#i love when peeps give them multiple eyes its so fun
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sneeb-canons · 1 year ago
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Heart has 3 eyes, the third eye is right below his right eye and is smaller than the other two
Headcanon #123
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nctsplug02 · 2 years ago
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Can you give us Jen when she actually fired because Jaehyun caught teaching her Hannie calling her mommy, and also Jaehyun caught her multiple times when she talking bad about his wifey?
[5:02pm]
genre: fluff and angst for jen again.
warnings: jen gets fired.
before reading! i know some of you guys are gonna ask if this is the end of my jen the babysitter series and no. it’s not the end. i love writing for jen the babysitter so do not think this is the end because there will be more posts of jen the babysitter and there will be more opportunities for you guys to request for jen the babysitter.
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jaehyun had a ten minute break from his meeting online so, he decided to get up and use a bathroom— possibly find you for a quick quickie.
jaehyun begins to roll his white long sleeves up as he stalks out his office. he passes hannies playroom and takes a slight peek in to see jen playing with hannie. he grins softly until hearing what jen had commanded. jaehyun took two steps back and took another peep in the crack.
“..hannie, look at me,” she holds the baby up and follows as the baby tilts its head around. “now say, mama.” jen cooed only for hannie to fuss.
“no no, be a good girl and call me, mama.” jen frowns in an upset way as hannie jumps around. “i think you need a nap, hm, sweet girl?” jen lifts themselves off the ground and turns to see jaehyun.
“oh, my— mr jeong, you scared me.” she gasps, clutching the baby to her chest.
jaehyun clears his throat, slightly kicking the door open. “sorry, jen. i was just, looking for mrs jeong.” he presses his lips into a thin line. “oh, she’s in the laundry room right now.” jaehyun nods and leaves to go find you.
the basement is where he finds you. folding clothes over the machines while dancing to some music that played on your speaker.
“— should i call first? i cant deny— ahh!” you scream after turning around and seeing jaehyun leaning against the door frame just admiring you. “asshole!” you say flapping the folded towel— which caused it to unfold.
“such a cutie.” he squeals while running up to you and swooping you into his arms. “put me down, asshole! i’m mad at you— you scared me!” he sits you on the dryer which was shaking slightly frantically.
“ooohhh— get me off t—this.” jaehyun pushes your hips down more. the vibration sending pleasure onto your clit. “aww,” he mewls in a teasing way. “but isn’t this fun?” you whine, pushing at his hands and attempting to slide off.
“not happening, gorgeous.” he smirks, softly chuckling at your squirming figure.
“look, i have,” he looks down at his watch and then back up at you. “about six minutes to make you cum. let’s spend it wisely.” he pushes your upper body up and yanks on your shorts.
your body shakes and jerks forward when jaehyun slips his two slender fingers into your pussy. a moan is earned from you as the shaking vibration and his fingers moving inside you causes a painful pleasure.
“let’s talk, yeah?” he asks with his fingers buried inside you. you nod which he tuts at. “say yes, baby.” you mewl, tossing your head back. “y—yes!” you grunt out, attempting to hold your legs open.
“good girl,” he says, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “god— asshole.” you whimper, arms wobbling.
“i seriously think we need to fire jen.” you groan. the mention of another womens name in bed just brought discomfort. “jae, i r—really don’t wanna t—talk about another women while w—we’re, we’re doing th—this.” you shake out.
“no, baby. listen. we need to fire her.” you sigh, scrunching up your face. “w—why?” you question, closing your legs on jaehyuns arms. “she was telling hannie to call her mama.”
you lift your eyes up to him quickly. “she what—?!” you couldn’t even finish your sentence until your orgasm interrupted you.
“f—fuck,” you shivered, moaning desperately and attempting to control your shaking legs. “god,” you gasp, grabbing jaehyuns arm and digging your nails into his arm.
jaehyun grins, pulling his fingers out and splitting them to see your strings of cum. jaehyun holds his eye contact with you as he plops his fingers in his mouth with a groan. your sweet juice taking over his tastebuds.
you let out a shaky breath. “s—she’s fired.” you huff out. “yes, she is.” he licks his fingers clean before placing a passionate kiss on your lips. “i’ve got about thirty seconds to get back to my meeting so, i love you and we’ll fire jen later.” he says before pressing another kiss on your lips and leaving.
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all that ran through your mind was what jaehyun had told you.
“she was telling hannie to call her mama.”
you slammed the blade onto the zucchini causing it to collapse into two. “mrs jeong, are you alright?” jen places a hand on your shoulder making you jump.
“jen,” you heave, placing the knife down on the cutting board. “mrs jeong, is something on your mind?” you suck your cheeks in.
“jen,” you turn around. “you’re fired.”
“what?!”
hannie giggles from the dining room as she kicks her feet around and flings her sippy cup off her tray. “bye bye,” you hear hannie say with a giggle following.
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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years ago
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Do you write yandere? If so, can I request skz yandere headcanons on how they would react when S/O rejects them because she doesn't wanna deal with whole drama that would come with dating an idol?
i mean kinda?? i have a seungmin yandere fic in my drafts sooo BUT YEAH
oh also, requests are not open but im just gonna do this one cause headcanons are kinda fun BUT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED <33
also why is the felix one so short-
Warnings; yandere!skz, rejection, k-dnapping, slight gaslightning or like manipulation, restraints, threats, aggression, mentions of masturbation, stockholm syndrome
Chan
nobody rejects him. nobody.
you two were friends from school and you were sooo happy when chan made it as an idol, finally persuing the dream he had been yapping on about for years. 
but in the midst of that he realized that he had feelings for you, he missed you all the time, just wanting to hang out with you and maybe explore the things he had on his mind. so,, he decided to confess when you guys were at a cafe.
“look y/n,,, there’s something I wanna tell you” he started to which you tilted your head
“nooo,,, are you guys going on a tour again,,, i wil miss you sooo much channie” you said with a pout but the boy shook his head.
“i like you y/n” 
your mouth stood agape, this was not what you expected and truthfully,,, not what you wanted. 
“chan,,, y-you know thats not possible” you said with a frown, looking at him straight ahead.
“of course it is,,, why wouldn’t it be? w-what are you trying to say y/n?!” his voice started growing louder, you looking around in order to see that people werent turning their heads towards your table. 
Minho
you have made a big big mistake my friend- 
wont even hesitate to keep you hostage in his basement LIKE IM NOT JOKING-
might just tie you up and like,,, not even do anything to you, just talk to you and admire you, maybe tracing your facial features and cuddle closer on the cold floor
just wants to keep you as a pet or smth and you are scared out of your mind cause you cant move cause of the restraints, you cant speak because you have silvertape across your lips that he only removes to feed you but if you start screaming you wont get any so you deicde to just stay calm and quiet before someone saves you and play along. 
i mean you do,,, kinda fall for him but you know you cant,, but you cant help but to fall for him and miss him whenever he’s out on schedule things
he always returns to you and you get so happy when you see the little crevice of light from outside when he opened the basement door
whenever he lies next to you, you put your head against his shoulder and take in his scent the best you can
he told you everyday that he would let you go if you agreed to date him but you shook your head,, maybe cause you liked being his prey. 
Changbin
he’s more of the threatening type of yandere,,, like,, not that he’s violent but if you try to block his number he will create new ones and keep on sending you messages about how you have betrayed him and how he wished that you loved him back and all that,,,,
you guys often meet because you go to the same college and are students in the same department sooo,,,, avoiding him is pretty impossible 
he stares a lot at you,,, you guys have a couple of classes together and he just stares the entire time, his eyes are just filled with revenge, he somehow wants you make you his, own you but he doesnt know how yet, for now he can just look.
watch this fucking message conversation just be this;
[why did you talk to him during class?]
[you could have just asked me]
[nobody loves you like i do. no one y/n]
you are never getting rid of him basically,,
he’s gonna get to you first ;))
Hyunjin
i feel like he goes more to the stalking route than the kidnapping and drugging and whatnot- 
ok,,, you rejected him,,, but that doesnt mean you’re getting rid of him.
ohmygod what if he turns into a peeping tom- cause he obviously knows where you live. 
like yall were not even that close?? he just saw you backstage at one of the concerts and thought you looked good so he decided to go up to, you werent an idol so no problem he thought.
but he gets a bit too,, hasty with his decisions and often falls for people randomly and so when he politely greeted you and gave you his number you simply shook your head, explaining that this wouldn’t be possible since you worked in the same industry and you needed to stay clear out of any scandals in order to keep your job. 
no was not answer in Hyunjins mind. 
luckily he managed to catch your full name by flickering through some papers in an office and also saw your full adress there, knowing exactly what he was going to do on his free time. 
Jisung
if im being completely honest,,, i have no idea-
like,,, he gives me kinda pervy yandere vibes,,,
what if youre like his ex before he became an idol and now he wants to get back together with you-
oh,,, he masturbates to your pictures-
i feel like he always thinks about you, wondering what you like and wants to write songs about you but he doesnt do much-
but when he finds out that you have been hired by the same company as him to work as a like,,, economics accountant thingy he is all of a sudden vEEERY interested-
always asking the manager of when the group will have meetings with the accounting team,,, although they had nothing to do with them-
he just wanted to be in a conference room with you (and think pervy things about you in your tight office skirt and white blouse)
you went to the toilet on day and you saw him lurking around the same floor,,, WHICH ONCE AGAIN WAS NOT CONNECTED TO THE GROUP AT ALL- 
and idk,,, probably sneaks in with you and locks the door before you even react that theres someone else in the toilet- 
i feel like he’s pretty mild,,, but when he’s alone with you he is aggressive broooo
probably pins you to the wall and threatens you or smth along those lines,,,,,
(writing this is what my life has become to-)
Felix
“what do you think you’re doing?”
you turn around again, you had just thought of just leaving with a vague answer to his question but he was not having it. 
“answer.” 
his words sounded cold, his dark voice making an entrace, the exact one you’ve heard on many of the songs you listened to.
“felix,,, you have to understand,,, u-um,, if we date theres gonna be some issues” you said but he just stared at you with cocky eyebrows and a dark gaze, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.
“do you think i care? would i ask you if i cared?” he said to which you shook your head automatically, what more could you do?
“you get until tomorrow to think and if i don’t get the answer i want well,,, we’ll see what i’ll do to you.”
Seungmin
he plots shit behind your back yk?
he’s more of the sneaky type of yanderes (oop spoiler to a fic heh)
like he makes this like fucking year long plan where the objective of the mission is to make you obssessed with him-
he starts kinda subtely,,, first its going to the same gym as you and like,,, knowing where you placed your stuff
and then he starts putting small notes like under your waterbottle when you went to grab something that say like “i think youre cute, call me” and then his number
you obviously dont react,,, because why the fuck would you contact a stranger at the gym 
BUT THEN you realize that its him, its mf kim seungmin. yo,,,, u didnt know he went to this gym,,, that was not,,, the best-
of course you got a bit interested,,, you wanted to know how he was off camera,,, like just in his everyday life and i meeean,,, he was attractive but obviously you should stay away bc,,, he’s a celebrity but seungmin didnt want to stay away
he notes somehow started to get more aggressive,,, suddenly being like “why are you ignoring me?” and such,,,
and one night you were left alone in the gym with him,,, it was sooo quiet, only the sounds of your strained breaths as you lifted a dumbell
here where the plan came to play ;))
Jeongin
he’s obsessed with you and you are not going anywhere, even if you rejected him. 
he’s more clingy?? LIKE HE WILL NOT LEAVE YOU
ok sure,, he falls more into the stalking category too,,, 
also veeeery much a obssessed kinda yandere,,, like his mind is not thinking about how to like capture you,,, more about how to make you soooo comfortable and fool you into loving him despite the circumstances?
i just imagine that you work in a cafe and jeongin often meets you there when he buys coffee and you are already in awe when you see fucking yang jeongin enter the coffee shop on your shift but you were even more excited when he leaves his phone number on a napkin and slides it over the counter before leaving. 
you thought about it,,, contemplating multiple times but,,, you decided it would be best not to since well,,, safety purposes 
but he would visit you and every day his face got more and more perplexed cause he wondered why you didnt call
mf would not leave you alone, he would even wait outside the coffee shop until you finished your shift and walk you home,,, so now he knew where you lived- 
and then do the same thing over and over again until you talked to him.
does. not. give. up. 
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pradaksj · 4 years ago
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Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored (m.)
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♤ pairing: jungkook/reader
♤ genre: 1920′s au, burlesque/clubsinger!reader, infidelity au , angst, smut.
♤ rating: mature
♤ word count: 17,000+
♤ warnings: infidelity/affair [plays a big role in story so please do not read if the topic makes you feel uncomfortable, hint: y/n is not the one getting cheated on LOL], A LOT of angst lol the smut is just an add on to the story basically, explicit language, cigar smoking, degradation, pet names, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (2), dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, sub!reader, teasing dom!jungkook, slight dry humping, mirror sex, fingering, hair pulling, cockwarming, marking, edging, nipple/breast worship, pussy eating, spanking, light choking, possession kink.
♤ summary: Once you were on that stage you were someone completely different, the manifestation of someone’s secret desire, becoming whatever image had of you in their head. Some days you were the innocent girl next door, other days the good girl gone wild, but the days he came you became what you had been for the past year, the other woman.
━ ❝  You got me some type of way, ain’t used to feelin’ this way. I do not know what to say, but I know I shouldn’t think about it. Took one fuckin’ look at your face, now I wanna know how you taste… You can say I’m hatin’ if you want to, but I only hate on her 'cause I want you. .❞
♤ thank u next series masterlist
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♤ author’s note: i got the idea to make this story 20’s themed after rewatching 2 Chainz ft Ariana Grande’s which you can watch ☞ here, while the storyline itself is loosely inspired by her song break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored. You can also reference this video ☞ here to see what I reference in terms of style when I say burlesque dancer and what y/n and her coworkers encapsulate because I personally hate the flapper era style LOL, i’m more of a hollywood glam person, so finding this video was a godsend.  
Also fun fact, the Hollywood sign was originally built reading “Hollywoodland” in 1923, which is why it’s referred to as that in this story, it wasn’t until 1949 that “land” was removed. and because i’m setting this story in the mid to late 1920’s, Hollywood is barely establishing its reputation as the land of dreams and heartbreak & alcohol was illegal in the 20’s which is why i refer to Joon’s job as “illegal” lol .
comment, send an anon, like, reblog, and most importantly enjoy! 🤍 
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“She’s the girl of your dreams, the sugar to your spice, give a warm welcome to Miss Lola de Ville,” Al’s voice booms across the club. Peeping your head out the curtains, you try your best not to be seen as you scan the audience, until finally you spot what you’re looking for. Immediately you feel your heart skip a beat.
Quickly giddying your way back to Mina’s dressing room, you could feel the anticipation and joy bubbling in your stomach, “He’s here tonight,” you sing, leaning against her door frame, watching her as she did her makeup.
She’s quick to roll her eyes, “Oh when isn’t he,” she says, fixing her lipstick, “he sure does awfully love your performances it seems,” a blush appears on your cheeks, “Is she with him tonight?” she queries, you quietly nod your head no. “And what song are you performing tonight little miss Y/N?” she asks, changing the topic once she sees your face of uncomfort.  
Immediately your eyes light up, “Al’s been playing these songs by some man named Louis Armstrong on the record player all week, and oh how I love his voice, and the lyrics he sings!” you gush.
“Oh tell me about it, he’s going to have to buy himself another vinyl if he keeps playing it the amount of times he does already, it’ll be all scratched up by the end of the week,” she pessimistically says, causing you to shrug. It wasn’t like Al didn’t have the money to buy as many as he’d like, this club of his was bringing him bank.  
“God am I ready to go home,” she complains, taking off the shiny silver ring on her left ring finger and placing it in its case, as men didn’t like giving tips to a woman with a ring on stage.
“How’s the wedding planning going along?” you ask, Mina lets out a dramatic sigh in response.
“Oh you know Joon, he doesn’t like the whole planning aspect of it, so most of it has been in my hands,” she chuckles, “but I know he’s excited, he’s just as much of a romantic as me.”
Namjoon, Mina’s long time fiancé, was not only the illegal bartender of the club you two worked in, but a long time friend of yours, the two of you going back long before he had ever met Mina. In fact it was he who got you this job to begin with, something you’d forever be in his debt for.
Namjoon of course didn’t mind that Mina had to take off her ring because he not only trusted, but respected Mina’s job. Honestly it would’ve been hypocritical for him to be anything but supportive, considering he met her here when he first started working at the club a couple of years ago. At the end of the day he was secure about his relationship, and the person she was coming home to after a night of performing was him and only him.
“Y/N what are you doing here, you go on in five!” a voice interrupts, you turn to see Al with his hands on his hips in a dramatized fashion.
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be out there right now,” you gulp, grabbing some perfume from Mina’s desk and quickly spritzing it on yourself., “How do I look?” you ask.
“You look good as always,” Mina reassures, despite only glancing at you for no less than a second, “hey and once you’re done tell Joon to have a cocktail ready for me by the time I’m done performing,” you nod, making your way out to the main stage.
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“She’s got a voice sent from the heavens above, almost as smooth as a Friday’s glass of whiskey, she can sing, she can dance, she can act, she’s a triple threat of course! And to add to it all, she’s got the face of a doll, give a warm welcome for little miss y/n!”
Slowly, the curtains are pulled open, as you signal to the jazz band to start, another day, another dollar to make. You hear the cheers of men as you slowly take off your fur-made shoulder wrap, teasing the audience in what was hidden underneath. With every holler your ego only grows, knowing that all eyes were on you, including his.
Glancing in his direction, you find him staring at you in the same concentrated, sultry gaze he always did, purposely pouting your lips as you sang. You knew the power you held, the effect you had on those around you. Once you were on that stage you were someone completely different, the manifestation of someone’s secret desire, becoming whatever image they wanted you to be in their head, a figment of their imagination come to life so to speak.
Some days you were the innocent girl next door, other days the good girl gone wild, but the days he came you became what you had been for the past year, the other woman.
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Unstrapping the leather of your heel, your feet immediately feel relief, as you kick off the black t-strap heels you had been wearing all night under your vanity desk. Though you loved wearing heels, the constant foot blisters caused by the cheap leather were definitely a downside.
Making yourself comfortable in your seat, you dump out the money from your tip jar, a smile appearing on your lips as you noticed the twenty dollar bill in the pile. Eagerly you grab it, excitedly crisping the sturdy green bill.
“They must've really liked that performance today,” a voice whispers to your ear from behind, catching you by surprise. You were used to him making a knock of some sort. Immediately you feel the tingle of goosebumps now prickling onto your skin, the giddy feeling in your stomach never getting old.
Slowly, he begins to give small pecks on your neck, every kiss lingering longer than the last. His lips then begin to softly suckle on your neck, causing you to push your head back in pleasure.
“Jungkook,” you complain, knowing exactly what he was doing.
“Too bad that tip wasn’t from me,” he shades, clear annoyance coming from his tone. In your distracted state, he snatches the bill from your hands, causing you to immediately get up from your seat in an effort to get it back.
“Hey,” you childishly groan, trying to reach his arm which was now lifted in the air. Seeing that there was no use in trying, you give up. He then relaxes his arm, and begins to inspect the bill, your eyebrow raising at his action.
“What are you—”
He scoffs, rolls his eyes, and suddenly rips the bill into shreds. Eyes widening in shock, you  place a hand over your mouth. But as quick as the shock came, it was replaced by anger even quicker, “What the hell is wrong with you!” you shout, eyebrows now furrowed.
