes the door, and you walk to the couch together, her arm around your shoulders, yours on her waist. You give her a brief overview of the conversation with Vanda, in the esoteric, about the magic of the Romani deck.

“Gee, it's amazing… and dangerous. But I was an idiot when I told you that bunch of bullshit. I forgot that your brother was in the hospital and that you didn't even realize what you wrote. I was so upset when I found out that Seokjin had a fiancée that I took all my anger out on you. You and I always take it out on the people we love."

“I was so worried about you! I wanted so much to be around for you to drown on chocolate..."

She lets out a long breath. "I'm fine, as far as possible."

So, Sabrina tells you about her last days. Seokjin had the audacity of calling her every two hours, into the night. She stayed with her sister, who

not only had allowed her to get royally drunk like she deserved, but she also insisted on you being innocent. Sabrina had gone to work all these days, as it was the only time she didn't want to die. Or kill someone. And you know exactly how she was feeling.

"I missed you so much!" She leans her head against yours. "I can live knowing that I was involved with an asshole but staying away from my best friend can't. Sorry for everything I said, Y/n. It was just lip service."

"If you hadn't said all that, I might still be manipulating the lives of people I don't even know."

"Aren't you going to write the zodiac anymore?"

You sat down lightly.

"Thanks to you. And... to Alexia."

"Which Alexia?" She releases you, her voice rising a few octaves.

"How many do we know?" You moan, running your hand over your face.

Is Namjoon with her now?

"Y/n! I do not believe this! I'm gone for a few days, and you make a fool of yourself like that? Why the hell did you go talk to Alexia?"

"I did not go. It was by chance..."

You open your mouth and let it all out. From lunch with Jessy and Alexia, to the scene with Namjoon in that same room. Your telling is biased, you are not sure if you tell all the details.

"Fuck!" She clicks her tongue. “But I can understand Namjoon. Not everything is lost. He's crazy about you. I bet if he hears you for real, he will understand that you never betrayed him, and everything will go back to the way it was before."

Everything will go back to what it was before.

That's when you realize. Only then do you understand what has happened.

Namjoon treating you coldly again. Sabrina back like she never had been absent. Taehyung and Bea at home again.

The article worked. The spell broke.

Namjoon isn't on your destiny after all.

Everything returned to what it was before.

Well... almost. You still love Namjoon. The feeling that burns in you did not disappear as if by magic, but apparently his did.

You didn't see him that fateful weekend, he didn't come back to his sister's place, and you wondered where he was. In a hotel? In Alexia's bed? You didn't know how the end of the spell had affected him, but you suspected it wouldn't take a long time for him and the model to settle down, and that's what is killing you. To think that in a matter of hours he could forget you, as if he was forgetting to water the plants.

That's why you go to the magazine Monday morning. You want to see him, you need to look into his brown eyes and reassure yourself that not even a little part of him, however tiny, had gotten really involved with you.

But any fantasies you had about it disappeared in the moment you stepped into the newsroom. Natacha comes to meet you, her face confused, a paper in her hands.

“I'm sorry, Y/n,” she says, handing you the document. Your letter of resignation, already signed by Namjoon.

You are not surprised, but sad. That's the impetuous head editor you met long ago. You just nod to the colored haired girl and go to your table to collect your belongings. You peek through the glassed-in window into the office and... your heart stop.

Namjoon is at his desk, the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, the glasses slipping down the nose. He hasn’t shaved, his hair is disheveled, clothes wrinkled —that is natural— but crescents dark under his eyes betray that he has slept little, and that is not normal.

Is he suffering too? You wonder, with a twinge of hope. Your eyes met and for a fleeting moment you come to believe that he seems in deep agony. He gets up and comes to the door. You hold your breath.

“Natacha,” he called loudly, covering the mouth of the phone with his hand. "Make sure that woman doesn't take anything that isn't hers."

Never in your entire life you felt so humiliated. And furious. He gives you one last icy look before closing the door and lowering the blinds on the window.

"Don't cry," Natacha asks, touching your arm.

You didn't even realize you were crying. You don't know exactly the reason for the tears. If it's pain and regret for not having explained everything before he found out for himself and came to the conclusions he had, or anger, which fought fiercely inside of you to reach the surface.

"Today he's worse than ever," Natacha complains, trying to console you. “He was here very early. Ella thinks he slept in the office."

Drying your face with the back of your hands and sniffling lightly, you turn at her and try to smile.

"Well, I better get out of here soon, before he decides to take it out on you." Unfortunately, your voice shakes, and Natacha's face takes pity.

Fuck the timing when Namjoon decided to open the game to Yoongi. Everyone knows of your involvement at that point, and the pitying looks makes everything even worse.

You clear your desk in less than ten minutes. You don't have much there. Besides, staying in the newsroom only would feed the agony you are in. Natacha helps you without saying anything, which is very kind of her. In a newsroom in which gossip is more than just fun, it's work, an attitude like hers comes to be touching.

You have already packed everything when Julia appears, crying.

"I never imagined what we did would end up like this," she whimpers on your neck.

“What I did, Julia. You didn't do anything. And I knew there was this possibility."

"Worth it?" She wants to know, releasing you to look you in the eyes.

You smile unhappily, shrugging your shoulders. “No, but it was the right thing to do."

You say goodbye to both of them and send a collective goodbye to the rest of the team. Some, like Youngjae, seems to disapprove of what you have done, others, like Yoongi, Irene and Ella didn't exactly seem to support you, but you felt their sadness to see you go.

You go to the elevator and press the button, balancing the box in your hands as you wait. You turn to scan the newsroom one last time. Many dreams, so many expectations and frustrations, all of that is being left behind. Not to mention your heart, which at that moment is locked in the head editor's room. The pale wood blinds shake slightly as you turn to face them. He isn't fast enough. Just at a glance, a brown blur of lenses and black plastic, but you see him.

The elevator doors opened with a thump, and out comes the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. Restless, she straightens her long hair, runs a delicate hand over her forehead, smoothed her draped perfect designer dress and straightened her shoulders. The woman looks nervous, maybe even scared, but definitely wants to make a good impression. The resolution in her eyes is startling. She starts to move, not noticing you —which, frankly, it isn't even news anymore — and she walks, elegant and purposeful, towards Namjoon's office. Alexia is back where she has always belonged.

You enter the elevator with your eyes still on the model, until the metal doors close, putting a definitive end point. And that's it.

Moments later, without feeling anything below the neck, the doors open again as they reached the ground floor, heralding a new beginning. Only you don't want a fresh start. You want to go up to the eighth floor, run to Namjoon, keep him from Alexia's perfection and beg him to believe in you.

"Are you going out, or up again?" a familiar voice ask.

Jungkook is standing in front of the elevator, holding the door, watching you with a quiet disinterest. You lift your head, feeling out of place, weird, awkward, and so many other things.

Empty.

"I'm going out," you muttered.

He stares at you until he finally sighs. "And you intend to do it soon?"

"Do what?"

"Exit the elevator." He rolls his eyes.

Taking a deep breath and building up courage, you move your feet, taking the first step towards your new... nothing. Funny that, in those stupid movies that Sabrina made you watch, whenever the young lady is faced with a fresh start, soft, hopeful music plays in the background. Usually the sound of a piano, never a depressing country song on Josemar's battery radio, like it happens to you.

Jungkook lets you pass, stepping to one side, and then walks into the elevator.

