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jksarchives · 1 month ago

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THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP │06

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

➪ WC; 13.2k

✎ series masterlist

6. MOVING FORWARD

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▍3 JANUARY 2022 — [four months before break-up]

It was 8 p.m., and the office was finally quiet. Jungkook sat back in his leather chair, rubbing his temples in an effort to ease the pounding headache that had been creeping in since noon. His eyes, bloodshot from staring at spreadsheets and contracts, drifted to the clock on the wall. He exhaled a heavy sigh — it had been another grueling day.

It had only been a little over a month since he’d taken over his father’s company, and yet every day felt like a battle.

His father had built the business from the ground up, pouring decades of his life into it, but age was catching up. The old man had wanted to rest, to finally enjoy the fruits of his labor, but Jungkook wasn’t ready just yet. He had always known the day would come, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer magnitude of the role.

He anticipated the moment but it was all too sudden. He even expressed it to his father, that he needed more time to prepare for the future responsibilities, but his father said he was more than ready and that he trusted him.

Although his father now rested, free from the burdens of leadership, Jungkook felt anything but relaxed. The employees, the shareholders, his family — they all looked to him for leadership, for vision. And while he knew he must rise to the challenge, the exhaustion from weeks of non-stop work was starting to take its toll.

Jungkook’s stomach growled softly, reminding him of his hunger. He hadn’t eaten since a hasty breakfast that morning, too consumed by meetings, calls, and the endless sea of decisions he had to make. He ran a hand through his tousled hair as he sighed deeply, his body and mind exhausted.

Gathering the scattered papers into a semblance of order, he stood up and stretched his stiff body. He then shrugged into his tailored suit jacket that hung behind his chair and grabbed his briefcase. The once-pristine office, which now felt like a second home, was darkened except for the soft glow of his desk lamp. He lazily flipped it off and plunged the room into darkness.

Walking through the empty corridors, he passed the row of cubicles that would be full the next morning. But for now, the place felt like a ghost town, echoing only the sound of his footsteps on the polished floor. He moved quickly, eager to go home and bury himself in your embrace.

The underground parking lot greeted him with its cool, dim air. There, in his reserved spot, sat the gleaming Hyundai car — the latest model, fresh off the production line one. It was a gift from his father, presented on the day he’d officially handed over the reins of the company. A subtle reminder of the legacy he was expected to uphold.

He unlocked the car with a touch, and the sleek doors opened silently. With a tired grunt, he tossed his briefcase into the empty passenger seat.

He was about to circle around to the driver’s side when his phone began to ring, its insistent vibration coming from his pocket. Pausing, he fished for it, fingers fumbling for a moment before pulling it free.

The screen glowed with a picture of him as a child, smiling widely, while his father held him upside down. Jungkook groaned inwardly, contemplating ignoring the call. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and he knew what his father wanted would likely add to his already full plate. But he couldn’t ignore it.

Sliding his thumb across the screen, he answered, pressing the phone to his ear as he walked toward the driver’s side door.

“Hey dad,” he said, trying to sound more energetic than he felt.

“Jungkook, son, did you just finish work?” he asked, his voice booming through the phone.

“Yeah, I have, why?” he asked back, pulling the door open and slipping into the driver's seat.

“I want you to come over for dinner tonight. There’s someone me and your mother want you to meet” he said, more like a command.

Jungkook grimaced, leaning his head back against the leather seat. His body ached for rest, and his thoughts immediately jumped to you, who was probably at home waiting for him. You both planned to spend the evening together, something he rarely got to do with you with his hectic schedule.

“Dad,” Jungkook started, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted, and Y/n is waiting for me at home. Can we please do this another night?” he requested.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, a pause that Jungkook recognised all too well. It was the silence before the storm, the moment his father weighed the pros and cons before insisting on getting his way.

“Jungkook,” his father said, his voice firm but not unkind.

“This is important, and your mother and I need you to be here” he told him. Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned his body forward, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment.

He loved his father, respected him more than anyone, but the man had a way of disregarding boundaries, especially when it came to family matters. There was no room for negotiation when his father had his mind set on something. And if it was a family dinner, Jungkook knew there was no escaping it.

“I just…” Jungkook began, but he knew it was futile. His father wasn’t asking; he was telling him.

“Who is it that I’m supposed to meet?” he asked, his tone resigned.

“You’ll see when you get here. Now, don’t keep us waiting, we’re all here” his father replied cryptically.

Jungkook groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t have the energy for this tonight, not after the day he’d had, but refusing his father was never really an option. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought about how to tell you about all this. You had been looking forward to a quiet night, just the two of you.

“Alright, I’ll be there,” Jungkook said, his voice heavy with reluctance.

“Good man. See you soon” his father said with a satisfied tone.

When the line went dead, Jungkook growled in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. Instead of starting the car, he dialed your number, and it rang twice before you picked up.

“Hey, babe,” your soft voice came through the line, a contrast to the blunt conversation he just had with his father. Your voice was the sound he’d been looking forward to hearing all day.

“Hi baby” he greeted, trying to match your tone.

“Listen,” he sighed.

“Dad just called, and he wants me to come over for dinner. There’s someone who he wants me to meet apparently” he said guiltily.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. He knew you were processing the disappointment. You had been looking forward to having him home, just as much as he had.

“Jungkook, you’ve been at the office all day. Can’t you just tell him no, just this once?” your voice was a little firmer now.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I tried. You know how he is. He insisted” he said.

You exhaled sharply, and Jungkook could picture you standing in the kitchen, staring out the window with that look of quiet frustration you often got when it came to his family.

“I’m sorry babe. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll try not to be long” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

You were silent for a moment before responding, your tone softer now.

“I get it Kook. I just miss you, that’s all. But go. Do what you need to do. I’ll see you when you get home” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved but still feeling the weight of your disappointment.

“I love you, okay?” he then told you.

“I love you too,” you replied before the line went dead.

Jungkook sat in the empty car park for a long minute, staring at his phone. Then, he simply sighed and tossed his phone on the side of the empty passenger seat.

Soon he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. His father’s house wasn’t far, but each passing mile felt like a weight pressing down on him, pulling him further from the rest and peace he craved.

Who would’ve known the night was the starting point of the change in the trajectory of his life?

┄┄┄┄┄

When Jungkook finally pulled up to the large, stately house he grew up in, he hesitated for a moment. He had a spare key, one his parents insisted he keep even after moving out years ago, but the idea of using it felt strange tonight. He was too tired for surprises. Still, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

The house was warm and inviting, just as it always had been. Without knocking, he slipped the key into the lock and let himself in, immediately hearing the sound of laughter coming from the dining room.

Jungkook frowned. It wasn’t just his parents — there were others there too. He could hear multiple voices, the clinking of plates and glasses, the unmistakable murmuring of conversation. His exhaustion deepened. All he wanted was to grab a quick bite and head home, not engage in pleasantries with strangers.

As he entered the dining room, he froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. His father sat at the head of the table, his mother next to him, both looking at ease and cheerful. But it was the three other figures at the table that made him pause. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

The three guests turned their heads toward him, and in that instant, recognition flooded through him like a shockwave. The woman sitting closest to his father — her long dark hair, the familiar way she smiled — was Aera, with her parents.

His childhood friend. Aera, who he hadn’t seen in over a decade, since she had moved to London to study when they were just teenagers. And somehow she happened to settle there instead of coming back to Korea.

For a moment, Jungkook was silently frozen. The last time he had seen Aera was at a hurried farewell party. Though they were that close, only knowing each other through their fathers’ close friendship, the two of them promised to stay in touch. But deep down they know that their lives were headed in different directions.

Now, here she was, sitting at his parents’ dinner table, looking not much different from the girl he remembered, yet somehow more grown, more composed.

“Aera?” he finally managed to say as he walked further into the room.

Aera smiled warmly, standing up from her seat. “Jungkook!” she said, her voice cheerful and familiar, as if no time had passed at all.

“It’s been a long time, oh my god” she jumped up from her seat and pulled him into a crushing hug.

Jungkook blinked, his mind racing to catch up with the moment. But he hugged her back. The exhaustion that had weighed him down just minutes ago seemed to vanish, replaced by a strange mix of surprise and curiosity.

Why was Aera here, of all places? Why now, after all these years?

His father cleared his throat, standing up as well. “I thought it was time for a reunion” he said, a sly smile on his face.

Everything then onwards seemed to be a blur.

Jungkook knew the dinner wasn’t just a simple get-together. It was something more deliberate, something he could feel from the way his father’s comments circled subtly around the idea of him and Aera.

The conversation kept drifting back to Aera, as if the evening was meant to highlight her every accomplishment. His father spoke of her warmth, her intelligence, her success — traits Jungkook was all too aware his father admired.

And more than once, there was the faintest suggestion, not quite spoken aloud, but there nonetheless, that Jungkook and Aera were somehow meant to be. Completely disregarding you.

Jungkook would shoot his father a sidelong glance, but said nothing, biting back the urge to call out the subtle manipulation. He had always been close with his father, but this was crossing a line. The idea that his father might be trying to steer him towards Aera, despite knowing about his relationship with you, made him uneasy.

Jungkook’s father had always shown respect towards you even though it was clear that he would have preferred someone with more connections or influence.

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel irritated by it. His father knew how serious you both were, and he had always stayed out of his romantic life. That was one area Jungkook had always controlled, and his father had respected that boundary.

Until now, apparently.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌5 MARCH 2022 — [two months before break-up]

Jungkook stood frozen in front of his parents, his chest heaving as he tried to process the words that had just been spoken. His father's voice echoed in his head, replaying over and over again like a cruel joke he couldn't escape. Disbelief mingled with anger, knotting his stomach into tight coils.

His father sat across from him, arms crossed with a hardened expression, his jaw set in determination. There was no softness in his father's eyes, no understanding of the emotional storm he had just unleashed. It was as if his father had made up his mind, convinced that what he was asking — no, demanding — was the right course for his son.

“You’ll marry Aera and it’s final. It’s what’s best for the family, and our company” he declared, his voice firm, unwavering, as if it were the most reasonable decision in the world.

“Best for the family? The company?” Jungkook was seething with rage, “what about what’s best for me?” he raised his voice as he jabbed his index finger to his chest.

The years of respect he had for his son’s boundaries when it came to his love life and the respect he had for you went completely down the drain. Discarded and forgotten.

“And what about Y/n, huh?” he spat, his voice trembling with both rage.

“I’ve been with her for ten years, dad! Ten goddamn years! How could you and Mr Kim even think of something like this? How could you expect me to break my ten years worth of love with her so easily?” he raged.

For the ten years Jungkook’s parents had known you for, you both spent holidays together, shared dinners, and talked about the future like any normal couple.

His father had never been overly affectionate towards you, but he had always treated you with respect — like he respected Jungkook’s decision to be with you. Jungkook had always appreciated that, thinking his father might have had his doubts but, at least, he accepted your relationship.

Now, standing in the living room, the place where so many warm memories had been made, Jungkook felt like a stranger. His father had just shattered the illusion of acceptance. He couldn’t understand why now, after a decade of silence, his father was suddenly pushing him toward Aera, of all people.

Jungkook barely remembered beyond the fuzzy memories of childhood birthday parties and awkward adolescent gatherings. She moved out of the country over ten years ago and never remained in contact with him. Until now.

He then turned his gaze to his mother, hoping — praying — that she would say something, that she would step in and stop this madness. But she stood there, silent and passive, her eyes downcast, refusing to meet his gaze. His heart sank as he realized she wouldn’t fight for him, wouldn’t stand up to his father on his behalf.

“Mom,” Jungook’s voice cracked, pleading, as he took a step toward her, his hands shaking with desperation.

“Say something. Please” he begged.

But she didn’t. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. Her silence felt like a betrayal, a quiet acceptance of his father’s will.

Jungkook was expected to marry Aera, not out of love, but out of duty. Duty to the family. Duty to the company. Duty to some archaic notion of loyalty between two families that meant nothing to Jungkook.

But what about his duty to himself? To you? To the woman he loved more than anything in this world? How could they expect him to throw away a decade of love and commitment, to break your heart just because his father wanted an alliance with an old friend?

“Why now?” he then questioned, frowning. It was a question he couldn’t hold back from asking.

“Why wait all these years?” he asked. His father remained composed, though there was a tension in his shoulders that Jungkook had rarely seen before.

“I know you love Y/n. But Aera…Aera is family. Her father and I have always had a bond, and when she came back to Korea, it felt like an opportunity. She’s a good girl, Jungkook. She’s everything we’ve wanted for you — someone with your values, someone who understands where you come from” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jungkook’s blood boiled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Someone with your values, dad, not mine!” his voice rose, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you and what you want, not about what I want, or what I’ve already built with Y/n” he said.

His father exhaled sharply, his calm facade cracking slightly.

“Jungkook, listen to me, I’m saying that maybe this is a sign-” he tried to explain but was cut off.

“A sign of what?” Jungkook shot back, incredulous.

“A sign that you can try and control my life after a decade of staying out of it? A sign that you’re willing to throw away everything I’ve worked for because you think Aera is more suitable for me on paper?” he gritted his teeth.

The room felt suffocating. His mother, still silent, shifted slightly in her seat, her hands wringing together as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Jungkook wished she would speak up, say something to stop this madness, but deep down, he knew she wouldn’t.

“No,” Jungkook said, his voice firm, though it trembled with emotion.

“I’m not doing this. I love Y/n, and I’m not going to betray her just because you think it’s ‘what’s best for the family.’ This isn’t the middle ages, dad. I’m not some pawn in your game” he said.

Jungkook’s father’s face darkened, his brows knitting together as his jaw tightened even further. “You don’t understand — this is bigger than you” he told him.

“I don’t care!” Jungkook exploded, his voice rising, filled with a fury that shook the room.

“I’m not going to throw away my life, my happiness, for your old friendships or your ideas of what’s right. Y/n is my future, not Aera” he confirmed.

And having said that, he abruptly stood up and grabbed his car keys from the table before storming out of the house.

┄┄┄┄┄

The next day, Jungkook sat at his desk as he flipped through the pages of the latest quarterly report.

Suddenly, the door creaked open without a knock. Jungkook’s eyes darted up, narrowing when he saw who stood there.

Mr Kim, his father’s best friend, strolled in with a broad smile that barely masked the tension behind it. Walking closely beside him was a woman Jungkook recognised as Mr Kim’s assistant, holding a tablet in her hand, her posture stiff and professional.

“Jungkook, my boy,” Mr Kim greeted, his voice warm, almost too friendly.

Jungkook, still seated, forced his lips into a tight smile. His fingers clenched the report a little too firmly before he set it down on the desk.

“Mr Kim,” he said, his voice composed but cold beneath the surface.

“What a surprise”

Mr Kim took no time in making himself comfortable, lowering himself into one of the plush leather chairs opposite Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook’s fake smile remained frozen, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. He didn't want to play host today, not to this man.

Mr Kim leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other casually as though he owned the place. “You know, Jungkook, we haven’t talked properly at dinner at your parents’ house. After everything with your father, I thought I should come by and—”

Jungkook cut him off before he could finish, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “What brings you here, Mr Kim?” he asked, his tone polite but edged with impatience.

He tried to sound as nice as possible, but his attempt at warmth felt hollow even to his own ears. He knew why Mr Kim was here, but he wanted to hear it straight from him.

Mr Kim’s smile faltered for a brief second, the casual pleasantries abandoned. His eyes darkened slightly as he shifted forward, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers tapping together in a steeple.

“I heard,” he began slowly, his voice now lacking the jovial tone from earlier, “that you rejected to marry my daughter”.

The room seemed to grow cold, and his assistant glanced nervously at her tablet, as if searching to occupy herself with. Mr Kim’s smile had disappeared entirely now, replaced by a hard, unreadable expression.

“You know,” his tone now low and almost threatening, “this decision of yours... it’s not something I’m happy about. Not at all” he said.

Jungkook met his gaze, refusing to back down. He knew this wouldn’t go over well, but he had made his choice long ago. He wasn’t about to be bullied into marrying someone he didn’t love, not even for the sake of the company.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jungkook said, though his tone lacked any real sympathy. “But my answer is final”.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair as his fingers instinctively tapped the armrest, carefully choosing his next words. “I didn’t think it was the right decision — for either of us”.

Mr Kim’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes darkened with anger. “Not the right decision?” he repeated, his tone growing harder.

“Your father and I had plans, Jungkook. We always wanted this for our families. You and Aera…it was supposed to be the perfect union. Secure the future of both of our legacies” he tried to explain.

Jungkook’s stomach twisted in irritation. This was exactly why he had never been fond of his father’s friend. Everything with him was business, a transaction. Even marriage.

He could still remember his father’s long talks about alliances and the importance of keeping the company strong, of doing whatever it took to protect their name. But Jungkook had never wanted his life mapped out by others, especially not when it involved marrying someone he didn’t love, just for the sake of a merger.

“I understand that’s what you and my father wanted,” Jungkook said carefully, forcing himself to stay calm, “but I have to make my own choices now. I’m not going to marry your daughter just because it suits the company”.

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh before continuing, “and besides, I have a girlfriend of ten years. And I don’t plan to marry anyone else but her. I hope you and my father could at least respect that” he told him.

The corner of Mr Kim’s lips twitched as he tried to contain his fury. “I see,” he muttered as he leaned back against the chair.

“You’re just like your father in some ways, but in others…you’re completely different” he said.

Jungkook said nothing. His face was masked with professionalism, but deep down, a part of him bristled at the comparison. He was not his father, and he never would be.

Mr Kim rose from his seat slowly, his assistant stepping forward to escort him out. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a warning. “This decision…it’s going to have consequences” he voiced out.

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, though his heart picked up its pace as the old man’s words. Was he threatening him?

“I’m prepared for them” he replied with a nod nevertheless. He knew there would be repercussions for defying Mr Kim, but he wasn’t about to back down.

Mr Kim raised his brow and a sly smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, while his eyes glinted with something dangerous.

“Really? Anything” he asked with his mocking tone. He paused for a moment, letting the word linger as if savoring it.

“Because I don’t think you fully understand what ‘anything’ entails” he said. Jungkook’s stomach tightened, but he remained silent, waiting for the inevitable threat.

“You see, Jungkook,” Mr Kim continued, his voice almost a whisper now as he sat back down on the chair.

“I have the power to ruin this company — your father’s legacy — and more than that…” he leaned forward, his eyes locking with Jungkook’s, the malice in his voice unmistakable.

“I can destroy your little girlfriend and her parents, too. They wouldn't survive the fallout if I decided to take action” he threatened.

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it? Watching them suffer” he played with his words.

Jungkook’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. Mr Kim had gone straight for the jugular. His eyes widened slightly, and despite himself, he felt panic rising in his chest.