“It was a counterfeit, a fake,” he reiterates, leaving you slightly taken aback, but you try your best not to give a reaction.
“And,” you stutter, “And how are you so sure about that, huh?” you cross your arms, still upset at how sudden his actions were.
“Because this,” he pulls out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket, “is a real one,” he attempts to hand the bill to you, but is met with resistance on your side.
Pushing his hand away, you scowl, “I don’t want your money, I’ve told you that already,” you huff, feeling a slight tug at your heartstrings, your ego now bruised at both the fact that the bill was fake and that Jungkook felt compelled to replace it for you.
He hugs you from behind, rocking both you and him back and forth, “I know, I know,” he chuckles, “but seeing the way those men kept looking at you,” he pauses, now scowling, “I guess you can say I don’t like what’s mine being spoiled by others,” he ponders causing you to roll your eyes, still in his embrace nonetheless.
“It’s my job,” you jest, “not like I’m sleeping with them,” you shade, a sly smirk now on your face, as you feel his hardened member now rubbing against your ass, a clear sign that you weren’t the only feeling aroused.
“Feisty, huh?” he laughs, his right hand from behind slowly making its way around your neck, softly gripping your smooth skin. Soon enough, he begins to kiss you, your lips parting to let his tongue slowly go down further, the grip on your neck becoming tighter as the kiss deepens.
With his other free hand, he maneuvers under your robe, teasingly grazing over your thigh, almost as if waiting for the green light, “Just say the words,” he whispers into your ear, his fingers now tugging at the hem of your robe.
Without saying anything, you begin to untie it, the silk material dropping to the floor in a matter of seconds, now only in your bra and underwear, you whisper in return, “Fuck me,” and with that he’s quick to release the grip on your neck, turning you to face him. His kisses become sloppy as he signals for you to jump.
Now holding you up by the thighs, you link your arms around his neck as he places you on top of the vanity desk, careful to not push any of your perfume bottles, “I bet those men could only dream of having you like this,” he growls in between kisses, “Take off the bra,” he demands, his fingers now playing with the lace of your underwear.
With no second thought, you unclip the back of your bra, throwing it somewhere across your dressing room, desperate to have him inside you already. With one hand rubbing circles over the lace, the other rolls your hardened nipples in between his fingers, a smirk now plastered onto his face as he hears you trying to suppress your moans.
“Please Jungkook,” you whine, your thighs tightly wrapped against his waist, grinding yourself against his pants. Ignoring you, he sucks on the underside of your jaw, then to your neck, slowly making his way downward, until finally he’s softly sucking on your nipple.
“God that feels so good,” you pant, throwing your head back in complete utter bliss as he marks you, your hand gently tugging at his hair as he elicits the sweetest moans out of your mouth.
“All mine,” he groans, “I’m gonna fuck you so good, gonna have creaming all over my fucking cock,” continuing to suck on your nipples, his finger now slips under your underwear, placing them inbetween your folds, “Already this wet, kitten?” he mocks, “Those men out there have no idea how much of a whore you are,” his fingers begin to move up and down your clit, doing nothing but teasing you.
“Please Jungkook,” your voice shakes, the need to feel something, anything, inside you becoming much too overwhelming. Slowly he sinks his index finger into your pussy, pumping it in and out of you until gradually he slips in another, your wetness making it easy to do so. You arch your back against the vanity’s mirror in pleasure, “Mm, faster Jungkook,” you manage to breathe out, his two fingers soaked with your wetness.
“So tight,” he mutters his pace now quickening at your command, “Look at you, already wanting to cum,” he mocks, “How do you expect to take my cock huh?” he mumbles into your neck, ready to add a third finger, “Answer me,” he demands, bringing his other hand to your neck once again.
“Because,” you’re unable to reply, now feeling your release coming to light,  “I’m boutta—” you whimper, with every movement you feel it coming closer and closer until suddenly he slows his pace, very much denying you from your release only causing you to let out a cry in complaint, the pressure that had built up immediately slowing down, “Jungkook,” you whine.
“You didn’t answer me,” he teases, pulling your underwear off, now having you completely undressed. Getting on his knees, he parts your legs wide open, your pussy being nothing but a glorious sight to him. Gently he swipes his finger across your sensitive folds, knowing that your senses were heightened from the denial, “Such a pretty pussy,” he teases, now rubbing circles onto your clit, “I bet you taste so good,” he pulls his finger away, suckling on the wetness that coated his finger, “so it does,” he says.
“Use your tongue,” you needily whisper, not sure at how long you’d be able to handle all the teasing, “please,” you cry, hoping that he’d do something soon. He drops wet, messy, kisses along your thighs, your skin now prickling in anticipation. He was purposely taking his time, finding pleasure at your squirming. A part of you just wants to push his head for your selfish reasons, but you knew that it’d get you nowhere because at the end of the day he was in full control, and you would just have to deal with the pleasurable torture.
With every kiss, suckle, and lick, you could practically feel yourself trembling, “Please Jungkook,” you beg, but he only hums in response, continuing with his wicked game of torture. Unable to control yourself, you let go of his hair, now maneuvering your hand to your pussy in a desperate effort to soothe the ache that had long been built up.
But just as you’re about to begin to pleasure yourself, his own reflexes are quick to grab you by the hand, roughly pushing it down onto the desk in an effort to stop you, “Mm mm mm,” he coos, “A slut like you doesn’t get to be in control, remember that kitten,” he sings, making a nodding motion with his finger.
Soon enough, you feel his warm tongue on your clit, licking and sucking through your folds, his index finger rubbing at your clit all at the same time. “Oh my God, right there,” you moan, the tension you felt immediately being released as he indulged himself further into your folds, pumping his finger back into your pussy once more, this time rubbing at your g-spot, your folds completely soaked with both your fluids and his saliva. Your orgasm once again was building up and as a result your pussy clenched around his fingers, your muscles going limp as you knew it was coming closer.
“You’re gonna cum for me, kitten?” you vigorously nod your head in response, physically squirming at his words, “Cum for me,” he breathes out, the euphoric feeling overcoming you, as you felt the waves of your orgasm hit, leg trembling at the sensation. Immediately he begins to plant soft kisses among your thighs, softly caressing you as you came down from your high.
He gets up from his knees, beginning to gently place kisses onto your cheek, “What a good girl,” he teases, going in to kiss you. You place your hand at the back of his head as you deepen the kiss, transforming the kiss to nothing but tongue and saliva. The two of you now making out on the vanity once again, his hardened cock rubbing against your bare pussy, the fabric of his pants acting as the only barrier in between.
He groans once you playfully you graze your other hand over the fabric, the idea of having his cock filling you up only exciting you, “I need you to fuck me,” you whisper into his ear, arousal dripping from every word as you played with the waistband of his pants.
“Is that what you want, kitten?” he asks, now unbuttoning his pants, and pulling out his thick, large cock, “Such a little whore, singing and dancing for those men,” he seethes, the look of jealousy presently on his face, “if only they could hear the way you squirm for me,” he chuckles, “just how needy and desperate you become for my cock,” you gasp as you feel his head now teasing the slit of your entrance, “How I have you moaning my name,” he whispers, suckling at the nip of your neck.  
“Put it in already,” you whine, ready to have his cock thrusting in and out of you, and so with that he slowly pushes his head which was covered in pre-cum into your hole, your wetness from earlier making it easy for him to slip it in, while your hot walls take him in with ease just as the many nights before, but still the pressure of the stretch was something you’d never get used to.
“So fucking tight,” he grunts, impusivley pulling your hair from the back as his girth pushed it’s way inside of you, taking a moment to allow the two of you to adjust, his cock now buried deep within you, “Tell me when you’re ready Y/N,” he sincerely says, having seen the momentary look of discomfort on your face.
Nodding once you were ready, he begins to slowly thrust, the items you had on the vanity beginning to jump at the sudden movement of the desk. Your moans and the squelching sound from the movement of his cock and your wetness now fill the room, his pace quickening with every deep thrust.
“Oh fuck—” you cry, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours.
“This is my pussy, you got that?” all you can do is nod in response, his thrust getting harder and sloppier, until suddenly he stops, “Turn around and bend over the desk,” he commands, pulling out and pumping his girth with his hand, not wanting to lose momentum.
It was shocking really, the countless number of times you two have fucked in between show sets, prior, and after, and each and every time it felt as good and exciting as the first time.
Eagerly you turn around, laying your stomach flat on top of the vanity’s surface, your dripping soaked pussy in full view for him, the cold air of the room along with the lack of fullfiness in your cunt causing you to let out a small whine, desperate to have Jungkook’s cock warm you up again, “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs to himself, looking at your face from the reflection in the mirror as he began to stuff your pussy with his cock once again.
He begins to thrust again, each one feeling fuller than the last, “Fuck Jungkook,” you cry, his cock now hitting your g-spot in this position, “Faster baby,” the friction from his steady rythym now wasn’t enough, as you felt another orgasm incoming.
“Faster?” he asks, “You said it,” he laughs, now pounding against your walls at a pace that was so overwhelming, you were almost sure that anyone within ten yards could probably hear you. “You nasty little slut, just look at yourself,” he groans, yanking you by the hair and forcing you to look at the reflection of yourself in the mirror in front of you, “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this,” he quickens his his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, “And only me, you got that?” all you could do was moan in response, resulting in a hard spank to your ass, “Answer me!” he groans, as you grip onto the corners of your vanity’s desk, his cock pounding harder and harder within your walls every passing second.  
“Mmhm only you Jungkook!” you cry, placing your hand on the mirror, trying not to lose balance of yourself, “I’m so close,” you manage to breathe out, the tight feeling in your abdomen signaling that you were going to cum any moment, his breathy moans also telling you that he was close to bottoming out as well.
He tilts down, the sounds of his panting now directly behind your ear, “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pushing your hair away from your neck to give you a small kiss. Seconds later, your vision goes white as you feel the final rush of stimulation washing over you, as he quickly pulls out and pumps his own release onto your back. The two of you now catching your breath, completely exhausted.
He buttons his pants back up, grabbing your things from the floor as well as a towel from your rack, gently cleaning you up as you remain in your position, too tired to even stand. “Come on,” he whispers, gently pulling you from behind so that he could pick you up, your body always feeling completely limp post-orgasm, add the fact that this was post-work as well, you had every reason to be tired.
Placing you on the small love-seat couch you had in your dressing room, which was generally used for—nevermind that, he helps dress you, guiding your legs through the underwear holes, laughing at your groans whenever you’d miss. “Come on, stop being lazy,” he teases, only resulting in another groan from you. You cross your arms again and pout like a kid, a huge grin now on his face. Gently, he cups your face, playfully squishing your cheeks in the process, just like he always does, only causing you to roll your eyes.
“Why do you always do that?” you manage to say, his hands still squeezing the life out of your cheeks.
“Because it’s cute,” he gives you a peck on the lips before finally letting them go, allowing you to place your robe back on, “You’re cute,” he nuzzles into your neck, the two of you to falling back on the couch, as he then begins to tickle you.
“Stop,” you begin to hysterically laugh, his fingers prancing around the sides of your stomach, “Jun—Jungkook stop,” you breathe out, a toothy grin on his face as he attempted to avoid your playful kicks.
To any other person, this loving moment between you two would cause nothing of the suspicion, hell, they’d probably even mistake the golden band on his finger as the sacrament of your holy matrimony. It was moments like these where you questioned where your relationship with the married man stood, where you’d ask yourself at what point had the line blurred between only doing this for fun and actually having feelings?
Slowly Jungkook stops tickling you once he notices that your laughs had begun to die down, and your face had become serious,“Hey what’s wrong?” he asks with genuine concern in his voice.
You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on your thoughts too much, “It’s nothing really,” you give him a small smile.  Momentarily he stares at you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.
“Let’s go home?” you stare at him wide-eyed, home?
“Wait what?”
“I asked if you’d like me to take you home?” he chuckles, though you knew you must’ve heard him wrong, the sinking feeling in your heart hurt just as much, a part of you secretly hoping that you were wrong.
“Oh um,” you respond, “no it’s fine Jungkook, I’ll just um,” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ll just ask Joon, I think he should still be cleaning up, and Mina is probably bored waiting,” you force a laugh. He furrows his eyebrows, unsure about leaving you here, but relents nonetheless.
“Hm, okay then,” he says, giving you a departing kiss on the cheek, “I’ll see you soon, alright?” you nod your head, the forced smile on your face quickly dropping the moment he walks out the door.  
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“You sure are loud, Namjoon was complaining about wanting ear muffs while he cleans,” Mina laughs, now entering your dressing room, Jungkook having left several minutes ago. She expects you to laugh like you usually do, or even throw a smart remark in return, but instead you remain silent, staring at your reflection in the vanity’s mirror. Your eyes were puffy from crying, because in those minutes that Jungkook had left, a feeling of shame had washed over you. “Hey, what’s wrong kiddo?” she walks towards you, quickly grabbing a tissue from the tissue box you had on your desk, beginning to wipe the run down mascara from your cheeks, softly running her other hand through your hair in an effort to comfort you.
Sniffling, you shake your head in refusal to talk, “Hey, come on, you know you can tell me anything,” she reassures, “It’s better to let things out, than to have it build up,” she frowns, the sight of seeing you cry breaking her heart.
“I,” you struggle to say what’s on your mind, “I love him,” you whisper, voice breaking as you finally said what you’d long known. For a second she stares at you, her faint gasp quickly hidden as she continues to comfort you.
“Oh Y/N,” she sighs, sad that she is unable to find the words that could make this all better. If only Namjoon was—
“What’s going on he—” Namjoon furrows his eyebrows as he sees the sight of his fianceé comforting his long time friend, who now had her face buried in her hands.
“I love him so much, and everytime he comes here I just wanna tell him,” you pause, “I wanna tell him everytime he walks out that door that he could be with me, that I want him to love me,” you cry, “that the only reason I keep seeing him is because I hope one day he just magically wakes up and walks through that door to tell me that he wants to be with me and only me, not her.”
You push your hair back in distress, “And you have to understand I never meant for things to go this far,” you quietly mumble, “and at first it was just a one time thing, nothing but a tiny sin, I thought I wouldn’t ever see him again, but now it’s become so much more,” you sigh, “And I know what I’m doing is wrong, but I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t feel anything.”
Namjoon walks over to you, crouching down so that you could face him, “Hey, we’re not here to judge you,” he firmly states, gently pulling your hands away from your face so that you could make eye contact with him, “you have every right to feel the way you do, you hear me?” slowly you nod your head in response as he lets out a chuckle, “Hell, we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t act selfishly here and there,” he pauses, “but what you do need to do is tell him because you’re right, you can’t keep doing this, or else you’ll be stuck in the same old place forever, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he flashes you his famous old dimpled smile, Mina rubbing small circles on your shoulder as an extra layer of comfort.
“I’m scared,” you whisper. It was true, you were, because what if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he told you that there was no way he’d ever leave her for you? That the feeling of love which had only been growing stronger for the past year would remain as nothing more than a fantasy.
“You’ll never know till you say something,” he gives you a small comforting smile, “Come on let’s get you home little miss Y/N,” he pats your lap, getting up from his crouched position, your Friday night coming to its end.
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Jungkook opens the door to his home, genuinely tired from the long week, simply ready to go to bed. “So, where were you?” he hears a voice from behind say. Sighing, he turns around to face his wife of three years, who was currently dressed in her overseas designed silk-purple nightgown, one of the many she owned.
His eyes glance around the room, refusing to make eye contact, “I went out to get drinks with Jimin, you know... the usual for a Friday night,” he wonders how long she’s been waiting for him, honestly it had been a while since she pulled something like this.
“All the bars close at ten, it’s twelve,” she tries to firmly state, but instead her voice cracks, “I have Amelia calling me telling me that Jimin’s gotten hom—”
“Catherine,” he begins, his voice hoarse at how tired he was, “Can we just talk about this some other day? I’m just really tired and,” he shakes his head, combing his hand through his hair, hoping she’d understand.
Catherine momentarily stares at him in silence, an emotionless look on her face before turning and going back upstairs to their bedroom. Jungkook decides to serve himself a glass of whiskey before going to bed in hopes of getting rid of the heavy guilty feeling that weighed over him, and that maybe tonight it’d just be best to sleep on the couch.
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“Blue or Red?” you dangle the two outfits from their hangers in front of Jungkook, who was relaxing on your dressing room’s couch, exhausted from the sex you two just had, “I’ve personally been told blue is more of my color, but I feel like red makes me pop out a whole bunch more, and well I need those tips,” you ramble, “So what do you think?”
It had been about two weeks since you last saw him, and since your little breakdown, and though you had taken Namjoon’s words into consideration, the courage to actually go through with it just wasn’t there. Instead you had decided that you needed to wait for the right moment to tell him, and though you weren’t exactly sure when that moment would be, you were definitely sure that when it did happen, maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out how you pictured it to be.
He stretches his arms, releasing a yawn, “Mm,” he hums, “how bout none and you call it a day,” he winks, resulting in a playful hit to the shoulder from you. You gasp as he pulls you to sit on his lap, “And what song are you singing tonight kitten?” he asks.
“Mm I don’t know yet,” you laugh, “might just come up with something last minute,” you joke, but secretly you always did want to venture into composing and writing your own music, weekly newspapers citing that across the country in Hollywoodland, people who could sing, dance, and act, could achieve overnight worldwide fame.
Hollywoodland was a dream, an unrealistic one of course, but a dream nonetheless. Who knows, maybe one day you could make it big out there, but for now you had to focus on where you were locally “famous” : Al’s Melody Noir.
“And become the next Hollywoodland star?” he teases, quickly squishing your cheek before you could knock his hand away.
You shrug, “Hey, you never know,” you smile, “someone in the crowd might just hand me a one way ticket,” you say causing him to roll his eyes and playfully tighten the grip he had on your waist.
“Why not audition for Broadway or something,” he pouts his lips, “they can always use a star like you,” he sings.
“Because I don’t want to be a Broadway star,” you say, “I want to be a Hollywood star,” you grin, “I mean no offense to those Broadway stars, they’re talented and all, but I’m telling you right now that in 50 years from now, the names that are going to be remembered will be the ones who are on that big screen,” Jungkook quietly hums in response, no longer wanting to entertain this topic.
Grabbing his wrist, you glance at his wrist watch, “Ooo, I’m about to go on,” you yelp, quickly getting up from his lap and making any final touch ups to your hair, he gets up as well now getting ready to head out. “Are you sure you can’t stay to see me perform tonight?” you plead, the doe eyed look on your face making it hard for him to say no, but he had to, it was the sole reason why he came to see you before your time slot.
“You know I can’t doll,” he gives you a small kiss on the lips, “I got a whole bunch of paperwork to catch up on tonight,” he sighs, he wasn’t lying either. The stock market was booming as of late, especially because of the newly profound industrial boom, being a stockbroker right now was not only a stressful job but one where any little mistake could cost absolutely everything, “Next time I’ll be there, I promise,” he plants another kiss to your forehead, “And don’t put on too much of a show for em!” he shouts as he walks out.
You look at yourself one last time in the mirror, “Let’s do this,” you whisper, ready to make that stage yours once again.
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“Oh you should've seen us having to push that car down the road, whoever this Henry Ford man is needs to learn how to make his cars weight lighter,” Mina complains, you and Namjoon laughing as the three of you were now together at the bar, Namjoon still on the clock of course.
Despite it being a rainy day, tonight was a full house, the club full of upper New York socialites occasionally some of them with their wives and girlfriends. Gambling tables were surrounded by both business men and mafia members. It was clubs like Al’s where you’d see the two different worlds collide and openly interact with one another, but honestly most of these men went hand and hand with each other. Not like there really was that much of a difference between them.