"Bye, Y/n. See you." The doors began to close, but the tattooed hand of Jungkook stop them. "Are you crying?"

"It's possible. I... don't know what I'm supposed to do now," You confess in a semi-catatonic state.

"What do you mean, don't you know? Where are you going with this box?"

You look at the stuff in your hands, frowning. "I am not sure."

“Why do you… Ah! Did you resin?" He gets out of the elevator that immediately close and climbs in search of passengers.

“Namjoon fired me,” you say. "He thinks I was spying on magazine for the competitor."

Jungkook tilts his head, making the long hair cover his eyes.

"And you were spying?" he asks in a weird way.

"Of course not! But Namjoon didn't believe me. And now his ex is up there, probably saying all the right words, and tomorrow Namjoon won't even remember me anymore." Then you start laughing, shaking your head. "Tomorrow... what a pretense of mine. He no longer remembers me. The spell ended for him, but not for me."

"Okay, you're a little hysterical and you look like you're going to make a huge bullshit." He takes the box from your hands, tucking it under the arm. Then he takes you by the elbow and leads you out of the building. "We'll make you calm down before you tell me what's going on."

It's still early and the only places that sell alcohol at that time would be not very hygienic pubs. That's why you allow him to take you to the cafe on the corner, where you had left the car that morning. Ah, but you don't have a job anymore, right? Not boyfriend. You don't need to go home right away. By the way, you have nothing to do for the rest of your life. You need to occupy yourself. Or maybe you'd stop by Hobi's house later. You brother didn't have a lot to do until he's fully recovered from the accident. Oh no. Now he has. Or will have. His girlfriend is pregnant. He won't be unoccupied for the next twenty years. Maybe twenty-five if the baby is a boy.

You don't complain when Jungkook orders chamomile tea and cookies. You sit at the back of the cafe, you have your back to the entrance, with him in front of you. He waits for you to have some tea to start making questions.

“Now, calmly and coherently, tell me what happened."

You don't want to talk to Jungkook about the affair with Namjoon, especially not after having hurt him because of the man in question, but you need to vent in that instant, or you'll will explode into a million shares.

Building up courage and avoiding eye contact, you tell everything from the beginning of your affair with Namjoon to the end, adding all the details about the spell of the zodiac. He listened in silence, and the only time his brow furrowed is when you said that you haven't realized the zodiac worked because it was him, Jungkook, who you thought that was your happy ending.

"Then I did everything I did," You continued, "but I believed that what we had was true, that it would resist, but it wasn't. And now Namjoon will get back with Alexia and I will die."

"What to die for!" He grumbles, laughing. "You have your whole life ahead. You will love many more times."

"No! Not like I love Namjoon."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean you won't have a good time and be happy again."

"It sucks when we're down and someone keeps saying it's all going to be okay. Well, especially with nothing alcoholic around,” You grumble.

He laughs again. "It sucks to see such a beautiful and smart girl talking nonsense because she's heartbroken."

"What do you want me to do? Dance out there?"

"It's an idea. If you want, I'll accompany you. We can have dinner or just drink something. What do you prefer.”?

You look at him, really look at the absurdly sexy god and that makes panties explode within a mile radius in 0.3 second and that he doesn't seem to be aware of it. But when admiring that overwhelming beauty, you feel nothing but a mad desire for him to transmute into a disheveled geek with brown eyes and a lazy smile.

You shake your head.

“I'm sorry, Jungkook. I like you a lot, but it's not a good idea."

"I like you too. I'm talking about hanging out as friends, just that, but if you don't want me to keep you company, fine. Invite someone, maybe Julia or Natacha. Go drink until you drop, and tomorrow you can think about what to do out of life. It just doesn’t get all tearful around the corners. I understand you, Y/n, really. But I can also understand Namjoon's reaction. All this plot that you invented it sounds like a conspiracy. You should have told him before."

"I know! But I got scared, then he found out on his own, which, honestly, it wasn't part of my plans."

He studies you for a moment, watching every feature of your face.

“You don't seem to have let go of Namjoon."

You roll your eyes.

"Tell me something I still don't know. I love Namjoon, Jungkook. How could I forget how I feel about him all of a sudden?"

“That's exactly what I'm asking myself." He smiles. "Haven't you stopped to think that this spell story might be in your head, that you did let that crazy woman influence you? Because, as I understand it, if you undid the “magic,” everything should have returned to normal. That includes you."

"Yeah, but she said what was meant to be, what was meant to be, wasn't going to change. I think my destiny was to love Namjoon. And besides, I know it was all the deck's fault. I had evidence that I messed with the lives of many people."

"That's not always a bad thing," he comments cautiously.

“In some cases, it was very bad, yes. My best friend is still devastated by what I put her through, unaware of it, of course."

He snorts, shaking his head. “The more you talk, the more absurd it all sounds. If there was a spell and it was undone, and your friend is still suffering. She should be well, no?"

You frown.

"Maybe Sa's destiny was to love Seokjin too. And stop trying to confuse me! You said you believed in these cosmic things, why did you change your mind now?"

"It's one thing to believe that there are forces that guide us, it's another to believe that a girl like you can control them using an old deck and some texts. Answer me one thing, Y/n." He leans closer, getting closer hands on the tabletop. “Why the hell did you want to go out with me?"

"You're handsome. I looked at you and wanted you. I am really sorry."

He smiles. “Oh no, girl. Can stop. I endured all this story of yours in silence bewitched zodiac freak but apologizing for being interested in me is already too much. I won't be quiet this time."

You laugh, as does he.

“You know, I thought you'd never look me in the face again,” you admit.

"And I wasn't," he agrees. "Until I realized that you were really in love with the guy and didn't like it at all."

"I hated. Both having fallen in love with my boss and having you hurt. I never wanted this, Jungkook, you have to believe me."

"I believe. You're a good girl,” he says in a low voice. "People don't choose who to fall in love with, right?"

“If I could, I would have chosen you." Everything would have been simpler if you had fallen in love with Jungkook.

"I'm flattered." He looks at you for a moment before asking: "Can I take a test?"

"What test?" You want to know, meeting his gaze, which is suddenly stuck to your lips.

“I just want to check something."

To your utter bewilderment, he leans across the table and grabs your head, crushing your lips with his. You blink, eyes widening. How many times have you longed for that kiss? How many times have you thought about what Jungkook would taste and smell like so close? But in person and in color and flavor, things are… normal. That sudden kiss takes you by surprise, and it isn't unpleasant. Contrary! Despite the brutality with which he grabbed you, his lips are sweet, soft as velvet and very careful. But that's it. Nothing inside of you stirred or exploded, you don't melt, you don't think you'd pass out if he doesn't stop, nor die if he walks away.

Jungkook releases you suddenly and stare at you in amusement.

“Exactly as I suspected."

“Uh… I'm not sure what you mean by that,” you say, stunned.

"Precisely! You didn't feel anything."

“Well…no, but you caught me off guard, didn't you?" You justify, dismayed that, it seemed, you haven't passed the test, whatever it was.

"Think with me, Y/n. No one here is under the effect of the “spell.” At the very least, you should feel something, at least a little butterfly in your stomach, and all I can see on his face now is surprised."

"I didn't think you were going to kiss me. Especially as we passed the last half hour talking about another guy,” You snap, a little annoyed.