His father’s company was one thing, and he could care less about it, but to drag the woman he loved — and your family — into this? That was a new low, even for someone like Mr Kim.

Mr Kim noticed Jungkook’s reaction, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, I see that it struck a nerve,” he said as his voice dripped with satisfaction.

“Yes, Jungkook. I know all about your little girlfriend. And her family. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?” he tilted his head slightly.

Jungkook’s chest heaved with fury, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The thought of him dragging the people he cared about into this made his blood boil. He glared at Mr Kim, and his breathing grew heavier with each passing second.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice low and filled with venom.

Mr Kim’s smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched Jungkook struggle to contain his rage. He had gotten under his skin, and he enjoyed every second of it. He leaned back in his chair, looking as if he had already won.

“Think about it, Jungkook,” he said, “you don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be” he suggested mockingly.

Jungkook’s fists slammed down on the desk with a loud thud, and the force of it shook the papers scattered around him. He stood abruptly and leaned over the desk, looming over the old man with fury blazing in his eyes.

“I said,” he growled through gritted teeth, “don’t you dare” he repeated.

Mr Kim leaned in to narrow the distance, his eyes never leaving the younger’s. “Then I suggest you reconsider the marriage if you want to keep them safe. Break up with your girlfriend, marry my daughter, and we can all avoid any...unpleasantness” he said.

Jungkook’s entire body was taut with tension. His chest heaved with the effort to control himself, but it was no use. He slammed his fists down on the desk one again, but there were no words coming out of him.

Mr Kim then stood slowly, brushing off his suit as though the conversation had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said with a smug smile. “But don’t take too long. The clock is ticking” he said, mimicking the sound of a clock.

And with that, he turned and strolled out of the office, his assistant following silently behind. When the door clicked shut, Jungkook was left standing there, breathing hard, fists still clenched. His mind raced as he struggled to calm the storm of rage and fear boiling inside him.

For the first time in years, Jungkook felt powerless — and that scared him more than anything. He didn’t want to lose you. But at the same time, he couldn’t let anything happen to you or your family.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌31 MAY 2022 — [day of break-up]

Jungkook sat alone in his office, staring blankly at the paperwork piled on his desk, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound in the room. Over a month had passed since Mr Kim had walked in through that very door and flipped his world upside down.

Jungkook had tried to remain composed, but his mind had raced with questions. What kind of power did Mr Kim have? How could a man like him hold such leverage over people’s lives?

Jungkook hadn’t known, but the look in that old man’s eyes told him that he wasn’t bluffing. There was a malice behind his words, a promise that he could and would follow through on his threats if Jake didn’t comply.

Jungkook was terrified, and he had spent sleepless nights trying to figure out what to do. He tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy in the days following Mr Kim’s threat, but his efforts were in vain. He had grown distant, pulling away from you, retreating into himself.

He knew you noticed — of course, you had. You were too attuned to him not to see the change, the way he had stopped holding you as tightly at night, how his once carefree laughter had become forced and hollow.

Every time you tried to talk to him about the turmoil he was going through, he could do nothing but lie to your face.

The worst part was knowing that if he told you the truth, you wouldn’t back down. You would fight. You weren’t someone who ran from a challenge; you were strong, fierce when it came to protecting the people you loved.

Jungkook knew that if you found out what Mr Kim had threatened, you would confront him without hesitation, and that scared Jungkook more than anything. Because it would only make things worse.

Mr Kim wasn’t the kind of man you could outsmart or intimidate. Jungkook didn’t doubt that if you stood up to him, he would follow through on his threat, and your family would pay the price.

So, Jungkook said nothing. He kept his distance, convincing himself it was for your sake, for the sake of your parents, who had always treated him like a son.

But the silence was suffocating him. Every time he looked at you, his heart broke a little more. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved the truth, but Jungkook couldn’t give it to you, no matter how much it killed him to withhold it.

He had to keep you and your family safe. Even if it meant sacrificing the decade of love and memories you both created.

He had cried in silence more than once, tears of frustration and helplessness spilling out when he was alone. He would hide in the bathroom or stay late at work, waiting until the office was empty so no one could hear him. In those moments, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams, torn between his love for you and the fear that, if he stayed with you, he would be the reason your family was destroyed.

Jungkook didn’t know how to break up with you.

How do you destroy ten years of love, of memories, with a few words? How do you look someone in the eyes and tell them that everything you had together has to end, even when it’s the last thing you want?

He had rehearsed it in his mind a hundred times, but every time he imagined saying the words, they caught in his throat, too painful to speak aloud.

You deserved better than this shadow of a man he had become, a man trapped by fear and threats. But Jungkook didn’t know how to let you go without shattering both of your hearts in the process. The weight of it all — the lies, the distance, the inevitable heartbreak — was crushing him.

All he knew was that, sooner or later, he would have to make a choice. Either he would find the courage to tell you the truth and risk the consequences, or he would have to sever the bond between you, leaving behind the only person who had ever made him feel truly whole. And in either case, he feared that he would never be the same again.

His movements were slowly and sluggish as he picked himself up. Without tidying his desk, he simply turned off the desk lamp and grabbed his phone and briefcase before heading out of the office building.

As he drove home, his hands shook, and his heart raced as he prepared for what he had to say. He knew you, who trusted him so deeply, wouldn’t understand. You’d demand answers, try to fix whatever was wrong, but he had to stay strong. He couldn’t let you see the truth behind his decision.

Jungkook chose a brutal path that night. He fabricated lies, told you that he had fallen out of love with a woman he didn’t specify. And as expected, you were stunned and heartbroken. You tried to reason with him, to find some explanation for his sudden change. But Jungkook pushed you harder, saying things he didn’t mean.

“How can you just fall out of love Jungkook? We’ve been together for ten fucking years!” you spoke through your sobs. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, nose red and cheeks damp from the continuous tears.

‘I’m sorry baby, I didn't want any of this to happen’ he badly wanted to say. But he couldn’t.

Jungkook wanted to cry. He had wanted to scream, to take it all back and tell you the truth. He wanted to hold you, wipe away your tears, and tell you he loved you more than anything in the world. But he couldn’t.

Moving out of the house you both shared only plunged him deeper into hell.

In the days that followed, Jungkook found himself drowning in pain of heartbreak. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you — your smile, your touch, the way you used to make him feel whole.

But then it would quickly switch to your hysterically crying form, where he couldn’t comfort you for the first time. And it tore him.

The silence of his new apartment was unbearable, a constant reminder of what he had lost. His heart ached with a deep longing for your presence and your warmth. The nights were the worst. Without you beside him, and without your comforting embrace, sleep became impossible. The bed felt cold and foreign without you in it.

He missed everything about you. He missed the little things — the way you absentmindedly played with your hair when you were thinking, the sound of your voice when you called his name, the scent of your skin when you rested against him.

He had given all of that up to protect you, but in doing so, he had broken his own heart beyond repair.

He often found himself staring at his phone, wanting to call you, to tell you the truth, to explain why he had done what he did. But he knew he couldn’t. If he reached out, if he tried to bring you back into his life, Me Kim’s threats would become reality. You would suffer because of his selfishness, and that was something he could never allow.

Jungkook was trapped in a prison of his own making — one where the love of his life was just out of reach, and he was powerless to change it. Every day felt like a new kind of torture, and the more time passed, the more he wondered if he would ever be able to move on, or if he had doomed himself to a life of loneliness and regret.

┄┄┄┄┄

One thing Jungkook knew after everything that had happened was that his relationship with his parents was never the same.

He stopped visiting home, stopped answering their calls, and distanced himself from their world. He had been straying away from his family’s expectations for years, but this was the final break. Now, the only time he interacted with them was when public appearances made it unavoidable — dinners with influential families, charity events, or any occasion that required the “perfect family” facade.

As far as they were concerned, this was the life he was supposed to lead — marry the right woman, cement the right alliances, and protect the family’s legacy. Jungkook knew that in their eyes, his feelings didn’t matter. He was just a piece in a much larger game.

Anything and everything he did after the break-up was against his will, like the Instagram post of him and Aera posing her hands to announce their engagement.

Aera, meanwhile, was oblivious to the entire situation. She was sweet, and had always had a crush on Jungkook when they were young, but he never saw her that way. Mr Kim had made sure his daughter knew nothing about the threats or the manipulation. To Aera, it seemed like fate that Jungkook had suddenly developed feelings for her.

But Jungkook felt sick every time he had to pretend to care, to smile when she called or laugh at her jokes. But he had no choice. Her father was always watching, always making sure Jungkook played his part.

In public, Jungkook acted like the perfect partner, attending events with Aera, taking her out for dinners, and holding her hand when people were around. But behind closed doors, he was consumed with guilt and despair. Every time Aera smiled at him, it was like a reminder of the life he had thrown away, the love he had shattered to protect the woman he truly cared about. You.

He knew you were watching — the news, the wedding, everything — and he knew for a fact that it only added salt to your wounds. Knowing you for years, he knew you were probably locked away in your house crying your eyes and heart out. The thought of it all was killing him. He longed to run back and tell you the truth, to somehow find a way to stop Mr Kim, but he couldn’t.

It was all over. And he was helpless.

But the least he knew was that you and your family were going to be safe.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌PRESENT

Aera stood frozen with mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide and brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. Jungkook stared at her with emotions she couldn’t clearly read, but pain was one of the apparent.

“I never wanted this, Aera!” he yelled, his hands flailing in frustration. “Do you understand that? I never wanted to marry you!” his face flushed with anger, his voice raw and filled with venom.

“I was forced, Aera,” Jungkook continued.

“Your father threatened me. He threatened my girlfriend, threatened her family. He said he’d ruin their lives if I didn’t marry you” his voice then slowly started to break with the weight of the secret he had carried for so long.

“Ten years, Aera! Ten years of my life wasted! He ruined everything. I had to give up the woman I loved, destroy the relationship I had built, all to keep your father’s threats at bay!” Jungkook’s voice rose again, louder, more desperate.

Aera’s heart cracked at the sound of his anguish. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, but her body remained rooted to the spot, helpless and ashamed.

It was in this moment that everything clicked into place, the final piece of the puzzle snapping together with sickening clarity. The memory of a few hours ago rushed back, hitting her like a freight train. The look on Jungkook’s face when you collapsed, the panic and worry that had gripped him — it all made sense now.

He still loved you.

Jungkook was shaken to his core when you fainted in his arms. Aera saw it in his eyes but hadn't understood the depth of it at the time. He had stood there frozen, as if seeing a ghost from the past he had tried so hard to bury. Aera was confused, jealous even, but she didn’t press him on it.

Aera knew about it not too long ago, but she only knew you as a girlfriend Jungkook broke up with a long time ago. But now, it was clear — his concern wasn’t just for an ex-girlfriend he broke up with. It was for the woman he had once loved — still loved — the woman he had been forced to abandon.

Tears streamed down her face, but she barely noticed. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her mind racing to catch up with everything Jake had revealed. “Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t…I never-” she still tried to find her voice, and Jungkook’s bitter laugh cut her off.

“Of course you didn’t know. Your father made sure of that. He manipulated everything, every part of our lives, so you would never suspect a thing. I was trapped. I had no choice” he told her. The pain in his voice was raw, and Aera’s tears fell harder.

Jungkook turned away from her as he ran his finger through his already tousled hair, his eyes rapidly blinking as if he’s trying to control his tears.

“I didn’t want this to happen, but fuck! I didn’t want anything to happen to her or her family either” his voice trembled.

All these years, she had been completely in the dark, living in a carefully constructed lie. Her father. He had done this. He had used her as a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating Jungkook, ruining lives, all to maintain control. Aera’s body shook as the truth unraveled before her, too much to bear all at once.

Jungkook then whipped back around to face her, still yelling and pouring out his rage.

“Do you know what it feels like to look at you every day and be reminded of everything I lost? I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to make this work, to forget what he did, but I can’t! I can’t forgive him for taking away my choice. I can’t forgive you for being part of it, whether you knew it or not” he ranted.

Aera wanted to scream, to tell him she had no idea, and that she was as much a victim as he was. But the words stuck in her throat, choked by the overwhelming pain and confusion. Her hands came up to her face, covering her mouth, as if that could somehow contain the sobs that were building inside her. She loved Jungkook, she believed that their marriage, despite its challenges, had been real.

But it wasn’t real. It had never been real. Everything she thought they had shared was based on a lie, a lie orchestrated by her father’s greed and control. And Jungkook…he hated her for it. All this time, he had hated her.

The tears flowed freely now, unstoppable, and Aera’s knees finally buckled as she crumbled to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but there was none. There was nothing left.

Jungkook’s voice softened as he looked down at her, his anger spent, replaced by exhaustion and sorrow. “I never wanted to hurt you, Aera. I never wanted any of this. But I can’t keep pretending. Not after today” he said.

Aera’s mind flashed back to the image of you, unconscious on the floor of the office, the blood staining your face. How long had Jungkook carried this guilt? How much had he sacrificed, all because of her father’s demands?

She wanted to ask him what would happen now, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t even think about tomorrow, about what this meant for their future. All she could feel was the immense weight of betrayal pressing down on her, suffocating her, breaking her apart piece by piece.

Jungkook knew that finally telling Aera the truth wouldn’t make a difference to anything. Because he knew he lost everything the moment her father threatened you and your family in ways he still hadn’t figured out.

He knew that confronting Aera about her father wouldn’t change the fact that the ten years he had spent with you was now destroyed. He lost you when the first tear fell from your eyes, and he knew it especially when he fed you lies to make you hate him.

It was all over, and there was no going back. He lost you forever.

┄┄┄┄┄

ONE WEEK LATER

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

“I’M PREGNANT!” was the first thing your best friend screamed as the door to the bathroom slammed open.

You jerked in surprise, and the book you’ve been reading while laying down on your bed slipped from your hands and fell on your face. You groaned as you pushed the book aside, knowing you probably lost the page you were on.

You glanced over at Minhee, blinking slowly. You weren’t exactly surprised by the news. Minhee and her boyfriend were sexually active, and you only knew this because she somehow had to tell you every detail of her life and relationship.

“So...you’re pregnant,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow. You sat up and folded your arms across your chest, offering your friend a half-smile.

“Should I act shocked?” you asked.

Minhee gaped at you, walking over and holding the test in front of you as if it were a rare artifact. “Yes! You should be shocked! I wasn’t expecting this!” she yelled.

But you were.

Minhee’s hands were shaking slightly as she looked at the pregnancy test. Her face portrayed conflicting emotions — mostly anxiety and disbelief. But there was a little bit of joy too.

This wasn't exactly part of Minhee’s grand plan for her twenties.

You knew your best friend had always been someone who valued freedom above all else — spontaneous road trips, parties, endless nights out dancing. She always said she wanted to enjoy her twenties, traveling, exploring, making memories with the people she loved, not tied down by anything or anyone. At least not yet. A baby had never been part of that plan. Not now.

“Hmm” you hummed.

“I’m happy for you though, you know?” you said sincerely, your face softening you sat up.

“I mean, you’ve got this, right?” you leaned forward and rested your elbows on your knees.

You were genuinely happy for her, despite everything. Even if Minhee wasn't exactly ready for a baby, you knew her well enough to believe that she had figured it out. She was in a good place mentally and financially, and with her boyfriend by her side, you knew nothing could go wrong. Minhee was resilient, after all. If anyone could take on the unexpected, it was her.

Minhee’s eyes danced as she sat down on your bed. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’m terrified. But...I think I’m happy too? It’s just…this crazy” she glanced at the test in her hand, her smile wavering slightly, as though the gravity of it all was beginning to sink in.

“Me and Sangmin were going to go to Greece next summer” she trailed off with a sigh. You understood how she was feeling, a baby was a big responsibility, and mentally preparing yourself given the suddenness wasn’t easy.

“Well, I guess Greece will have to wait. But I think you'll be an amazing mom” you reassured her as you pulled her into a hug.

“And hey, you’re not alone in this, okay?” you remind her.

Minhee clung to you, still feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful for the comfort she needed, especially by you. “Thank you” she murmured into your shoulder.

The room fell silent for a moment as you two hugged, but you soon broke it with a soft giggle. You gently grabbed her shoulders and pulled, a childish smile dancing on your lips.

“Wow, can’t wait for my little niece or nephew to join the chaos” you joked as you reached down to place your hand gently on her lower abdomen.

Minhee chucked at your comment and placed her hand over yours, feeling herself less tense than she was before. “Me too” she quietly responded, “mommy is still going to be a wild one either way” she added, earning a loud laugh from you.

“That’s one thing about you that’s never going to change”

Minhee glanced at the pregnancy test still in her hand. Life was about to change — for her and the people she knew. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy this strange, unexpected turn of events, knowing that whatever happened next, she would face it together with the people she loved. You, Sangmin and Mingyu.

┄┄┄┄┄

Later that day, you tagged along with Minhee and went over to Mingyu’s house to hang out, also with the intention of breaking the news to him. Both of you had the same scenario played out in your minds about how he was going to react.

And well…

“Does this mean I can finally teach someone my skills in scamming the system?”

“What the fuck? No! You’re not teaching my child shit” Minhee deadpanned, horrified at his suggestion.

“Ugh, what’s the point then? They need to know how to fuck over the system before the system fucks them” Mingyu rolled his eyes, folding his arms and leaning back against the couch.

“You’re not turning my child into a criminal Gyu” she glared.

“Whatever, but I’m going to be the godfather though, right?” his eyes then lit up as he leaned forward.

“Unfortunately” Minhee sighed.

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned.

You placed your now empty cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table and turned to your male friend. “And I’m the godmother” you barged into the conversation, diverting the attention to the main topic.

“Seriously though, when are you planning to tell Sangmin?” you turned to ask Minhee. Minhee shifted in her seat, not uncomfortably but rather unsure.

“I don’t know to be honest. I mean, his internship at the tech company is about to be over in a month and he’s working really hard paying attention to his work. I don’t really want the news to come in the way and distract him, so I think I’ll just wait until then” she answered.

You and Mingyu nodded understandably. You both knew how important this internship had been for Sangmin. It was a major stepping stone for his career, something he had worked incredibly hard for. The last thing Minhee wanted was to derail his focus, especially since you both knew he was the kind of person who would drop everything to be by her side if he knew.

“It makes sense, honestly. You don’t want to throw this at him when he’s in the middle of such a big opportunity” Mingyu said.

You, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement. “It’s smart. But when the time comes, he’s going to want to know everything. You know, like when he starts noticing your bump. And he’ll be there for you, Minhee. I’m sure of it” you assure her.

Minhee hummed in response. “I just…I don’t know how to handle this on my own for a month without telling him” she mumbled as she nibbled on his lip.

Mingyu leaned over and pulled his best friend into a quick, reassuring hug. “You’re never on your own, Min. We’ve got your back, always” he told her.

“I told you, we’re always here for you” you reminded her, joining the small group hug.