Mina puffs out the smoke from her cigar, “Look, I even chipped my nail,” she flaunts her left hand, Namjoon laughs at her obvious attempt to show off her shiny engagement ring.
“Hey don’t go flaunting it around too much,” he playfully says, but both you and Mina knew that behind that joking tone, he was definitely being serious.
She leans over the front bar rail, dramatically puckering her lips, to which he of course places his lips on, “Hey, get a room!” you complain, “Al sees you two doing that on the clock and he’ll have you two written up!” you laugh.
“Hey I’m on my break,” she clarifies, “And so are you, and if I’m looking at the clock correctly you go on in forty, and you have yet to change.”
Getting up from the bar stool, you dramatically groan in annoyance, now pursing your lips, “Didn’t realize you wanted me gone so badly.”
“Ah you know I’m just joking Y/N,” she passes you her glass of whiskey, “A shot for good luck,” she winks, and so reluctantly you slug down the remainder of her drink, the burning sensation not at all feeling pleasant, as your nose immediately wrinkled at its taste.
“I don’t know how you two drink this stuff,” you say, a childish look of disgust on your face, “it’s banned for a reason you know.”
“You get used to it,” Namjoon comments, “Now get going! Because of all this small talk, you only got thirty minutes left, and we all know how long you take!” he scolds, making a motion with his hand for you to start walking.
“Yeah yeah yeah,” you roll your eyes, now making your way back to your dressing room.
“Remember to show em what you’re made of Miss Hollywoodland,” Mina shouts, as you now shook your head in laughter as you left.
You walk towards your dressing room, still laughing to yourself at Mina’s little comment. Tonight was already a good night, your tips seeing a slight increase after your new performance which of course you’d have to count singularly later to get exact numbers. But for now all you wanted to simply do was change, get your last performance over with, catch a cab, and go to bed. The sound of the rain pouring outside would be nothing but relaxing once you got home, that was for sure.
“Mina, Mina, Mina,—” you mumble to yourself, grabbing the handle to your dressing room, ready to just kick off your heels. But what you see in front of you once you open the door immediately confuses you, as someone was occupying your vanity chair. It wasn’t until you looked at the reflection of the mirror that the heavy feeling weighing on your chest dropped down to your stomach. Because there she was sitting with her legs crossed, fixing her crimson colored lipstick in the mirror.
Standing there in silence, your eyes study her body language. In a way she seemed eerily relaxed, her shoulders weren’t tensed like yours, and her breathing seemed steady. The complete opposite of you.
The tension in the room was so thick, you were unsure of what to say because really what was there for you to say? You knew why she was here, she knew why she was here, so then why did everything feel so uneasy, like a bubbling bottle ready to pop off at any moment.
You want her to scream, to tell you off, to do something that you would expect from her, but instead she hums a tune, continuing to fix her lipstick, not once making eye contact with you, until finally she breaks her silence. A quiet, sly, chuckle coming from her lips.
“You know when I first met Jungkook I remember my heart feeling as if it was going to leap out of my chest,” she calmly shares, “Our respective families had introduced the two of us to one another at some horse racing event in New Orleans, my mother pulling me to the side to tell me that he was an up and coming stockbroker, not that it mattered anyway, I had already been swept off my feet from the moment I laid my eyes on him,” she scoffs at recalling the memory, “and you know I’d like to think that just for that one day he felt the same thing I had felt for him.”
She pauses, hazily looking at her reflection in the mirror, still not having glanced in your direction. “We got married a couple months later, bought our first home here in New York, and every morning I’d make him his cup of coffee and kiss him off for work. I remember thinking about just how perfect my life had come out to be. I was buying custom dresses from Europe, and having my pearls imported from the southern China sea, everything a girl could dream of,” she looks down at the ring placed on her left index finger, shining as bright as ever, “I remember bragging to my friends about my perfect life, and they would tell me that all I needed was the kids,” she laughs, “The other housewives would gossip to me about husbands cheating on their wives’ and I would think to myself how Jungkook would never do that to me, that he loves me too much do something like that.”
“But what I had failed to realize was that I was always viewing things from my perspective,” she shakes her head, almost as if disappointed with herself, “I guess it’s due to the way I was raised, I mean I was a spoiled child who grew up in a wealthy family, never once did I see things from the perspective of others,” she comments, “because maybe if I had I would’ve realized that my husband had quickly fallen out of love with me, or hell he may have never been in love with me to begin with,” the lurching feeling of guilt resurfaces itself from the pits of your stomach, the need to vomit almost excruciating, “but I didn’t,” she bitterly scoffs.
“And so when a friend of mine and her husband invited us to some underground new club in town that was getting all kinds of reviews from the drinks, to the dancers, and the triple threat of a star who could sing, dance, and act. I thought sure, why not? We had gone to many different clubs before where there’d be dancers who walked around with nothing but tiny little stickers across their nipples, and not once did I have to worry about his eyes straying too far,” she finally makes eye contact with you through the reflection of the mirror, “until he saw you that night.”
Getting up from your seat, her heels clack on the wooden floor as she makes her way towards you. Her calm demeanor reminding you of a snake ready to bite at any moment, “I don’t know how you two started off, or who initiated it first because God I honestly stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago,” she pauses, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to prevent herself from breaking down, “At first I thought you were going to be nothing but a phase, something temporary, something he was just doing out of compulsion, that it could’ve been anyone that he was going to commit adultery with.”
She stares at you, her eyes watery, a pool of emotions found in her eyes, “So then when I found myself having to go to that damn club every week, just to,” her voice finally cracks, the pristine glass cup that she was finally breaking, “Just to have to see him stare at you with those eyes every night to the point where he wouldn’t even tell me to come anymore, he’d be going out in the middle of the night just to see you in that damn club for God’s sake!” she cries, her face now red at her lash out.
You stare at her wide-eyed, frozen in place as she’s only inches away from you, an intense chill going down your spine.
“He’s,” she pauses, “He’s my husband,” her voice trembles in hysteria, “My husband,” she repeats, as if trying to reassure herself.
Finally, you manage to stutter something out, “I—I didn’t know at—”
“First?” she scoffs, “Is that the excuse you’re going to give me? What about the second time? Or the third? And the fourth and every other time afterward, huh? All those times you’d spot him in the crowd with me only being a couple of feet away from him, or did you just block me out of your mind so you could sleep at night? Is that it?” she yells. “You just couldn’t do it, huh? You just couldn’t stay away from him, like the dirty tramp you are,” she spat, looking at you with nothing but disgust, “Well say something goddammit! Instead of looking at me with that stupid look on your face!” her voice shakes.
“I never meant for it to go this far,” you whisper, lowering your head in shame, “You have to believe me.”
“I don’t have to believe anything from the likes of someone like you,” she snaps. The heavy feeling on your chest only weighs harder as you realized you needed to tell her the truth, the truth on what you really felt. Slowly you raise your gaze to meet hers, the lump in your throat fighting against the words that were about to come out of your mouth.
“I love hi—”
The sound of the crack of skin contacting skin echoes off the walls, a deafening silence immediately following afterward. As if time was frozen in its place. She slowly looks at her trembling hand which was now vibrating in a pain that etched from the center of her palm to the tip of her fingertips, it’s bright red appearance matching the new welt on your face. You stare at her wide eyed, hand now clutching cheek in pain, no possible words articulating in your head.  
The look on her face is one that’ll haunt you to your grave, it’s the look of someone you had first-hand in breaking. The tears that were currently gracefully falling from her eyes weren’t from a place of sorrow, but the buildup of anger and pain.
She should've felt some kind of remorse. But she didn't. Not one organ in her body could produce a gland of guilt for her actions because at the end of the day this was the least you deserved. She glances at the mark she’s left on your cheek, bitterly scoffing, not because it was big or anything but because it was in fact a cut. A small one where her wedding ring had caught you, a permanent scar that’ll remind you every morning when you look in the mirror of what you’d done. And she hoped, no, she wanted you to feel shame whenever you looked at it.
“You stay away from my husband,” she pleads demands, quickly grabbing her bag from your vanity, and rushing her way out, leaving you there to reflect on everything that just happened.
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Jungkook sighs, flipping to the next document on his desk, a night full of work ahead of him. New clients needed to be accommodated, considering everyone wanted a piece of the pie that was the New York Stock Exchange.
Tonight it was raining, a downpour in fact, the prelude to an up and coming storm. The thunder already beginning to cry out from the sky above, the trees around his home writhing and flailing against his window.
Getting up from his desk, he closes up the window as well as shutting the blinds, turning on his shaded glass lamp which provided the dim lighting he always liked working in. The muffled sound of the rain comforting as well.
Catherine was out to God knows where, mumbling something about a girl’s night out before walking out, which of course he didn’t mind, but it was getting quite late. He shrugs off the concern, instead continuing with his work.
Ah she must be back already, he thinks to himself, hearing footsteps coming up the stairs. Suddenly he hears his office door open, “So you’re back already,” he says, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.
He’s met with silence.
Looking up, he’s taken back by the woman standing in front of him. Because there she was, hair and clothes drenched in water along with mascara running down her eyes. A haunting empty look in her eyes.
Quickly he gets up, eyebrows furrowing in worry, “Why are you—Where—What happened?” he finally manages to ask, but she remains silent, staring off at the bookcase behind his desk.
“Catherine you’re soaking! I thought you went to Amelia’s?” he chides, but again she remains silent, until slowly she moves her pupils to his direction.
The two stare at each other for what seems like forever, words not having to be spoken in order to know what exactly was happening. He turns to break the gaze, the feeling of shame that he had been pushing off for so long bubbling in his stomach.
A low staggered laugh comes out of her mouth, steadily becoming louder and louder, booming across the room until tears are now falling from the corners of her eyes, as she goes into a fit of hysteria until finally she begins to sob. “I thought I could live with it,” she whispers in between, “I thought things were going to end at some point between the two of you—”
“Catherine,” he starts, but she’s quick to cut him off.
“But it never did!” she laughs, making a small motion to her head, “and it was there like an itch at the back of my mind all the time,” she lets out a breath in disbelief, “and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Catherine, it’s not what you think it is,” he sighs, causing her to only laugh.
“She loves you, you know that right?” she bitterly scoffs, recalling your words from earlier, “And God help me, because I think you might love her too,” she finally cries out, finally saying the thought she’d kept buried in her mind for so long out loud. The feeling of suffocation finally coming to an end.
“For a wife to have to witness the entirety of her husband falling for another woman,” her voice trembles, “to have to witness the exact moment that you fell in love with her,” she whispers, vigorously shaking her head in denial,��� I don’t even wish that upon my worst enemy,” she lets out a choked sob.
All he could do is stare at her, no words at the tip of his tongue, nothing he could say or do to comfort her. “So,” she grimaces, as if fighting to get the words out of her mouth, but she needed to ask. She needed to hear him say it.
“Do you love her?”
He remains silent. He can’t even bring himself to deny it, she thinks to herself. You could hear a pin drop fall at how silent the room was.
“I’m going to bed,” she whispers, the feeling of defeat draining her as she walks out of the room leaving Jungkook to stand there by himself, the thunderstorm outside finally coming to an end.
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“Al doesn’t pay me enough for this,” you groan, scrubbing the wood floors with your bristled brush. Tonight it was your turn to close up the club, and though Namjoon usually offered to stay and help you, he had sadly caught a cold, and so instead tonight you were stuck with Al himself to clean up, which of course meant you’d be stuck doing everything. He was already out front doing God knows what, most likely smoking a cigar or something.
It had been weeks since your encounter with Catherine, as well as your last visit from Jungkook, which you could only assume had to do with said situation. Honestly the whole situation had been anxiety inducing, having gone directly home after the whole ordeal, not bothering to say goodbye to Namjoon or Mina as you left, still stuck in the state of shock that you were in.
Even the usual taxi driver who normally drove you home after work was worried at your silence throughout the whole trip. Usually you kept him updated on the different things going on in the club, especially since he was always interested in, in his words, “innovations you young people are making.”
“She was dame, in love with a guy,” you continue to scrub the floor, now humming the song from a movie you had watched a couple a days ago,  “She stuck with him but didn’t know why,”  
“Everyone blamed her, Still they all named her,” you hear a familiar voice playfully sing, “True Blue Louuuuu,” Jungkook stretches out the final word, now standing in front of you, a warm smile on his face. He was dressed in his usual suit attire, his parted hair with no hair out of place only symbolizing his calm attitude for things.
Quickly getting up, you pat down your skirt of any possible dirt, “How did you—” Before you could even finish asking, your mind immediately answers the question for you, “Al,” you let out a laugh, that man will truly let anyone into his club.
“It’s not like he doesn’t recognize me by now,” he chuckles, opening his arms for embrace, which hesitantly you accept. Jungkook, taken aback by your reluctance, cups your face like he usually does and attempts to give you a pop kiss, which you quickly maneuver your way out of thus confirming something was wrong. “Hey,” he whines, pouting his lower lip.
Gently you push him off, picking up the bucket of dirty water from the floor, silently ignoring his antics, “Y/N,” he grabs your hand as you turn away from him.
Knowing there was nothing in this situation you could do but face him, you sigh, “What?” you harshly say, your attitude causing the dirty bucket of water to slip from your hands, “Ugh,” you groan, a headache now rising, “Look what you made me do,” you hiss.
He lifts his hands in his defence, “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything kitten,” your heart skips a beat at the pet name, but you’re quick to shrug the feeling off, huffing as you went to go get the mop from behind the bar stand, Jungkook only following. “I know you’re mad,” he begins, only raising a bitter laugh out of you.
You inhale a breath of fresh air, trying to keep your composure, “Me? Mad? No!” you narrow your eyes at him.
Laughing at your sarcasm, he responds, “And I understand why—”
You cut him off, “How could you possibly understand? You’re not the one who got slapped across the face,” you frown, clenching your jaw, “I even got a left with a scar because of it,” you angrily point to the small cut under your right eye, where her ring had caught you, “and this is my good side!” you throw in.  
“You can’t even notice it—”
“That’s not the point!”  you glare at him, “The point it, is that I can’t keep doing this,” you exhale loudly, “It’s-it’s” you stutter, firmly pressing your lips together, “it’s wrong,” you finally admit to him. Catherine’s words echo in your head, the image of her sobbing in front of you still fresh in your mind, “and so I,” you hesitate to say the next words, but it was now or never, “I think you need to choose, me or her? Because we can’t keep doing this, and you can’t expect me to stay in this position.”  
“We’re getting a divorce.”
“For the rest of my life, because— wait what?” you bring your ramble to an immediate halt, unsure if you heard him correctly.
“We’re getting a divorce,” he firmly repeats, completely making eye contact you, not even a twitch of the brow to signal if he was lying or not, “it’s why I haven’t been coming for the past few weeks, been filing paperwork and all that other time consuming stuff,” the two of you stand there in silence, the words barely sinking in for you as you owlishly stare at the wall behind him, nothing but a blank expression on your face.  
This is what you wanted … you just hadn’t expected the answer to be dropped as a bombshell like this one. Was it wrong to feel … happy? Overjoyed? Excited? He’s choosing you, you tell yourself. He’s choosing you, you repeat to yourself. He’s choosing to try and have a future with you. “Earth to Y/N,” he waves his hand in front of you, bringing you back to reality.
You glance at the ring that’s haunted you since the day you met him, it’s emptiness being nothing but a marvelous sight, the corners of your lips slowly twitching upward. Jumping into his arms, you scatter his face with kisses, the sudden burst of energy you felt was a high you were sure you’d never feel again in your life.
“There’s my girl,” he mumbles into your ear, both his arms grabbing you to keep you steady. A part of you wants to ask him what happened, the itch to know more details almost excruciating, but instead you choose to enjoy the moment, deciding you’d ask him some other day. With this news, you’d have an eternal amount with him.
Gently, he places you down from his hold, “And I have news that’ll have you near passing out,” you quirk your brows, there was more? “So I think you might need to hold on to the bar or something,” he grins, the feeling of anticipation now creeping under your skin.
“Well get on with it,” you rush him, doubting that the grin on your face could become even bigger.
“The firm I work under throws these annual um…” he looks up, trying to find the right word for the event, “balls,” he smugly grins, “and well a lot of Broadway producers attend, who certainly have connections with people in Hollywoodland, and well let’s just say I pulled some strings and,” he dramatically pauses, building suspension, “you’ll be performing a set for them in a week from now, as my date of course.”
Your mouth hangs loose at his words, “No,” you say in complete bewilderment, feeling as if your head was in the clouds, but your feet were on the ground all at the same time, “What am I going to where? Sing? Oh my—” you ramble, “Jungkook I,” you stop yourself from continuing, instead pulling him another hug, the warmth you felt being in his arms being truly indescribable. Things were looking up, and you were definitely excited for what was to come for the two of you.
“So is it a yes?”
“Of course—”
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“Not!” Amelia, Catherine’s long time friend and Jimin’s wife of two years, sneers, her teeth grinding at the mention of you, “This is not your fault Catherine! So don’t you dare say that,” she frowns, the two were currently strolling through her garden, Catherine finally admitting everything to her friend.
“I know it's not,” her heels clack against the cemented paveway, her hands softly grazing against the roses next to her, “but I keep asking myself,” she scoffs, “could this have been avoided?” Amelia’s who was already about to say something is stopped by Catherine, who raises her finger to signal that she could explain, “I mean I could’ve saved myself the trouble, leave the first sign there was of not even the affair, but the first sign of him just not loving me,” she chuckles, “I don’t know, I just keep trying to find answers to all my questions when really they’re all right there in front of me … I just refuse to face them,” she tugs at the rose petal she’d been grazing her fingers on for the last minute, watching it as it fell to the ground.
Amelia scowls at Catherine’s words, “Maybe if that whore of a woman learned how to respect marriages,” she snarls, unable to comprehend how Catherine could possibly be making excuses for you and Jungkook, “then this whole ordeal wouldn’t be happening. She’s going to get what’s coming to her one day.”
Loudly, Catherine exhales a breath of air, exhausted of going in circles with this conversation, honestly she didn’t expect any good advice from Amelia, she just needed an outlet to keep herself sane, “I expected to hate him,” Catherine shakes her head in dismay, “ No, I wanted to hate him, something to masquerade my hurt,” the nights of wishful thinking and crying in bed begin to cloud her mind, “It was like I was desperately waiting for the feeling to consume me, hoping the feeling would wash over me all at once,” she blankly stares at the roses in front of her, “the same way the ocean washes over a seashore at night, you know? But instead I was forced to slowly experience every raw feeling that stemmed from this situation.”
Coming to a halt, Catherine pulls out a cigar from her purse, signalling to Amelia that she needed a lighter, only causing her friend’s face to scrunch in confusion. Catherine rolls her eyes, “Why are you acting like you don’t smoke, Jimin isn’t even here,” she callously says, “Come on, I’m waiting,” she murmurs, the cigar in between her lips.  
Begrudgingly she pulls out her lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of the cigar, an exhale of smoke immediately following after, “There’s rumours these things are addicting,” Amelia mumbles, watching as Catherine inhales another puff.
“There’s also speculation in the New York Times that they can kill you, but you don’t see me believing everything I read now do you,” Catherine laughs, the two continuing their stroll, different things on both of their minds.
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“Cross, loop, under the bridge. over the loop, and,” Jungkook hums the tune once made to remind himself how to tie his necktie, “secure,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair as he didn’t exactly picture himself getting ready in his firm’s office building. But today had been a long day and he didn’t have the time to go back home and change, especially since he still had to go pick you up, and well anyone who knew you, knew that getting ready on time was not your forte.