“That's not the point." He shakes his head. "You might have thought that you were attracted to me, but your body disagrees with that. It wants Namjoon. You weren't attracted to him because of a crappy Romani deck. And I bet he wasn't either."

"I don't understand." But at that point, you don't even understand yourself.

Your tea ends, you are already calmer, although you feel the agony bubbling inside of you, desperate to find an outlet.

“I suppose not. But think about it.” He opens his wallet and leaves the money under your saucer. Then he gets to his feet and, very gently, helps you get up. "Call me if you want to discuss the matter."

"Thank you, Jungkook. You were the best today. I didn't deserve such kindness and consideration."

"Oh, Y/n, you deserve it." He hugs you tenderly and kisses the top of your head. “You are such a sweet girl. Just being too stupid to believe you could get involved in editorial espionage."

“You almost believed it."

“That's what I said, just being really stupid." He makes a face, and you laugh still hugging him.

Something catches Jungkook's eye at the entrance of the cafe. He freezes and his amused expression disappears. You turn your head and meets Namjoon's gaze.

He isn't alone.

Your eyes remain locked for a moment, then descends to your waist, where Jungkook's hands are. Rage, contempt, grief gleam in his brown eyes. You let go of him abruptly, but that's already late, the damage has already been done.

Namjoon turned his attention to Alexia and laughs at something the model is saying. With a delicacy that makes your heart stop, leaving you with the feeling of having turned into a zombie, he places his hand on her back and guides her to one of the tables. You stand there looking at that big, smooth hand that so often had caressed your skin, the same skin that had wrapped itself around yours when you made love.

"Move, Y/n." Jungkook nudge you on the shoulder. "Or you'll let that the guy see you crying?"

You get out of the cafe so fast that you nearly run over an elderly couple who's entering. You stride to your car and Jungkook has to run to reach you.

"I don't think you should be driving in these conditions," he says, handing over the box with your belongings.

You toss it into the backseat with little care. "I'm great. See you around."

You take off, making the tires squeal, and turn the radio to full volume. Kind of on automatic you manage to get home, go up the three flights of stairs, enter and close the door. You lean against it, slipping through the wood until you collide with the cold floor. You are devastated. Hollow and broken, like the shell of an old peanut, with no prospect of ever being able to gather your pieces again.

At least that's what you think at that moment, not knowing that fate - whose existence until recently you didn't know — has other plans for you.

Author note: JK is such a sweetheart in this chapter. Also, sorry not sorry about it.

Feedback is always appreciated.

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hctrwhlcr-blog · 7 years

Photo

&&. TASK OO1 — DESFILE DA POPULAÇÃO

O BÁSICO:

Nome: Hector Chuck Wheeler

Apelido: Hec

Razões para tais: Porque as pessoas são preguiçosas pra falar Hector

Data de Nascimento (Idade): 07/02/1990

Localização Atual: Henvis, AU

Signo do Zodíaco: Aquário

Gênero / Pronomes: Masculino

Nacionalidade: Britânico

Sexualidade: Pansexual

Ocupação: Escritor

APARÊNCIA FÍSICA:

FaceClaim: Robert Pattinson

Altura: 1,85

Peso: 78kg

Cor da Pele: Branca

Cor dos Olhos: Azuis/Verdes

Cor do Cabelo: Castanho claro/Loiro escuro

Como costuma usar o cabelo: Bagunçado, ele nem sabe o que é pente

Descrição da Voz: Sotaque britânico não tão acentuado agora

Cicatrizes: Tem uma na coxa esquerda de cair da árvore quando era novo, além disso só uma marca de nascença na nuca.

Tatuagens: -

Piercings: -

Deficiências: -

Usa óculos ou lente de contato: -

INFÂNCIA:

Local de Nascimento: Londres, UK

O que lembra/sabe do pai (aparência, ocupação, melhores lembranças): O pai está beirando aos cinquenta anos mas não aparenta tanta idade, já que cuida da própria aparência. Ele trabalha em um escritório de advocacia, mas Hector não tem muitas boas lembranças com o homem, as únicas que tem é porque sua mãe estava junto. O progenitor é bastante preocupado com dinheiro e sua carreira, não fala muito com o filho já que está sempre trabalhando e mora longe, então nunca foram muito próximos.

O que lembra/sabe da mãe (aparência, ocupação, melhores lembranças): Sua mãe morreu aos 34 anos de idade quando Hector tinha 14, era uma mulher de beleza incrível, cabelos negros e olhos claros, o que a princípio era o que atraíra o ex-marido. Ela trabalhava como professora de inglês e foi quem incentivou a paixão do filho em histórias já que adorava ler para o mesmo, as melhores lembranças de Hector dela são as noites em que ela criava as próprias histórias e deixava o menino a ajudar com elas. Infelizmente ela faleceu por causa de um motorista bêbado que morreu também no acidente.

Caso não tenha pais, por quê? -

Memória Mais Feliz: Qualquer aniversário dele com sua mãe, porque ela fazia ser especial com uma surpresa diferente, às vezes caça ao presente na casa em que moravam. A primeira vez que publicou um livro também foi uma memória marcante.

Traumas: A morte da sua mãe.

Brinquedo de Infância Favorito: Um boneco de crochê que sua vó fez.

Histórias/Fatos Embaraçosos; Vários, Hector é king de se enfiar em micos, mas teve uma vez que ele estava com uma namorada, ela encontrou alguns conhecidos e Hector soltou alguns comentários sobre a vida sexual deles, descobrindo depois que os conhecidos eram da família da namorada.

FAMÍLIA:

Pais: Chad Wheeler e Hilarie Marsh

Irmãos:

Amigos:

Inimigos:

Romance (atual e exes):

Filhos:

Outros Significativos:

MENTALIDADE:

Educação: Formado em jornalismo.

Religião: -

Distúrbios: -

Q.I:

Línguas: Inglês.

Temperamento ( LINK DO TESTE ): Melancólico-sanguíneo

Alinhamento Moral ( LINK DO TESTE ): Bondade Caótica

MBTI ( LINK DO TESTE ): ENFP-A

Habilidades: Escrita

EXTRAS:

Animais de estimação: -

Restrição alimentar: -

Signo celta: Gato

Zodíaco chinês: Cavalo

Hábito que não consegue largar: Fumar, fazer merda nos empregos e ser despedido q

Maior medo: Viver a vida no tédio ou sem gostar do que faz

Hobbies: Escrever, ler e farrear

Lugares onde viajou: -

Fuma? Sim

Bebe? Sim

Dieta: -

Fobias: -

Redes sociais: Tem várias, mas só usa bastante o instagram.

Algum vício? Cigarro.

FAVORITOS:

Música: Add It Up - Violent Femmes

Banda: Violent Femmes

Roupa: x

Lugar: Cafeteria perto do seu apartamento.

Memória: -

Pessoa: Sua mãe.

Filme: Psicose ou It

“O QUE VOCÊ PREFERE:”

Café ou Chá?

Tomar banho de Dia ou de Noite?

Tomar banho de Banheira ou tomar banho de Chuveiro?

Séries ou Filmes?

Escrever ou Ler?

Amor Platônico ou Romântico?

Chá Gelado ou Limonada?

Sorvete ou Smoothies?

Cupcakes ou Bolo?

Praia ou Montanhas?

PERSONALIDADE:

Pecados - Ganância / Luxúria / Gula / Preguiça / Inveja / Orgulho / Ira.