You, sitting beside them, smiled softly. It was moments like these that reminded you why your friendship had endured for so long. You were always there for each other, no matter what life threw your way.

“I love you guys” Minhee sighed in relief, relieved that she was surrounded by such supportive people.

For the next few hours, the three of you talked about everything from baby names to how Minhee planned to break the news to Sangmin when the time was right. Mingyu, true to his nature, kept the mood light, cracking jokes about being the coolest godfather in history and offering ridiculous parenting advice that had Minhee and you laughing uncontrollably.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌31 DECEMBER 2022 — [09:30 a.m.]

It was early winter morning, and the cold air was biting at your faces as you stood in the driveway. The sun, hidden behind thick grey clouds, gave a pale light that reflected off the snow-covered ground. You, Minhee, and Mingyu stood around the open trunk of Sangmin’s SUV, ready to load up for your trip to the forest resort.

The New Year’s celebration was something you had been planning for weeks, and now, after a fresh layer of snow blanketed the world around, the excitement was uncontainable.

You, wrapped tightly in a puffy coat and wool scarf, were adjusting your suitcase in the back of the car. You brushed some stray snowflakes from your hair, laughing as Mingyu tried to cram his duffel bag into the limited space left. He always packed like he was going away for a month, even if it was just a few days.

“Come on, Gyu, there’s no way that thing’s fitting unless you leave half of it behind,” you teased, shoving your own bag to make more room.

Mingyu gave you a dramatic eye roll. “I need options, Y/n. Who knows what the wilderness will throw at us,” he joked, pulling at his worn leather jacket and flashing his usual mischievous grin.

“You’re acting like we’re going out to live with the bears in the wild” you rolled your eyes back, folding your arms against your chest.

“Why? Does the idea of it scare you?” he smirked, raising his brow.

“Pfft, scare me? Why would it scare me?” you tried to come off as brave. Although in reality you knew you wouldn’t last a day in the wild.

“Aww, my Y/n-nie is actually scared” Mingyu pouted with his sickening baby voice as he cupped your cheeks with his surprisingly warm hands.

“Don’t worry, your Gyu will protect you” he pouted, taking the opportunity to squish your cheeks together.

“Ugh, whatever” you pushed his hands away.

Minhee stood nearby, watching you both with amusement with her hand resting on her small but noticeable baby bump.

At four months pregnant, she had begun to show, and although she was still glowing with excitement about the baby, there was an undeniable shift in the way she carried herself. Her energy was different — more careful, more thoughtful. She was wrapped in a long coat, her face glowing, framed by her brown curls that spilled out from beneath her beanie.

Despite the cold, Minhee’s cheeks were flushed with the same excitement that had been bubbling in her ever since you all decided to spend New Year’s Eve at a secluded resort in the forest. The snow only made the idea even more magical.

“Are we ready to go?” you asked whoever.

“I think so,” Mingyu shrugged.

You glanced over and noticed Minhee picking up and struggling to carry a smaller but noticeably overstuffed bag. It was filled with the extra things for the trip that Minhee insisted on bringing. Before you could step in to help, Sangmin appeared from the front of the house, his eyes immediately locking onto his struggling girlfriend.

“Minhee!” he called out, rushing over with a look of concern that you and Mingyu had grown used to over the past few months. He was protective of her, almost to a fault, ever since Minhee told him she was pregnant. He had always been caring, but now there was a new layer of vigilance in his every action.

Sangmin reached Minhee’s side in seconds, his hand gently but firmly pulling the bag from her grip. “What are you doing?” he scolded, his voice soft but stern. “You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things right now, remember?” he reminded her.

Minhee gave him a sheepish look, the kind that said she knew she was in trouble but hadn’t thought it was a big deal. “It’s just one more bag,” she replied lightly, but Sangmin was having none of it.

“One more bag is too many,” he said, shooting her a look that made her smile in a way that softened his concern. He dropped the bag into the trunk and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a protective hug.

“I’ve got it, okay? You don’t need to do anything but relax. I mean it, babe” he stared at her.

Minhee sighed but smiled up at him, her hand resting on his chest. “You worry too much,” she teased, though it was clear she appreciated his concern.

“Well, someone has to,” he replied, his tone lightening as he kissed the top of her head.

Minhee rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She placed a hand on her boyfriend’s arm and squeezed it reassuringly. “I promise I’ll be careful. I just want to enjoy the holiday” she reassured him.

Sangmin sighed, still not fully convinced. He wasn’t thrilled about the trip, especially with the snow making everything more dangerous. The resort was nestled deep in the woods, and while it was supposed to be a winter wonderland, the snow could also be a hazard — slippery roads, icy paths, and the constant risk of Minhee falling and hurting herself. The thought made him uneasy.

But Minhee was firm about going even though you tried to make her reconsider. She planned the trip months ago before the baby and she wasn’t going to back out now.

Her determination had left Sangmin with little choice. She was excited, glowing even, and while he worried constantly, he also knew he couldn’t say no to her. It was their first trip together since finding out about the pregnancy, and despite his fears, he wanted to make it special for her.

You exchanged a glance with Mingyu, who was leaning against the car, smirking at the scene. “You two are like an old married couple already,” he teased.

Sangmin shot him a look. “You’d be the same way if your girlfriend was pregnant,” he muttered, his protective stance softening only slightly as he closed the trunk with a thud.

Mingyu smiled to himself as he thought of the possibility of you and him being together, and the way he knew he’d act exactly like Sangmin if you were carrying his baby.

He felt kind of sick for having such thoughts about his best friend, but he was so deeply in love with you and any thoughts he had were always about you and the life he could possibly have if you’d ever return his feelings.

Minhee bugged him for the longest to confess to you, to consider this trip as a perfect opportunity to do so. But for a muscular, six point one foot tall man, confessing to you was something that terrified him the most out of everything.

However, deep down Mingyu knew he couldn’t keep his feelings locked away forever. It was either he grew a pair of balls and confess to you in the most romantic way, or watch you fall in love with someone else. Though he could never let the latter happen.

“Okay, are we all ready?” Minhee asked, breaking him out of his trance.

“Yup” you all responded.

With everything finally secured, you all piled up into the car.

Sangmin got behind the wheel, and his protective nature settled into quiet focus as he checked the mirrors and adjusted the heater. Minhee sat beside him with her hand resting on her stomach in that absent-minded way she often did now. You and Mingyu climbed into the back, already laughing about the playlist for the drive.

As the SUV rolled out of the driveway, the excitement of your New Year’s trip settled over you like the falling snow outside — soft, quiet, and filled with the promise of creating a beautiful memory.

This trip felt like a new chapter for you — a chance to continue the healing you had started after months of heartache. It had been seven months since Jungkook broke up with you.

The break-up obviously blindsided you, and to this day the memory of the pain was still fresh within you.

But Mingyu and Minhee never left your side. Even during those days when you tried to push them away, they remained constant, showing up for you one way or another.

And slowly, with them around you, you started to pick up the pieces. They took you on hikes, dragged you out for movie nights, and sat with you through endless cups of coffee and conversations that ranged from trivial to profound.

Anything to get your mind away from Jungkook, or at least help you take little steps to moving forward. They were the ones who reminded you who you were when you forgot, and they were the ones who had encouraged you to come on this trip as a little getaway from reality.

┈┈┈┈┈

The drive to the forest resort was about five hours, but you didn’t mind — it gave you all time to unwind, catch up, and enjoy the winter scenery. Sangmin drove carefully, the tires crunching over the lightly snow-dusted roads.

Two hours into the drive, the snowfall started to thicken. Flurries turned into heavy, dense flakes, and soon the roads were coated with a thick layer of snow. The windshield wipers worked overtime, struggling to keep the glass clear. The chatter in the car faded as everyone turned their attention to the increasingly dangerous conditions outside.

Everyone except you, who was fast asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder

Sangmin’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He could feel the car skidding slightly as the tires struggled for traction. “It’s getting worse out here,” he muttered.

Minhee looked over at him, her brow furrowed with concern. “Maybe we should stop for a bit. The last thing we need is an accident” she said.

Sangmin nodded in agreement. He’d already been thinking the same thing. The snowstorm was picking up quickly, and he didn’t want to risk driving through it. A small service station sign appeared ahead, offering a bit of relief.

“Let’s pull over here,” he said, guiding the car off the highway and into the lot. The small service station was dimly lit, but it looked warm inside.

“You okay, baby?” Sangmin asked Minhee for what seemed like the hundredth time since they had left the house.

Minhee chuckled softly, rolling her eyes in amusement. “Yes, I’m fine. I promise” she reached over and squeezed his hand.

Meanwhile in the back seat, you were still asleep. The soft from the radio combined with the warmth from the heater had lulled you into a deep, peaceful slumber. Mingyu, on the other hand, kept you close while staring out the window. He just hoped the storm died out soon.

As you all waited for the storm to calm, a sudden chill caused you to stir in your sleep. You nuzzled closer to Mingyu, unconsciously seeking warmth, and buried your face into his chest.

Mingyu felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at you, your cheek squished against his firm chest. But soon, a soft smile curled up on his lips. Adjusting himself, he wrapped his arms around your small frame and pulled you in closer to his body.

You unconsciously readjusted yourself, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He felt you relax again, your breathing softening once more as you fell back into a peaceful sleep. His heart raced, but he tried to calm himself, focusing on the steady rhythm of your breathing against him.

The snowstorm outside raged on, but inside the car, it felt quiet and still. Sangmin glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed you were asleep against Mingyu. He smirked to himself but said nothing. Minhee, too, saw the scene unfold and exchanged a knowing look with her boyfriend.

“You know, Mingyu,” she began, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible, but still loud enough for Mingyu to hear. Mingyu hummed, raising his head to look at his best friend.

“I think you should confess to her during the countdown” she suggested.

Mingyu sighed, turning his attention down to you who was softly snoring against the crook of his neck. Minhee’s idea wasn’t bad, in fact, it was perfect. But Mingyu wasn't sure.

“I don’t know Minhee” he quietly mumbled.

“What if she rejects me? What if she only sees me as her best friend? I don’t think I’ll be able to handle her rejection” he answered as honestly as he could.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. I know you think her heart’s still with Jungkook because they’ve loved each other for a decade” Minhee began.

“But can’t you see? Our efforts to help her heal are working. Yes a ten year relationship is something that’s going to take a while to move forwards from, but she’s getting there. Sure, she still needs time, but she needs to know that a better man is out there to love her and treat her better. And that man is you, Gyu” she told him.

Mingyu’s eyes started to gloss, his gaze still remained on you.

“Minhee is right,” Sangmin spoke up.

“She’ll only see you as a friend if you keep your feelings hidden. Confession is just a step to take things further, and though she might not feel so strongly at first, I know she’ll grow to love you the way you love her. I promise you that” he said.

There was a long pause, the only sound being the hum of the heater and Mingyu’s soft sniffles as stared at you with longing eyes. His hand unconsciously made its way up and brushed the few strands of hair away from your face.

“She trusts you, Gyu, a lot. She’s grateful for you and everything you’ve done for her. Confessing just means you’re promising her to always be there for her and love her no matter what” Minhee broke the silence.

Mingyu knew you were well unaware of the conversation happening in your presence, and he was glad it was that way. He couldn’t let you see him cry again. It was a side he rarely showed you, because crying made him look weak even though you told him it doesn’t.

“I’ll do it” he quietly said after a pause of silence.

Sangmin and Minhee smiled widely, feeling like they finally accomplished in convincing him. All they had to do now was wait and see, and for that, they were excited. Fingers crossed that everything would go well.

┈┈┈┈┈

[11:50 p.m.]

You stood by the large window of the luxurious forest resort, watching the snow fall gently over the evergreen trees. The storm had finally calmed, but the snow still continued to fall from the sky, covering everything in a soft white blanket. And inside, the warmth of the fire crackling in the stone hearth filled the air.

The resort house was the largest and most expensive one Sangmin could have chosen — an impressive log cabin, but with the charm of a homely, rustic retreat. All so he could make sure Minhee could be more secure and comfortable during the one week stay.

Its wooden beams, dark and polished, stretched across the high vaulted ceilings, while oversized windows offered a perfect view of the snow-covered forest surrounding them. The scent of pine wood mixed with a faint aroma of cedar filled the air, making the entire house feel warm and inviting. Plush leather sofas and fur-lined blankets were scattered across the open living area, where you all had been lounging after your arrival, soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

You stood at the resort’s large open field, surrounded by other guests who were also braving the cold, waiting for the New Year’s countdown and celebration to begin.

The scene was serene, almost magical. The trees that bordered the field were dusted with snow, their branches bending under the weight. The resort’s lights twinkled, emitting a warm glow on the snow-covered ground. Nearby, small groups of people huddled around fire pits, roasting marshmallows, making s’mores, and sipping hot chocolate. The crackle of the fires mixed with the murmur of conversation and laughter. It was the perfect setting for a peaceful night, the warmth of the fires balancing out the cold nip in the air.

Minhee stood beside you, looking content as she carefully sipped her hot chocolate. Sangmin was standing protectively by her side, an arm wrapped casually around her waist. They had been joking and talking about baby names earlier to fill the night with light-hearted conversation.

However, as you looked over at your friends, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. It could’ve been you, with Jungkook.

But this trip was supposed to be a fresh start, a break from the constant ache that seemed to follow you. You couldn’t let anything ruin this perfect atmosphere.

You looked around the field, trying to focus on the beauty of the moment. The snow. The warmth of the fires. The way everyone seemed so carefree.

Mingyu, however, wasn’t part of the lively conversations or the light banter about baby names. He stood just a few feet away, silent and pensive, holding a cup of hot chocolate that had long gone cold. His eyes kept drifting toward you, watching you carefully when he thought you weren’t looking.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Mingyu felt his anxiety rise. It was 11:55 p.m., just five minutes left until the New Year.

He had made up his mind back in the car. He had rehearsed the words a thousand times in his head, but now, standing here in the cold, the words seemed harder to find. His mind raced.

What if you weren’t ready? What if you didn’t feel the same way? He couldn’t imagine losing you as a friend.

Sooner or later, you finally noticed Mingyu’s absence and his lack of interaction, or the way he stood a distance away. You walked over to where he stood and snapped your fingers at him, bringing him back to reality.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been really quiet” you asked softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

Mingyu forced a smile, “yeah, just…thinking” he sighed. You raised an eyebrow, giving him that look that told him you weren’t buying it.

“About?” you questioned.

“About…you” the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he felt his heart race even faster.

You looked at him, confused, “me?” you tilted your head a little.

Mingyu took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. He chucked his hot chocolate away and faced you fully. There was no turning back now. The countdown began.

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…”

“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now” his voice was shaky, but he pushed through. He took a step forward, his tall body towering over yours, and took your hands in his.

“I know I shouldn’t be doing this, especially what you’re going through. But you’ve been through a lot, and I hate seeing you like this” he said.

“Mingyu, what are you trying to say?” your voice was low but soft. And your heart was pounding because you saw how his eyes were starting to pool with tears.

“Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

“I…I love you Y/n. I love you more than just a friend” he finally dropped the bomb.

“I’ve loved you for a long time. Longer than I probably should’ve. But I’ve always been too scared to say anything. I just…I want to be there for you, not just as a friend, but as a lover. I want to love you better than Jungkook ever did” he confessed, his tears finally breaking free.

Your eyes widened. You stared at Mingyu, processing his words, your heart pounding faster and harder inside your chest.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Your silence was killing him, and it made him want to dig himself a six feet deep hole and bury himself inside.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just…I just want you to be happy” he sniffled, shaking his head as he let go of your hands and took a step back.

“Three, two…”

Before he could take another step back, you grabbed him by his collars and pulled him in, crashing your lips against his.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The cheers of the guests, the crackle of the fire, the cold — it all faded into the background.

It was just you two.

The fireworks exploded in the sky, lighting up the night with brilliant colors. But all Mingyu could feel were the butterflies that had erupted in his chest. His hands reached to cup your face and kissed you back hard, his heart soaring, unable to believe what had just happened.

When you finally broke apart, your eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions. “I don’t know what this means and I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the fireworks.

“But I think I want to find out…with you” you smiled as you wiped away his tears.

┈┈┈┈┈

Jungkook reclined against the plush cushions of his leather couch, sunk deep into the comfort of its embrace.

The large windows of his high rise penthouse framed the dark expanse of the night. It was illuminated by the bursts of fireworks that exploded across the sky, painting it with flashes of brilliant reds, blues, and golds. They celebrated the arrival of the new year — 2023.

In his hand, he loosely gripped a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling lazily with each tilt of his wrist. He stared into it now and again, but his attention wandered back to the windows. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, strained to track the vibrant explosions as they flared in the distance, but his mind seemed somewhere else, adrift in a haze of thought and alcohol. He blinked sluggishly, his eyelids heavy, barely managing to keep them open as he gazed out into the night.

His appearance reflected the complete mess he was. His hair was now disheveled, sticking up in wild tufts as though he'd run his fingers through it one too many times in frustration or exhaustion. The tailored suit he wore hung loosely, the jacket unbuttoned, his shirt wrinkled and partially untucked, its crispness long gone. A loosened tie dangled carelessly from his neck, as though he'd given up on pulling it off altogether.

He looked like someone who had fallen out of sync with the world around him, a man unmoored from the celebration echoing through the city streets below.

The television blared in the background, filling the room with the chaotic clamor of laughter, cheers, and the countdown of voices marking the final moments of the old year. News anchors smiled too brightly, their voices carrying through the penthouse, but the sound was muted, almost faint to his ears. Everything around him felt distant, like watching life play out behind a glass screen. The cheers, the fireworks, the spectacle — it all felt hollow.

His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim lighting of the room, his complexion drained of warmth, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced than usual. He took a slow sip from the wine glass, his lips barely parting as the bitter taste touched his tongue. It was as though he drank not to enjoy, but merely to pass the time, to keep his hands occupied as his thoughts spiraled inward.

The alcohol coursed through him, dulling the edges of his awareness, but it couldn't mask the exhaustion and depression etched in his face. His bloodshot eyes, glassy and unfocused, lingered on the fireworks outside, though their beauty failed to stir him.

As the night deepened, the sky continued to erupt with color, each explosion a momentary flash of brilliance in the otherwise endless dark. But inside, Jungkook remained still, barely reacting to the bursts of sound or the vibrancy of the display. He was disconnected from the celebration, lost in his own reverie, his body present but his mind elsewhere, heavy with thoughts that weighed him down more than the wine could lift. The year had turned, but for him, the sense of renewal was nowhere to be found.

You were nowhere to be found.

Seven months. Seven months since everything fell apart.

He recalled the ten years he spent with you, filled with laughter, fights, forgiveness, and the kind of intimacy that made the rest of the world fade away.