Instead he decided that his black suit, and a color change of tie would suffice. It wasn’t like the two of you were going to be there for too long, your performance was at the near beginning, the opening act per say.
He was excited to see what you’d pick out to wear, your outfits never failing to put a smile on his face, not because most of the time they were over the top and extravagant, but simply because it was you. Had it been anyone else wearing the things you dressed in, and he was sure he would’ve never bothered to spare even a glance. Honestly you could walk out with nothing but your nightgown and he would still do nothing but worship the ground you walk on.
“Tonight is going to be a good night,” he whispers, glancing at his now empty ring finger. It was going to be the start to something n—
A soft knock on the door interrupts, “Didn’t think I’d find you here,” a voice says.
Jungkook steps away from his mirror, surprised to find Jimin here at such a late hour, “Oh I didn’t realize you were still in the building,” he chuckles, “Thought I was the only one who did overtime tonight,” he glances at his wrist watch, time was on the essence, “Well I’ll see you at the event tonight, Amelia’s going with you, right?” Jungkook grabs his suit jacket from his chair, ready to make his way downstairs to the parking lot.
“Yeah, in fact I think Catherine is at the house helping her get ready,” Jungkook awkwardly tenses at the mention of his wife, the air in the room becoming stiff.
“Oh well that’s nice,” Jungkook gives him a small smile, making his way to walk out the door, “Like I said I’ll see you over there, I should really get going, my date is probably already waiting for me—”
“Y/N right?” Jimin casually asks. Jungkook stops in his tracks, mentally sighing to himself.
“Yeah you guessed it,” he gives Jimin an awkward superficial smile, his body slightly rocking back and forth in annoyance. Something about this interaction felt … uneasy.
“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that…”
Jungkook cocks his head in confusion, “Talk about what,” putting no effort to hide his annoyance. Jimin remains silent, as if contemplating his next choice of words, “Jimin I don’t have all day,” he sighs. Whatever this was was better be good, he thinks to himself.
“I,” Jimin pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, “I need to show you something.”
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Fixing your bright red lipstick, you hear the footsteps of someone entering the room, “I’m almost ready Jungkook, I just need to make sure these pins stay in place and I should be good to go,” you ramble, “Oh I’m so excited Jungkook! I couldn’t sleep all night yesterday, just thinking about performing was making me anxious, and well I just want to say thank you, you know? I know I wouldn’t be people’s first choice when it comes to performing at such a prestigious event, especially considering what a lot of people think of people who work in jobs like mine, but,” you fumble with your words, “but, it’s just so,” you clap your hands together, “oh I just can’t explain it! And to be your date,” your eyes sparkle. Tonight was going to be the night. Tonight you were going to tell him.
“To finally be given an opportunity it’s just—I don’t think I can thank you enough,” you finally breathe out, the feeling of excitement completely radiating off of you as you place your earrings on.
You wait for Jungkook to reply, to shower you with kisses like he always does when he sees you, but instead you’re met with complete silence, his figure from the reflection of the mirror completely frozen. Quickly you turn around, nose now wrinkled in confusion, “Jungkook?” you uneasily ask, the young man you were so enamored with only staring at you with a hardened gaze, his expression unreadable.
“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you ask again, your voice laced with concern, “Did something happen? Do I need to change my setlist? Cause I can easily do that, I mean a perf—”
“You’re not performing tonight,” he harshly interrupts, your face falling as you hear the annoyance drip from every word.
“Oh,” your skin pales, your voice failing to hide its disappointment, “Can I ask why?”
“Because I told the committee you’re not, I managed to find a replacement last minute,” your face crinkles in shock.
“Wait what?” What the hell was going on? Why would Jungkook do that? Did you do something? Your heart begins to thud against your chest, the tingling feeling in the soles of your feet quickly spreading all over your body, “Why—Why would … why would you do something like that?” your eyebrows furrow, the feeling of anger now rising from the pits of your stomach.
Jungkook chuckles before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, “You really had me fooled Y/N,” he purses his lips, trying his best to contain his anger, “I cannot believe I let things get this far with you,” his voice shakes, every word seething with anger.
“What the hell are you talking about?” you cry out, genuinely lost. Uncrumpling the piece of paper, he turns it towards your direction, “Am I supposed to know what that is?” you snap, your face becoming red at his vague comments.
“You know you could really stop with that whole stupid act of yours,” he spits, “Honestly I should’ve known better than to trust someone like you,” he lets out a dry laugh.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you clench your fist.
“Well here take a look at it for yourself,” harshly, you snatch the letter from his hands, your eyes quickly skim through the contents of it. 
“You think I wrote this?” your eyes widen in shock, now getting up from your seat and handing the letter back to him.  
“I know you did,” he laughs, flailing his arms in the process, “Really Y/N? Jimin? Of all people? Did you really think it wouldn’t come back to me?” he almost sounds disgusted.
“But I didn’t! This isn’t even my handwriting!” tears of both frustration and anger begin to well in your eyes, “You have to believe me!” your voice booms across the room.
“I don’t have to believe shit!” he finally yells, the veins from his neck now popping out, “Your signature and name are written in these Y/N! You know how embarrassing this is?” he presses, “All because you can’t keep your fucking legs closed!” your mouth gapes in shock,  “And God I can only imagine the amount of men you’ve probably tried seducing, I’m just the idiot who fell for it all,” he laughs, “And you know I kept trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t do something like this, that you wouldn’t try seducing a married man,” his words drip with sarcasm, “But you have!”
Rapidly you try to blink your tears away, refusing to let him see you cry, “You don’t mean that,” you whisper, shaking your head at his words.
“But I do!” he bites back, “But you know what it's fine,” he knew the next words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be a low blow. And in the back of his mind he knew he didn’t mean them, but he was angry, no, he was furious. He didn’t care what he had to say, he wanted you to feel just as hurt as he was, “it’s fine because I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing you’ll be stuck here for the rest of your life doing God knows what like the who—”
“Can you stop,” you try to scream, but instead your voice comes out hoarse, your lower lip trembling in sadness, “please,” you whisper, no longer being able to take any of this, “I didn’t write those letters,” you repeat, desperate for him to listen to you, “I know you have reason to believe Jimin, he’s your long time friend, I understand that, and I know my job doesn’t exactly have the best reputation,” you ramble with your words, heaving in between, “But I wouldn’t do this to you!”
“And why should I believe you?”
“Because I,” your voice shakes, “Because I’m in love with you,” you cry out, “Don’t you get it? In love,” you emphasize, moving your hands in frustration, “You think I would’ve kept this going for so long if I didn’t feel something for you?” He remains silent, “I fell in love with you, okay? You!” you scream , “The way you kiss me, the way you touch me,, the way you laugh at every corny joke I make, the way you reassure me about myself whenever I feel insecure, the way your eyes light up whenever you talk about something that fascinates you whether it be boring old stocks to future industrial revolutions,” you let out a choked sob, “or the way you have this compulsion to squeeze my cheeks every time you tease me, and I could go on and on.”
“You’re my person,” you whimper, the final plea in this tragic story.
He turns his gaze to the floor, refusing to look at you, “I was never yours to begin with,” he mutters, walking out of the room and slamming the door behind, leaving you to ask yourself, What. Just. Happened?
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Leaning against the door frame, Catherine exhales whatever’s left of her cigar, butting the stub on the wall. “You know, I really don’t mind moving to my parent’s country townhouse,” she casually says, calmly watching her soon to be ex-husband pack his office belongings.
It had been two weeks since your argument with Jungkook, and though he couldn’t confidently say that you hadn’t been on his mind everyday since, he was sure he would be just fine. Of course, he had been sad the first couple of days, then the sadness had become anger once again, until finally he was where he was currently at. Numbness.
Distracting himself with loads of paperwork, working overtime, and being in the midst of a divorce was doing wonders. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if now at the age of twenty-two, greys hairs started to appear because of the overwhelming stress he had to deal with.
Bringing himself back to reality, he’s quick to reject Catherine’s idea, “No, it’s fine, you picked out this place to begin with,” he chuckles, “Hell, I still remember how excited you were about decorating and the effort you put into all of this,” he gives her a small apologetic smile, “it’s only right that you stay. Honestly, I don’t see why you wouldn’t, you did an amazing job with this place.”
“Still, you paid for this place, it’s under your name,” she responds, “This place is just too much of a—” she hesitates.
“Reminder,” Jungkook completes, now having stopped his packing. The two stand there in what couldn’t be described as an awkward silence, but one of understanding.
“A reminder of what we illusioned ourselves in,” she looks down at her ring finger, smiling at its empty sight, “it’s funny,” she laughs, “even before you started the affair, I used to look down at my ring, and for some reason I never did feel,” she pauses, “what’s the word,” she takes a couple of seconds to regain herself, “I never truly felt… happy,” she states, surprised at how such a simple word could mean so much, “but now I look at the sight of it being gone, and I feel relieved, in fact, I feel... free,” she reiterates, her eyes now watery.
“We were young and pressured, I didn’t even have a sense of my own identity yet, and I mean not that it’s any excuse for what you did,” she emphasizes, “but I’m sure you didn’t have one either, I guess we were just too busy trying to please our respective families,” she scoffs, a smile now on her face, “I still even get your birthday confused sometimes,” she jokes around, causing Jungkook to flash his toothy grin at her, “Never did I bother to learn the small details about you,” she inhales and exhales a deep breath, “but she did,” she says, breaking eye contact with Jungkook, not because she was mad or sad, but because she’d come to realize something.
“I was in love with the idea of you, the things you would buy me, the compliments I would get from everyone around me, the idea of being able to flaunt a perfect life, but I think, no, I know I was never in love with you,” she looks at Jungkook once again, tears now freely flowing from his eyes, a chapter in their life now coming to its end.
“I don’t hate you for what you did Jungkook,” she blinks her own tears away, personally tired of all the crying she’s done, “nor do I hate Y/N,” she says, for the first time saying your name, the name smoothly rolling off the tip of her tongue, no ill feeling behind it, “I just wish things could’ve been different, in terms of us realizing that we were just never meant to be,” she finishes off, the final wave finally washing over her. The feeling of acceptance.
Catherine slowly walks towards him, embracing the crying man into a hug, giving him a small heartfelt kiss to the cheek, “I really am sorry Catherine,” he whispers, the words being nothing but genuine.
“I know,” she whispers in return. Gently, she breaks from the hug, wiping the tears that brimmed her eyes, “Come on, you gotta finish your packing,” she says, rolling the sleeves of her robe, and making her way to his desk.
“It’s fine really,” he starts, but she’s quick to ignore him and begin her rummaging of his things. So instead of fighting against her help, he goes back to continuing with what he was doing, the two quietly organizing things, finally at peace.
“I think that’s the last of it,” Jungkook huffs, taping the final cardboard box of paperwork. The two step back and look at the empty room, feeling proud of their hard work, “Well I’m gonna go take this down,” Catherine nods in response, Jungkook now leaving the room.
Her eyes scan the room one last time, making sure nothing was getting left behind, until surprisingly, she does in fact catch something from the corner of her eye. The edge of a piece of paper below the wooden bookshelf sticking out, “That’s weird,” she mumbles to herself, surprised at how she failed to notice it earlier.
Crouching down, she picks up the torn piece of paper, her eyebrows now furrowing at its incompleteness, with only half of the whole sheet being there. She turns the direction of the paper to where there’s writing, her eyes widening at what she sees, “Oh no,” she whispers to herself, trying to think quick on her feet, “The trashcan,” she says to herself, quickly grabbing it and tossing the remnants onto the floor, her breathing now uneasy as she sat on the floor, beginning to uncrumple the pieces of torn paper, silently hoping what she was thinking was all some twisted joke.
With her burst of adrenaline she somehow reassembles the ripped letter, her stomach dropping at the sight of the complete version, completely ignoring the footsteps that were making their way up.
To Jimin,
I’ve had my eye on you for a while now, you should come backstage sometime for your own personal show, just like your friend. I’m sure he won’t mind. Honestly, I’ve been getting a little bored of him these days. And don’t worry, I don’t mind seeing that ring on your finger. You know where to find me…
XO, Y/N.
“Mr. Olsen seems to have gotten a new ca—” Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, immediately tensing at the sight in front of him, “Catherine what are—” Jungkook doesn’t continue with what he’s about to say, the sight of Catherine’s shocked face now confusing him more than ever.
“Oh Amelia, what did you do,” she quietly breathes out, her face now frozen in place, and her hand covering her mouth.  
“What?” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, “Amelia? What does Amelia have to do with—” his face immediately falls, his heart sinking at his realization.
“This,” Catherine stutters, “This is her handwriting,” she says, now looking up at Jungkook, whose face was in just as much as shock as hers, “I swear Jungkook, I didn’t know she’d do something like this,” Catherine rubs her temple, “Last time I saw her, she was bad mouthing Y/N but I didn’t she’d—” she shakes her head in dismay, “Jungkook, if I would’ve known I promise you I would’ve stopped her,” Catherine’s words sound like nothing but echoes in Jungkook’s head, his mind currently racing through a countless number of thoughts. His words from the last time he saw you now echoing in his head, the look on your face etching into his mind, oh how you kept denying the letter. The sudden pang of guilt, much too overwhelming.
“I know Catherine,” he whispers, but  all he could do was stare at the letter on the floor. And as if time was frozen, he slowly glances at the mantel clock, his heart now pounding.
8:15 PM.
You should be performing in a bit, he thinks. Immediately he switches gears, hurriedly grabbing the coat on his desk and placing it on, “I,” he stutters, a frenzy look on his face, “I have to go,” he says, quickly running out the door. The only thing he could do was hope he’d catch you on time.
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“Oh look who's back, it seems I haven’t seen you in a while,” the sultry hostess purrs, “oh and that ring of yours is gone, trouble in paradise?” she pouts, guiding him to one of the tables. Politely he makes a motion to her, as if to say that he was fine, “Mm well if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you know where to find me hun,” she winks, making her way back to the greeting area.
Jungkook, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, adjusts his tie. His leg now bouncing rapidly in complete anxiousness, feeling the stares of a certain someone. He turns to face whoever it is, finding both the bartender and his girlfriend, whose names he was unsure of, staring at him from the bar.
The woman slyly mixes her drink with her stirrer, eyes narrowing at the sight of him, refusing to look away. The man then whispers something to her, making her finally break away from the intense stare.
Jungkook turns back around, the heavy feeling in his chest making it hard to focus on the current performer, not that he really wanted to, but he needed a distraction, something to prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.  
The claps mellow down as the curtains close, the famous club owner, Al, making his way to the front of the stage, mic now in hand. Jungkook felt as if his stomach was doing flips, both excited and nervous to see you, as he knew you’d probably be quick to spot him, only hoping he wouldn’t scare you off.
“She’s got a voice sent from the heavens above, almost as smooth as a Friday’s glass of whiskey,” Al starts off your usual introduction, Jungkook’s heart pounding with every word spoken, “she can sing, she can dance, she can act, she’s a triple threat of course! And to add to it all, she’s got the face of the doll,” the red curtain slowly begins to open, “she’s our newest star in the making, give a warm welcome for Miss Sally Rose!”
A young woman appears from behind the curtain, counting off the same way you always did, making the same exact motion you always do to the band. Jungkook could feel himself become sick as he heard the men begin to holler at her with every piece of clothing that began to drop, as long as they had something to satisfy their lust, it didn’t matter who was on that stage, as they were nothing but animals.
Where the hell were you? This was, no, this is your time slot. Maybe you’re out sick, he tells himself, no, you loved the stage more than anything. The same woman from earlier passes by with drinks in her hands, on her way to serve God knows who. He’s quick to flag her down, hoping she knew where you were, “What can I do for you handsome?” she winks.
“You don’t happen to know where Y/N is?” he politely asks.
The question causes her to scoff, “Oh darling, me and the girls have been wondering the same thing,” she chuckles, before walking away with her drinks, leaving Jungkook much more puzzled than before. Maybe you were late, he excuses, trying not to panic.
But as every performer begins and ends, the more restless he becomes, every drink he takes only causing the echoes from every holler to become more and more irritating, the world around him now spinning.
An hour later, the young woman comes out again, performing the final song of the night, just like you always would do. Truthfully speaking, he would’ve paid no mind to the performance, but something catches Jungkook’s eye. The woman seems to have her gaze fixed on a young man in the crowd, his wife chattering with the other woman sitting next to her. The same way Catherine would—he shakes his head in dismissal, blaming what he was seeing on his drunk state.
He’s quick to get up, deciding that it was best to momentarily take a step outside and catch a breather. You had to be backstage or something, he tells himself, deciding that he’d wait until everyone was gone to see you, just like he always did.
“Things will be just fine,” he whispers, mouth trembling from the cold weather.
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Sighing, Jungkook takes one last look at his empty ring finger before making his way back inside, his nerves at an all time high. He knew you were avoiding him, and he knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see, but he needed to tell you that he was sorry. That what he said was something spoken out of anger, that he was hurt, and most importantly that he should’ve believed you.
Walking in, he sees the bartender flipping chairs on top of the table, presumably cleaning up for the night. Most nights, Jungkook would simply go straight backstage, as you had told him early on in the affair that there was no need for him to introduce himself to your co-workers, but tonight, well tonight he felt like an intruder.
He stands there momentarily, the stiffness in the room almost suffocating.
“She’s gone,” the young man bitterly scoffs, not bothering to spare a glance at Jungkook, “I thought you knew that already,” he mumbles to himself, as he continued to flip the wooden chairs and place them atop of the tables, finishing what was left of cleaning.
Jungkook stares at him for a moment, the words slowly processing in his head. What did he mean by you were “gone”? You wouldn’t leave, it was unlike you. Actually, no, you couldn’t leave, where did you have to go?
He shakes his head in dismissal, shooting the brown haired man a quizzical look, “What did you say again?'" he asks. Namjoon finally looks up from what he’s doing.
Jungkook expected a spiteful glare from Namjoon, one full of hatred for what he had done to his friend, but instead his eyes were hard-rimmed and fixed, immobile as the rest of his face. Almost as if he was studying Jungkook. The cold blank look on his face sends shivers down Jungkook’s spine, but he relents on breaking the cold stare, until finally Namjoon lets out a dry laugh.
“I knew you were a hard-headed person,” he nods his head in dismay, a superficial grin on his face, “you’re also a selfish one, so I should’ve known better,” he laughs again, in awe of how someone could be so … inconsiderate? Was that the word to describe Jungkook? Namjoon thought to himself, why were you so in love with this man, simply finding it hard to believe that you could fall for a man so self-centered.
“Haven’t you noticed by now that she’s been replaced?” Namjoon mocks, “or let me guess you thought you could waltz in here like a knight in shining armor, that she was on some kind of break or something and would forget the things you said, and then things would magically go back to normal,” Jungkook remains silent, “Well?” Namjoon deadpans.
“Y/N wouldn’t just leave like that,” Jungkook says, “it’s not like her,” Namjoon was lying, he had to be.
Namjoon shrugs, “Well guess what she’s gone, I could only wish I knew where. She just grabbed her things and left without a trace, no goodbye, no nothing, but go ahead, look for yourself,” Namjoon makes a motion towards your old dressing room.
Slowly Jungkook breaks eye contact, unsure of what to believe. Quietly he makes his way to the dressing room he’d been in a countless number of times in the past year, still in denial of what Namjoon just told him.
He lets out a deep breath before turning the door knob, a churning feeling in his stomach as he recalled the last time he was here, his words ringing in his head.