Virtudes - Castidade / Caridade / Diligência / Humildade / Gentileza / Paciência / Temperança

Compaixão - 6

Empatia - 7

Criatividade - 9

Flexibilidade Mental - 8

Paixão - 5

Energia - 7

Força Física - 5

Agilidade - 4

Estratégia - 6

Trabalho Em Equipe - 7

Força - 8

Inteligência - 6

Sabedoria - 7

Destreza - 4

Constituição - ?

Carisma - 7

Reflexos - 1

Força De Vontade - 8

Sorte - 3

#henvistask #htask: 001 #[ extras. ]

4 notes · View notes

jkappameme · 7 years

Text

Acompanhante de Aluguel (Longfic 1/16)

Jeon Jungkook Autora: Agness Saints Gênero: Comédia, Romance Sinopse: Parecia piada, quatro anos de um relacionamento frustrante havia chegado ao fim, mas Haneul ainda te atrapalhava a vida. Se ele não tivesse arranjado um namoro relâmpago, você não precisaria demonstrar que está bem também, que não ficou para trás. Você não precisaria, principalmente, contratar aquele maldito acompanhante de aluguel.

Moreno. 1,80 de altura. Porte atlético. Bonito. Inteligente. Educado. Agradável. Sabe estabelecer uma conversa. Sem compromisso emocional, apenas financeiro. Valor sob consulta. Interessados: [51] 5782-4158

Esquece o “parecia”, a vida é mesmo uma piada pronta. Contagem de palavras: 5.874 Avisos: +16. A história faz parte da série puerlistae au. Parte: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 Playlist. | Playlist 2. | Playlist 3.

Moreno. 1,80 de altura. Porte atlético. Bonito. Inteligente. Educado. Agradável. Sabe estabelecer uma conversa. Sem compromisso emocional, apenas financeiro.

Valor sob consulta.

Interessados: [51] 5782-4158

O anúncio feito à mão em um post-it verde neon ainda tem cola no verso e letras falhas pela caneta com pouca tinta, as pontas estão amassadas e a escrita é corrida, quase um grito silencioso de desespero. Respiro fundo, mirando-o escondido no meio do capítulo de Direito Financeiro. Eu ainda consigo ouvir Sorn, minha colega de quarto e melhor amiga, dizer “o único problema é que o número de celular é de Busan” quando me entregou o pedaço de papel ontem à noite. E eu não sei exatamente no que me preocupar mais, no fato de Sorn achar que o único problema no anúncio completamente duvidoso e furreca é o interurbano ou eu estar tentada a aceitar essa ideia absurda.

Fecho o livro com rapidez quando um grupo de calouros passa pela minha mesa e solto, em seguida, um palavrão sôfrego de susto. Enquanto eu os observo caminhar por entre as cadeiras da biblioteca e desaparecer por um dos milhares de corredores daqui, eu penso se essa decisão me levará ao fundo do poço de vez.

Ou mais ao fundo ainda, levando em consideração que eu já me considero lá.

Sucumbo sobre a cadeira, cansada de tentar arranjar soluções para um problema tão idiota. Tão idiota. Ex-namorados deveriam desaparecer do mundo no momento em que nos desligamos deles, não colar em nossas vidas como sanguessugas cretinas. Ainda mais colar em nossas vidas como sanguessugas cretinas trazendo a atual namorada junto. Namorada há duas semanas.

Duas semanas.

Isso é ridículo.

Passo meus olhos pela biblioteca vagarosamente, mas não existe ninguém mais aqui além de mim e os recém-chegados estudantes já desaparecidos. Trago então o livro para a beirada da mesa e o abro novamente no exato capítulo onde o miserável anúncio descansa. Quem quer que seja esse cara, escolheu a cor do post-it mais sem graça dos blocos padrões. E tem uma letra horrorosa também. Além de não ser nada caprichoso na hora de manusear o papel. E algo no fato dele não perceber que o escrito está de cabeça para baixo, considerando que a cola no verso está embaixo e não em cima como deveria estar, me deixa realmente incomodada.

Mas em momentos difíceis como esse, eu não sou capaz de julgar alguém, não é?

Quando meus olhos sobem para o saguão outra vez, eles captam uma Sorn extremamente agitada vindo em minha direção, os cabelos curtos presos com várias presilhas para livrar seu rosto dos fios. Nós marcamos de nos encontrar aqui logo após o almoço, antes de suas aulas da tarde começarem. Mas enquanto eu a vejo com as dezenas de livros que ela costuma sempre carregar consigo, além de uma mochila esfarrapada e óculos de grau pendendo na ponta do nariz, eu me pergunto se realmente foi uma boa ideia a chatear com essa história outra vez, ainda mais na semana de entrega de trabalhos.

– Eu acho que eu vou enlouquecer até o fim desse semestre. – É a primeira coisa que ela fala quando afasta a cadeira em minha frente com um dos pés e joga as coisas que carrega em cima da mesa, ignorando por completo toda a política de silêncio do lugar. – É sério.

Franzo o cenho consideravelmente assim que ela solta um suspiro sofrido e se senta, no canto de sua boca ainda resta um pouco do açúcar de confeiteiro do possível donut que comeu de sobremesa. E, pelo meu olhar estar fixado no lugar, ela se olha no reflexo do celular. Durante o tempo em que a manga de seu suéter é responsável pela limpeza, eu miro mais uma vez o post-it ainda escondido.

Será mesmo que não existe outra opção nesse mundo? Eu ainda tenho tempo para encontrar algo melhor do que um anúncio feito em um post-it, não é? Quer dizer, talvez até lá eu consiga arranjar um namorado, ou um encontro qualquer, certo? Até porque o aniversário de Eubin é só daqui há... 22 de abril é... Espera, é daqui três dias?

– E então? – A voz de Sorn me faz olhar para ela de súbito. O fato deu perceber que resta tão pouco tempo me deixa mais nervosa do que antes, mas ela parece não perceber. – Já ligou para o cara do anúncio?

– Erm, não, eu...

Engulo a seco, ainda perdida na novidade. Parece que foi ontem mesmo que iniciávamos o período. O que exatamente aconteceu com todo esse tempo que passou?

– Você ainda está pensando se é uma loucura completa? – Ela pergunta, os olhos pesados atrás dos óculos de grau e um bocejo sendo solto discretamente pelo canto da boca. – Nós podemos fazer o levantamento dos contras e prós, caso você queira outra vez.

O lance é que eu quero mesmo fazer um levantamento dos contras e prós com Sorn de novo, por mais que pareça ser tarde demais, por mais que não haja outra saída para meu problema. Só que um alerta no meu cérebro está indicando que essa não é a melhor hora para se fazer isso, não quando Sorn está enterrada em trabalhos acadêmicos, energéticos ruins e dezenas de horas de sono perdidas. Puxo o ar com força, a frase “falta apenas três dias” ecoando nos meus pensamentos sem parar, enquanto os olhos sonolentos de minha melhor amiga dançam de um lado para o outro tentando ao máximo não fecharem. Seguro uma vontade súbita de enumerar todas as desvantagens em meio a um desespero claro, o fato de faltar tão pouco tempo me pegou mesmo desprevenida, mas não é como se eu pudesse simplesmente ignorar toda a agenda lotada de Sorn e todo seu precioso tempo gasto até agora para me ajudar.

– Eu vou ligar para ele hoje quando chegar. – Digo, não tendo a mínima certeza sobre isso. – Está decidido.