But now, the only thing that was fading was the memory of your warmth. It was all unraveling, piece by piece, like his life had since the breakup. Your voice, once so lively, had grown dim in his mind. Your laughter, once the soundtrack of his happiest moments, had been replaced by the silence of an empty apartment.

He should be with you.

He could picture you now — your eyes lighting up as the fireworks exploded, your smile wide as you turned to him for that midnight kiss. He could almost feel the soft brush of your lips against his, the way your hand would find his in the moments after, fingers interlacing in a way that made everything else seem irrelevant.

But instead, he was here, alone, watching the world move on while he remained stuck in a place where time felt frozen. The distant sound of the fireworks continued to echo, but to him, it was nothing but background noise. An empty reminder that this was the first of many New Year's Eves he’d have to face without you.

Jungkook’s grip on the wine glass weakened, and he didn’t notice as it slipped from his hand. The glass hit the tiled floor with a sharp crack, shattering into pieces, the wine spilling out like blood.

A choked sob tore from his throat, the first sound he had made in hours. It was raw and broken, a release of the pain he had kept bottled up for too long. His shoulders shook as the sobs wracked his body, tears finally spilling from his eyes, running down his pale cheeks.

He was supposed to be celebrating with you. He was supposed to welcome a new beginning, with you. But he knew it was now impossible. That reaching you was impossible.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what kind of regrets he carried. But what he did know was that perhaps he should’ve fought for you harder.

But none of that mattered anymore. What he was going through, what he needed, and what he felt like, none of it mattered to anyone anymore.

Sacrifices are meant to hurt. Letting go was meant to hurt. Jungkook knew that, but he wasn’t prepared for the agonising pain it came with. But he knew. He knew this was the only way you could be safe.

But why? Why did it have to be the only way?

It was a question he’ll never get an answer to.

He didn’t know what life meant anymore, nor what it held for him ahead. He was just an empty shell walking without a destination.

Perhaps in another life.

#bts #bts jungkook #bts moodboard #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook fluff #bts jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #svt mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu

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mother-honour · 9 months ago

Text

Actions have consequences. Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 2

( A very quick authors note before the fic- HOLY GODAMN CHRIST. I did not expect part 1 to reach so many likes- Ya'll are absolutely amazing ^^) @v1x3n

Summary: You still haven't woken up after that fateful day, and it's tearing him apart.

CW: Simon being an absolute wreck, Price giving hugs, swearing, emotional hurt, heavy angst, hospital visits, in-accurate military stuff, character death (?)

These past three weeks have been nothing but pure torture for Simon.

You still haven't woken up after all this time, and it was tearing him apart. Whenever he couldn't be by your side, he sat at home, silently crying to himself as guilt crushed him on the inside. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he couldn't pretend that everything was normal while you were fighting for your life.

Because of him, he kept reminding himself.

The longer it took, the worse Simon got. He started to make mistakes on the field. Ghost, a well-respected man in his field, was acting like a rookie who just got out of basic training. His head wasn't with the 141; it was always stuck on you. The team had begun to notice as well. Price was the first, of course, knowing Simon as well as he did.

The captain had noticed it the first day he had come back to base. There was something unknown lingering in the lieutenant's eyes, and it was coming to bite him in the ass. After Simon made a mistake that could've caused multiple casualties, Price had enough. "Ghost. My office, now." He spoke sternly after the four of them got back. The lieutenant obeyed automatically, following the price mindlessly. Once the office door clicked behind them, Price turned around to face him.

"Now, you are going to tell me what the hell has been going through that bloody brain of yours." The captain crossed his arms, his form burning with authority as he stared at his lieutenant with hard eyes. "Every since 3 weeks ago, you have been making mistakes left and right." The captain huffed as he ran a hand over his face. His eyes had somewhat softened as he placed a hand on Simon's shoulder.

"Simon, whatever is bothering you, I need you to tell me. As your captain, it is my responsibility that you can do your job properly and keep you safe, no matter if it is physical or mental." It was then that Simon finally broke. He dropped to his knees with an agonizing cry, hot tears streaming down his face as he pounded his fist into the floor. "ITS ALL MY FAULT!" He yelled between harsh sobs.

"ITS ALL MY FUCKING FAULT PRICE! IF I HADN'T SAID ANYTHING-" Strong arms wrapped around Simon as he reached his breaking point, pulling him close as the comforting voice of Price filled his ears. "I got you, son. I got you." Simon's breath hitched as he let himself cry into his captain's shoulder. He didn't care about being professional right now; he just needed comfort.

And right now, Price was the one to give him that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After letting his heart out to Price, he allowed Simon to take the week off. 'You need it more than ever, Simon.' Price had said as he escorted him outside of the base. 'Just make sure to screw your head back on before you get back?' Simon couldn't help but let out a forced chuckle at his captain's last statement, leaving to go back to you shortly after. He had the steering wheel in an iron grip, his knuckles turning white as he drove down the road.

The same road leads to your shared house.

The same road you drove on before-

The booming horn of a truck came from Simon's left, snapping him out of his thoughts as he swung just in time to avoid the crash. His eyes were wide, and his palms were sweating as he looked back at the truck that was speeding off into the distance. Simon shook his head firmly as he focused back on the road, the agonizing voice in his head screaming at him that, in an alternate scenario, you would've been able to come back home safe.

Simon pressed the gas, surely going over the speed limit as he came closer and closer to his destination. He bolted out of the car and towards the front desk as soon as the tired came to a stop, scaring the shit out of the elder lady who was just enjoying a cup of tea. Her wide eyes softened once she recognized the man who had come here every day to visit you.

She didn't even need to say anything as she nodded toward the left, allowing him to proceed further without writing anything down. Gratitude flashed in Simon's eyes as he ran down the halls, up the stairs, to the 4th floor.

He almost stumbled over his own feet as he reached your room, swiftly opening the door as the beeping of a heart monitor met his ears. There you were, still lying in bed with an oxygen mask over your face. Most of your wounds have healed up; only parts of your body are being bandaged up now. Simon's feet guided him towards the bed, tears welling up in his eyes as he once again sat down on the chair next to your bedside.

"Hey, love." He spoke softly while taking your hand in his. "Sorry for taking so long this time." Simon swallowed thickly. "The captain has given me some time off, which means I get to spend more time with you." His body began to shake as his bottom lip trembled.

"I'd love to treat you to lunch. We could go to your favorite place. With the silly black cat, you love so much." Simon's voice began to crack, hot tears streaming down his face as he held onto your hand. "I miss you so much, baby. Please… come back to me." He pleaded between sobs. You, however, remained unresponsive, the soft sounds of your breathing being the only thing to answer him.

Simon stayed by your bedside for the next 5 hours, talking to you and even telling some of his awful jokes to keep the one-sided conversation going. A part of him hoped that somehow you'd be able to hear him. Around 7 p.m., the same elderly nurse who had greeted and helped Simon whenever he came to visit you came into the room.

"It's time to go home, Mr. Riley." She spoke softly. Simon swallowed as he nodded. He stood up from the chair as he bent down to press a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be here again tomorrow, love." Simon moved himself away from the bed, passing the elderly nurse as he made his way towards the door.

"…Simon?"

Simon froze.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as his eyes widened. He heard the elderly nurse gasp, accompanied by a pair of quick footsteps going towards the bed. Your bed. Simon turned around agonizingly slowly, his own eyes filled with shock, as he was met with the sight that he had longed for ever since you ended up here.

You were looking at him, those big eyes he came to love filling with tears as you reached out to him.

It was then that Simon's heart started to beat again.

#simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #gn reader #no use of y/n #cod x reader #MotherHonoursWriting

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months ago

Note

still so disappointed that mr pennycrumb [fives dog in the comics] didnt rlly appear much in the show </3

ok ok so its the academy's birthday and the reader is insanely good at gift giving and never forgets to give presents if theres smth special happening. they hand out the gifts to everyone except they avoid five and disappear w/o them knowing where they went, only to come back at dusk w/ a larger box. obviously five went insane and rambles on how worried he was before the reader finally shuts him up by plopping the box on him, and boom. theres a puppy.

[loved the last viktor fic btw. literally bawled my eyes out]

- 🦇

OMG YES the only appearance we saw was in s3 when Luther went on a jog before he got napped :( ; and thank you!! I got bored and I couldn't extend it any further so it's kinda dumb but it's alr haha ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also sorry this is so short and dumb idk writers block is so picky

FIVE HARGREEVES ; mr pennycrumb

summary ; when the umbrella academys birthdays roll around, you get five a whole ass dog

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; some of the gifts are related to hobbies/interests that are more of hcs than actual canon

word count ; 738

masterlist

When you walked into Allison's with multiple boxes and bags for the Hargreeves, they all knew you were at it again with your insane yet accurate gift giving. They started with cake, then moved over to presents.

Gift giving in the family was like secret Santa in a way. Everyone would essentially get gifts for all the others, and they'd pass around gifts one by one, usually by number order. Luther was always first, Viktor always last. Lila usually snuck in around Diego, because duh. Viktor had gotten used to being last, the forgotten one. But around his family now, he knew it wasn't like that anymore. He'd rather go last so everyone else could have their special time on their special day.

So, the group sets the gifts tagged for Luther on the table in front of him. The kids halfway watch from afar, paying attention to the TV and their toys more than their celebrating parents, aunts, and uncles.

You were among the minority in the house that didn't share a birthday with them, thank God. You would've gone insane over big birthdays like this.

Five, meanwhile, was going insane over you basically ignoring him all day.

You'd gotten Luther some workout gear, knowing he'd taken up going to the gym within the past couple of years. Among other gifts were little trinkets and other things he wanted. He was a little hard to shop for, never really wanting anything, enjoying the quality time over any gift giving.

Next was Diego, and inside the gift you got for him, was a knife sharpening kit. He'd lost his old one just in time. Lila came up next, receiving a few nice outfits you found for her and a gift card to Cosmoprof, as she'd been thinking about re-dyeing her hair to white again.

Next up was Allison, grateful for the numerous acting job business cards you'd given her on top of a bunch of books that were on her Amazon wishlist. She was a serious reader who wanted to get back into acting, now.

Klaus was after her, ecstatic about a carry-around cleaning kit. You were going to go with a joint maker to make his life easier before he got sober. Now he wouldn't need a full bag of cleaning supplies, he'd have your perfect gift.

Five decided to go last, wanting to watch his family be happy more than open presents himself.

Ben was next, receiving some letters from modeling agencies. As he should.

Viktor was second to last, very appreciative for the new drink recipes you'd made and found for him atop the pile of clothes you'd gotten him.

You disappeared around dusk, leaving Five to open his presents without presence. He was physically eighteen, mentally sixty-two today.

As he looks up, seeing the lack of you around, he hides a soft frown. He noticed how you weren't standing near him all night, how you barely even spoke around him.

"Did you do something to Y/n?" Klaus asks out of the blue. "They just kinda... dissappeared"

Five shrugs. "I don't think I did. Even if I did do something, they'd talk it out with me"

Allison shrugs. "I think that's them" she comments, looking out the screen door to see you pull up in your car again. "Diego, could you get the door?"

Diego turns around, unlocking the door for you, holding it open as he sees you holding a big box.

"Why is that box bigger than you?"

"Also, why is it moving?"

You set the box on the table in front of Five, a wide smile on your face. "Open it"

He slowly sets aside the large box of coffee pods he received from Diego to the side, slowly reaching for the box flaps. As he pulls them to the side, out jumps a little dog.

"Oh my God?"

Five smiles, pulling the puppy into his lap. He looks up at you, a glimmer in his eyes. "Why did you get me a dog?"

You shrug, moving the box off the table. "You're a lonely old man, you need some company"

He chuckles, petting the pug's head.

"What're you gonna name it?" Ben asks, arms crossed.

"Him" You correct

"Mr. Pennycrumb" Five answers.

"Why?" Luther asks.

The physically younger boy shrugs. "Why not?"

"Interesting choice" Klaus mutters with a shrug.

Five smiles up at you, giddy like a little kid. "Thank you"

"I try"

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #tua x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves oneshot #five hargreeves x reader #aiden gallagher x reader #🦇 anon

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the-kr8tor · 4 days ago

Text

Two Slow Dancers

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.2k

Synopsis: It's the very first day of your first 'real' job, with new faces and names, you find yourself fumbling over a handsome coworker. Will you survive the day?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), a bit of loser! Hobie, The office AU, mockumentary AU, Coworkers AU, Coworker! Hobie, Reader has nicknames, one suggestive joke, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale for the idea!

Navigation

The camera zooms in on your confused expression until the lenses can see every single one of your pores. The producer clears her throat, and the camera man immediately tries to fix the view. The camera lense whirrs for a second before focusing on you as you sit on an old office chair in the corner of the conference room together with the drab eggshell white painted walls and a single plastic plant placed right next to you.

All you can see are the same drab white walls with thirty year old motivational posters tacked on it. The rows of plastic chairs are lined up in front of the whiteboard where a rolling table with a small box tv sits and collects dust. You feel like you're in an uncanny side of the world where everything is all paperwork and the sound of the photocopying machine whirs in the background amidst the smell of old carpet.

This is being a full fledged adult, you thought. You're starting to hate it already.

“Is this necessary? I just got here.” You chuckle nervously, fingers fixing your collar that doesn't need to be fixed.

“Yes, we need everyone's point of view.” The muffled voice of the producer echoes in the boom mic. “And please stop fiddling with your collar, the mic will pick up the sound.”

“Sorry,” you give her a tight smile. “Um, I guess I should give you my name?” They all nod simultaneously, making you more nervous than you already are on your first day of work. Saying your name without stuttering, you mentally pat yourself on the back for your accomplishment. “I–I just started today, and I'm very excited to work here at Connor's and Jameson's.” You smile sweetly at the camera, a rough cough from someone on the crew makes your smile falter. “C–can I go now?”

A sudden deep rumble can be heard through the mic, shaking you in your seat as you hold on to the armchair. “Woah!” As quick as it came, it subsides. “I think that was an earthquake!” You say, eyes wide in panic, fingers fiddling with your collar as your nerves get to you.

“No,” the producer behind the camera sighs, “there's construction just starting next door.”

“Oh,” You wish the earth could swallow you right now. Way to embarrass yourself on your first day, and on camera too. “Right, sorry.”

The scene shifts to your new boss, Miguel, as he watches the bullpen from his office with his watchful eyes. His hands are tucked behind his back, his large frame practically blocking the sun from his window. He sees the camera crew zooming in on him, and he awkwardly straightens up, weight subtly shifting from side to side.

The camera follows his gaze, landing on Lyla, who's chewing on the cap of her pen as she chats you up while you're working quietly on your desk. She wears a cheerful yellow button up complete with the same yellow pants. You gotta admit, she wears business well.

“I'm just saying, it's eat or be eaten in this office.” The boom mic captures her voice. And the camera moves from her to the entire bullpen that's quiet except for the sound of tapping keyboards and clicking mice. “But I'm sure you'll be okay, we're just selling electric toothbrushes. It's not the end of the world of you commit one fuck up.”

You stare at the camera with a wide look before glancing at Lyla. “T–thanks for the tip.”

Lyla tilts her head with a genuine smile, “no problem, newbie. If you need any help, you know where my department is.” As you nod and glance quickly at Miguel, who's still standing still inside his office, Lyla notices your nervous demeanor. She narrows her gaze at Miguel before flipping him the bird.

“Lyla!” You whisper yell, while Miguel presumably huffs in his office and closes the blinds right after.

“What? It's just office banter!” She returns her gaze to you, eyes softening at your nervous glance. “Nice blouse by the way! Pink suits you.”

The scene changes and now Lyla is the one in your former seat inside the conference room. “Let's just say that I have… some information on him.” She smirks before the camera lense zooms in on the window in the background where Miguel stares heavily on Lyla’s back, his nose flaring, and mouth etched in a deep frown. Lyla feels the presence, brows pinching together before looking over her shoulder. “Hey, boss man!” She says without a care in the world (Or without a care for authority no doubt,) while she waves at him casually.

The scene cuts back to you struggling on the copy machine.

The machine keeps eating all the paper you feed it, making a strange and awful creaking sound whenever you press the button. You're sure that you did everything Lyla taught you. The stack of paper goes into the side, then the file you're going to copy is placed on the scanner. Pressing a few more buttons, it should've spat out an exact copy instead of giving you a jumbled mess of paper that looks like a demonic curse was printed on it.

“Damn it.” You curse under your breath. Eyes glancing to the side, you see the camera crew practically stalking you by the pillar. You quickly change your demeanor, back straightening up, shoulders straight but your huffing through the boom mic can still be picked up unbeknownst to you.

Yanking the half eaten paper away from the slot, you internally curse the photocopy god for giving you this trial for your first day. Looking around the bullpen, you see Lyla in Miguel's office, probably getting chewed on for what she did earlier. You definitely cannot ask her for help. Gazing at your right, your other co-workers are busy with their tasks, tip tapping away at their computers with their blank stares. Well, except for that one intern you hadn't had the pleasure of meeting, who's playing minesweeper on his computer. Amazingly, he looks like he's winning.

Hands balled into fists, you're contemplating whether or not you should start throwing punches at the machine. Lyla did tell you its temperamental, maybe a quick punch would make it think twice from giving you hell.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout squarin’ up with the xerox machine?” A sudden new voice startles you in place. His tone is smooth, confident and deep that it sends good shivers down your arms. “Sorry, thought you need some help.” he chuckles, backing away from you when he notices your shocked expression. “You new ‘ere, huh?”

“It's okay,” your nerves bust through your shaky tone. “Uh, yeah, new associate– on probation for the next six months.”

He smiles sweetly, silver lip piercing drawing your attention towards his lips which you immediately correct your gaze by staring at his brow piercing instead. It didn't help much with your nerves, he looks handsome in every angle. It's not like you're looking for an office romance, it's not illegal to stare, right?

Your new acquaintance has his wicks in a ponytail, silver charms clinking against each other whenever he moves his head. He wears a dark button up, untucked and without a necktie. You find him unbelievably charming.

“‘m sure you'll get it. Once you get ol’ Jerry ‘ere to work for you.” He pats the machine as it whirs and eats another piece of paper. His lithe hand grabs your attention, silver rings dotted along it like he's about to play on stage.

You swallow thickly, avoiding staring too long. “J–Jerry?”

“Yeah, we named it after this bloke who worked ‘ere.”

“That's kind of nice.”

“He's not with us anymore.”

“Oh–” you blink, lips already forming apologies.

“He’s retired, we got him a cake and everythin’” you can see that he's trying to tamp down a laugh by how his Adam's apple bops up and down and from how he subtly bites his lip piercing. “Did you think—?”

“No.” You immediately say. He gives you a teasing look, brilliant hazel eyes that are a beautiful mix of brown and green gazes at you playfully. “T–That’s what I thought too.”