Immediately Jungkook feels his heart plummet as he sees the empty room, your vanity which was once full of makeup and bottled perfumes was now vacant of anything and the hangers which were once used for your extravagant outfits as well as your fluffy coats now hung unused.
Jungkook crouches to pick up the only thing that remained of you in the room, the golden glass-framed picture you had of yourself performing now shattered on the floor, a small snapshot of the star you were. He smiles in reminiscence, remembering the night the photo was taken, and how you kept rambling on about why Jungkook would spend so much to have the photo of someone like yourself taken, let alone a photo of your worst angle. But you had kept it nonetheless, hell you even hung it on the wall for safekeeping, only for it to be shattered by the same person who gifted it.
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“You didn’t!” you gasp, picking up the framed photo which had been placed on your vanity desk, “When did you even take—how—” Jungkook quickly shuts you up by cupping your face, and giving you a kiss, immediately squishing your cheeks in the playful manner that he always did.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, “I thought since you didn’t want to accept my gift last time, a sincere one like this would be something you just couldn’t deny.”
“Those pearls were too much,” you shake your head in disapproval, “and you know why I couldn’t accept it,” the image of Catherine pops in your head as he remains silent, but you’re quick to shrug it off, “but this,” you say, waving the picture he had seen a plenty of times before tonight to his face, “this is special,” you grin.
“I knew you’d love it,” he smiles, giving you another peck on the lips.
“Honestly, you shouldn't have,” you laugh, still in disbelief of the photo of yourself. Hell, to have a portrait of yourself taken behind a plain old wall was already something expensive here in New York, and so to have a photo taken of yourself while performing was truly indescribable. “Too bad they got my worst angle,” you complain, causing him to roll his eyes. Grabbing the framed photo from your hands, he places it over the empty nail on the wall.
“Won’t you look at that,” he smiles, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you now silently admiring the hung photo.
“Jungkook?” you break the prolonged silence.  
He hums in response, turning his head to face you, your heart feeling as swelled as the ocean once near its moon.
“I—” you pause, just get the words out, you think to yourself. Maybe things would finally change. He stares at you in the same doe-eyed expression he always did whenever he was attentively listening to you, curious as to what you were thinking, “I just wanted to say thank you… for the photo,” you awkwardly smile, Jungkook slightly raising his eyebrow at your sudden behavior, but he doesn’t dwell on it too much, instead placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
The memory being one for a lifetime. 
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Jungkook dusts off the glass fragments, carefully trying not to cut himself as his fingers graze over the flimsy developed photo. And as he studies the photo, the realization finally hits him, you were really gone.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispers to himself in a distant, quiet, lifeless voice, “I’ll be just fine,” he grazes the photo again, slowly crouching into his knees, photo still in hand, until finally the sounds of silent muffled sobs is the only thing that can be heard from your dressing room.
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Namjoon quietly sweeps the floor, humming some Duke Ellington, trying his best to ignore the thoughts that lingered in the back of his mind. Jungkook had left hours ago, Namjoon having heard the silent cries from your dressing room, and for a slight second even making eye contact with the red puffy-eyed man as he left, who had been mumbling inaudible things to himself.  
He didn’t think he’d cry, was what Namjoon had first thought to himself after hearing Jungkook silently sob in your empty dressing room. He honestly expected Jungkook to do anything but cry, hell Namjoon had even told himself to be ready to throw some punches just in case he tried anything stupid.
And so to see Jeon Jungkook, the man who had been coming to this bar for the past year, never failing to order a classic gin and tonic, and always seeming like he was on top of the world, break down in a tiny isolated room, was almost something unimaginable. And for some reason it bothered Namjoon. It wasn’t that Jungkook wasn’t allowed to cry...
Namjoon momentarily stops what he’s doing, sighing in frustration.
It bothered him because it went against everything he thought of Jungkook, the image he had created for Jungkook in his head. It would mean that Jungkook was someone who never meant to be so selfish, but was someone who was emotionally blind to those around him.
And isn’t the unknown always a bit scary?
The only problem was that being blind was something involuntary, and with the countless stories you’d tell Namjoon from time to time, sometimes it seemed like Jungkook was voluntarily choosing to ignore the feelings of those around him.
Namjoon could only speculate why, but maybe, just maybe Jungkook was the kind of person who had long ago put his personal feelings aside to please those around him, including his wife, thinking that it’d be what was best.That he could live a numbing life as long as it meant those around him were satisfied, that it was enough to feel fulfilled with, until you came into the mix.
And once you did, the conflict of choosing what made him happy versus what made others happy while trying to spare both sides’ feelings and opinions, only did more harm than good, stupidly choosing to blindly believe of a false letter. 
And now Jungkook was left with no one but himself.
Was it deserved? Namjoon was unsure now. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N, Namjoon thinks to himself.
The only reason he would excuse your actions was because to those around you, seeing you happy was like the sun shining after a storm, a shine so bright you’d think those happy days would last forever, but to see you sad, it was as if the world would storm on end.
But what Namjoon should’ve realized was that at the end of the day, what you and Jungkook had done was wrong, and there was no denying it.
Hell, it even went against Namjoon’s personal beliefs. Of course it didn’t mean that he was no better of a person because the same way you two had to face the karma of your actions, he and Mina would have to reprimand themselves one day as well for excusing your actions. For allowing things to have gotten this far.
“Jungkook really did love you,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head at the conclusion of this awful tale.
Namjoon sighs.
All he could do was hope that he had done the right thing lying to Jungkook about your whereabouts, and that the next time Namjoon saw you, you’d be the successful woman you were always meant to be, and that this period in your life would be nothing more than a small chapter to look back at.
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“Ticket ma’am,” the conductor approaches you. Pulling out your ticket from your purse, you allow the conductor to both inspect and punch the ticket with his rustic clipper, “Now what is a pretty New York doll like you going all the way to the city of Los Angeles for?” he chimes, “You sure you ain’t lost little lady?” he jokes, causing you to laugh.
“I sure ain’t, I’m going to Los Angeles to follow my dreams in becoming famous! You might even catch me on the big screen soon!” you gush, causing him to let out a chuckle.
“Well little lady, I’ve heard that one before and I’ve told every single person I’ve come across that it’s almost impossible,” he mentions, “And I have yet to be proven wrong,”
“Well Mr,” you glance at his name tag, “Rosco, you better remember my name and face because I’m going to make it big in Hollywoodland, I don’t care if it’s as a singer or as an actress, but just you wait!” you declare, a toothy grin plastered on your face.
“Well little miss,” he glances at the ticket which has your name printed in a red colored font, “y/n, I’ve gotta say, I don’t think I’ve met anyone with the same amount of enthusiasm you got going for yourself,” a genuine smile comes across his face as he returns you your ticket, “I wish you nothing but the best on your endeavors,” he compliments, before making his way to the seated passenger in front of you.
Looking out the train’s window, the fields of grass along with the bright blue sky that were being passed by faster than a speeding bullet, for some reason make you feel a longing for home, it was probably because everything was barely hitting you. From the moment he had said what he did in your argument, everything onward had been nothing but a sporadic adrenaline-rushed blur.
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“Jungkook?” you ask to an empty room, the shakiness of your voice coming to realize the reality of what has just occurred. The sinking feeling in your chest was what could only be described as heartbreak, though it felt like so much more.
He’s coming back, he’s going to come back. He has to come back, you keep repeating to yourself. Jungkook loves you. He didn’t mean what he said. He couldn’t.
You stare at the photo you had hung on the wall, which was now cracked on the floor, a result at just how harsh the door had been slammed. You could feel the lump in your throat beginning to take its form, but you refuse to let it out. He’s coming back, he has to.
The sound of the door knob twisting quickly grabs your attention, a feeling of relief washing over you. You knew he’d come back. You were his girl, you were the love of his life.
But just as quick as the relief had come, it had left even faster once you saw that the person you thought walking through that door was in fact not Jungkook, but Namjoon who stood there in silence, trying to hide the look of pity on his face. “Y/N…” he whispers in sadness.
“N-No,” your lips wobble, “No,” you begin to vigorously shake your head in denial, “No!” you quaver out, desperately trying to blink back the floodgate of tears that was begging to be released. Namjoon could feel his gut clench at the hopelessness of the situation, knowing that there was nothing he could possibly do because Jungkook was gone, and he was not coming back.
He watches as the tears slowly begin to freely fall, the silent sobs finally escaping from your mouth. Your chest heaves, until finally a cry so raw comes out of your mouth that you grab onto your vanity chair so that your shaking would not cause you to fall.
Quickly, he makes his way to envelope you in a tight hug, humming small comforting words to your ear despite knowing that you probably weren’t listening. You sob into his chest unceasingly, your hand clutching onto Namjoon’s jacket as he held you in silence, rocking you slowly as your tears soaked his chest, blinking back his own tears. The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, the sound of your muffled sobs filling the air.
The wet mascara that was mixing itself with your tears stinging your eyes, almost as if it was trying to force you to stop crying, but you just couldn’t. With every sob that forced its way out, your chest would rise and fall unevenly as you gasped for breath.
How could he do this? Why? Things weren’t supposed to end like this. Not at all. “Shh, shh,” Namjoon hums, “you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” he reassures. You wanted to scream, to say something, anything, but nothing could come out. If anything you could feel your lungs scream for oxygen, your airway becoming compressed with every hysterical sob that was let out.
Quickly pushing off Namjoon, you feel as if the world is spinning and that the walls of your dressing room were closing in. You begin to gasp over and over, hysterically tapping on your stomach, “Get this,” you heave out, “Get this off of me!” you breathe out, lifting your dress up, and desperately trying to unknot the corset you were wearing underneath.
Namjoon quickly grabs some scissors from your vanity, cutting the piece of ribbon which held together the piece of fabric that clinched your waist. Immediately, you could feel the air return to your lungs, a feeling of relaxation now washing over you, as the riptide finally mellowed down.
You stand in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection across from you, your tears silently falling from your cheeks. Namjoon makes his way behind you, tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ear, “Hey, listen to me,” he whispers, “you are going to be just fine,” he firmly states.
“Joon?”
“Hm,” he responds.
“Can you,” your voice cracks, “Can you just take me home?” Your question is met with silence because instead he grabs a big oversized coat from your rack and places it over your shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, watching you as you made your way out of the dressing room, for what he knew would be your last time.
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Waking up to the feeling of a hand firmly shaking your shoulder, your heavy eyelids struggling to flutter open, the soreness from crying taking its toll. You must’ve fallen asleep during the car ride home, you reason, finally managing to open your eyes completely. You rub your eyes, confused as to where you were because this was definitely not the outside of your apartment building.
In fact, you were outside of Grand Central Terminal, “What the..” you turned to face Namjoon, who had a sad smile on his face, “Joon? What’s,” you falter your words, “What’s going on?” you ask, confusion now overwhelming you.
He lets out a deep sigh of sadness before continuing, “You’re going to California Y/N,” if you had been half-awake before, you certainly weren’t now, quickly jolting forward in shock, “Los Angeles or may I say Hollywoodland to be more specific,” he reiterates, a tiny chuckle coming out of his mouth.
“J-Joon,” you stutter, “you’re crazy!” you sputter, “Absolutely crazy!” you hit his shoulder causing him to let out a yelp in pain.
“Y/N I’m being serious!” he turns and points to the passenger seat of his car, “I even managed to pack most of your things while you were asleep, all the essentials are in those two luggage bags.”
“How did you even—” you shake your head, trying to stay on topic, “Joon I can’t just pack up my things and go, I have—” you hesitate with your next choice of words, what exactly did you have in New York that was holding you back?
Namjoon answers the question before you could, “Nothing. You have absolutely nothing here to hold you back, so why not go chase your dream huh?” he exclaims, “It’s what you’ve always wanted to do Y/N and I’m one hundred percent sure Hollywoodland is looking for a doll face like yours to go shake up the scene,” he laughs, “You can dance, you can sing, and you sure can act, especially those days you wouldn’t want to come into work,” he jokingly mumbles garnering him another slap to the shoulder, “Hey, hey, relax! Point is Y/N, you’re one of the most talented people I know, if not the most talented person I’ve ever met, and it’d be a waste of talent for you not to go out there and show people what you’re made of, Hell I even hear they’re beginning to develop sound films over there, and a voice like yours needs to be memorialized for future generations,” he says, as tears to begin to brim your waterlids.  
“But Joon—” you sniffle, “I don't, I don’t have the money to live out there, hell I barely have enough money in my purse to purchase myself a ticket,” you scoff because it was the truth.
“I know you don’t,” he deadpans, causing you to laugh.
“Then?” you chuckle. Slowly, he flips his coat and reaches into its inner pocket, pulling out and handing you what seemed to be a heavy envelope. You peep inside the sealed white envelope, it’s content causing you to let out a small yelp in surprise. There had to be at least 200 dollars in there! You quickly shake your head in disapprovement.
“Joon, no, no, no! You can't. You've been saving up for—!”
“Hey! Listen to me Y/N, look at me,” he demands, grabbing your hands which had been flailing around in denial. “This money right here means absolutely nothing to me if it means that someone like you can get the opportunity to pursue their dreams, especially because I know it’ll mean absolutely everything for you,” he smiles.
“But Joon, you’ve been saving up this money for your wedding for so long, I can’t, Mina’s going to kill you!” you fluster, Namjoon must’ve been going crazy or something. He’d been working so many hours for the past months, doing countless hours of overtime and being on his best behavior for some tips, how could he give it all up for some gamble at fame?
“I’ve already spoken to her about this and she had absolutely no problem with it!” he laughs, “A wedding is nothing but a celebration for a piece of signed paper, it won’t be the end of the world if we wait a little longer,” he reassures, “As long as Mina and I know we’re in this for life, then that piece of paper won’t change anything.”
“Joon I can’t—”
“You can and you will Y/N,” he firmly states, “plus you can always pay me back once you get rich and famous,” he teases, winking at you. “So, what do you say Y/N? You ready to go to Los Angeles?” You stare at him without blinking, a million thoughts racing through your head. This was your dream, the thing you’d spent a countless number of nights only imagining whenever you’d get up on that wooden stage to perform, and now you were finally going to get the chance to make it a reality.
“I don’t,” you hesitate, “I’m,” you feel your skin tingle with the words you’re about to say, now having made your decision, “I’m going to Hollywoodland,” you softly cry out in disbelief, a dimpled grin appearing on Namjoon’s face.
“Atta girl,” tears which weren’t of sadness, anger, but joy now falling from your face, as you quickly pull Namjoon into a hug. Slowly, he breaks away, “Come on, you gotta get going,” he glances at his wrist watch, which read a quarter past nine, “the train leaves half past nine, and I still gotta walk you to the departing area.”
Quickly buttoning up your coat and fixing your hair, you try your best to seem presentable, Namjoon grabbing your luggage from the backseat and exiting the vehicle, as you do the same, but for you it all feels different. Looking up to the building that surrounds the terminal, you soak in the final view of New York which you wouldn't be seeing for who knows how long. Years ago you’d imagine leaving home, but never like this, and for a moment it was as if time slowed down, almost like your brain needed a “photograph” to commemorate this moment,
The man playing on his saxophone outside the station for tips only adding a warm comfort to your fears, a reminiscent sound which was a balm to your mind, a reminder of the nostalgic chapter in your life that you’d look back to, whether it was with a joyful outlook was only for you to decide.
Slowly the two of you begin to walk to the departing area, your legs feeling more and more wobbly with every step you took. This was really happening.
“Here we are,” Namjoon announces, gently placing your luggage on the floor, and then placing hands against his hips in marvel at how gigantic the stationed train was. Your eyes glisten, once again pulling Namjoon into a hug. “You sure are emotional, you know that right?” he teases, causing you to only further tighten the hug.
You pull out the hug, “I’m going to write to you every week, I promise you!” you avow, causing Namjoon to immediately shake his head in disagreement.
“No, no, you have to focus on your career every waking minute Y/N, if anything just save a couple of bucks every month and ring me here and there, I’m always at the club most of the time and it’s not like you don’t know my schedule, plus I’m sure Al won’t charge me for using the telephone machine every once in a while,” he explains, voice slightly wavering, as his eyes were now glossy from trying to hold back his tears causing you to let out a laugh.
“Come on, you know you wanna cry,” you sniffle, pulling him in for another hug.
“Ah, I’m gonna miss you Y/N,” he laughs through his tears, “they don’t make em like you anymore.”
“This is the final boarding call for New York to Los Angeles which includes a stop at Chicago!” the conductor yells out the train, “I repeat, this is the final boarding call for New York to Los Angeles!” Namjoon quickly taps on your shoulders, rushing you to get on board.
Swiftly, you pick up the luggage cases on the floor, and begin to make your way inside the train but not before shouting something to Namjoon, “Hey, I expect to see a pregnant Mina the next time I see you guys, you hear me!” he facepalms himself, his cheeks becoming red at how loudly you announced it.
You quickly run to your seat, looking at Namjoon through the window, who remained where he stood, the train slowly beginning to move, while the conductor pulls the lever for the steam whistle, the final declaration to the new chapter in your life. You anxiously wave to Namjoon one last time, a grand smile on both of your faces, as he waves in return. The (what you assumed) family members of other passengers also waved goodbye, many teary eyed as you could only imagine the stories of everyone else on the train.
Once you were out of eyesight, you made yourself comfortable on your seat, slightly tilting your head against the window, a long unexpected trip now ahead of you.
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Los Angeles from what you could currently tell was definitely different than to what you were used to in New York, but beautiful nonetheless. The cab you managed to pin down was currently driving you to the small motel you found on one of the welcoming pamphlets of the city.
Currently, you were being driven down the newly built Sunset Boulevard, where you could only hope you’d be living on sometime in the near future.
“Ah there it is,” the taxi driver points out the window, and immediately a wonderstruck look appears on your face, your heart now pounding in excitement at the sight of the word “Hollywoodland” appearing from the mountains. “Welcome to Los Angeles kid,” the man says, to which you only nod your head in dumbfoundedness, “you better make the most of it.”
“I sure am.”
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a/n: i purposely left the ending ambiguous just because i felt like it should be your guys’ imagination as to whether y/n makes it big in hollywood depending on whether you like her or not LOL, so if you don’t like her you could always imagine she flopped or sum, and whatever jungkook does afterward being unknown as well. Catherine a better person than me, cause forgiving a cheater just aint in my heart LMAO.
also I wanted to dive further into namjoon and y/n’s friendship, as well as add a scene where y/n went shopping for her dress but I was burning out and so hopefully I did good conveying the sincerity of their friendship and the importance of the event to y/n + talk more about jk’s and catherine’s families but I think I put enough hints, that you guys would get the point and its effects on them as people. 
Feel free to comment, send me a message, or drop an anon! Anything is appreciated & if you can please like and reblog 💘 till next time.
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snackhobi · 4 years ago
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prompt: “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
thank you to my darling @yeojaa​ for sending this in and thank you to my darling @hobi-gif​ for beta reading it for me, you are both such lovely stars in the night sky of my life xoxo
pairing: seokjin x reader / word count: 1.9k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none!
--
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a hot roommate, must want to jump his bones.
Like. C’mon. Kim Seokjin is nothing if not easy on the eyes. It’s not enough that he has the body proportions of a god—broad shoulders, lovely thighs, everything in its place and perfectly in line with his height and his poise—he has a beautiful face, too. Those lips. That jaw. Those eyes. You don’t want to wax lyrical but it really is like God decided to take his time making Kim Seokjin and everyone else (like you) was just left with the dregs; the stuff that wasn’t good enough for Jin and was thrown aside.