– Mesmo? – Sua desconfiança é camuflada completamente pelo seu cansaço e, por mais que ela queira parecer disposta a montar uma lista sobre os benefícios de contratar um completo estranho para me ajudar, seus olhos sonolentos não mentem o quanto ela quer mandar esse problema para o raio que o parta. – Nós podemos tentar achar outra solução caso você...

– Não. – Interrompo-a, me sentindo verdadeiramente mal até mesmo por chamá-la até aqui; vejo seus olhos correrem sorrateiramente até o relógio em seu pulso e me sinto ainda pior. Mesmo que tenha levado menos de vinte minutos de seu dia, ela poderia ter usado esse tempo para resolver coisas que realmente importam para ela, não resolver problemas que envolvam o ex-namorado da melhor amiga. – Eu me viro, Sorn, é sério.

Ela suspira alto e assente. Sorn não parece tentada a discutir mais sobre o assunto, como também parece feliz por deixar de lado um problema. Enquanto eu fecho o livro outra vez com o maldito-bendito-sei-lá-o-que post-it dentro, vejo-a arrastar a cadeira para trás e se erguer em uma falsa agitação.

– Se você não se importar, eu estou indo, tudo bem? – Diz, recolhendo seus livros sobre a mesa. – Marquei com a Sra. Kim daqui dez minutos para a revisão do meu roteiro. Você se importa?

– Ah... Não! Não, claro que não. – Sorrio frouxo, chegando à conclusão de que ela está realmente cansada por nem sequer questionar a vinda inútil de poucos minutos até a biblioteca. – Nos vemos à noite.

Sorn assente aérea, uma das presilhas do lado esquerdo soltando-se dos fios finos de seu cabelo. Meu sorriso desconexo ainda está no rosto ao passo que a vejo se virar e partir para a saída da biblioteca da faculdade. Assim que a perco de vista, um soco invisível me acerta em cheio no peito, a realidade caindo sobre a mesa sem panos quentes para acobertar.

Eu estou fodida. E perdida.

Enterro meu rosto em minhas mãos, tentando encontrar algum meio, qualquer um, para solucionar meu problema sem precisar contatar quem quer que seja o dono do anúncio. Mas o curto prazo que tenho não me dá muita alternativa. E isso não está me ajudando em nada a manter a calma.

Quando meu namoro de quase quatro anos com Haneul chegou ao fim há cinco meses, eu sabia que as coisas não seriam fáceis. Não só porque Haneul é filho dos amigos dos meus pais, mas porque nossas vidas já haviam sido traçadas por eles desde que nascemos. E tudo, além de planejado, estava dentro do combinado; nós começamos a namorar no colegial, entramos em ótimas faculdades em Seoul, nos formaríamos e depois um casamento lindo no campo seria realizado. Ninguém nunca pediu nossa opinião, mas era assim que seria feito. Só que apesar de saber que seria difícil lidar com toda a ira de minha mãe pelo fim do nosso relacionamento, eu não estava contando que Haneul encontraria uma namorada há duas semanas do nosso primeiro encontro oficialmente separados.

Eu sabia como lidar com toda a paranoia de meus pais sobre casamentos e em como eu estava ficando velha para arranjar um marido, mas nunca na minha vida eu conseguiria lidar com isso e com o fato de ser a única no relacionamento a não seguir em frente. Se Haneul aparecesse desacompanhando, da mesma forma como eu planejava fazer, tudo estaria perfeito. Mas eu deveria saber que isso aconteceria, não é? Quer dizer, eu só descobri que ele era um mimado de merda há cinco meses quando eu rompi nosso namoro. Havia tantas cobranças vindas dele sobre encontros e falta de tempo, que eu simplesmente preferi ser lançada à fúria de mamãe do que ter que passar o resto da minha vida com alguém que não apoiava meu plano de carreira. Era verdade que antes de entrar na universidade eu estava contente com o trajeto que meus pais haviam traçado para mim, eu gostava de Haneul e saber que todos nos apoiavam era ótimo. Mas assim que me vi com a possibilidade de um ótimo diploma, eu quis ter uma vida totalmente diferente daquela. E exatamente por querê-la tanto que não medi esforços para terminar o namoro. Haneul deixou claro desde o início que meus estudos não eram tão importantes quanto os seus e não entendia toda a minha urgência em precisar estudar para as provas finais ao invés de vê-lo em seu campus do outro lado da cidade.

Esse pirralho cretino arranjou uma namorada em cima da hora de propósito, eu sei disso. Até porque ele sabe muito bem o quão tradicionais meus pais são e o quanto eles prezam muito mais um casamento do que um diploma. E ele sabe que minha vida, apesar de já estar ridiculamente complicada de levar por todos os sermões diários de mamãe, se tornaria um inferno se eu fosse a única desacompanhada no aniversário de Eubin.

Se a vida acadêmica não estivesse tão complicada como está, eu arriscaria ir sozinha a esse encontro, mas a Lei de Murphy é realmente incrível e não falha nunca. Eu não quero ter mais um motivo para perder cabelos no banho. E, pensando bem, essa é uma ótima razão para eu estar realmente considerando agora a ideia do cara do post-it uma bela solução para os meus problemas.

Eu estou, definitivamente, no fundo do poço.

Junto minhas coisas dentro da mochila e vou para o dormitório. O caminho até lá é uma montanha como sempre é, mas apesar de cansativo o nervosismo me faz completar o trajeto em tempo recorde, me aninhando ao aquecedor do quarto em menos de dez minutos. O ambiente é iluminado pela luz cinzenta do dia nublado, ela passa pelas janelas fechadas e cai sobre as camas em uma sintonia monótona. Respirando fundo pelo que deve ser a décima vez nos últimos minutos, termino de digitar o número informado pelo post-it. E, enquanto meu corpo cai sobre minha cadeira em frente à escrivaninha, eu penso que devo ter mesmo enlouquecido.

– Ok, se não atenderem em três toques, você desiste. – Digo para mim mesma, olhando para a tela do celular antes de apertar o maldito botão para iniciar a chamada. – Vamos lá, você consegue.

Fecho os olhos e me concentro em qualquer barulho que possa vir do outro lado da linha. Minha garganta está seca e eu sinto uma tremedeira idiota bater em meus joelhos. É o fim dos tempos, eu sinto que é.

Tuuuuuuuuu

Um.

Tuuuuuuuuu

Dois.

Tuuuuuuuuu

Três.

– É isso aí. – Encerro a chamada sem pensar duas vezes, minhas palmas das mãos suadas marcando a tela do celular. – Eu sabia que isso não ia dar certo. É bem provável que esse número seja falso, não é? Com toda a certeza foi uma brincadeira de primeiro de abril atrasada que alguém fez com o amigo. Ninguém iria colocar um anúncio por livre e espotâ...

– Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb...

Meu coração sobe para a garganta quando meus olhos caem sobre o aparelho telefônico recentemente deixado em cima da cama. Red Velvet anuncia uma nova chamada e o número não é de nenhum dos meus contatos, muito menos anônimo, ele é do maldito acompanhante de aluguel.

Engulo a seco em um nervosismo claro, eu já nem mais consigo mentir para mim mesma. Aperto as pernas e tomo o celular nas mãos outra vez, mirando a tela por um tempo. Eu sinto uma gota de suor escorrer pela minha mandíbula e morrer no início de minha gola alta, enquanto meus pés tamborilam no piso de assoalho. E, mesmo tudo parecendo levar horas até que eu tenha a coragem de aceitar a chamada, quem quer que seja responsável por aquele anúncio parece determinado a saber quem o ligou.