“Right,” he says, unconvinced. “My offer of help still stands. But after this you have to tame the bloody beast on your own.”

You nod, “please, I'm starting to rationalize whether I should punch it or not.”

He gives you a genuine smile, “that could work actually. I've seen people do it a few times.”

“Really?” You say with raised brows and a hint of a hopeful smile.

“Nah.” He shakes his head with a smirk, smile widening when you frown at him with an annoyed look. With a chuckle, he reaches towards the half eaten paper stuck inside, fingers wrapping around it to pull away. “‘m Hobie, Hobie Brown. I work in the post room.” He gestures with his head towards the cart full of envelopes and small parcels. “Or what I like to call it in a fancy way, the logistics room.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You smile at him, and Hobie smiles back as he finally rips the page away with a rough tug. The paper is suddenly released, the force almost topples him over if not for your quick reflexes. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, and you swear you felt his pulse quicken.

“You okay, Hobie?” As quick as you were, you retract your hand back to your side.

He nonchalantly clears his throat, fist gripping the paper in his palms. “Yeah, thank you…” he waits for your reply.

You give him your name, cheeks warm and palm suddenly clammy as you shift your feet from side to side to hide your bashfulness. With an inhale and your mind returning to the task at hand, you channel your bravery. “Care to teach me how to tame the beast?”

Hobie balls up the ruined paper all without leaving his eyes on you with a gentle smile. A bit unsure but definitely genuine. “Sure, I charge by the minute, by the way.” He jokes.

“Do you take lunch as payment?” You ride with his joke, hands placed inside your blazer pocket to again hide your shyness.

He grins, “I think we'll get along well, probie.”

You two have completely forgotten about the cameras. They got the whole interaction on film, complete with the lingering gazes and soft smiles you two seem to harbour.

—

“Hobie Brown.” He says while he's sitting on an office chair backwards, arms hugging the back of the chair and chin placed atop it casually. The producer eggs him on to continue with a single look. Hobie sighs, standing up swiftly before twirling the office chair away from him in one fluid and suave motion. “I work in the post room.” He crosses his arms on his chest, annoyed. “I've been ‘ere for three years. Don't like it, but it helps pay the bills, innit?”

“Can you tour us around the mailroom?” The producer asks in a hushed tone but loud enough to be captured by the boom mic.

“No.” He says flatly, already turning to leave the camera crew as he wheels his mail cart out of the room wordlessly.

The camera is left to just roam all over the organized chaos that is the mailroom. Everything seems to be in place but at the same time it's not. All the envelopes are in their correct spots on the large shelf on the far end of the wall, but all the boxes are shoved in a corner, all stacked up. It's a miracle that it's still standing without toppling over.

The mic picks up muffled chatter out in the hallway. Hurried footsteps can be heard as the crew follows the source of the sound. The camera peeks at the doorway, tilting to get a better look of you, who seems to be chatting Hobie up with a polite smile on your face.

“Mr. O’hara said that the shipping company messed up and gave us a different sample product.” You hold the box in your arms, clearly opened but was hastily closed off with masking tape. “He asked if you could send it back?” You ask sheepishly.

Hobie's whole demeanor seems to change as the white fluorescent light shines on your bashful eyes. “Sure, I know those blokes. I can even get it shipped for free.” He opens his arms, receiving the box from you, hands briefly brushing along his own. “They rarely fuck up, what's inside?”

“Uh,” you laugh nervously, cheeks aflame. “Something that is electric but definitely not a toothbrush—” before you could warn him, he shakes the box. It sets off numerous buzzing sounds inside. Hobie's neck snaps up towards you in a flash, with a smile slowly spreading across his amused face. “Yeah…” You wince, biting at your lower lip. “They're not toothbrushes.”

“Holy shit! It's—”

“Don't say it, Hobie!” You say through your grin. “Miguel was furious!”

His loud guffaw echoes down the hallway, making the boom mic pick up the sound, almost shattering the mic itself. Earning a high pitched sound emanate from it briefly. The poor sound tech had to take off his earphones lest he breaks his eardrums.

Hobie laughs harder. “I bet. I'd pay to see him all mad like that.” Shaking the box even more, the buzzing sound makes you chuckle, hand clasping over your mouth to tamp down your giggles. He mirrors your smile, finding your laughter contagious. After you've composed yourself, worthy of being your business self, he gestures towards the mailroom with his head. “You wanna see the post room, probie? It's not as glamorous as the bullpen but it's alright.”

“As long as you don't shake or god forbid, open the box.” You playfully gesture with your index at the box in his hands.

“Only if you ask.” He jokes back, or was it flirting on his end? Clearing his throat, he sees you widen your eyes, breath hitching in your throat. “I wouldn't, don't worry.” He immediately decides to remedy the awkwardness, feeling that he might've offended you. “There's a parcel ‘ere that's dated to be delivered in ten years. Don't ask why because I don't know.”

“In ten years? Weird, who's it addressed to?” You follow Hobie despite your thudding heart. He makes you feel like you're back in school again with all the crushes and lingering gazes across the classroom. Maybe it's not so bad to befriend someone else here that isn't Layla.

The camera crew immediately runs to the other end of the hallway to continue secretly filming the two of you, before you or Hobie could see them. Hobie opens the door for you, balancing his hold on the box and on the door.

“Yeah, it has your name on it.” You gasp right next to him. He smirks, eyes glancing at you teasingly. “Just fuckin' with you, probie.”

“I have a name, y’know.” You roll your eyes, seeing something move in your peripheral.

“You're probie until the lunch club says so.”

“The lunch club?” You ask, head tilting at the peeping camera from the corner of the hallway.

“You'll see,” Hobie shakes the box again to get your attention.

“You—! I told you not to shake it again!” Your giggles get muffled as you close the door behind you with a creak. The noise is followed by Hobie enthusiastically giving you a tour of the mailroom to the whole documentary crew’s amusement, and half disappointment.

—

You finally make it to lunch without a hitch. Without any more raunchy parcels and without you tripping over your own heels on the carpeted floors.

The camera follows right behind you, giving you enough space after you complained to Lyla in the HR department at how they've been too close to you, and hindering your work. (They haven't, you just find them annoying.) Hobie seems to have the same idea as you when he went to her office to tell them off too. According to him, ‘If I see another camera up in my face, I'll break their dodgy lenses.’ He said it with such gravitas that the documentary crew backed away immediately with their tails tucked in between their legs.

You grasp your lunch box in your hands, eyes roaming around the small break room with a few tables and chairs all grouped up. The vending machines on the side of the room whirr, its lights flickering in and out that has you suddenly creeped out. You blame Hobie for telling you a story about a night janitor that cleans the whole building even without its head attached to his neck.

Goosebumps appear on your arms when you remember how eerily he told it. Still, you were properly entertained before you had to go back to work, back to your drab computer with its boring programs and even more boring paperwork. Hobie makes it all bearable. You smile at the thought. Good thing that you're the only person in the breakroom, or your new coworkers would think that you're losing it. Then you remember the camera zeroing in on your face, you want to throw your lunch at them. If only it didn't cause you your job.

With a sigh, you claim the table nearest towards the vending machine. Sitting down your packed lunch, a bottle of your favourite iced tea grabs your attention inside the vending machine, begging to be let out of its glass confines.

Rummaging through your blazer, you could only find a stick of gum, and a button that magically flew out of your sleeve when you moved to grab a stapler earlier. You sigh, longingly staring at the sweetened tea. You bet that it'll help make your miserable first day a bit better. But alas, you're too lazy to go back to your desk to quickly grab your wallet.

Suddenly, an arm appears next to you, you almost screamed at the appearance if not for the recognizable rings around his fingers.

“Hobie, you scared me!” You clutch your imaginary pearls. “I thought you were—”

“The night janitor?” He smirks teasingly. You find him adorably infuriating. “D’you still need that change?” Glancing at his hand that's clutching the coin, it’s ready to be placed inside the coin slot, just waiting for your cue.

The camera crew backs away further into the corner, having the perfect view of the entire room and your interaction.

“I—” you wince when you pat down your other pocket, cursing at how your pencil skirt doesn't even have pockets. “— will you, please?” Great, your embarrassment will transcend through TV screens from now on.

Hobie smiles softly, coin clinking inside the machine as it falls. “Choose your poison, probie.”

Without a doubt, you press the number that correlates to your favourite drink. “Thanks, Hobie. I'll pay you back later. I'm supposed to be buying you lunch, remember?” You crouch down as the bottle tumbles down with a thud, falling right into your waiting hand. It's cold to the touch, the bee mascot on the packaging greets you with a cartoonish smile.

“Don't mind it, I have my own lunch. Save the IOU for another day.” he says as he sits down, setting his own lunch adjacent to yours. “Take it as a welcome gift.”

You turn around to face him, having a hard time opening the bottle cap. “And here I thought you wanted me out of here.”

Hobie scoffs without malice laced in it. The camera lense zooms in on his gentle smile. “Please, I don't give a tour to anyone in my post room just like that.” He gestures for the bottle wordlessly, fingers opening and closing in a come hither motion.

“I thought you brought all the new girls in there.” Teasing, you sit down in front of him, handing him your drink which he opens for you without a struggle. “Thanks.” He hands it back, warm fingers unintentionally brushing along your own.

“Not all the new girls.” He shrugs. “Jus’ the ones with the weak wrists.”

“Hey!” You chuckle, “rude. The cap was screwed in too tightly.”

“Sure, probie.” He opens his lunchbox, the smell of savoury meat and sautéed vegetables makes your hastily made sandwich look like it came from a microwavable meal.

“Wow.” You blink at the perfectly cooked rice. “Is that turmeric in the rice?”

Puffing up his chest, he smugly smiles. “Yeah, Beef broccoli with oyster sauce.”

“Damn,” you look down at your regular white bread egg sandwich. “Wanna switch?”

He chuckles, “no.” He makes sure to enunciate.

“Worth a try.” You mirror his smile. “Did your girlfriend or partner make it?”

“Nope, no girlfriend. Made it myself.” He says the last sentence proudly.

No girlfriend, huh? “It's pretty amazing that you have time to prep meals.” You take a bite of your abysmal lunch.

“That's what gets you when you don't have a partner.” Hobie scoops out a decent amount of his meal with his spoon, “your sandwich is…”

“Shit, I know.”

Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through his shining hazel eyes. “I was gonna say alright, but that works too.”

You take a sip of your iced tea, letting the cool drink douse your obvious shyness and flustered state whenever you converse with him. Lyla's words during the orientation keep repeating in your head, ‘no office romance,’ she said. ‘It's too complicated,’ she said. Is it though?

“So what's the lunch club? Shouldn't they be meeting up right about now?” Just as you said it, the doors swing open, revealing three college aged kids in their business outfits.

“Sorry we're late. Pav here needed to finish something.”

“Don't blame me,” The one with the flowy hair and dark brown suit scrunches his nose. “You're the one who's playing minesweeper all day, Miles.”

“The fields aren't getting cleared all by themselves, y'know?”

The only girl in the group sighs and rolls her blue eyes, pausing in the doorway once she sees you sitting with Hobie. “Well, who do we have here?” Her voice puts a stop to the arguing.

“Meet the new girl. Gwen, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Gwen.” Hobie gestures over to the blond then to you.

“Hi, it's a pleasure.” You say whilst quickly chewing your food to appear somewhat presentable when they caught you mid chew.

“Oho, so she's the one you've been yapping about, Hobie.” Gwen crosses the small distance, palm patting Hobie on his shoulder. “Now it's really nice to meet you.”

“You talk about me?” You tilt your head, eyes narrowed playfully.

“He will not shut up, trust me.” Pav waves towards you in greeting. “I'm Pavitr by the way! I wish you could meet Gyatri but she's out sick.” He sighs, sinking down on the chair.

“It's nice to meet you, Pavitr.” You smile genuinely at the seemingly lovestruck Pavitr.

“Don't mind him, he just misses his girlfriend.” The one in a white button up and black lopsided necktie holds out his hand to you. “I'm Miles Morales.”

“Pleasure,” you shake his hand briefly while Hobie watches you interact with three of them. The documentary crew fades in the background, practically a fly on the wall by now that the group has gotten used to their cameras and lights. “I'm guessing this is the lunch club?”

“That's what Hobie told you?” Gwen sits down next to you, sliding drinks she got from the vending machine towards each of her friends. “We're more like the gossiping slash complaining club.”

You chuckle, “you guys are interns?”

“Unpaid interns.” They all say simultaneously in the same monotonous tone.

“It should be Illegal.” Hobie says, elbows placed on the table to address you fully.

“Not being paid for work in the guise that it's just an internship therefore the ‘pay’ is experience?” You make quotation marks with your fingers. Hobie raises an amused brow while the three share a knowing look that you can't quite decipher.

“That and interns.” Hobie shrugs with a smile, you snort at his joke, gazes lingering for a second before returning to each of your meals.

Gwen smirks and nudges Hobie's leg with her foot. The camera picks up and records their wordless conversation before she turns towards you. “If not for me then the mailroom would be a complete mess.”

“It's organized, Gwendy.”

“Well you did a shit job at organizing it.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

Miles leans towards you, “Hobie's technically her boss.”

“Doesn't look like it. They argue like siblings.” You watch them with amusement, eyes crinkling in the corners. You decide to save everyone's lunch, “so… the lunch club is just you guys chatting about?”

“It’s more than that!” Pav says while he quickly swallows his lunch, “it's a way of life!”

“We sometimes meet up to play a gig at some dinghy place, or to just hangout after work.” Gwen smiles at you, hand clasped around her drink after Miles tried to switch it with his. “Wait!” Her blue eyes sparkles, “you haven't told her that you're in a band, Hobie!”

The trio gives Hobie a wry smile. Mischief glimmering in their eyes. “Yeah, Hobie, tell her about that time you played for one thousand people.” Pav nudges him with his elbow with a wink that you missed.

“You're in a band?!” Your expression brightens. “That's so cool! My roommate’s in a band, what do you play?”

Hobie throws the trio a quick glare before clearing his throat. “The guitar—”

“Just don't ask him to serenade you— Ow!” Gwen flinches in her seat, gaze narrowed at Hobie.

Your smile gets brighter, “you must be good at it then, playing for a thousand souls isn't a walk in the park.”

“Pav’s exaggeratin’, it was only a hundred or so.”

“Please,” Miles scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “It was definitely more than ‘a hundred or so.’” He copies Hobie's accent imperfectly. “You should've seen him,” he points at Hobie with his thumb while animatedly talking and clearly gassing him up. “He was basically Freddie Mercury up there— Ow, what?!” He stares at Hobie as if his looks could burn a hole through his head.

“He has a show next week—” Pav suddenly exclaims. “don't you dare, Hobie!” He points accusingly at Hobie. A moment passes while the two have a stare off. Meanwhile, the camera zooms in under the table where Hobie's foot is threatening to kick at Pav's leg.

Hobie sighs, blinking away his annoyance, (and putting his foot down) “it's in the white horse pub, if you're free next weekend.”

“Drinks are on Hobie—!” Gwen quickly says before twisting in her seat, effectively dodging Hobie's attack. “You should go! The rest of the band will appreciate a new face in the crowd.”

“Are you guys sure?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I don't want to impose.”

“Impose away, probie.” Hobie smiles at you, dimples in full display. “‘sides, the pub’s fish and chips are unmatched.” His eyes sparkle under the fluorescent light of the vending machines.

You nod bashfully. “Sure. You had me at fish and chips.”

The trio share a knowing look before side eyeing the camera simultaneously with the same expression while you and Hobie gaze at each other with slight trepidation.

—

Before your first day could end, Miguel O’Hara calls everyone in the conference room for a quick meeting. You highly doubt that it's a quick meeting though since there's only thirty minutes before the day could officially end. Couldn't he just email it instead? Or maybe this is about *that package. If it is, you don't want to go.

With a huff and a quick but tired look at the camera, you make your way towards the conference room. As you enter, Miguel stands at front, muscular arms crossed over his chest, eyes scanning the room.

You avoid his stare, finding that your new boss scares you just a tiny bit with his air of authority around him.

Leather shoes and heels shuffle on the floor as each employee finds their place on their seat. You find the farthest chair to sit on in hopes of staying invisible. The plastic chair squeaks as you sit, cringing at the sound, knowing that the mic probably picked it up. You're starting to hate this documentary crew following your every move. Who would even find an electric toothbrush company entertaining to watch? Moreso to film its day to day operations? It's a complete mystery to you.

The room slowly fills up with you sitting at the back, your fists bunch up at your skirt with your nerves bothering you as Miguel scans his brown eyes around the room. The man sitting in front of you twists in his seat, a smile etched on his face.

“You're the new kid, huh?” You nod at him sheepishly as he reaches for you in greeting. “I'm Peter B. Welcome to the shit show.”

“Nice to meet you?” You shake his hand despite what he said.

The woman next to him sighs audibly, curls bouncing as she looks over her shoulder over to Peter. “Don't depress the poor kid on her first day, Peter.” With a polite smile, she addresses you. “I'm Jessica, don't listen to him, he's nihilistic. And likes to scare the newbies.”

“Well, I couldn't do it to Harry, might as well do it to— what's your name again?” Peter raises a brow at you.

“I haven't given it to you yet.” Chuckling nervously, you give him your name, fists unfurling around your skirt as you find them weirdly comforting. Like your favourite aunt and uncle you only get to see during the holidays.

“And I'm that Harry.” Someone suddenly speaks on your right. You almost jump in place if not for his gentle and unassuming smile. “I was hired a month before you.”

You take his waiting hand and shake it politely, finding his hand warm and friendly. “Y/N. Got any advice?”

Harry chuckles, a strand of auburn hair falling over his eye which he quickly brushes away casually. “My advice?” You nod, “go with the flow, and don't take it too seriously. The world won't catch fire if you accidentally mess up your documents. Worst case is that someone won't be able to brush their teeth for a few days.”

“Thanks.” You utter with a chuckle.

“No problem, oh, and uh, stay away from the bathroom on the second floor.”

You blink, curiosity written all over your face. “Why? Did someone die there?” You whisper the last sentence.

Harry leans closer, whispering back, pausing for suspense as you wait with trepidation. “...No, the other workers in the building just like to take a dump in there.” With every word, his smile grows. “Why would you think someone died there?” He says teasingly.

Just as you laugh, Hobie finally enters the room with the trio in tow. Miguel gives them a sour look for being late. You glance at him, “I think someone gave me that idea.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile, leaning away as Hobie sits down on your left. Harry gives him a polite nod before glancing softly at you and returning his attention to the front of the room. The camera zeroes in on Hobie's colder gaze at the man right next to you.

“What'd I miss?” He crosses his leg over the other casually, foot nudging you gently.

“Not much, just a few introductions—” Miguel's voice suddenly calling your name interrupts you. You feel like a student again when a teacher scolds you for talking in class. “Yes— sorry?” You stand up lightning quick, hands sweaty and stomach plummeting down.