The worst thing, though. The worst thing. The absolute worst thing about Kim Seokjin is that he is A Nice Person. 
You’d barely known each other, only a month into your cohabitation when he’d come across you crying into a tub of ice cream in the kitchen, sobbing over the guy who’d finally grown bored of stringing you along with promises of eventually becoming your actual boyfriend and had just cut you off altogether after one final lay. You were utterly heartbroken and entirely mortified when you noticed Jin standing in the kitchen doorway as you clumsily tried to dig your spoon into the still-hard vanilla, but he’d just slid down onto the floor next to you with a spoon in one hand as the other came to rest on your shoulder. He’d listened to you snivel and sniffle, quietly eating the weirdly chemical-flavoured chocolate ice cream in the own-brand Neapolitan tub you favoured—your least favourite and the one you always left till last.
Once a guy’s seen you crying your eyes out on the kitchen floor in old pyjamas, and you’ve seen him eat five pots of super hot instant noodles on the trot and chase the whole thing down with an entire box of doughnuts, you sort of get to know each other as people—both things are revealing in different ways—and it’s hard for that to not lead to friendship.
You could have dealt with Jin if he was just hot. But he’s hot and nice and funny, utterly ridiculous; he doesn’t take himself seriously while also knowing how to rein himself in when necessary to not overwhelm people and basically you’ve been crushing on him in a major, major way for a while now.
And like. Seokjin is single, so technically you have a chance. But you also have absolutely no chance at all, because? Hello? Kim Seokjin? You? You? Kim Seokjin? He’s so far out of your league he may as well be in another galaxy. And he’s also probably the best roommate you’ve ever had (cleans up after himself, doesn’t microwave fish and stink up the place, likes the same TV shows as you so there are no arguments over the remote), so you’re not about to throw a wrench into the mix by doing something stupid like confessing that you like him.
“Right, I should be back around ten,” says Seokjin. He’s all dressed up for a noraebang night with his friends—well, not dressed up really, they’re just gonna get drunk while wailing songs at the top of their lungs in a small room so it’s not like he has to go all out, but Seokjin makes everything look good. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
Seokjin is nice and hot and funny and friendly. Honestly, he’s just a dreamboat of a roommate and a man, with great friends too. Normally you would have leaped at the chance to spend a night out with Seokjin and the other guys, but you’d spilled your drink on Yoongi last time and were still convinced that he was plotting your imminent demise. Even if Seokjin insists otherwise, you want to give Yoongi a wide berth for a little while longer in the hopes he’ll suddenly suffer a bout of amnesia and forget that you spilled a very boozy and sticky Oreo and Baileys cocktail(/glorified milkshake) on him and ruined his shoes.
“I’m good,” you say. “But make sure you don’t have any fun without me and you have to let everyone know that it’s because I’m not there.”
Jin laughs, a wet squeegee of a sound, and it goes straight to your heart. “I’ll pass on the message,” he promises, blowing you a tiny kiss as he goes. 
(Ugh, he’s so cute. You hate him.) (No, you don’t.)
You seem to be setting a trend for yourself in the drink-spilling department, though. During an ad break you decide to get yourself a drink, and even though it’s just a Boys Over Flowers rerun that you’ve seen multiple times, you rush as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice—you don’t want to take too long and miss anything. Suffice to say you Fuck Up and end up with a shirt and trousers covered in juice and pulp and you miss a bunch of the episode as you clean it up, huffing dramatically to yourself the whole time, before scarpering towards your bedroom for some new clothes. 
At least, that’s the plan. You pass by Seokjin’s open door and pause, taking in the sight of a few discarded bits of clothing on his bed and across the back of his chair, things he’d clearly decided weren’t worth wearing out tonight. The one that’s caught your eye is the vibrant pink shirt strewn over his duvet, one of your favourites, one you haven’t seen him wear in a while. It’s one of your favourites because he just looks so cosy in it—Jin ends up with a lot of oversized clothes so they can fit over his shoulders, but he practically swims in material when he wears this shirt, flapping the sleeves at you and then laughing at his own antics. He could wear it as a dress if he wanted to, probably.
… so could you, if you wanted to, probably.
… but you shouldn’t. Like, that’s weird. Jin is your roommate and even if he’s made it clear that he has an open door policy, going in through said open door to get a bit of his clothing is weird. Definitely creepy.
But… you’ve already kicked off your dirtied outfit and you’re just in your underwear so you can’t be blamed for being worried if you’re going to get cold, right? You’re just grabbing the closest bit of clothing, aren’t you?
… You’ll take it off before he gets back and put it in the laundry with everything else; he won’t notice. You’ll just take this awful awful secret to the grave and never tell anyone about your invasive actions.
Oh, man, the shirt smells so good. You share the same laundry detergent but Jin had clearly tried this on before discarding it, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air as you end up swamped in the shirt (/shirt dress), and you don’t regret this. Well, you do, but also you don’t. It’s like being wrapped up in Jin’s arms. Jin’s not shy about giving you hugs but there’s something altogether different about wearing someone’s clothes.
You end up curled up on the sofa as you watch more Boys Over Flowers, knees to your chest and revelling in how cosy and small Jin’s massive shirt makes you feel. You have to hitch the material up so that your hands peep out the ends of the sleeves. Sweater paws are cute on everyone, even yourself, and you giggle as you fumble for the remote so that you can check how many more episodes there are before it turns to something else. You can indulge yourself for a bit. As a treat.
“Unbelievable, I can’t believe Minji did that,” you mutter, so caught up in the drama of it all (as if you haven’t seen this episode four times) that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, nor do you hear the footsteps that are heading towards you—what you do hear, however, is the sudden sound of Seokjin’s voice, freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights when you do.
“I forgot my wallet,” he says. “I—”
And that’s how he catches you, wide-eyed as you stare back at him, wishing that you could bury yourself between the sofa pillows so that he can’t see you. His keys are still in his hand and his mouth is open around an unfinished word as he takes the sight of you in, scrunched up against the armrest in some ridiculous attempt to shrink yourself small enough that he would have missed you.
He stares. You stare. You both stare. And then—
“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”
“No!” A high-pitched shrill of an obvious lie. “No, uh, nope. Nuh-uh. Haha, oh, Jin, always such a jokester, you.”
You want the sofa to suddenly develop sentience and swallow you whole, just so you can be out of this situation. So you wouldn’t have to watch as a smile starts to spread over Jin’s face, the way there’s a little glint in his eyes, the way he opens his mouth and says—
“You know, you didn’t have to turn down noraebang just so you could wear my clothes. You just had to ask, I would have said yes.” He doesn’t seem creeped out, just amused, which is—well, it’s better, but, what? He’s laughing at you? You don’t know if that’s worse, somehow, actually.
“I didn’t! I spilled orange juice on my shirt and then I saw this shirt and you weren’t home—”
“Aha, so you admit it, it’s not your shirt,” Jin proclaims. He looks smug.
“Oh my God, I am full of regret,” you groan. “My life is a disaster. Can we pretend this never happened? I will pay you literal money. Please.”
At this, Jin’s eyes turn soft. “Do you really want that?”
“I—wuh? Do I really want us both to pretend you didn’t walk in on me wearing your shirt like some weird stalker or something? Absolutely. Yes. Let’s do that.”
“I wasn’t joking about letting you wear my clothes,” he says. There’s a note to his voice, something a little doughy, yielding and warm for you, and—you know what your gut is screaming at you, but— “I always thought you’d look cute in them, and I was right.”
You splutter. Jin thought you’d look cute—he’s been thinking about you wearing his clothes—the sort of thing that, you know, couples do. But this is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about. There’s no way he’s attracted to you in the way you’re attracted to him.
… but he is looking at you in a way that’s soft and tender, the same look you give him when you think he isn’t looking.
“Jin,” you say, slow. “Are you…”
“The most handsome man alive? Yes, I am.”
You make a face at his interruption and he laughs at your expression before going quiet, eyes so big and lovely and warm as he smiles at you, and you continue to speak. “Are you saying you want to, y’know. See me wearing more of your clothes? Or, uh... Less clothes in general?”
You can feel the blood rising in your cheeks as you say this, and you can see the red that starts to tinge the top of Jin’s ears, exquisite and wonderful. “I’m saying that I’m happy to give you what’s mine, including my clothes,” he says. “And my time. And love.”
You end up pulling the excess material of the shirt over your head as you turn into some sort of bright pink turtle, overwhelmed and in disbelief but so happy.
Judging from Jin’s laughter and the warmth of his hands reaching for yours in their too-long sleeves, he is, too.
692 notes · View notes
orwocolor · 4 years ago
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Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven
Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Cursing
Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.
Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.
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Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.
Breathe in.
And breathe out.
You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.
Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.
Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.
You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.
With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.
Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.
You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.
You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.
~
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.
“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.
You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.
“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.
While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.
No.
He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.
“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.
You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.
You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.
Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.
“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.
“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?
“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.
“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”
He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.
You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.
“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”
“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.
“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”
“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.
“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”
“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.
“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”
By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.
“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”
A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.
“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.
Actually, you already have.
You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.
“Please, can you forgive me?”
His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.
“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”
Wait, what?
It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…
“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  
“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.
“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”
“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.
“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.
“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.
“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.
“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”
Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.
Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.
Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”
It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.
“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.
“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”
“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.
“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.
“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.
“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.
By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.
“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.
“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.
“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.
Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.
You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.
You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.
But then, you finally register Peter’s words...
“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”
… and your smile freezes.
~
Buyers.
The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.
Buyers.
No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.
So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.
You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.
Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.
You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.
Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.
However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.
5.40 p.m.
Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.
“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.
“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”
It takes a moment before the dots connect.
“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”
“Sure thing!”
The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.
How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”
“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”
“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?
~
You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.
“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.
“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”
The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.
Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!
“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.
His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.
“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”
“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.
“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.
Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.
When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.
He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.
But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.
“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”
“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.
Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.
“Goodbye.”
You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.
“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”
But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.
When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.
God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.
Nothing.
Not even a sign of hope.
Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.
“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.
You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.
~
Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​
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terreisa · 4 years ago
Text
Love Down the Line: Chapter 10
The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3
~*CS*~
On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th
Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her.  She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was.  It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.
“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed.  She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever.  It might help to talk about it.”
“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”
From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi.  Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh.  Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty.  The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings.  Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her.  She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided.  She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened.  I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything.  Chicks before dicks and all.”
Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it.  Dorothy okay with you being out here?”
“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up.  We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened.  She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though.  We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”
“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.
“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”
“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.
“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t.  Time to spill.”
She closed her eyes.  It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded.  In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen.  With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.
“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in?  Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”
Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question.  She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.
“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly.  Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her.  It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour.  I thought you knew that.”
“No.  I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.
Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret.  He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”
“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.
“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”
“No. We were just…”
She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue.  Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea.  That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.
Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”
Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement.  She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic.  Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.
“What did Tink tell you?”
“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink.  Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”
“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled.  Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”
Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”
“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.
“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”
She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me.  He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music.  She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way.  There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”
That had been the final blow.  She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn.  Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all.  Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds.  When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table.  Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction.  Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.
“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”
“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually.  He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain.  Then I saw that fucking picture.  I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face.  He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son.  No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again.  He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”
She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that.  Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to.  Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode.  With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.
“So you’re just going to ignore him?  You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.
“I can find that out from Regina.  She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it.  At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.
“And don’t you think Killian would too?”
A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered.  Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.
“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”
“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”
Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine.  What?”
“Were you happy?”
Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest.  She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye.  There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing.  He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest.  Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.
The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.
“I really, really was.”
For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry.  She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show.  As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.
Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself.  Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back.  She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying.  It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.
“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”
Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her.  She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.
“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.
“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.
“What if I have to pee?”
“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids.  If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed.  Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”
Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes.  She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely.  To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling.  However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.
“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”
“Not right now he’s not.  I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”
She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead.  Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up.  Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him.  Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.
She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets.  While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked.  Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.
After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting.  Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails.  She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.
Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam.  A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too.  There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with.  With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.
The texts were another matter completely.  She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed.  After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina.  Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.
The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue.  Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh.  Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour.  The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to.  Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.
You have six new voice messages.  To listen to your messages press one- 
Message one:
“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will.  We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”
End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-  
Message two:
“I don’t appreciate having to leave another voicemail along with the unanswered texts.  Walsh has agreed to issue an apology and his employer is sending him on an unpaid leave of absence for a month.  I would have preferred a firing but they will be generously donating to a charity of your choice and will be giving you final say in your future interviewers if we ever decide to return.  We still need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”
End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one- 
Message three:
“Reviews for last night’s show could have been better.  This wouldn’t have been an issue if Ms. Lucas had more than twenty-four hours notice to begin rehearsing.  I am still waiting to hear what happened with Jones.”
End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-
Message four:
“Emma, sweetheart, I just want you to know that David and I both love you very much and we’re here for you.  Call either of us back when you can.”
End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-
Message five:
“I am beginning to lose my patience with you, Miss Swan.  You are not my only client and neither is Mr. Jones.  I cannot do my job if you do not answer your phone.”
End of message. To erase this message press seven.  To listen to your messages press one-
Message six:
“I will be flying up to Portland to discuss matters with you in person.”
End of message. To erase this message press-
Emma hung up and dropped her hand to her lap.  She was screwed.  Regina was a nightmare to deal with when she was irritated but still in a forgiving mood.  In the last message she had sounded beyond pissed and was likely to be even more so by the time they were in the same room together.  Especially since she had told her that she wasn’t intending to rejoin the tour until the final show in Vancouver.
���From the look on your face you probably didn’t hear any good news,” Ruby said cautiously.
“Sorta,” she murmured, “Walsh is going to publicly apologize but he’s really only getting a slap on the wrist as punishment.”
“Asshole,” Ruby snarled.
Humming her agreement she turned her phone over and over in her hands.  She contemplated calling Regina to try and get some of the yelling that was bound to happen over with.  The only problem was if Regina was meeting them in Portland then she was most likely on a flight and wouldn’t be able to answer her phone.  There was no way she was going to play phone tag and end up pissing her off even more than she already was.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Ruby was watching her with narrowed eyes. “Is it Killian?”
“Blocked his number, remember?” She sighed tiredly. “I’m pretty sure Regina’s going to murder me when we get to Portland.”
“Regina’s going to be in Portland?  I thought her royal ass wasn’t going to be around until Vancouver.”
“Well, looks like I’ve made her mad enough to change her plans.”
“Shit,” Ruby breathed, “Sucks to be you.”
She huffed out a half-amused laugh, “Thanks.”
“Welcome,” she chirped, gleefully. “So, you’ve got at least a few more hours left to live.  Wanna see how much money we can take Will for?”
“Blackjack or Hold-Em?” She asked, already crawling over her to get out of the bunk.
“Hold-Em,” Ruby said with a devious grin, following her, “He has the most obvious tell I’ve ever seen.  Someone should really tell him.”
A few hours, a couple of hundred miles and one pissed off Will Scarlet later the bus pulled up to their hotel in Portland.  For the most part Emma was able to keep her mind off of everything that had been dragging her down.  It helped that her focus had to stay on her cards while ensuring that Will’s boasting morphed into irritated grumbling until he’d finally thrown down his final hand in disgust and stomped off to his bunk a few more dollars poorer.
As she tallied up her half of the take she warily eyed the front entrance of the hotel.  She’d almost convinced herself that Regina would have been waiting for her, pacing like a caged tiger, ready to strike.  Instead she found herself looking at a couple of bored valet attendants and a few of the other guests entering and leaving, some slowing to gape at the bus as it came to a stop.  To her great relief there were no reporters or paparazzi in sight, unlike their hotel in Oakland.
“I’ll let the front desk know we’re here,” Tink volunteered, popping out of her bunk like a jack in the box.
Before Emma could thank her she had already skipped down the stairs and was making her way into the hotel.  Shaking her head at Tink’s boundless energy she stood herself, stretching out her road weary muscles.  Just as she was about to move to gather up her stuff to take up to the room she caught sight of Regina striding out of the hotel’s entrance.  The furious look on her face made Emma’s stomach drop to her toes.
“Uh, you guys should go,” she called out, keeping her eyes on the advancing Regina.
“You already drained me dry and now you’re makin’ demands?  I’ll go when I’m good and ready,” Will scoffed, his voice muted.
She felt Ruby come up behind her, “I’ll just wait for- oh.  Will, let’s go!”
“What the bleedin’ hell for?” He growled, she heard him drop from his bunk and stomp towards them, “It’ll take Tink at least twenty minutes to get everythin’ all sorted out and since I’m bunkin’ with the crew, thanks to you and that wanker havin’ a row-”
“If your accommodations aren’t to your liking Mr. Scarlet-” Regina said icily as she ascended the stairs into the bus, “I can arrange for something more suitable, a Triple A recommended motel perhaps?”
Looking over at Will she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard before grinning cheekily, “Ah, won’t be necessary, luv, seein’ as motels never have a decent bar.  Shall we, Red?”
Ruby looked torn.  Emma nodded, giving her the okay to leave even though she desperately wanted her to stay.  Unfortunately she knew that Regina would lay into her no matter who was there to witness it.  Regina had already made it clear that she was annoyed that Ruby had replaced Killian.  If Ruby stuck around she’d most likely fight on Emma’s behalf and get sent back to Maine for her trouble.  The last thing she wanted was to give Regina the opportunity to bring Killian back on.
Will had already left the bus and Ruby followed reluctantly, her gaze narrowed at Regina’s back until she disappeared out the door.  Steeling herself Emma waited for the oncoming tirade.
“Have a seat Miss Swan,” Regina said icily, brushing past her and sitting down at the bus’ small table.
“A please would be nice,” she muttered, low enough to not be heard while doing as she was told.
Regina watched her silently.  Emma fought against the urge to fidget, feeling a lot like she was an unruly student about to be reprimanded by the principal.
“Mr. Hoakley’s apology has been released-” Regina began without preamble, “His producer and the company have also issued their statements.  Unfortunately, the edited audio is still being circulated despite the original recording and a transcript being released and you’re still trending negatively on Twitter.  We haven’t seen any major drop in overall sales or requests for ticket refunds but there has been a dip.  Enough of one that the label is insisting that you release a statement of your own.”
“What?  I-”
“I am talking Miss Swan, you will only listen,” Regina said sharply.  She paused, clearly waiting for her to try and argue.  When she didn’t she continued, “I have already written the response which will be posted to your Instagram today along with a photo from the tour.  You will also be doing a live session tomorrow morning to answer fan questions.  The questions will be chosen and looked over beforehand to prevent any more mishaps.  If everything goes well we should see a solid bounce back by the time we reach Vancouver.
“Now, concerning Mr. Jones-”
“I could have kicked him off the tour at any time, we put it in the fucking contract,” she said hotly, annoyed at having been dressed down and feeling defensive over the decision she still wasn’t sure about.
Regina’s brown eyes flashed, “Yes, which saved you from being dropped from the label entirely.”
“Wh-” Emma could feel the blood draining from her face, “What?”
“Despite what you may think you are not as indispensable to them as to take the liberties you already have.  The fiasco with Mr. Hoakley was bad enough and while you were in the right the label saw your combativeness as a strike against you.  Dropping Mr. Jones from the tour at the same time was a misstep that jeopardized both your careers.  Yours more so than his.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?  How is that fair?” She asked in disbelief, feeling irate heat crawling up her neck.