– Alô? – Minha voz sai em um fiapo medroso. O fato deu ter enlouquecido por completo me deixando muito mais apavorada do que quem possa ser do outro lado da linha.

– Uh, oi. Quem é?

Levo um tempo pra responder, a voz que me pergunta é grave, mas não a ponto de me assustar. Limpo a garganta em um pigarrear subitamente corajoso.

– Você é o dono dos anúncios no post-it? Do acompanhante de aluguel?

Há um barulho de algo caindo do outro lado da ligação e eu espero um tempo até que sua voz volte em um tom agudo e surpreso:

– Oh, sim! Você quer me contratar?

– Eu... É, eu queria saber quanto você co-

– Eu só trato disso pessoalmente. – Ele me interrompe sem titubear. – Você é da Chung-Ang, certo?

– Hã? Sim, eu peguei seu anúncio do edital e...

– Então venha me encontrar, eu estou no dormitório 507.

Meus olhos se arregalam. O quê? Eu vou precisar ir ao seu dormitório?

– Nós não podemos marcar em outro lugar? Isso é um pouco indecente...

– Eu estou me arrumando para sair, estou te encaixando na minha agenda.

Agenda? É alguma piada?

– E à noite?

– Vou estar fora, se quiser podemos conversar amanhã.

Solto um suspiro aborrecida, tentando entender se a proposta faz sentido junto às minhas exigências. E ela não faz. A verdade é que eu gostaria mesmo de encontrá-lo apenas amanhã, de preferência em um lugar repleto de pessoas e cheio de câmeras de segurança. Mas meu prazo é curto e o aniversário de Eubin já é sábado, eu não tenho esse tempo. Eu não tenho. Eu vou precisar mesmo encontrar com esse maluco no dormitório masculino.

– Eu vou hoje. – Respondo, sentindo o arrependimento bater forte junto ao coração. – Chego aí em quinze minutos.

– Ótimo, vou esperar, mas só quinze minutos. Até daqui a pouco.

– Qual é o seu... Nome?

Mas já é tarde demais e a ligação já foi encerrada, deixando minha pergunta vagando pelo ar sem resposta. Fecho os olhos com força e jogo o celular em cima da cama outra vez, como se de repente o aparelho estivesse distribuindo choques aleatórios. Eu sinto que estou prestes a cometer a maior burrada da minha vida e o pior, consciente disso. Assim que abro os olhos novamente, eles focam no anúncio sobre minha mochila.

Moreno. 1,80 de altura. Porte atlético. Bonito. Inteligente. Educado. Agradável. Sabe estabelecer uma conversa. Sem compromisso emocional, apenas financeiro.

Eu riscaria, com toda a certeza, educado. E talvez agradável também. O lance de saber estabelecer uma conversa ainda não, mas só ainda. Algo me diz que no final a única característica intacta será moreno.

Essa experiência nem começou e já é a pior da minha vida.

Enfio no bolso de minha jaqueta a carteira e o post-it verde neon por motivo algum, colocando os sapatos antes de seguir pelo corredor vazio. O prédio dos dormitórios femininos está deserto como sempre está nas tardes de meio de semana, o que, de certa forma, faz com que meu nervosismo já instalado há horas na boca de meu estômago comece a crescer a cada passo dado. É como se eu estivesse prestes a cometer um crime, um assassinato, algo tão horrível que o arrependimento já me dá calafrios nas costelas.

É o quarto 507. Penso alto por não querer esquecer, enquanto entro no elevador e espero pacientemente até que ele chegue ao primeiro andar. Os números no painel eletrônico parecem se arrastar e eu me encolho no canto da caixa de metal como se eu estivesse sendo vigiada pelo próprio governo coreano. Todos os contras e prós que levantei durante o dia não existem mais, eles estão misturados sem nexo algum em meus pensamentos à medida que o aviso mental me alerta dos poucos dias para o aniversário de Eubin.

Eu não tenho escolha, eu sei disso.

Desço do elevador sentindo as pernas endurecerem em protesto, meu corpo todo parece se negar a seguir em frente e, assim que passo pelas catracas do dormitório feminino, eu o obedeço. Vejo-me parada então em meio ao hall do prédio, na divisa de dormitórios, não porque eu simplesmente desisti do plano, mas sim pelo simples fato de encontrar as deslembradas catracas para a ala masculina.

É óbvio que o acesso é restrito e é óbvio que eu esqueci por completo disso.

Solto a respiração pesada em protesto, um grunhido de raiva crescendo no peito. Não existe a menor possibilidade de um salto, até porque eu com certeza cairia. Eu não faço exercícios físicos há o quê? Dois anos? E também existe o orgulho e a coisa toda de regras da faculdade que realmente me incomoda quebrar. Não entrando no mérito deu me sentir aliviada pelo destino ter posto uma encruzilhada no meio do caminho para que eu não encontre um completo estranho em seu dormitório. Isso é como um aviso do universo, não é? Eu creio que sim. Talvez se eu simplesmente o esperar aqui... Por quinze minutos... Ele mesmo disse que não me esperaria, não é? Pode ser que ele apareça daqui a pouco, certo?

Olho em volta, mas, mesmo conseguindo enxergar boa parte das áreas comuns dos dormitórios masculinos, não vejo movimento algum. Tudo parece vazio e ridiculamente pronto para que alguém quebre as regras sem ser visto. Penso em mandar uma mensagem avisando meu futuro contratado, mas o celular foi deixado em cima da cama com toda a minha aparente dignidade. Encosto-me em uma das catracas, conformada pela mudança repentina de planos, quando, sem aviso prévio, meu corpo sofre um solavanco de nervosismo assim que o sino suave do elevador reverbera pelo primeiro andar.

Meus olhos correm ansiosos e apavorados até a porta sendo aberta, meu coração a mil no peito à medida que a figura de um garoto me toma a atenção toda. A cor do fim da mais bela tarde tinge os fios de cabelo moldados em leves ondas propositalmente jogadas para trás, e a sensação de um dia quente de verão me toma o corpo todo ao passo que o garoto se aproxima. Os detalhes de seu rosto genuinamente sendo destacados pela distância já não tão longa, a boca cheia rosada e os olhos cravados em mim com a mais singela curiosidade. Sinto minha saliva descer como arame farpado pela garganta, ele é tão gracioso e bonito que eu me sinto corar de vergonha.

– Olá, desculpa, – pede assim que dou um salto assustado no lugar – mas foi você quem ligou para saber sobre o anúncio do acompanhante?

Levo algum tempo para perceber que as palavras foram, de fato, direcionadas a mim. Meus olhos se perdendo em cada detalhe ridiculamente angelical que seus traços moldam. A cor laranja de seus cabelos lhe cai tão bem que por um instante me pergunto se é possível terem a criado apenas para tingi-los.

– Você não é moreno e nem tem 1,80 de altura.

Minha voz sai sem permissão e eu me arrependo copiosamente quando a primeira reação que recebo é um levantar irônico de sobrancelhas.

– Bela observação, – diz, o tom de voz é suave como uma pluma – mas eu não sou o Jungkook.

– Jung...?