“I was going to ask if you want to introduce yourself.” Miguel blinks at you, suddenly, you feel the room shrinking and with everyone's eyes on your trembling form.

You want to run and hide somewhere. Maybe not in the second floor bathroom.

“Uh, yeah, s–sure.” You curse yourself internally for fumbling over your own words. Saying your name, your throat feels like it's about to close on you. Someone coughs within the crowd, you feel faint. Hobie notices, the back of his hand brushes atop yours. You look down at the source, and he nods and smiles at you, encouraging you gently. “And I— I'm excited to work with all of you.”

Miguel nods, satisfied, giving you a glance as he tells you to sit back down. You can see Lyla give you a thumbs up from her seat up front.

“Nice job,” Hobie whispers to you, shoulder nudging your own. You inhale deeply whilst the camera lens focuses on you and Hobie. Miguel's words drones on, fading in the background. “Oi,” he says gently, “just breathe, yeah? It's over, you did brilliantly.”

“I think I'm gonna vomit.” You huff, trying to inhale and exhale out your bundle of nerves. “I almost fucked that up.”

“But you didn't.” Smiling, he taps your hand with his pinky. “Keep breathin’ for me. Don't want you gettin' sick all over the floors. What would the night janitor think about you now.”

You clasp a hand over your mouth to quiet down your chuckles. “Thank you, Hobie. I'm sorry that you have to keep saving me.”

Your whispered words make him grin, hiding how his cheeks grow warmer atop his shoulder. “No problem, it's part of my job description—”

“Hobie Brown!” Miguel's voice echoes from the front towards the back of the room, you flinch at the sound. “What do you do during an earthquake?”

Hobie's brows pinch together in confusion. “Why?”

Miguel rubs at the skin in between his eyes. Cameras flicking over to him and over to Hobie, who's grinning mischievously. The trio, except for Gwen, mirrors his playful grin.

“Dios mio, it's because we've been talking about an earthquake drill for the past five minutes.” You can tell that Miguel’s holding back from swearing.

“Ah, that.” Hobie smirks, feigning confusion. You swear he was actually listening to Miguel while he was talking to you. “Get on the floor and roll over?”

You almost laughed, Pav does, which was immediately extinguished by Miguel's stern stare.

“No, that's for when there's a fire.” Miguel gestures towards Harry right next to you. “Osborne.”

“Duck, cover and hold.” He shrugs, glancing at you, or was he staring over you and towards Hobie instead?

“Good,” Miguel breathes out a sigh, “the company wants us to practice what to do in the event of an earthquake.”

Hobie snickers in place. While Miles raises a defiant hand. “But there hasn't been an earthquake in New York since 1884.”

Miguel pauses like he's also thinking on why the company would instruct him that. “They just want to cover all the bases.” He says confidently, you admire at how fast he came up with that. “Lyla here will show you how—”

The floor suddenly shakes, and you grip at the nearest thing near you, which is coincidentally, Hobie's hand.

“Earthquake!” Lyla yells atop her lungs, already running out of the room in haste, leaving everyone to fend for themselves. Everyone follows right behind her, panic settling in everyone.

Hobie glances at you, with a playful wink, he launches off his chair, hand clutching at your wrist gently. You follow a half second later, heels clicking against the floor as you try to keep up with his long strides.

“Wait! It's just the—” Miguel gets bumped by Peter, stumbling briefly before catching himself. “Lyla! It's just the construction next door!” Still, everyone sprints off, leaving him alone in the room.

With everyone either in a panic or just following the crowd without an ounce of haste, Hobie seems to be having the time of his life. Cackling above Lyla's high pitched screams whilst he holds onto your wrist.

“C’mon, probie! Don't want the buildin’ to fall on you now!” He says while running with measured steps on the stairs of the fire exit. You're sure that running out of a building during an earthquake isn't wise, but the shake wasn't technically an earthquake.

Your panic is replaced with something lighter, smiling as he holds onto you. “Do you know it's just the—?” Foot stumbling over the other whilst you two run down the stairs, he immediately twists around when he feels that you've become suddenly weightless right behind him. “Shit!”

“Got you!” Hobie's arms catch you mid air as you instinctively yelp and grab a hold of him. His back hits the wall in a groan, eyes briefly closing from the sudden ache. “You alright?”

“Me?! Are you okay?!” You actually panic now, scanning him for injuries, head craning to look at the back of his head. Thankfully, you don't find any injuries. “Oh thank fuck.” Thumping your head on his shoulder, he chuckles as his hands hovers above your back.

The rush of footsteps subside, and you two are left alone on the staircase. His shallow breaths echo while you lean away, but still near enough to see his dimples and how flustered you look in his gorgeous eyes.

“Sorry for draggin’ you around, love.” The new nickname has your head craning up to look at him at lightning speed. “Thought you could keep up.”

You two don't notice the lone cameraman atop the stairs, watching the scene unfold, all the while having a front row seat.

Your palms are on his chest, lips slightly agape, eyes gazing into his hazel eyes. “I did, you're not the one wearing heels, Hobie.”

“There you go, fight back, love.” His voice warms your chest as he smiles at you and only you.

Heart beating rapidly, you hear footsteps from behind, and you immediately unlatch yourself from Hobie. His warmth is left etched on your form, eyes glancing shyly at him, finding that he's already staring at you with the same softness.

“Good, you're still here.” Miguel huffs from the top of the stairs, “get the others back up here.”

The scene shifts to Miguel sitting alone in his office, looking disgruntled and tired. “I want to quit.” He says in a flat tone.

—

It's finally time to go home. You close your computer and grab your things, waving goodbye to Lyla, who's staying behind to work on paperwork. You guess that's her punishment for setting off panic in the whole office.

Mind recounting your whole day, you enter the elevator on auto pilot. The elevator door starts to close, but a hand reaches in between the closing doors, effectively opening it.

Hobie's expression brightens when he sees you.

“Hi, Hobie.” You smile, holding the door for him to give him time to enter.

“Love.” He tips his head to you, joining you in the elevator. He puts on his leather jacket filled with shiny spikes and buttons all around it, atop his button up, making him look like a tough businessman of sorts. “Headin’ home?”

“Yep,” you pop the letter ‘p’ whilst trying your best not to ogle him. “My roommate’s picking me up, we're gonna go celebrate with a couple pints of ice cream.”

“Cute.” He mumbles, quickly clearing his throat right after.

“Huh?” You glance at him, heart thudding, and hands clammy around your bag.

“I said that it's adorable, celebratin’ your first day.”

“You think it's childish?” Your brows pinch together.

“Didn't say that,” he backtracks, “I think it's nice to celebrate it.” You hum in reply. “I didn't mean—” Side eyeing him, you tamp down your laughter by biting down on your lip. He catches on immediately. Shaking his head with a fond smile, Hobie leans on the elevator wall, hands casually shoved in his pockets. “Cheeky.”

“Learned from the best.” You shuffle on your feet to hide your shyness. “What happened to the camera crew?”

“They went home, they have regular hours too y’know. Why, you miss ‘em?”

“God, no.” The doors open with a ding as Hobie chuckles at your reply. You exit the elevator, shoulders aching from how much you've been sitting down today.

“Before I forget.” Stepping off, he opens the glass door for you, propping it open with his body as he rummages through his pockets. You wait for him patiently, watching as he pats all his pockets. “‘ere.” Handing you a piece of paper, he waits for you to read it.

“Is this?” Reading the contents written in his handwriting, complete with a little doodle of the iced tea you had for lunch. Your eyes soften under the orange sunset.

“The recipe for my beef broccoli I had for lunch.” He shrugs, hand scratching at the back of his head as he stares anywhere that isn't your shining eyes. “It's easier than you think it is. It only took me about 30 minutes to cook because I chopped everythin’ up and prepped it the night before. I stopped eatin’ at shitty fast food places when I learned to do it myself.” He rambles on nervously, hiding his sweet gesture with numerous explanations.

You pat his arm before pocketing the recipe for safekeeping. “Thank you, Hobie. I'll make sure to make extra for you.”

The corner of his lips tug up into a gentle smile. “Make sure you give me an extra serving of beef then, love.”

You nod, heart beating loudly against your chest. “Does this mean I'm part of the lunch club now?”

“‘Course.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. “The council has approved your membership. That includes the rest of my band mates.”

“And here I thought the council only consisted of you and a trio of teenagers.” You take a jab at him in an effort to tease him.

“Fuckin' cheeky, you're hangin’ ‘round me too much—”

A familiar weight suddenly falls on your shoulders. “Who's this tall drink of—”

“MJ!” You immediately clamp her mouth shut with your hand to save yourself the embarrassment. “This is Hobie, my coworker.”

Hobie's brows furrow, the cogs in his head turn at the sight of the red haired. “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Mj moves your hand away before answering. “Wait, I think I know you too!”

Recognition flits over their faces, eyes widening. “You're in that band!” They say at the same time while pointing at eachother.

MJ leaves your side, and Hobie fist bumps her hand in greeting. You're standing in between them so you back away a little to give them space. You smile at their interaction, it's such a small world that they actually know each other. You're happy that your best friend is acquainted with your new friend.

“You're in ‘Mary Janes,’ right?” Hobie's smile grows bigger.

“Bitch, I am the Mary Jane!” She gestures in a ‘here I am’ pose, continuing to chat him up.

“Shit, I like your music, mate.”

“Dude, yours absolutely fucks hard!” Mj jumps on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I saw you guys play last month, the crowd was wild!”

“We have a gig next week at the white horse, wanna come with?”

“Fuck yeah, my guy!”

As they talk, you blend into the background. Your mouth opens to try to get a word in, but their enthusiastic words plow over your own. Your smile falters as they slowly forget about you standing on the side. So you wait, and wait like a kid waiting for their parent to stop talking to someone they bumped into at the grocery store.

Your first day wasn't so bad, right?

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snghnlvr · 1 year ago

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞. / park sunghoon

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫! (bff!jake makes an appearance!) • read part two !

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you just wish you have the guts to say what you want, what you feel to your crush, park sunghoon.

likes, comments and reposts are very much appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you stared at the tall, handsome boy across the room. the room was twinkling whenever his cheek dimple appears when laughing, classmates’ eyes diverted whenever his eyes turn into crescent room, and classmates become temporary silent to hear his laughs.

ever since he stepped foot into your classroom from two years ago when he became a transferee, he grabbed the attention of female students and even staff board members. boys would gaze upon him whenever they pass by sunghoon with jealously visible in their faces.

i mean, who wouldn’t ?

you can’t deny either, he’s the most attractive person ever. in the classroom. in the school. in the world wide world.

his eyes would sometimes glance upon yours. when you both make eye contact, it would not last for even two seconds as you immediately look away. blush would run across your cheeks just by thinking about his gorgeous eyes looking at yours. you would nibble your bottom lip out of nervousness and overthink about your physical appearance.

did i look like an idiot? why is my lips so chapped? was my mascara smeared?

you questioned yourself multiple times in your head after walking home from school, how is he sculpted like the gods? why is he so handsome? why is he that perfect?

argh, just by thinking about it, unconsciously made your lips curl and heart beating like a rollercoaster. you shake your head to remove your thoughts about him and go home.

even though you’ve classmates with him for two years, you wanted to be closer. but you didn’t have the guts to do something. talk to him? pass him the notes the next day after being absent to take his ice skating lessons? buy him something? start a conversation? it’s too confusing.

you sighed infront of a locker. staring at it as if it would reply to you. well, you needed a quick response from whatever what you were doing. a wake up call.

you mentally marked it in your head.

locker #143 letter #12

god what were you doing?

writing letters to someone who barely notices you? how pathetic. you don’t even know what he thinks about you. does he know your name?

you were turning your body, ready to take off and think about sunghoon for the rest of the night. but before you take a step forward, you hear a familiar shout.

“y/n!”

you turned around and you see two figures, you recognized that one of them is your best friend, jake.

“oh hey jake!” you beamed at jake’s big smile towards you as he jogs towards you. your eyes then moved towards the figure behind him and your mind immediately blacked out.

it was sunghoon following behind jake. he saw you and smiled before going towards you as well.

“we were gonna eat tteokbokki at the restaurant across the street but we saw you~ it’s sooo cold so we wanted to eat something warm!” you can hear jake’s excitement through his tone as you saw him bundled up with his jacket and gloves. you noticed sunghoon’s attire. it was a simple hoodie with his fluffy jacket but yet he looked so cozy.

“wanna come with us?” jake invited. he stared at you with expectation.

“oh..” you mumbled under your breath. the sudden invitation made you hesitant because sunghoon will be there and you didn’t know how to act around him.

currently your heartbeat is echoing in your ears and you suddenly got cold sweat on your back despite it being winter.

you glanced to sunghoon behind jake as his hands were inside. he gently smiled at you as if he knew that you were wondering whether or not you’ll be a bother with them. he gave you a reassuring nod, mouthing, “don’t mind it”.

you swore your heart with jumping jackets. you swore sunghoon’s cheek dimple appeared when he smiled at you. you swore that sunghoon wanted you to be there with him.

“sure.” you breathe out. the heavy feeling on your chest disappeared with that one look of sunghoon’s eyes that spoke comfort and gentleness.

“yes!” jake jumped in excitement in his place. “we’re gonna go after sunghoon gets his scarf from his locket.” jake’s eyes moved towards sunghoon’s locker which was literally right next to you.

once again, your mind immediately blacked out. you panicked internally. not only sunghoon but your best friend will see your letter. you were the only one that knows that you like sunghoon. and you were scared that it might be obvious with how you’re acting.

you eyes looked over sunghoon’s hand unlocking his locker. you wanted to run away. you wanted to hide. you wanted to take back off the letters that you wrote in the past about him and forget everything. you can imagine yourself slapping yourself with your pillow.

but at the same time you were curious. will this be an opportunity to know what sunghoon thinks of you? does he likes the letters? does he know that it’s yours?

sunghoon huffed loudly which cut out of your thoughts.

“another one?” laced with disappointment.

your heart dropped at his reaction. you looked at jake beside you, his lips pursed in awkwardness.

you saw sunghoon stretch out his hand to grab the brown envelope. “hey y/n..” sunghoon turned to you.

your eyes widened, in fear if he knows. you gulped before responding to him. but your heart thumped that he said your name for the first time. that was a first for you.

“do you know this person?” he asked emotionless. eyes hoping that you know. you stared at the mini orange you’ve drew in the corner of the letter because you know he likes them; the drawing is humiliating you.

“no….” you tried to play if off cool, acting like you were thinking. sunghoon nodded when you responded.

“alright.”

jake bumped his elbow onto your shoulder. “sunghoon has been receiving love letters from the same person for the past month.”

“and it’s annoying.” sunghoon examined the brown envelope as if it was a disease. you can see the scowl on his face.

your heart swelled up at the contrast of his voice from earlier and his expression. his twisted eyebrows and puckered lips showed his frustration while looking at his name in the center of the envelope.

“it’s annoying?” you suddenly spoke, genuinely wondering why he would think of that but sunghoon nodded once again.

“tired of the same nonsense anyways. i won’t like someone who acts like this. i read the letters and laugh to myself because, how can someone be this delusional?” he snickered to himself as jake nodded, agreeing with him.

tears swelled up to your eyes as sunghoon looked down at the envelope, playing with it like a toy.

“acting like this? it’s a burdensome.”

did sunghoon indirectly called you a burden?

“if i meet this person, i won’t ever like them because i hate people like this.”

ouch.

that really did it.

“hey!” you suddenly made your voice loud, startling both of the boys.

jake panicked upon looking at you, your cheeks are pink, eyes watering and your lips were quivering.

sunghoon was alarmed with you. he was confused yet worried upon seeing your teary eyes. he was questioning what happened. he was gonna ask but you beat him to it.

you chuckled. “i forgot i-i have to help my mom with something. you guys can go without me-“ you cursed at yourself for your stuttering. “i’ll go! uh bye!” you smiled specifically at sunghoon with your teary eyes before dashing off.

idiot.

what sunghoon doesn’t know is that you like him.

what you don’t know is that sunghoon likes you as well. he was the one that initiated eating tteokbokki with you.

(jake would leave midway as apart of sunghoon’s plan)

this is my first tumblr post! i have a lot of drabbles in my notes app but i decided to post this one first because it’s completely done. what did you guys think? do you think sunghoon will know yn’s likeness towards him? will yn stop with the letters? i don’t know if i have a part two in mind but please let me know if you want! 😼 thank you for reading <3

#enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon angst #sunghoon angst #sunghoon oneshot #sunghoon fluff #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #psh #enha x reader #enha fluff #sunghoon x y/n #enha imagines #enha smau #enha scenarios #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon ff

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ellieslittleburrow · 8 months ago

Text

Requested by : @mymelodymia : you can't fall asleep. And clingy you needs to be around someone. Joel is -forced- to help. And Ellie is there to make sure you regret it.

Warnings : none, just internal swearing

Pairings : Joel Miller x daughter!reader /Ellie x platonic-sister!reader

----

It's been a few months since you've been traveling with Ellie and Joel. Your friendship with both of them has been developping smoothly. As well as their own with each other.

While on a nightly stop out in central wyoming, Ellie had taken watch so that you and Joel could get some sleep....Joel could get some sleep. His snores, as uneven as they were, pierced the space. And you couldn't sleep. Not because of the constant tiring irritating snoring, but just because you simply couldn't.

Giving up and getting out of the uncomfortably thin matress, you shuffle your feet, roaming around the cave and then out to find Ellie.

But she was walking away.

"Where are you going?" Your voice booms, causing Ellie to duck and turn around.

"Go to sleep, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Honestly....you do not know. You shrugged.

"Go back to bed, man."

"I can take over..."

"No. You already took watch yesterday. Go to sleep."

Ughhhh. There's no way you'll be able to fall asleep. You unfortunately knew yourself too much. Nothing could stop that irritating feeling of wanting to be close to someon-

Hmmm.....

You head towards Joel, and stop a few inches away from him, squatting down to get closer to his face. You didn't want to scare him(no. You'd love to scare him but his fast reflexes would have you end up with a broken neck)

"Joel.." you whispered. But no sign of life from the man. So you tapped his shoulder, starting gently and going harder and harder, violating his shoulder until he huffed.

"What?"

You fidged, shrugging. "Nothinng." It sounds more like a question and Joel goes silent.

"Then why are you waking me up?"

You go quiet yourself...darting your eyes away from him even though the moon was straight behind you, meaning that all was lit BUT your face.

"Mmmm....well...."

"Spill." The man seems to be impatient.

"Can i...i can't sleep. Can i sleep with you-"

"No."

Uh-but you haven't even finished your sentence.

"Hear me out, joel-i"

"No. No. No. Go back to the other room and force yourself to sleep. It's much safer there anyways."