“It isn’t, but that’s how this industry works, Miss Swan,” Regina said flatly. “Mr. Jones is an established artist with a built in fan base and therefore guaranteed record sales.  His past troubles are well documented and any misstep he could make wouldn’t come as a surprise even with his turnaround and the years spent in reclusivity.  You, on the other hand, have only begun to bring in returns on the investments the label has made.  Having Mr. Jones on the tour was his tacit endorsement of you and could have drawn a new demographic of listeners to your music.  Instead you’ve made it appear as though you were doing him some great favor instead of the other way around.”
“I don’t need his or anyone’s help,” she growled. “I’ve already made it this far on my own.”
“You made it to open mic nights and small bookings at bars on your own.  A world you are closer to returning to than you think,” Regina warned. “I suggest addressing how thankful you are that the label has been supporting you during this time.  It’ll be a step towards getting back in their good graces.”
“This is ridiculous-” she threw up her arms in frustration, “I did nothing wrong and I’m getting punished for it.”
“Again, this is how things work and you are not the only one being reprimanded for your behavior,” Regina snapped.
She frowned, “What do you mean?”
“I have been in meetings and taking phone calls for the past three days fighting on solely your behalf-” for the first time Regina seemed to soften, a wry twist to her lips. “There is nothing worse than trying to convince a group of old, out of touch, decidedly male record executives to consider for a moment what a young woman in the industry has to deal with on a daily basis.  Let alone trying to explain the capriciousness of social media trends.  Regardless what you may think, I am on your side Emma.”
“Wait, I’m confused-” she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest, “You just spent the last fifteen minutes chewing me out.”
“And you spent the last three days ignoring my calls-” Regina said pointedly. “If you’d actually answered any of them I might have been more patient in explaining everything to you.”
“So if I’d answered you would have been less of a bitch?” She asked sardonically.
Regina pursed her lips and glared at her, “Seeing as I’m the one currently keeping your ass out of the fire I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“So, I post my statement and do an awkward live thingy to get things back on track,” she said in lieu of apologizing.  There was no way in hell she was going to give Regina the satisfaction. “Anything else?”
“We still need to discuss what happened with Jones,” Regina said with a raised eyebrow, folding her hands together on the table.
“Jesus,” she muttered under her breath.  Dropping her head back she sighed, “Do we really or can we pretend we did and go get drunk at the bar instead?”
There was a pregnant pause before Emma heard Regina shifting in her seat, as though she were uncomfortable.  Curious she swung her head back down and was surprised to see an almost concerned look on Regina’s face.  She must have let her confusion show because Regina rolled her eyes.
“We may not exactly be friends, Emma, but I do have your best interests at heart.  What happened with Jones the day of the interview? You were eager to be done with the day and back with him as soon as possible, then a few hours later you dropped him from the tour and cut off all communication.  As your manager I need to know if there’s going to be any issues in the future that can be quietly dealt with now-” the concerned look returned, “As someone who worries about you I want to know that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you.”
Emma burst into laughter, unable to help herself.  She should have known that Regina would have no clue why she’d practically fallen apart.  In Regina’s mind she was merely doing her job of getting her clients’ careers to the next level.  It wouldn’t have occurred to her that she might have been the reason for it all going to shit.
Catching sight of Regina’s bewildered stare threw Emma into a fresh gale of laughter.  As tears of mirth streamed down her face she fought to catch her breath and wondered almost idly if she’d finally lost her damn mind.  Several minutes passed before she was finally able to get ahold of herself and look Regina in the eye.
“Are you quite finished?” Regina asked, clearly exasperated.  At her nod she leaned forward, “Now, will you please tell me what it is I said that had you laughing like a madwoman?”
“Do you worry about me or my career?” She said instead of answering, quirking her lips in a wry smile.  Regina’s brows drew down in consternation and Emma sighed, knowing they were only heading towards a fight, “Killian didn’t do anything.  He got what he wanted out of touring with me so it was time for him to go.  End of story.”
“That sounds more like the middle of the story-” Regina leaned forward, “Explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” she sighed, completely over the conversation. “Being on tour got him back in the saddle or taking that first giant leap or whatever.  He’s working on new, amazing stuff with the hit-maker Robin Locksley, which is what you want from a new client.  Right?  So I let him go and we’re both moving onto bigger and better things.  Everyone’s a winner.  Can I please go get a drink now?”
Regina had slowly straightened in her seat during her small tirade.  She was sitting rigidly, looking at her with an unreadable expression.  After a moment she shook her head, Emma somehow felt it was in disappointment, and stood from the table.
“I’ll send you the statement to post and options for the photo to go along with it.  The live Q and A needs to happen before nine tomorrow morning, I will be sending along the pre-approved questions as well.  Stick to those and hopefully you’ll come out of this relatively unscathed.”
Emma stared up at her, almost annoyed she hadn’t pushed the Killian issue further, “Okay…”
“Have a good evening, Miss Swan.” With that Regina strode off.  Emma watched her go, flabbergasted by the abrupt departure when Regina stopped at the top of the stairs leading off the bus and turned back, “Just so you know, Mr. Jones is refusing to do any work on the album the label has him on contract for.  Mr. Locksley, a close, personal friend of his I believe, is having difficulties convincing him to even pretend to work on it to appease the label.  He is perilously close to being in breach of contract with them and is refusing to answer my calls as I try to salvage what’s left of his career.  But everyone's a winner, right?”
Regina didn’t wait for her to answer, stepping down off the bus without any further acknowledgement.  Emma sat there with a growing sense of unease, staring blankly at the spot that Regina had been standing.  The part of her that hadn’t wanted to see Killian in pain was trying to twist Regina’s words into lies, make everything she’d said another ploy to boost sales or something, anything to keep her mind clear of the idea that Killian was sabotaging himself for her.  Yet the longer she sat there the more her unease grew, knowing that what Regina had said was exactly something that Killian would do.
Antsy she got up from the table and paced between it and her bunk.  She no longer wanted a drink, just the thought of drowning her sorrows and problems had her remembering Killian’s hard fought for sobriety to face his own issues head on.  With each pass she made in the small space she teetered back and forth between believing Regina and vilifying her, both of which would have her making decisions she wasn’t ready to make.
Groaning in frustration she dove into her bunk, wanting nothing more than to hide away there and hope that everything would just fix itself.  Her self pitying was interrupted by a phone buzzing at her hip.  Reaching underneath her she pulled it out, expecting to see her old, battered but still functional phone and instead found her fingers wrapped around Ruby’s practically new iPhone in its protective red case.  Surprised that she’d left it behind Emma flipped the phone over to see who was calling.  When she saw Killian’s name on the screen she nearly threw it across the bus.
She eyed the still buzzing phone like it was a snake about to strike.  There were a million reasons for her to ignore it, to let it go to voicemail and have Ruby give her the gist of the message.  There was only one reason for her to answer and it was that that had her swiping up and pressing the phone to her ear before she could think better of it.
“Thank god,” Killian sighed in relief, the sound shooting straight to Emma’s heart, “Ruby, lass, I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t ask but please, just tell me that Emma’s alright.  I’ll stop calling, anything, I just... please, I just need to know.”
Her breath had backed up in her throat at the plea in Killian’s voice.  He also sounded exhausted, his accent dragging across the words much like they had when they’d stayed up too late, nose to nose talking the night away.  The memory had her breath hiccuping out of her in a half sob.
“What’s wrong?  Is it Emma?  Ruby, is she okay?”
His panicked questions had her biting her cheek to get a hold of herself.  She closed her eyes and gripped the phone as though her life depended on it.
“I’m okay, Killian.”
“Swan?” He breathed and she could hear his unfolding hope in the single word, “Love, is that you?”
“It’s me,” she whispered.
“Swan, Emma, I…” he huffed in either frustration or disbelief she wasn’t sure, “Dammit, love, I had so many things I wanted to say and now I can’t think of a single thing.”
She took in a shuddering breath, “Just tell me why.”
“Why?  Why what?”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that you were trying to get your big comeback?  That’s all this was, wasn’t it?  You could have just told me that.  You didn’t have to lie to me,” she had tried to keep her tone even, unaffected, but had ended on a growl nonetheless.
“I never lied,” he said vehemently.  She scoffed and he made a strangled noise, “Emma, listen to me, when have I lied?  Yes, I admit, being on the tour may have begun as a stepping off point but it became more than that.  We became more than that.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie, Killian,” she said emphatically.  She couldn’t focus on how heartfelt he’d sounded when talking about them, not when he’d also confirmed everything she’d been worrying about. “It’s not like it matters anyway, you got what you want.  Your name’s back out there, people are interested.  Congrats on the record contract by the way.”
“None of that bloody matters to me,” he snapped. “If you’d just listen-”
“No,” she said, cutting him off, “You had your chance to explain when you first auditioned.”
“Emma-” his voice cracked, “please.”
“I- I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you-” her voice wavered, tears lodged in her throat, “I’m sorry.”
She cut off the call but not before she heard him say her name once more.  The phone immediately began buzzing in her hand but she swiped to ignore the call, quickly shutting off the phone completely to resist the temptation to answer.  She then curled into a ball and gave into her tears.
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glumpiglet · 5 years ago
Text
A Misunderstanding (F!ReaderxBeetlejuice)
So I made another one of these, I’m a greedy little bottom and only the thought of bug boi can satisfy me….. This is the point where I tell you I’m shamelessly self-inserting myself as the reader at this point. I’ve not done a lot of Xreader writing, so I’m learning I’m not great at making characters neutral, there are multiple things that just uh ... seemed to serve where I wanted the story to go so I used it XD sorry peeps I’m so bad
p.s thanks again to @boopeen for making the prompt post. I’m sure this wasn’t what they were thinking it would be used for XD
p.p.s my requests are open so slide into them if you feel so inclined. Love you guys <3
TW: Swearing, Drug Use, sprinkle of angst.
Angst: “I don’t want to do this anymore,”
Fluff: “please hug me, I really need it.”
Walking through your front door, you had to expel a sigh in relief, another long day at work done. Hanging up your purse and keys, you expected to be ambushed. Confused at the lack of.. Well any life in your apartment. The irony wasn’t lost on you. 
Calling out for the company who you left this morning; you weren’t summoning him half as much lately. It seems to be he was just….. Sticking around.
“Hello?” 
Where the hell was he? Inspecting the apartment for any trace, you came up empty. Part of you didn’t want to risk bothering him if he was actually busy with something. 
On the other hand, you were selfish. There was only one way you wanted to spend your evening.
“Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.” As per usual, you braced yourself for the explosion that was the arrival of your BFF from beyond the grave.
Silence.
Shrugging, you turned towards your bedroom. He was either actually busy, or trying to scare you. Most likely the latter, you weren’t exactly in the mood for a spook right now. You voiced that opinion out loud, and got no response.
The lights were off in your room, a chill in the air causing goosebumps on your arms. 
In the corner, you could see two glowing orbs in the blackness. 
You always were a jumpy person. You could run into a stranger turning a corner on a sidestreet, and scream bloody murder. A certain someone loved to use that to his advantage. 
Nerves tense, you turned on the light. Ready for any amount of shock and horror that awaited you. Your eyes took in your normal bedroom. Rolling them, you took a step forward into the room, ready to call out once again.
“Boo.” 
Luckily you were able to stop yourself from making any sound other than a gasp, whirling around to almost bump noses with Beetlejuice. Heart pounding, you reached out to shove him in the chest. 
“Asshole!” Scooped up tight in his cold embrace, it was impossible to not feel the flush of utter happiness of seeing him after the day you had. All he had to do was give you that earnest crooked smile and you were already forgiving him.  
“Mmm.. Watch your language, babes. Or I might have to spank you.” Chuckling in his arms, you took stock of Beetlejuice practically glowing green. Someone was feeling good.
“Hello, BJ. How was your day?”
“Great! I spent the morning scaring people in your hallway, I think I permanently scarred the guy two doors down, it was so hilarious!” Continuing to giggle as you extracted yourself from his grip, you turned towards the vanity, beginning the task of taking make-up off, removing your jewelry. 
BJ watched you in the mirror, as always invading your personal space, murmuring into your hair.  
“Then I had to...Go back for something..” The vagueness of his demeanor made you pause. Beetlejuice was always open and honest, perhaps a bit too much, actually definitely too much at all times. It was a trait that in equal parts you admired while simultaneously it annoyed you. 
“Yeah, I got home and I was like, ‘where is he?’” Finished, you gently pulled him by his lapels. Taking the short trip through the hallway to the living room, depositing him on your sofa and sitting beside him. Taking his arm to wrap around your shoulder, you made yourself comfortable, knowing for a fact Beetlejuice would not mind in the slightest. 
“Aw, miss me that much, babes?”
“Maybe…” Reaching out to take the remote. You turned the t.v on just for the background noise, some episode of a show you had seen multiple times. Snuggling further into BJ, you couldn’t stop your heart racing once more as his hands began to wander, running down your sides to rub at your thighs.
“Hell yeah, this is what I’m talking about,” Scoffing at how he could take any affectionate moment and instantly make it sexual, not that you were helping matters by throwing yourself over him. Before he got too carried away, you linked your fingers with his and held them in your lap.
“Be quiet please,”
This was the part of your day you could always look forward to, BJ had been teaching himself to chill out recently. It was hard to come home from work daily to a feral, sexually charged adolescent bouncing off your walls. You weren’t trying to change BJ, god no it was completely give and take, you were good for each other. He gave you spontaneous fun, letting you not take things too seriously. In contrast, you were trying to explain to him why some things were important to breathers, why you had to go to work everyday, pay the bills, etc.  
It was becoming difficult to keep your eyes open. Feeling yourself slowly drifting off, you were dozing off on your friend…
**
Very few ‘friendships’ you had ever had involved as much cuddling as you did with Beetlejuice. Sure, nothing was ever run of the mill when it came to the demonic hurricane that was the self proclaimed ghost with the most. Not to mention the flirting. And long, quiet moments just gazing at each other, so close your breaths would intermingle…
Beetlejuice’s scent was one of the first hurdles you had to deal with in the beginning. You did realize you were hanging out with a dead guy, nothing could be done for his overall awful appearance. 
In your youth, you had briefly wanted to be a mortician, morbid change of topic nonetheless, but you had the chance to experience a lot of dead bodies in that time. You didn’t ultimately go through with the career, but those memories always stuck with you. 
So you were horrified when you first came in close contact with him, which was within the first two seconds of meeting, for he truly smelt dead. The association of it was the oddest sense of deja vu. The pungent, off smell was something you tried to ignore for as long as you could, not wanting to appear rude.
One time, the two of you were just sitting around the house all day, and you were asking him questions. About Death. The Netherworld. His life before you had known each other.
When you broached the topic of if he ever bathed, it seemed to confuse him. You knew it had been a stupid question, why would he? He had never been alive. Nor did he ever stay corporeal for long, before he met you. Stupid breather things like hygiene didn’t matter in the Netherworld.
“Would….you want me to start?” The question had been so tentative, you immediately felt bad for opening your mouth. 
“No..No Beetlejuice, you’re right. You’ve never had to before, you don’t have to start now. I’ll get used to it.”
The matter was dropped and you had pulled him closer, insistence on squeezing tighter to prove to him it didn’t truly matter. 
The next day you came home to your house in chaos. It looked like there had been a flood, water was everywhere and clones were on hands and knees with towels. At your appearance, there was a brief moment in time where everything stood still. You were standing in the doorway with eight pairs of eyes on you.
Then they attacked.
“She’s not supposed to be home yet!”
“Boss is gonna kill us!” 
“Shut up, idiot!”
“Hey babes! Lookin’ good today.”
“Funny story, sweetness. Just a little accident,”
Hands grabbed at your arms, curving along your back as they led you into your living room, where the water luckily had not reached. 
“Wait-wait. Everybody calm down. What’s happened?” Confusion did not abate as you saw Beetlejuice shuffle in from the hallway, looking unbelievably contrite. His head turned down, he wouldn’t even meet your eye as he mumbled out a:
“Hey,”
Expressing your bewilderment again, you shooed the hands off of you. You weren’t angry, but you were beginning to feel your hair begin to rise at the fact  no one was actually giving you an answer. 
“Sorry..We uh..might of kind of….floodedyourbathtub.” Not catching the whispered end, you stayed puzzled. Realizing something else was different, other than the disorder, you finally took notice of him.
He looked….Well he looked hot as fuck. You had never seen him in such a state of undress. His jacket and tie was gone, his cuffs rolled up to expose masculine forearms. He was also… surprisingly clean. His shirt was still dirt ridden, but the skin underneath shined porcelain. The sight of him without the usual grime that accompanied him made you pause.
Nothing could stop the flush you felt working its way over your face, if he knew he was making you blush you’d never hear the end of it, you had to stop before he noticed.
Eyes snapped back to his face. 
“Your hair’s wet...Why-....Did you shower?” Looking from clone to clone, you noticed them all in different states of wetness/cleanliness. Some looked like they didn’t even get washed. 
“You’re all wet…..Did you guys all shower together?”
The picture was beginning to form in your head, you couldn’t stop the incredulous giggle from the image of them all cramming into your one person bathroom.
“....Are you mad?”
Looking at Beetlejuice, you saw the anxious, fidgety demon trying to appear remorseful. He was too fucking cute, were you mad about him trying to clean himself up after you had selfishly told him he stunk? Opening up the floodgates, you began to laugh heartily, reaching out to hug him. 
It was weird. He smelt the same, but different. His usual pungent stench you associated with death wasn’t gone completely, but it definitely wasn’t making your eyes water. Mostly, he smelt earthy, like a field after it rained. There was another familiar smell that was making you feel nostalgic, you realized it was probably because he used he Irish Spring you kept for emergencies, of course he would use the big green bottle, your silly bug. 
“You’re so funny. Why would I get mad? It was an accident,” Shaking your head, you tried not to give a name to the fluttering in your stomach, and turned towards the nearest clone, running your hand through his damp locks, listening to him preen into your palm. 
“Maybe next time, just do it one by one please,” Grabbing the towel from the clone’s grip, you walked to the edge of the puddle in your house and dropped the towel, soaking up the water. 
Turning around, you felt the prickle of discomfort on your skin as you saw them all still staring. You loved the clones, thought they all had their own personalities and had more fun hanging out with them than your actual friends most times. 
It still never failed to make you uneasy when they did this, observing you like prey. You couldn’t tell what they were collectively thinking, and their boss certainly wasn’t helping.
“Seriously, it’s just water guys, really it’s fine. Look nothing was even damaged.”
“Come on, I’ll help you finish.”
So that’s how you spent the rest of your day, mopping and rotating the towels they used until the floor was just damp, and called it good enough. That night, you had a full cuddle puddle with them all as you watched scary movies till dawn.
He had even started brushing his teeth for you. The first time you had walked in on him, fangs and droopy tongue covered in foam as it looked like he was attempting to choke himself with the extra toothbrush you kept in your cabinet. Not that you ever expected anyone else to use it other than yourself when your old one had lost the bristles, but the idea of BJ taking the second slot in your toothbrush holder made you pause. The heavy feeling in your chest coupled with the affection you couldn’t help but feel. You knew you were in trouble.
You were in love with Beetlejuice.
**
Being shook, you jolted out of your slumber. Opening your eyes, you realized you had fallen asleep on him. You expected him to maybe make some snarky comment that he wasn’t a pillow, but he just looked at you with an expression hard to place.
Mumbling out an apology, you remove yourself from on top of him, walking out of your room into the kitchen, catching sight of BJ floating beside you.
“Tired?” 
“Just a long week, thank god tomorrow Friday.” Opening your fridge, you grimaced. It was time for some grocery shopping. Just deciding on an apple for the moment, you heard Beetlejuice rasp over your shoulder.
“It’s okay, sweet cheeks. I got just the thing for you to suck on.” 