– Jungkook, o dono do anúncio para quem você ligou. – Explica, passando pelas catracas e parando em minha frente. – Eu sou colega de quarto dele. Ele esqueceu que você não tem como subir em nosso dormitório, então aqui está a minha chave de acesso. Deixe com ele depois que sair.

– Eu não... Eu não... – Pisco algumas vezes, olhando para o cartão sendo estendido para mim. – Eu não posso o esperar aqui? Ele disse que estava de saída, eu posso o encontrar aqui, não é?

– Ele vai se reunir para um trabalho em uma das mesas do segundo andar, não vai sair do prédio hoje. – Esclarece e, enquanto eu moldo meus lábios em um pequeno “oh” de entendimento, ele me estica novamente o cartão. – Aproveite, não há ninguém nos corredores. Eu preciso ir agora.

– Obrigada. – Sorrio sem graça, pegando a chave de acesso.

Eu nunca o vi por aqui, eu lembraria caso tivesse. Suas bochechas têm uma tonalidade rosa natural que saltam diante dos meus olhos quando ele sorri, o casaco preto parece lhe agasalhar bem e por mais que meu cérebro tenha bloqueado de nervosismo meu olfato, eu acredito que ele cheire à felicidade e ternura. Doce feito mochi de morango com doce de feijão branco.

Talvez eu deva me aventurar mais pelas catracas da ala masculina caso isso signifique encontrar garotos como ele.

Enquanto o vejo passar pelas portas de vidro e se dirigir para qualquer lugar lá fora, eu solto um suspiro pesado que me traz de volta a cruel realidade. Meu corpo sucumbe em fracasso quando meus olhos caem sobre as malditas catracas outra vez. O sentimento de culpa despenca sobre meus ombros de uma forma muito mais violenta que antes. Eu estava certa de que o destino havia me enviado um aviso claro sobre isso, já havia me conformado sobre a mudança de planos e sobre não precisar obstruir nenhuma regra para me encontrar com um estranho em seu dormitório. Mas, talvez, o destino tenha mesmo enviado um sinal e agora seja apenas um teste da vida, não é? Talvez seja um teste para medir minha lealdade às leis que um dia eu vou lutar para que sejam cumpridas.

Fecho os olhos com força, abrindo-os apenas para mirar as informações no pedaço de plástico preso em meus dedos.

Park Jimin - Arquitetura.

Suspiro derrotada. Não tem jeito, não existe outra solução. Eu vou mesmo fazer isso. E eu espero, de verdade, que a vida entenda a gravidade da situação. E que entenda que eu realmente estou arrependida por estar passando o cartão de um completo estranho para entrar na ala masculino dos dormitórios.

– Vamos lá, você consegue.

O nervosismo é tanto que eu nem sequer consigo mais lembrar como é o rosto de Jimin e, tomada por uma onda de coragem repentina, eu passo pela catraca após o bip habitual de livre acesso. Minhas pernas tremendo nos primeiros passos até o elevador, mas, por puro medo de ser pega, elas me levam rapidamente até seu interior. Diferente da vinda, o painel eletrônico parece voar pelos andares e, em o que parecem ser segundos, chego ao quinto piso.

Não há ninguém pelos corredores, nenhum barulho sequer ou uma luz acessa pela movimentação. Não há nada além de mim e minha respiração ofegante. Eu definitivamente me sinto em um filme de ação, terror, suspense ou sei lá qual gênero o personagem se sente a ponto de vomitar tudo o que comeu no dia. Minhas botas de couro fazem um barulho alto sobre o piso de cerâmica que eu nunca nem sequer havia reparado e enquanto ando minuciosamente sobre o quinto andar, eu me pergunto se a vida é ridícula dessa forma mesmo.

Avisto finalmente o quarto 507 não muito longe daqui e encerro a distância em um caminhar tortuoso ao som do calçado rangendo contra o chão. Penso em usar a chave pelo desespero, entrar sem pedir licença e me esconder debaixo de sua escrivaninha. O movimento é tão automático que me pego parando há centímetros do leitor de códigos. Mas por mais nervosa e vulnerável que eu esteja, não é a ideia mais genial do mundo entrar no quarto de um completo desconhecido, certo? Até porque eu prefiro ser pega do que... Espera. O que exatamente aconteceria comigo caso eu fosse pega por aqui?

Não tenho tempo de pensar sobre a resposta ou sequer respirar direito, a porta do dormitório 507 se abre em um solavanco oco, o vento da ação chacoalhando meus cabelos para frente junto a barra de meu suéter longo. No meio de meu emaranhado de fios de cabelo sobre os olhos, eu tenho a absoluta certeza que vejo Jungkook.

E ele, definitivamente, tem 1,80 de altura.

Se antes Jimin me levava a um passeio em um dia de verão, agora eu sinto que Jungkook ateou fogo em meu corpo inteiro. Eu me sinto quente. Quente demais. Não há nada de meigo, terno ou suave, ele é um monstro. Ombros largos, olhos sinuosos e músculos por toda a parte. Por toda a parte. É um festival de ofensa gratuito. O cabelo castanho bagunçado cai sobre a testa e quase alcança os olhos tão negros como chocolate amargo. O nariz pode ser um pouco grande para o resto do seu rosto, mas minha atenção é voltada completamente para a boca bem delineada e sua mandíbula bem marcada. Tão marcada que é capaz de cortar.

Eu realmente preciso frequentar mais as catracas da ala masculina.

– Você deve ser a garota que ligou há pouco, isso?

– _____. – Falo em uma voz que não parece ser minha, enquanto tiro com rapidez os fios de cabelo dos olhos. – Você é o Jungkook?

– Sou. – Ele cruza os braços por um instante, seus músculos saltando por debaixo da camiseta de manga longa ridiculamente fina. – Está aí há quanto tempo?

– Acabei de chegar.

– Eu estou saindo. – Avisa sem rodeios, me fazendo recuar quando dá um passo a frente para fechar a porta atrás de si. – Podemos conversar amanhã?

– O quê? – É como se eu tivesse sido puxada para a situação real, meu cérebro buscando rapidamente a conversa recente por telefone com ele. – Não, eu disse que precisava ser hoje.

– Você demorou muito para chegar, eu tenho hora marcada.

Olho para meu relógio de pulso rapidamente e franzo o cenho em irritação, eu atrasei um minuto.

– Não é uma conversa muito extensa. – Digo desaforada, vendo-o dar os primeiros passos para longe de seu dormitório. – Se você me falasse por telefone quanto é o seu valor, eu não precisaria nem estar aqui.

– Eu não falo por telefone por questões de segurança.

– Segurança?

– É, – sua voz reverbera pelo corredor sem maiores dificuldades – eu não confio muito em...

– Você pode falar mais baixo, por favor? – Interrompo-o incomodada. – Eu não quero ser pega aqui.

Jungkook para de andar apenas para me olhar de cima a baixo por um instante, parecendo voltar em sua decisão de dizer o que queria dizer e retomando seu caminho. Ele solta um suspiro tedioso enquanto chama o elevador, o volume de sua voz a seguir não muda em absolutamente nada:

– Enfim, meu preço é 100 mil wons.

– 100 mil wons?! – Dessa vez a voz que reverbera é a minha em um quase grito apavorado. – Mas eu quero te contratar só por algumas horas.

– O valor é fixo.

– Isso é sério? �� Não evito um sufoco de pavor. – É caro demais! Eu consigo pagar um churrasco completo para três pessoas com isso.