You slouch your shoulders. "But i don't caaare...i want to sleep here." You sternly argue, having made the decision that tonight, you choose.

"No." Joel says again as he shifts his head for a better sleeping position. "Now let me sleep."

"Okay then." You respond, sitting down on the ground. "Then i wont stop talking until you change your mind." You cross your arms over your chest, your brain fishing for things to blabber about for as long as it will take.

If you can't sleep, might as well benefit from your free time.

And then you start blabbering, about random things like the sky....the cold...El-

"Okay."

Well, that was quick. You think.

Joel shifts his body to the side, reaching for the space behind before he pats it and you hop over him and lay beside him, your back facing his.

You grin, quickly accomodating yourself to a comfortable position.

"Sleep." Joel commands but....you can't. The warmth radiating out of his body is too damn comfy. You might not be...in his arms. But you haven't been this close to him ever. And it feels....good. You don't think you'll fall asleep anytime soon...although..your eyes are suddenly feeling heavy...Damn...how long as it been since you've felt such physical and mental warmt-......

----

"Wakey wakey little missy."

Snatched out of a beautifully blurry dream, your eyes violently open to a blinding light, causing you to shut them even more violently.

Hell....what in the f-

"Look who's finally up."

You might be deeply disoriented from the sleep you've just been kidnapped from, but that annoying little voice will never be one you can't easily recognize. Not only is it the voice but it's also the sacrcastic tone of-

"Ellie, what the hell do you wan-"

You squint to find yourself staring at a horizontal Ellie. You proceed to move but a pair of hands turn out to be wrapped around your chest. You try to free yourself but the arms around tighten their grip, causing a quick panic to set-

You spin your head around, meeting a pair of half closed eyes-you're envelloped in Joel's arms-

When did that happen?

"Joel." You gently nudge the man's stomach, earning yourself a groan. "Joel let go of me." Your voice is as low as it can get. It's not a whisper, it's just a worried tone. Worried about the crippling smirk painted on Ellie's dumb fucking face.

You know her well enough to know what she's thinking about and you just-you can-

"Joooell...."Your roar comes out as a whine.

A deep inhale tickles your ear and Joel seems to be annoyed but he only wraps his arm around you tighter.

"Let gooooooo....."

Your eyes search for something to fixate on as your face flushes red. You're embarrassed and you want to hide, but Ellie's....persistent. and Joel doesn't seem to want to l-

"Nope." He doesnt seem to want to let go.

"Joel, shes gonna be making fun of m-"

"No. You're stuck here." He groans, stretching his body without letting go of you. "She'll make fun of you wether you're in my arms or not, better take the ooportunity and enjoy this new pillow i got for free." Your da-Joel's voice is soft and reassuring.

And deep down, you'd rather he stays like that forever....You know what? Fuck Ellie.

You turn around, facing his chest. You're still too shy to look up, but this- his earthy(stinky) shirt and the soft puffing of his chest as he inhales-this..is enough for now.

"Mmmmm." You whine, keeping that annoyed salty tone to not have them know....but..they know. And it's not really that much of a problem. You just....like being in your dad's arms and you want to enjoy the moment.

-----

Hiiii babe! I really really hope you like this. It was really fun to write. But wtf is that ending omg. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for your sweet comments 🪷🪷🪷

#daughter!reader #father figure fic #adoptive father troop #daughter x father #sibling fic #sister!reader #sister x brothers #joel miller x daughter #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x platonic reader #joel tlou #father figure

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fraugwinska · 7 months ago

Note

Hhggffffffgg… pweasd.. pweasd more Leap of Faith. Part two of them meeting each other in hell. Pretty sure they’d end up in hell since suicide is a sin, iirc?

Uweh wahhhh. Felt it real deep of losing the only meaningful connection, the big sadness taking over. I’m sobbing. My heart—

Your writing is amazing as always. I eat that shit up.

...The people have spoken. I am your humble servant. Please accept this offering...

Heavy themes, religious trauma, mental/physical torture Minors please DNI

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Like a shooting star.

You looked like a shooting star against the purple, starless sky of the pride ring, a glowing gold and teal line trailing behind you like a tail.

Alastor pushed his shadows faster through the streets of the pentagram, not a care who he pushed, sliced or scared out of the way - he had to get to you, had to catch you and not let you crash into unforgiving ground, like it was mundane, like you were any other meaningless, unimportant, goddamned sinner.

He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it.

Faster and faster your form grew shape, and he realized that the big, heavy radio that was still in your arms - still pressed tightly to your chest - acted like an anchor, accelerating your plunge, threatening to shatter you into the hard, stony streets underneath, or worse: Through.

"Let go!", he hissed desperately to himself, pulling and yanking and gnashing and urging his shadows to work to their limit, whipping them into a speed that could break both, him and the damned radio, if need be, if you would just slow down and gain him a few more crucial seconds to get to you. The distance between you and him shrunk until your fall felt close, so close, too close, as though if you'd only be conscious to just reach out and outstretch a hand to him, his eldritch tendrils could grab it.

"Come on." His dark silhouette growled, partly manifesting and elongating himself more to maneuver around the last alley corner. "Almost... THERE!"

As a streak of blinding light, like a lightning bolt, and with the force of a crashing plane, you smashed into his solid, physical demonic form, as Alastor manifested into an extension of flesh and limbs right beneath your descending trajectory, and swallowed you right there in his arms before both of you hit the ground.

***

The void around you was dark. Quiet. Endless and expanding. You couldn't feel anything other than the feeling of nothingness surrounding you, floating but at the same time... not. No ground beneath, no sky above - you didn't even know when you hit the water. Was it even water anymore? Did it matter?

In the blindness, you registered the vanta black around you fading into white, bright and scorching. And that feeling you previously lacked bloomed to the front of your consciousness: Pain. Like a thousand needles poking out from every corner of your skull, making you yelp out and whimper. You shifted your body, or at least tried, only to cry out and curl up into yourself, clutching whatever the big and heavy thing was in your arms, tight as the muscles in your upper body convulsed, twitched and trembled at the burning pain. Where the hell were you?

"𝓦𝓮'𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮'𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻��.""

A voice made out of a thousand voices spoke, and it resonated from within you – amplified through every cell of your body, booming and mighty and utterly inhumane. You screamed out the pressure it put on your brain, cried as it felt as though something was pouring into you and flowing out all at once, burning, devouring and replacing every fiber, every strand of DNA. You writhed in agony, wanting to beg for whatever it was to stop, but you were in the hands of an infinite power above you, and so, all you could do was howl and weep.

"𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓲𝓵."

It was men and women and children, high and deep and loud and quiet and screams and whispers and it overwhelmed you to listen to it.

"𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵 𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷."

Your throbbing hands cramped around the object in your arms, nails scratching on the surface. Wood. Soft wood, warm beneath your fingertips.

"Alastor...", you sobbed through clenched teeth, memories slowly pushing through the pain to the front of your mind, clawing their way through the thick haze of the booming voice of the entity. "I want to go to Alastor..."

"𝓜𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭, 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮. 𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵."

"He's not..." A low moan spilled past your dry, bitten lips as another wave of excruciating pain crashed down your spine. Tears stained your cheeks as the radio in your arms felt heavier and heavier, dangerously close to slip from your grip.

"𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾."

The voice was patient, neutral, not showing any sign of rage or warmth or even condescension. It only held a commanding power, like a pull from gravity, unintentional, elemental, to give in, to accept, to repent. But you couldn't. Couldn't even if you tried. The tears that came to your eyes now weren't out of pain alone, but because you couldn't help the insurmountable longing to leave, to not be held back any longer.

"Alastor isn't evil or wicked...", your cracked voice whispered. "Not to me..."

"𝓓𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓭𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂, 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

Torture. It felt as though someone was physically digging through you with dull claws, sawing into your very soul, bending, ripping, breaking and rearranging, molding the picture you had of Alastor to a villain, a torturer, a destroyer, a greedy animal without reason, feasting upon human despair and wailing screams, wreaking havoc and taking lives laughing along the way as he rips fangs into flesh that looked like your own.

"That... isn't him.", you mouthed breathlessly, forcing yourself to focus. "You're a liar."

You fought to come back, with the sound of Alastor's smiling voice, molten with static and spoken with feeling. 'And I can most assure you... pretty is a well fitting word to describe you.'.

"Liar... liar... LIAR!"

The illusion the entity conjured around you began to shatter, as did the images it showed you, breaking and tearing away like rotten paper from the ones you wanted to hold on to... The hours and days and nights spent together, the long and entertaining conversations over meals, his teasing comments and your quick-wit responses, the little things that made his voice lift an octave and a tiny huff, which you learned over the weeks was him trying not to chuckle at your banter. The softness in his tune when he realized you were drifting into slumber. The way he called you his dove.

"𝓦𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

the entity said, though their tone had begun to waver, echoing withing the faint sound of breaking glass.

"𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭. 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓭."

You felt heat creeping up your legs, as if your skin was bubbling, burning and it was hard to speak, as the smell of cauterized flesh and blood filled your nose. Bones were shifting, limbs trembling and twisting as if they wanted to turn you inside out, skin color changing and fading into palish white, nails growing into slender blue talons, something rough and rigid sprouting from your back and shoulders. But you only tightened your arms around the radio, eyes pressed close and teeth grit together.

You've had enough.

"Fuck your lies, fuck your salvation and FUCK. YOUR. GOD."

Gravity returned in an instant, like someone cut a hole through space, the air and heat from your lungs gone as it ripped you from the strange white with unexpected violence – malevolence even - body flaying in the sudden wind of the descend.

Purple and red shades swirled before your eyes, wild strands of glittering golden hair fluttered in and out of your vision, barely recognizing them as your own. The heat of the air and the sight of a black pentagram on a red sun, sinking slowly beyond a tumbling horizon were the last things you noticed before unconsciousness reached mercifully out to claim you again.#

***

“Angel! Get Charlie over here, I found 'im!”

Husk stared down the crater, trying to wrap his head around the sight before him. His ears flicked as he heard Angel shouting something unintelligible to the girls, his footsteps quickly nearing the place where he stood.

“She's comin' in a sec, she and Vagina ran ova' to the maneater colony to get Rosie and... what in Satans left ballsack?!”

The spiders' eyes widened when he saw what Husk saw - Down the deep and wide cavity, right in the middle, was a twitching, faintly green glowing mass of tentacles and limbs. A distorted groan rumbled from below, thick and riddled with static feedback as Alastor's corrupted form slowly receded to normalcy – as normal as he was. He was lying on his back, curled around the motionless form of a naked female demon. Her legs were pulled up, a limp hand with short, teal talons pressed against the side of the radio demons wild, madly grinning face, while the other was trapped and hidden in between both bodies.

Both Angel and Husks hairs stood on ends at the sound he made, not daring to move or draw attention to themselves until Alastor had regained full consciousness and, most of all, reason back. The unknown sinner that was pressed against Alastor's chest had gray, crooked looking wings sprouting from her back, various shades of teal staining the ragged tips. Her skin was white, bordering on cream with some spruce and azure specks that traveled over her neck and shoulders. From where they stood they could see blonde locks tangled in Alastor's claws, shimmering in hell's twilight as if they were made out of real gold.

Angel gave his partner a nervous side glance, as if expecting him to say or do something. "Should we... holy mother of shitballs, this is so fucked up... umm... should we get them out of..."

"̷S̷̷ T̷̷ A̷̷ Y̷ ̷W̷̷ H̷̷ E̷̷ R̷̷ E̷ ̷Y̷̷ O̷̷ U̷ ̷A̷̷ R̷̷ E̷."

Husk had only heard Alastor's voice like this on a few occasions and those instances had almost always ended in bloodshed. He shook his head at Angel in a silent warning, gripping one of his wrists when the blackened pits of the radio demon found his, glaring at him with glowing crimson iris'. It sent a shiver down the cat's back, and Angel, feeling the tremble of his partner and sensing that this was a rare occasion where he should keep his usual, lewd remarks to himself, cleared his throat.

"I-Is a'ight Smiles, we're not movin'. Charlies' comin, and she's bringin' Rosie, so just... chill, okay? No one's gonna hurt y-your uh... girlfriend?" Angel forced himself to remain eye contact, swallowing against the growing lump in his throat.

Alastor didn't answer for a good minute or two, eyes shifting over Husks' grim, but wary face and Angels worried one, before looking back down, the flames of anger and fear dying as soon as his gaze fell on the woman cradled in his lap. Her pale, motionless face was partially hidden by her hair, but the features he recognized were much like the ones she had before she did the unthinkable. Her breathing was slow and shallow - but, above all, she was here, right here, next to him, unbroken from the fall, safe in his arms...

He brushed a few stray strands of her golden mane aside, watching closely as her chest barely heaved and fell, transfixed at the movement, the guarantee that she lived. He lifted one his hands to caress her cheek, the motion much more careful and tender than either Angel or Husk thought him capable of, wiping off tiny pieces of debris from the radio she had carried like a lifeline. It had been burst by the impact, splinters of mahogany wood and shards of metal wiring scattered around them both. The top of her left wing had suffered some damage, no doubt the result of the force of his grip as he caught her, little cuts and smears of dried blood covering her sides.

"My dove. My foolish, silly, lonely girl.", his strained voice breathed, his usual filter missing, as he turned her unresponsive face gently with the tip of his claw, hoping to see any indication that the girl that he had driven to the lengths of sheer, reckless stupidity was still here with him.

The sound of steps on the broken concrete made his head turn with a sickening crack. Alastor was now curled completely over you, his arms wrapped tightly around your figure, hiding your vulnerable and exposed body from view. Rosie had arrived alongside the princess and her partner, all of them short of breath and as shocked and confused as the other two demons to find the radio demon and a freshly fallen sinner, locked into an awkward embrace.

He watched her kneeling next to him, her expression was best described as compassionate curiosity. When he didn't move, didn't talk, didn't acknowledge her presence around him, his form only slightly moving to shield your motionless frame away, Rosie, ever the understanding and pragmatic lady she was, carefully reached over to him and set a gloved hand onto his shoulder in reassurance. Her razor sharp smile was soft as she held his blackened gaze for a heartbeat.

"Seems like I will meet your little dove after all, my dearest friend. But now, let's get you both somewhere safe."

***

You opened your eyes to red. All red. Everywhere red. Warm and bright and comforting.

A sensation tickled your head and nose, feathers, brushing the top of them with a barely there touch. You wanted to brush them away, but your arms felt heavy and warped and strange, unable to be lifted. Slow blinks put your eyes into focus, like the lens of a camera that was getting adjusted on it's intended shot.

You were looking at a red painted ceiling, and when you strained your aching head to tilt a little your eyes slowly wandered over luscious, ornate wallpaper in burgundy's and scarlet's, morbid looking horns and skulls mounted on the walls next to slightly askew, empty picture frames. A heavy, dark bookcase on your right was full of tattered tombs, books and magazines, small models of twisted looking skeletons and an old, vintage... radio...

Everything clicked back into place.

Alastor, gone.

The bridge, dark over the water.

The black and the white.

The voice and the pain and the lies and the fall...

Your breath hitched, and your heart started to pound faster and louder, thrumming violently in your ears as you fell into panic, eyes frantically forcing your body to move, to search, until you realized you were stuck underneath the weighted presence of a head that rested upon your sternum, tufts of soft black and red hair draped over your chest, slightly covering a face hidden away in the crook of your neck. A low, quiet hum of white noise came from the person the head belonged to, sitting at your bedside and upper body half-slumped over you... a sound resonating deep within you, stirring up all too familiar feelings.

He was still, but clearly breathing, and he hadn't moved even though your pulse must've skyrocketed. A raspy gasp of relief and astonishment escaped you. It had worked. You really had done it. And Alastor...

You started to sob, loud and violent, your chest burning and heavy, but not out of fear or panic anymore but the impact of a thousand feelings of pure happiness. The sounds woke the creature slumbering on your shoulder, his shoulders twitched, and you could see him lift his head to slowly look up, dark circles under his crimson eyes.

Your name rolled over this demons lips, not a word, no greeting, only a longingly whispered name, spoken with a broken, ragged, familiar voice. It made you finally cry, tears spilling from you uncontrollably, unable to stop, unable to think. You heard him call your name again, saw the widening grin of his mouth through watery eyes, his arm reaching out to brush your tear-stained cheek. He didn't manage to even fully extend his fingers when your shaking hands reached out to grab his lapels, pulling him into you so that you could finally touch him, feel him instead of just hearing him. Finally tangible, finally underneath your fingers as well as your skin.

"It's you... i-it's you right?", you stammered breathlessly, voice wrought with tears of happiness. "A-Alastor. I found you, I'm not dreaming, You're Alastor..."

"At your service, my dear...", Alastor shushed softly, one hand gently caressing your hair as you leaned into the warmth of the touch. His wide smile wavered for a moment, gaze shifting to something sad and mournful as he pulled himself away to look at you.

"But you shouldn't be here, my dove." He sighed, but as he looked back to you and saw the frightened, horrified expression on your face he shook his head, leaning his brow against your own, a gesture of assurance.

"I never intended for you to be here. You didn't deserve this death, and hell doesn't deserve you."

"H-Heaven can take a long walk off a short pier..." You tried to speak with a steady voice, but failed, as your whole body began to shudder in bubbling anger at the mere implication of this cursed entity. The one that claimed to be merciful salvation but had no problem with cruel manipulation. You blinked a couple of tears away, drawing a trembling breath, before meeting his tired eyes.

"I was... in some strange place. I was offered redemption, if I..."

You frowned, sitting up slowly, careful not to make him withdraw more, holding onto the sleeves of his jacket with stiff, aching hands.

"They wanted me to denounce you. If I renounced you they... would've let me enter heaven. When I didn't want to, when I said I wanted to go to you... They showed me things while hurting me. Horrible, disgusting lies."

Your breath quickened and the corners of your vision darkened, and you realized with a shuddering panic that you were close, way too close to breaking down into sobs again. Your claw-like nails dug into the material of his sleeve as you struggled to compose yourself, ripping tiny cuts into it. You took a deep breath, pushing through the memory, reliving it until...

Your shoulders shook. For a moment, you felt him shifting, as if he'd expected you to burst into tears again. Instead, you laughed. You laughed despite your chest hurt, and even harder when you saw his floored, surprised face.

"I basically told god to go fuck himself."

For a heartbeat or two, silence enveloped both of you. Alastor blinked once, then twice, the third time his grin fell slowly. Another beat later he buried his face in the crook of your neck and...

...the boisterous, unmuted laughter, roaring, insane cackling, so deep and resounding, you could feel it in your stomach, erupted from him. Alastor almost toppled over as he tore himself from you, raking a hand trough his hair as his head shook, a manic, wonderfully impish grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"You know I don't think you were honest with me about your name, dove. Your initial answer of 'crazy' seems much more fitting."

Alastor was laughing so hard, his whole body was trembling with the effort. You felt yourself giggle, then unrestrained laughing along, but it died in your throat when his lips found yours in a sudden swift moment. It was full of everything. Full of curiosity, of promises and hope, it was the saving grace you sacrificed heaven for. You smiled into it, moved your lips against his, gentle and chaste, before he pulled away too soon and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his warm, slow breathing against your cheeks.

"How fortunate for you that I work best with 'crazy'."

Your beaming smile slowly faded, your hands finding his face to make him look at you. There was one more weight you had to lift off.

"I'm sorry.", you whispered, closing your eyes. “I'm sorry for...”

"Don't be, dear. I was at fault, fearing our connection would... weaken me." He sighed. "You might not understand it right now, but I will tell you everything, once you're fully recovered. Can you wait for that?"

You nodded, a small, grateful curl forming on your lips. You opened your eyes to stare into his, crimson, bright and intense, and yet soft and affectionate. Eyes you always tried to envision, although nothing you imagined came close to the real thing.

"Do you... still think it?", you asked, voice shaking slightly.

Alastor hummed a questioning noise, prompting you to continue, which you did, after a second of hesitation. "Me, weakening you. Do you still think it?"

His quiet laughter resounded in your ears, filling you with warmth and making your heart skip a beat.

"My silly, darling dove. With the woman on my side who dared to throw curses at the face of our very creator - What could ever stop me now?"

And, as Alastor's smile grew wide, and your own mirrored it, you were claimed by red claws and a hot, eager mouth once again, kissed again by those soft, sinful lips, the lips of your friend, your savior, your love - the devil himself, whispering the answer to his question unspoken through your skin right into your heart.

Nothing could stop the both of you now.

Nothing at all.

Taglist for the most awsome people that walk the earth: @littledolly2345 @sleepywritersworld @crescentparadise @rapturenyx-blog @phisen @alastorsgirl48 @mullet-mother @sirens-and-moonflowers

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #rosie hazbin hotel #angst #fluff #happy ending because WE NEEDED IT #TW: dark themes #religious trauma #for the frauchen #I almost died writing this what even is sleep

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spookwyrdie · 5 months ago

Text

Sweet Spot {part 3}

{part 1}{part 2}{part 3}{part 4}{part 5}{part 6}

Baker Felix x Florist reader

summary: Before the ceremony, you unfortunately have to face your ex. Though with Felix there to back you up when Johnny starts being rude, there's a tension you haven't felt before. How will you survive watching your ex get married? // genre: fluff, angst, eventual smut // word count: 3.6k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes //a/n: if you're not on the taglist and would like to be, please reply to this post or send me an ask!🥰

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

I have only posted this here and on AO3 - user: spookwyrdie

Before doing anything else, you need to go take a very cold shower. For one, you need to scrub off all the plant matter currently staining your hands. Secondly, you need to douse this awful combination of anxiety and lust that’s been building up throughout the week. The idea of Johnny walking down the aisle has been simmering away in the back of your mind and the confusing fresh wave of desire for Felix has not been helping. When you try to untangle the thoughts from one another, it feels like trying to diffuse a bomb, not knowing which wire to cut.

There’s a part of you that feels bitter about Johnny, you two were together for so long, and he’s climbing that ladder of life faster than you. All the bragging that he’s done has seeped into you. In your more insecure moments, you think yourself jealous of him. It drives you mad, knowing how dead your relationship was by the time you pruned it, but all that time and effort lost on some mediocre shithead from your college years makes you feel like you’ve wasted your prime years. Johnny has an uncanny ability to suss out the parts of yourself that you’re least confident about and boast about his success in those areas.

When your floral business was just starting out, he made sure you knew how well he was doing with money. When he met Jenny, he paraded her around online and at social functions, telling anyone within earshot how he’s never loved anyone the way he loves her. He liked to go on and on about how he knew the very first time meeting her, he was going to marry her. They were just so compatible - mentally, emotionally, and physically. Every time you are hanging out at some brewery with your old friends and Johnny starts up, it takes all your effort not to scoff into your beer and roll your eyes. It’s not jealousy that you feel though, you just wish he would shut the fuck up about it sometimes.

When he had approached you to do the flowers for the wedding, he seemed surprised when you accepted.

“I promise, I’d love to do the florals for you and Jenny,” you said.

“Are you sure?” Johnny said, eyes full of pity. “Is the business doing okay? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to take on a project this big.”

“Business is booming, Johnny,” you gritted out. “I’ll even give you a nice discount, since we’re friends and all.”

“Okay, great!” he said. “Be prepared for Jenny though. She’s terrible at making decisions without my help.”

“I’ve worked with a lot of brides before, I know I can handle any changes she needs to make,” you reply coolly.

“Good to know,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You remember this exchange like it was yesterday. The way you had little half moons embedded in your palms from clenching your fists so hard comes to the forefront of the memory. There was something about how Johnny knew exactly what to say to get under your skin still made you angry.

Thinking back about this exchange while you soap up your body under the cold water of the shower, a little seed of conspiracy plants itself in your mind. Did Johnny encourage the massive switch up of aesthetics at the last minute? Jenny seemed so eager about the previous plan of classic, timeless flowers that the switch to bohemian felt really out of left field, especially so close to the wedding date. It was also a little rash and stupid of you to offer him such a huge discount. Minho and Chan were right, you had to make sure all your extra work was paid for properly.

The Felix problem was an entirely different can of worms. This crush you’ve been nursing for years now had fuel added to the fire, all because of a silly dream you had. Granted, it was an incredibly hot dream, you feel goosebumps raise on your skin, and not just from the frigid temperature of your shower. If anything, the icy water was keeping you grounded, not getting swept away by your desire again.

Were you ovulating or something? Why was this hitting you so hard, especially now? Nothing had changed between you and Felix, you just seemed to notice more. He’s been extraordinarily kind, really going out of his way to take care of you. It helps, since both of you work within the wedding industry, to have someone to confide in so closely. The last few months, you’ve seen him more often than not, like an extremely reliable dinner buddy. You realize Felix is a huge reason you haven’t felt as lonely in the past year.

His offer to be your plus one had you reeling. As you step out of the shower, you remember how he urged you to call him your boyfriend while you were here.

“It feels real when you can attach a label to it like that,” he had said. He was right. You knew, beyond a doubt, that your ex would take what you said more seriously if you had “evidence” that you were doing well. It was petty, immature, and not something you should entertain. . . but you wanted to feel an ounce of victory against your ex. You were going to that wedding to show up and show off. It didn’t hurt that you also secretly craved to indulge the fantasy of being with Felix like that, even if just for a night.

Toweling off your body, the dream-hazed feeling of his hands on your hips rocket through you again. It’s not that Felix wasn’t touchy, he was one of your more physically affectionate friends. But that was just the way he acted with everyone, always hugging, touching, soothing, you internally scolded yourself for getting swept away by his antics. There was something about Dream Felix’s hands that felt burned into your skin. Rubbing your face, you try and shake the image - you have shit to do, there’s a wedding you need to get ready for.

You pull your dress out of the garment bag, a pastel pink, slinky number, ruched in just the right way to accentuate the curve of your hips. The length is just modest enough to pass for a wedding, but stops right above your knee. You have your favorite pair of strappy, white fuck-me heels to go along with it. You make sure your lips look plumped, your eyes look sharp and bedroom-y, and your hair looks fashionably mussed and loosely pinned back. The goal is to look like you didn’t put in too much effort while still standing out from the crowd.

You’re futzing with an earring clasp when you hear a knock at the door. Felix stands in the doorway when you answer, whatever greeting he was about to say dying on his lips when he sees you. His jaw slackens as he stares, drinking you in. You’re in a similar position, enthralled by his appearance. His hair is half swept back, tendrils of his cool toned blonde trailing resting against his shoulders. His suit jacket is a pale blue offset by his light beige dress pants. His attention to detail is insane with his white shirt with small detailed flowers embroidered into it and a silver blue embroidered tie to match. The undertones of the suit complement his honey tanned skin so well. His freckles nearly glitter on his face. He looks good, as if he just walked off the runway. You’re not sure how much time passes as the two of you gawk at the other, before you shake yourself out of it.

“Lix! Come on in!” you nearly shout, unable to control the volume of your voice.

“Wow, Y/n…” he murmurs as he steps inside the hotel room. “You look…”

“It’s a bit much, I know,” you interrupt him. You don’t think you can handle whatever he was about to say, good or bad. “But I wanted to show off a little at the wedding.”

“That won’t be an issue at all, I promise,” he says as his gaze traces your form again. His eyes darken for a moment, lost in some sort of intense thought, before he snaps out of it. Looking up at you with a bright smile on his face, he does a little spin to show off his outfit. “Told you I clean up real good, didn’t I?”

“Understatement of the century,” you mutter, your skin flushing. You can’t help but trail your eyes up from his shoes to his face. “Oh! I have something for you!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” you walk over to the small fridge in your shared room. Inside is a plastic takeout container, slight condensation covering the inside. “Well, technically I have something for both of us.”

You pop open the container to reveal a corsage and a boutonniere, a combination of lilac, lavender and mint. Picking up the boutonniere, you beckon Felix over. “This goes on your suit and I have one that matches.”

“Ooh, matchy matchy!” he lilts.

You playfully smack his shoulder and laugh. “Yes, matchy matchy.”

He stands close to you, the toes of your shoes nearly touching, as you pin the flowers on to his lapel. You smooth your hand over the fabric of his jacket before looking up at him. He’s got that same adoring look in his eyes as he looks down at you. You feel yourself flush again, that cold shower’s calming effect has fully worn off now that you’re back in the warm glowing spotlight Felix seems to put on you. Bashfully, you look away and your eyes catch the clock on the bedside table.

“Oh! I need to get down to the dressing rooms with the wedding party’s flowers!”

You’re already power walking out of your room when you hear Felix trail behind you, “I’ll come help.”

You sneak into the bridal dressing room with a few boxes while the girls are still in pre-wedding prep. There’s a lot of movement all orbiting Jenny. When she sees you, she smiles and beckons you over. Felix hangs back, hovering by the entrance, not wanting to disturb the tittering over the bouquets.

The bridesmaids love the flowers, each getting their own mini version of Jenny’s big bouquet, slightly unique in arrangement and color. You also reveal the corsages that they’ll be able to wear at the reception, also matching the bohemian theme. The din of chatter rises again in the room. Jenny sees Felix at the door and waves, smiling at him like they were old friends. She catches your eye and winks.

The bridal drop off was simple. The groomsmen drop off fills you with dread. While walking the boxes of boutonnieres over to the men’s dressing room, you feel your stomach do a few flips. Felix gives you a reassuring smile and waits in the doorway yet again. As you enter, you hear the cheerful, familiar voices of Peter and Bobby calling you over.

“Y/n! We wondered where you were,” Bobby says.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Peter says. “It’s been ages. I’ve never seen you grace our presence in anything but sneakers!”

“Hey guys,” you grin at the boys. These two chucklefucks have been your friends since the first week of college when you found yourself in an ice breaker circle during orientation. They were the two who introduced you to Johnny incidentally during a chaotic game of Edward 40-hands. Johnny had helped you drag them back to their dorm when they were three sheets to the wind. “Lovely to see you two looking like you’ve showered for once.”

“Hey now, don’t go complimenting us too hard,” Peter smiles with a big wide gummy smile. “Whatcha got there?”

At that moment, Johnny appears, giving you a flat mouthed smile. He looks slicked back and shiny, his cheeks a little too pink to seem suave. He looks a little wary seeing you all dressed up. With your heels on, you are at eye level with him and you know that he isn’t a fan of that.

“I came to pin on your flowers so you all match for the ceremony.”

You start pinning on the little bundles of flowers one by one. Johnny is last in the rotation, his boutonniere a little more complex than the groomsmen. You both stand in awkward silence for a moment, safety pin stuck between your teeth, as you maneuver the wrapping of his flowers.

“So…who’s the blonde?”

“Hmm?”

“Who’s the blonde dude hovering at the door?”

You turn your head, and make direct eye contact with Felix. He’s got a cool smile plastered on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. The way the afternoon sun is hitting him makes him radiate though. Somehow he seems to bring his own sparkle with him everywhere he goes, like he can’t help but capture the attention of everyone surrounding him. You watch as he presses his tongue against the side of cheek as he looks at the two of you across the room.

“That’s Felix. He’s my…boyfriend,” the word feels strange in your mouth.

You see the muscle in Johnny’s jaw twitch as he mulls that over. “I thought you were bringing your sister.”

“Nope, you just assumed I was bringing her,” you say, your voice clipped. “Remember? You thought I was having trouble in the ‘dating department’?”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“A few months now.”

“Hmm,” he grunts out, eyes still on Felix. “Isn’t he kind of… too pretty for you?”

“Excuse me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, isn’t he a little…” Johnny raises his hand to make a limp wrist gesture.

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Johnny.”

“Oh, don’t get all offended on me. You know what I mean! He looks like a fairy,” Johnny whispers, too loudly. Everyone in the room goes quiet.

“Why are you being so fucking rude?” you feel the heat of anger roll through you, color rising in your cheeks.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised you’re into guys like that,” he sniffs, looking away. “Are you sure he’s into you?”

“Fuck you,” your voice bites out, adrenaline pumping through you.

Bobby comes up and claps Johnny a little too hard on the shoulder, forcing out a laugh. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying! He’s probably just hungover from the stag last night. You know how alcohol turns him into a little bitch.”

“Yeah,” Johnny mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Whatever,” you say, turning on your heel. “See you out there.”

You stomp over to the door where Felix is standing. As you approach, he holds out his hand for you to take. Unshed tears burn in your eyes, but you’re too mad to cry. Felix walks one step ahead of you, pulling you gently to a secluded corner near the lobby.

“Y/n, you okay?” he leans down, concern painting his features. You’re breathing hard, trying to calm yourself down but it feels like there’s a swarm of bees under your ribs.

“Breathe.” Felix says as he pulls you into his arms. He hugs you tight and takes some deep breaths in a slow, soothing pattern. You don’t realize you’re shaking with anger until you’re pressed up against his chest, but you begin to relax in his embrace. He pulls back a bit when he feels your forehead slump onto his shoulder, giving you a reassuring pat on the back.

“What he said doesn’t matter, I promise,” Felix says, his deep voice rumbling through you, close to your ear. “It’s hard to insult someone when you’re calling them pretty.”

You chuckle, looking up at him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Ehh, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he says. “He was insane to think that I wouldn’t be into you.”

“Yeah, my fake boyfriend has to be into me,” you chuckle. You feel much calmer now. “It’s like, the main reason you’re here.”

Felix gives you an inquisitive look, like the combination of a frown and smile, before shaking his head. “Yeah sure, fake boyfriend.”

You take one last deep breath to ground yourself.

“Alright, let’s go find our seats.”

You’re no stranger to weddings. The families and friends shuffle in, light piano music playing in the background while everyone decides whether they want to sit on the bride or groom’s side. You hear a few hushed conversations about how lovely the florals are and secretly beam with pride.

Felix drags you to a pair of seats on the bride’s side in the back row. He’s sitting close to the aisle side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to his side. The small circles he’s rubbing into your shoulder are meant to be soothing, but you feel some of that ache blooming in your chest again. This is what it would feel like to really be with him.

Johnny files in, taking his places in front of the round floral arch you put together. You avoid Johnny’s eyes at all costs, not wanting to scowl the entire ceremony. Jenny doesn’t deserve that. Felix, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep his eyes off Johnny. If looks could kill, Jenny would be a widow before she even got married.

The swell of the wedding music starts up as the bridesmaids line up. Everyone stands, Felix taking your hand in his once again. You watch as a few of the bridesmaids do a double take at him, raking over his outfit briefly. One of them fully gawks at him for a moment before she remembers where she is. Your eyes are focused on the flowers, watching how they compliment the outfits and how they blend with the rest of the styling.

The piano switches to a slower version of “Here Comes the Bride,” which feels strangely traditional with all the bohemian decor. Nonetheless, Jenny, arm in arm with her father, slowly marches down the aisle. Her gown is soft and flowy, her hair long, her veil made in the style of macrame. It matches perfectly with the bouquet you created for her, you beam with pride. You find yourself smiling and leaning into Felix’s shoulder. He turns to you, fully looking away from the bride, looking at you with a soft expression. Your focus is on the bouquet as Jenny steps up to the front. The ceremony begins when the officiant gestures for everyone to be seated.

Felix grasps your hand, lacing your fingers together, as you sit. He runs his thumb over your knuckles tenderly as he watches. Your other hand finds his bicep as you lean into him. He grins and subtly flexes for you. While Felix is focused on the couple at the front, his hand slips out of yours gently. For a moment, you’re filled with disappointment, until he shifts to grab your leg, fingers dancing along your knee. The room fades into the background, now all you care about is the way his fingers feel against your skin.

The voice of the officiant drones on. Felix’s eyes still firmly face forward as he caresses down your thigh, the hem of your dress riding up an inch or two under his grasp. You look down, watching in awe at the light ministrations, the pads of his fingers tracing little heart patterns on the inside of your knee. The sensation makes your heart flutter and the sensitive skin under Felix’s hand buzzes in anticipation.

You glance up at him to find his eyes still trained on the exchanging of vows. He looks stoic, almost as if the way he’s touching you is a mindless activity. Maybe it is, maybe you’re getting carried away, awash in the building arousal. You try to remind yourself that this is fake, he’s doing this to help you put on a show for others, to rub it in Johnny’s face a little. Felix is a master at the act if he’s able to get you to believe, even if just for a second, that he returns your feelings. Your heart sinks as you think of your own little delusion that he could feel the same about you.

He looks down at you then, head leaned into his shoulder, both hands grasping at his arm. Whatever look you give him must spur him on, this time he lightly drags his nails up your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, arousal pooling in your belly. Your knees lurch closed, trapping his hand between your thighs. He smiles at you again, this time flashing his teeth, the tip of his tongue tapping at the point of one of his canines. Your legs shudder slightly and you whine, so low only he can hear it. He delicately slides his hand out from between your thighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders again.

The noise of the room kicks up again, everyone clapping while “The Wedding March” plays on the piano. You stand on shaky legs next to Felix. As Johnny and Jenny come down the aisle, Felix pulls you to him and presses a kiss to your temple, making direct eye contact with your ex. Your eyes flutter at the possessive kiss, realizing that you hadn’t imagined Felix’s lips in the same spot the other night as you drifted off. As your mind spins, you miss the way Johnny sneers at Felix, disdain dripping in his gaze.

As the rest of the wedding guests file out of the room behind the couple, Felix grabs your hand and drags you out, trailing behind everyone. Heading towards the reception, he brings your hand to his mouth, giving it a quick peck. He looks at you, his eyes glinting with mirth, as he says, “Come on, let’s go try the cake.”

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