Vejo-o entrar no elevador e girar sobre os calcanhares para mim, o olhar tão debochado quanto sua voz.

– Um churrasco completo para três pessoas não vai te acompanhar aonde você quer ir ou vai?

Sinto a necessidade extrema de girar os olhos em fúria, mas me contenho. Moreno, 1,80 de altura, porte atlético e bonito podem até ser verdade, mas educado, agradável e sabe estabelecer uma conversa estão definitivamente riscados da lista. Engulo a seco e entro no elevador junto a ele, me deixando não responder uma pergunta ridícula dessas.

– Para que dia você precisa?

Fico um tempo em silêncio, mirando o botão do primeiro andar sendo acionado por ele.

– Sábado, – respondo vencida – das 19h às 23h.

– Eu não arco com os pagamentos de um encontro, espero que você saiba disso.

Olho para Jungkook de canto dos olhos. Não é como se eu estivesse surpresa, meu anjo.

O caminho até o primeiro andar é curto, mas o silêncio desconfortável até lá parece tê-lo feito durar horas. Eu espero de verdade que isso valha a pena. Definitivamente é uma urgência, uma urgência das grandes. Caso contrário eu já teria mandado esse otário para a puta que... A porta se abre e não leva um segundo para que Jungkook saia em disparado por ela, minhas pernas se apressando para que eu consiga o acompanhar pelo corredor.

– Preciso pagar adiantado ou...?

– Não, o pagamento é só depois do trabalho feito. – Ele para em frente as catracas abruptamente e vira-se para mim, seus olhos me analisam cheios de desconfiança. – Existem regras.

– Regras?

– Nada ilegal ou que eu corra risco de vida, rituais religiosos implicam na minha desistência e o seu dinheiro não será reembolsado. – A cada regra dita seus dedos longos aparecem em minha frente como uma ameaça real. – Não beijo e não abraço, não faço provas por você e nem nada relacionada à universidade. Espero que você tenha o mínimo de noção e entenda que eu não faço qualquer coisa que pareça absurda ao dizer em voz alta e que eu não disse aqui. Alguma pergunta?

Puxo o ar pela boca, eu sinto meu rosto todo derreter de irritação por suas regras idiotas e óbvias.

– Você vai poder conversar comigo durante o seu trabalho ou isso é proibido também?

Seus olhos se estreitam em minha direção.

– Depende do assunto. Eu preciso ir agora. – Diz, apontando para as catracas como se eu fosse um estorvo completo. – Nos vemos no sábado, certo?

– Por que eu sinto como se você estivesse fazendo um favor para mim? – Cochicho para mim mesma, voltando para o hall de entrada e entregando o cartão para ele. – Nos encontramos aqui às 19h. Agradeça ao seu amigo pelo cartão.

Sua sobrancelha se arqueia em petulância.

– Jimin é comprometido.

Meus olhos se arregalam em uma resposta repentina, enquanto meu queixo cai pelo tapa que levei em forma de palavras. O que ele...? Quando penso em lhe devolver a alfinetada, já é tarde demais, Jungkook já me deu as costas e está de volta dentro do elevador.

– Se você se atrasar, eu reduzo o valor pela metade! – Grito furiosa, mas eu sei que ele não pode me ouvir mais, como também sei que essa é a maior mentira que eu já contei na vida. Por mais ridículo que ele pareça ser, eu realmente sinto que ele está me ajudando e que 100 mil wons é até barato para me livrar de uma vida infernal.

Suspiro derrotada, a pequena reverberação de meu grito recente me pega agora os ouvidos e eu me vejo mesmo cavando o fundo do poço para que eu me afunde ainda mais em toda uma situação absurda.

A porta do quarto não demora a se abrir quando termino de organizar meus materiais de estudo para o dia seguinte, revelando uma Sorn extremamente cansada. Ela tira os sapatos de qualquer jeito e nem sequer se importa de vestir as pantufas, entrando cômodo a dentro apenas de meias grossas brancas. A mochila pesada que carrega é abandonada aos pés da cama e os óculos de seu rosto são arrancados sem cuidado algum, seus olhos me analisam por um instante antes de seus lábios se moldarem no que parece ser um sorriso sofrido.

– Está tudo bem?

– Eu vou precisar refazer meu roteiro. – Fala, a voz embargando traiçoeiramente. – Todo ele, o roteiro todo.

Sufoco uma exclamação mal educada, vendo-a então cair sentada sobre o emaranhado de mantas em sua cama que não conseguiu arrumar antes de sair. Seu rosto agora parece desmoronar e seu lábio inferior parece mesmo tremer de tristeza.

– Mas tudo bem, não é? A vida funciona desse jeito, certo?

Penso em dizer algo para lhe consolar, mas falho. A verdade é que eu estava angustiada para conversar sobre o maldito contato com Jungkook de hoje à tarde e não pensei em mais nada a não ser nisso. Tento resgatar alguma palavra de conforto para lhe dizer, mas eu só consigo pensar em xingamentos e mais xingamentos.

– Você quer sair para comer alguma coisa? – Proponho, desistindo por completo de comentar qualquer coisa sobre minha vida com ela. – Nós podemos sair do campus ou pedir frango frito e beber nas escadas, o que acha?

Ela suspira pesado, quase choramingando.

– Eu realmente queria fazer algo de diferente, mas eu estou tão cansada que... – Seus olhos varrem o quarto e sua frase morre sem explicação. – Tudo bem se eu só dormir?

– Claro! – Levanto-me da cama rapidamente enquanto ela se ergue de forma lenta da sua. Puxo os lençóis de seu colchão e a ajudo se acomodar debaixo das cobertas. – Descanse bastante, vou desligar as luzes.

Ela ronrona um agradecimento e antes mesmo que o ambiente seja iluminado apenas pelas luzes dos postes lá fora, eu consigo ouvir sua respiração pesada se envolver em sono. Solto um suspiro sentido, eu queria mesmo conversar com ela sobre mais cedo e sobre toda a sensação estranha de estar fazendo algo errado, mas não é justo. Dessa vez, eu preciso resolver esse problema sozinha.

Arrasto-me de volta para minha cama e deito sobre as mantas ainda esticadas, eu queria que as coisas fossem um pouquinho mais simples de se resolver. Pego o celular e por um instante apenas miro a tela brilhosa em silêncio, contornando toda a vontade que tenho de romper o combinado ridículo com Jungkook. Por fim, abro uma nova conversa e digito uma mensagem rápida.

[21h47] eu: é a _____

[21h47] eu: é pra usar terno no sábado

[21h48] eu: vc tem?

Olho por um tempo as mensagem solitárias sobrepostas ao fundo branco e agradeço secretamente pela resposta estar sendo digitada agora mesmo.

[21h49] jungkook: ok

Ok?

Giro os olhos, sentindo-me completamente livre por poder fazer isso sem precisar reprimir a vontade como fiz ao longo do dia. Irritada, aperto as teclas em uma mais nova mensagem, parando apenas quando meu celular vibra com o recebimento de uma resposta melhor do que o maldito ok.

[21h50] jungkook: tenho

Dando-me por satisfeita, largo o celular de volta no colchão. No teto branco há dezenas de formas pelas luzes dos postes lá fora, mas nenhuma se parece com uma solução repentina para me salvar. A situação toda é tão absurda que parece um sonho ruim.

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