Spinning around, poised to throw a jab, the momentum left when you took sight of BJ looking at you mischievously, hand outstretched with a large joint between his pale fingers.
No amount of stubbornness could stop the smile on your face. Beetlejuice was incorrigible.
You snatched it from his hands as he giggled as mischievous as a child, you opened up your living room window and sat on the nook you so love to habitat often. Amused as BJ, just as you had on the couch, practically circled into your lap like a house cat. Not being able to fit himself, he huffed and settled his head on your legs instead.
Your landlord luckily was a 60 year old hippie that grew in your community backyard, you still didn’t need your place reeking of weed. Especially with the potent Netherworld shit he brought around.
Passing the joint back and forth, BJ blew intricate smoke rings around your head. Shaking your head, loving it, shifting through your hair. Blaming the high, gaining courage from the stuff, you began to attempt your own rings, amused at how they couldn’t keep shape. You loved the blanketing feeling that was passing over you. 
Beetlejuice was practically purring, nuzzling into your legs. Without thinking, you began to scratch at his head. You really didn’t need a pet when you had BJ around. Watching as pink peeked through his roots, Beetlejuice butted the roach into the ashtray, setting his sights on you.
The air was thick with tension, unconsciously you lifted your legs, bringing his face closer, eyes bouncing between his, trying to figure him out.  
This was a favourite game between the two of you. The classic game of chicken. It didn’t help that you were always the one to break first. It was just a lot of conflicting feelings. 
It would be so easy to say yes to Beetlejuice, give into his obvious advances, but you didn’t want to be some breather booty call. Sure, the two of you had a great friendship, the thought of ruining it with your dumb feelings scared the shit out of you. 
But you were only human. And an incredibly high one at the moment.
Sighing, turning your head away, you mumbled. “I don’t want to do this anymore,”
You were happy to get this off your shoulders, sad at the idea of his rejection and unbelievably ripped. Letting slip a pathetic giggle, the multiple emotions were causing tears to well in your eyes. This. He was just so important to you. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this and you were so nervous what his reaction would be. 
“I see. I knew this was gonna happen eventually….Bye (Y/N).” 
Wait, what? 
Tilting your head up, you saw Beetlejuice standing up, shoulders slumped in defeat. 
“Huh? No! BJ look at me please.” You jumped up, snatching at his jacket sleeve, forcing him to turn, but he wouldn’t look at you. What the hell just happened? 
You felt your mouth go dry as you realized the way he had interpreted what you said. Oh no..
“I didn’t mean it that way at all. I mean.. I’m over just being friends, playing this game with you…. Not that it isn’t fun!”
You were digging yourself deeper, the words you wanted to say weren’t coming out. 
What you wanted to say was ‘I love you Beetlejuice. I want you to move in with me and become more than friends.’ The weed was causing your mind to move in slow motion, this was the absolute worst timing for this. What the fuck were you doing? 
No, no more of this. You weren’t backing down from this.
Beetlejuice wasn’t helping. In the midst of your freak out, someone was also happening to him. His hair had gone black as night. You had never seen him so...Blank. It would have been better if he was angry or obviously upset, you could deal with that. You had seen that before. 
This was more terrifying than anything.
“No.. Not game as in I don’t take us seriously….I’m fucking this up so bad..” Babbling to him, he wasn’t saying anything. Continuing to just look in the distance, like you weren’t even speaking to him.
“Calm down BJ, please. I’m so sorry for just blurting that out. Let me explain.”
There was a quiet, tense moment you thought he was going to say no, leave you still. Hurt eyes slowly turned to look at you as he backed away, distancing himself from you. 
Taking a deep breath, collecting your thoughts.  
“When I said that, I meant that...done. I want us to… Be more to each other. Have a relationship.”
There. You had said it out loud. Still, you couldn’t stop the word vomit from continuing.
“I’m just… If that isn’t what you want Beetlejuice, you can tell me.. I want you to tell me-”
“Babes?”
“Yes, BJ?”
“Please hug me, I really need it.” Without speaking you rush over, climbing onto him, clutching desperately at his back, not believing how close you came from losing him. Unbelievably lucky that everything turned out Beetlejuice breathed your scent in deeply, muttering something into your neck.
Pulling back, you can’t help but continue the tears tracking down your face as you see his own glittering like amber. 
“You scared me.”
Sniffling, you hide your face into his shoulder. That’s the worst thing he could have said to you. The fact that once again, boring, average you was reminded how much this powerful creature’s world revolved around you. It was the most humbling experience imaginable. 
Striving to keep your mouth shut, you just breathed in the quiet moment. Basking in each other. No secrets, no hidden feelings. 
“Woah. I’ve…..Never felt that before,” 
“I know, honey. I’m so dumb. If I were just more honest with you, we could have been doing this so much sooner,”
“You’re not dumb, babes. I know i can be…. A lot.” Scoffing, you cover his mouth with your hand, watching his expression become one of surprise.
“Thank you, BJ. You are not too much..” Giggling, you lean towards him, “You’re just right.”
Not wanting to speak anymore, needing to finally show him how much you wanted him. You kissed Beetlejuice for the first time. You expected him to be eager, sloppy and immediately hot and bothered. Nothing could have prepared you for him to be so sweet and gentle. It made your heart hurt with regret. Why didn’t you want to tell him how you felt? There was still a lot to talk about, but there was something else you needed to show him first.
Pulling away, the two of you were flushed and panting, you licked your lips and watched as his eyes flitted to them. 
“But it’s okay. I know a perfect way I could make it up to you.”
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captnbarnesrogers · 5 years ago
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Fall: Pick Your Lover Over Prom Dresses
Pairing/Characters: CollegeAU!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Jealous Bucky, swearing, not much lmao alotta fluff Chapter Summary:  WC: 2.3k+ A/N: 3 more chapters to go!!
PREVIOUSLY FALL MASTERLIST
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When you woke up from your deep slumber, you were in Bucky’s arms, warm and secure. You felt more comfortable to walk down the stairs by yourself. To your surprise, Winnie had left a note on the fridge that she and George had gone to work for the day. She added that the plates of food for you and Bucky were inside the fridge, ready to be heated and eaten. You prepared two cups and made some coffee for the both of you. You heated up the food and placed them on a tray, carefully bringing them up the stairs. You placed the tray on the bedside table and snuck yourself in between Bucky’s arms once again.
He began to turn in his sleep before finally opening his eyes and peeping at you.
“Am I in heaven? Because I think I’ve seen an angel.” You laughed as he kissed your cheek.
“If you’ve seen me, you’re probably in Hell.” He let out a groggy chuckle, his arm resting across your stomach, “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Well, I’ve made coffee and heated up some food.” He sat up as you handed him his mug, taking a sip straight away.
“If this is Hell, I wanna stay here forever.” You handed him a fork and you both shared the plate.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Enters Rebecca, panic flushes on her face. You stood up from your spot and rushed over to her.
“Are you okay?” You asked with concern. She took a deep breath before beginning.
“Jessica bailed on me, now I have no one to pick prom dresses with and I’m gonna look like shit and Alex won’t take me if I look like shit.” She says without a breath.
“Well, if Alex won’t take you because you look like shit, he’s an idiot.” Bucky explains with a mouthful, “That’s why I’m dating Y/N, she looks like shit all the time.” You glared at him jokingly.
“Your brother’s right, prom night should be a time to have fun with your friends, not to focus on boys.”
“I dunno Y/N, I lost my-“
“James!” You laughed, “Your sister doesn’t need to know that.”
“Yeah, gross, you gremlin.” He couldn’t stop laughing.
“Besides your brother being stupid, I’d be happy to help you pick a dress out.” You gave her a hug, Bucky watching with adoration with his eye – although he hid it quite well behind his mug of coffee, “Half the fun is picking out a dress.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!!” She exclaimed, embracing you tighter. Rebecca looked at Bucky whilst you both hugged and mouthed, ‘Marry her.’ He shook his head and smiled, hiding his blush.
“Okay, let me get ready and we can go.” She nodded and ran off to her room to do the same. You walked back toward Bucky who finished off his coffee, you planted a kiss on his cheek, “Drive us over?”
“Sure.” He croaked, taken aback by your actions. Surprised at his tone, he laughed, “Yeah, yeah sure.”
He watched you from the bed getting ready. A sweater, some jeans, a beanie; all so simple but you made it look like something that took hours to put together. He began thinking through your entire friendship. How you were the only relationship he put in effort to keep and maybe this was an excuse to finally up the courage he didn’t have back at the university. He shook himself out of the thought and brought the fact back to himself that this was a fake relationship and it was only going to last two weeks. After the two weeks, you’d look back at him as Bucky: your flirtatious friend. You snapped him out of his thoughts.
“Helloooo? Earth to James Barnes?” You giggled.
“Yeah, sorry! I’ll just put some pants on.”
“Okay.”
Rebecca rushed down the stairs excitedly. Her crossbody bag over her shoulders. She described her perfect dress to you. Light filling her eyes and smile plastered across her face.
“Okay so, it’s going to be a red silk dress, right?” You nodded, “with like a dropped neckline and spaghetti straps.”
“Oooh! That’s going to look so good!” You rubbed her back as she entered the backseat of the car and you made your way to the front seat.
“And I’m thinking rose gold hoop earrings and red strappy heels.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he started the engine of the car.
“Geez, it’s senior prom, not a wedding, Bec.”
“Leave her alone, James, I think every seventeen year old senior girl should have a show stopping dress.” Bec agreed with you, hitting the back of his head, truly showing the relationship that she and Bucky had.
Rebecca asked for the Bluetooth in the car to Bucky’s demise. He scrunched his nose at every song that played which made you laugh. He parked in front of the dress shop and stopped the engine.
“Thank the Lord that’s over!” Bec rolled her eyes at her brother’s annoyance, “I’m gonna go meet some friends while you guys pick some dresses, that alright with you, doll?” You nodded. Bec leaned in the middle compartment of the backseat, eyes hopeful, “What do you want, squirt?” You both looked at her.
“Well?” She began.
“What?”
“Aren’t you guys gonna kiss goodbye?” You blushed. Bucky choked on air.
“Um, yeah, of course we were about to!” You said leaning into Bucky and giving him a peck.
“You guys are the most unromantic couple on earth… That? That was pathetic.” She exited the car and entered the store. You finally breathed out and your cheeks flushed a deeper crimson.
“That bad, huh?” You asked Bucky nervously.
“I’m not complaining.” He couldn’t stop staring at you and he began to lean in. His hand snaking its way to your cheek and behind your neck. He looked at your lips and back to your eyes. This was it. This was the kiss that would seal the deal.
Multiple loud knocks made their way through the window, disrupting the moment.
“I’m gonna kill her.” You smiled down.
“Duty calls.”
“I’ll see you later?” You nod and he plants a kiss on your cheek. When you exit the car, the icy cold breeze of the air hit your cheek, making you grasp a hold of your body against it. You entered the store and Rebecca was already trying on dresses. Bright lights shone down on the display dresses and the sound of the heaters running through the vents were loud. Bec grabbed a dress from the rack, a little bit different to how she described but she had stated that she was ‘keeping an open mind’. It made you laugh.
“Are you going to try some dresses on as well?” She asked. You shook your head.
“No, but I’ll be brutally honest with the dresses you try on?” You both came to that agreement. She tried on dress after dress after dress. Nothing seemed to look nice and fitting on her until, she found the red dress that she had described a few hours beforehand, “Now that, looks amazing on you.”
“Mind zipping me up, please?” You walked over and pulled the zip up. The dress fitting perfectly on her, “He likes you, you know?” You hummed in response, “Bucky, I can tell, he really likes you, loves you even.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, he brought you home.” She looked at herself in the mirror and walked over to the shoe section, picking out black strappy heels, “He doesn’t do that, he likes to keep his love life and home life completely separate.” She sat down and put the heels on before standing up and walking over to the mirror again.
“That might just be to keep your mom from asking questions.”
“Maybe.” She turned to you and smirked, “Also he looks to you a lot, even when someone else is speaking, ever notice that he’s always following you around like a lost puppy?” Come to think of it, now that she mentioned, he really did, even back at the university, “and how he’s always concerned about where you are, what you’re doing, and pushing himself in situations and places where you are?”
“Your brother and I have been friends for a long time, Bec, I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything.”
“I don’t know, Y/N, sounds like he’s pretty smitten, huh?” You couldn’t help but blush at the thought, “I mean, I guess you’ll just have to wait until he gets jealous, it’s always the better tell.” She winked. The sales lady walked over with a smile.
“That’s so fitting on you, love!” She fixed the straps and continued, “it’s the only one in the store, guaranteed no one else would have this dress at your prom!” Bec jumped with joy, clapping her hands together. She took off the dress and the heels, taking them to the counter to be bought.
“Do you wanna get a smoothie or something?” She asked.
“Know any good places?”
“You’ll have to learn that I know all the best places.” She said with confidence, propping up and walking down the street. You were distracted from how much Bec and yourself were talking that you didn’t notice someone heading towards you. Before you knew it, you had bumped into them.
“Oh my god,” you shrieked, “I am so sorry!” You looked up to find your friend, Peter, a guy from your screenwriting class.
“Hi, Y/N, what are you doing here?”
“Peter!” You gave him a hug and a smile, “I’m actually here with Bucky.” You turned to Bec, not wanting your little lie to get busted, “Why don’t you head on in? I’ll follow.” She nodded and when she entered, the bell above the door rang out.
“Little sister duty?”
“Yeah, kind of, she needed a prom dress.”
Meanwhile, in the smoothie shop, Bec was texting Bucky. He had asked where you were and she told him where you both were. She had also mentioned to Bucky that you had bumped into a friend. Almost to his convenience, he was nearby and ready to pick you both up.
He looked from afar; you laughed at Peter’s jokes and conversed with wonder. Something bubbled up inside of him. Almost like a fire ready to explode with each word that came out of Peter’s mouth. He started to wonder if you ever laughed like that at his jokes, if you listened with wonder in every conversation you both had. Finally, you both hugged goodbye and you entered the smoothie shop, following Bec.
“Hey!” Bec greeted with a smile, “I got you one of my favourites, it’s an orange sherbet smoothie.” You took a sip.
“Tastes good.” The door bell rang through the shop and in entered Bucky, “Hey.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek and he smiled but almost as if he didn’t want to accept it. His demeanour had changed from this morning and it made your stomach turn. Had something happened whilst you and Bec were picking out a dress?
“Ready to go?” He asked.
“You don’t want a smoothie, Buck?” He shook his head, no. Bec shrugged toward you and stood up from her seat, grabbing the plastic which contained her dress and her shoes. He almost raced to the car as rain started to spit onto the ground.
The ride on the way home was silent. Although, Bec was too busy to notice. You did though. There wasn’t a flirtatious comment coming anytime soon. You were so curious but didn’t want to bring up whatever it was in front of his sister. You tried to put your hand on his shoulder, comforting him somehow but he shrugged your hand off of him. It was you. He was upset at you. You don’t know what you had done but you were so desperate to know why he’d suddenly become so cold. He parked the car in the driveway and walked to the door, opening it and stepping inside. Bec followed and gave you a smile.
“Thank you for today, Y/N, I had fun.” You leaned forward and gave her a hug.
“No problem.” You looked around the room and noticed Bucky had disappeared, “Well, if you’re happy to do this again, I am too.” She nodded and headed into the kitchen. You made your way upstairs and entered the room. Bucky kept himself busy as you sat on the bed, “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know, Y/N, is it?”
“I don’t even know what I did, Bucky.” You stood up from the bed and followed his each step. The room was quite small but you wondered why he felt miles away, “I can’t read your mind.”
“Didn’t say you could.”
“You’re acting like a child!” You stated, making him scoff. He cleaned his desk, stacking notebooks and notepads on top of each other. You walked over to him and hugged him from behind, “Please, Bucky?” He sighed.
“I just-” He turned to face you, “I don’t know, I don’t have the right to but I do- Bec told me that you bumped into Pete.” He hand made its way to your back, rubbing with comfort.
“And?”
“Don’t make me say it, Y/N.” He kissed your head, “I’m sorry.” You’d suddenly put two and two together. You and Pete. He had seen you with Pete.
“You’re jealous.”
“I don’t have an excuse to get me out of this.” He chuckled nervously.
“And you’re jealous because?” You were baiting him to say it, a smile plastered on your face. He shook his head, “Well, you don’t need to be.” You looked up at him. Your hand snaking its way to his cheek. Pulling him down, you planted a kiss on his lips.
“I’m convinced.” He laughed.
----
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@captianlibby​
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klaineanummel · 5 years ago
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looking for something that’ll (never) come 1/6
Blaine Anderson-Chang knows that his crush on his brother’s best friend, straight football star Kurt Hummel, is foolhardy. But every now and then Kurt gives him a look and Blaine can’t help but wonder.
Hey everyone!! Welcome to my newest fic :D This is a fic I’ve been wanting to write for ages, and am finally getting around to hehe it’s a fill for a prompt on the Glee Prompt Meme (link on AO3 and in the sidebar). This fic is complete, and I’m hoping to post it in its entirety over the course of the next two weeks or so. Hope you enjoy!! 
Title from I’ve Been Waiting by Lil Peep
Blaine doesn’t have to be looking at Tina to hear the eye roll in the, “Oh my god,” she lets out when she pulls up in front of Blaine’s house.
Blaine forces his eyes away from the black Escalade parked next to his driveway, turning to his friend with a, “What?”
Tina sighs, leaning her forearms on the wheel. “Blaine.”
“What?” Blaine repeats, knowing he sounds totally unconvincing in his confusion. He knows he sat up a little straighter when he’d seen the car, and he can’t remember doing it but he’s pretty sure he did that little excited wiggle that Tina and Sam are always making fun of him for.
He’s never claimed to be a subtle person.
“Just… chill, okay?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m chill.”
Tina raises an eyebrow. “You did the wiggle, pal.”
Yep, there it is. “Maybe I’m just excited to be home. Not have to see you anymore today.” He sticks his tongue out as he says it, hoping it will distract her.
This time he does see her roll her eyes. “Sure, Blaine. Whatever you say.”
He sighs, moving his messenger bag strap onto his shoulder and clutching it tight in his lap. He opens the door and sets one foot on the sidewalk. Then, he turns back to her and says, “It’s not because of Kurt.”
She frowns in faux-confusion. “I didn’t say anything about Kurt.”
He groans, and fully steps out of the car. He doesn’t close the door just yet, though, instead leaning against the top of it so he can still see Tina. “Thank you for driving me home.”
“Thank you for helping me pick out my prom dress,” she replies, still staring at him completely unimpressed. She glances past him, to his house, then looks back at him and says, “Text me later, okay?”
He snorts. It’s one of the things he loves most about Tina – she may give him shit, but at the end of the day she lives for the drama. No matter how much she disapproves of his crush, he knows he can always go to her with all the sordid details of whatever minute interaction he is overthinking. It’s great. Like having both the devil and the angel on his shoulder wrapped up in one person.
“You know I will,” he says, winking at her. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Blaine,” she wiggles her fingers as he finally shuts the door.
He heads up to his house, pulling out his keys and turning briefly to give Tina a final wave goodbye as she drives away. He then takes a deep breath and unlocks the door.
The first thing he hears is the sound of the TV from the living room, just a little louder than he knows Mama J likes it. He takes off his outside shoes and slips into his slippers, setting his keys on the hook with his name written above it in Mama P’s neat script.
He decides to drop his things off in his room before braving the living room, so he hurries straight up the stairs. When he reaches the top, he hears a couple of voices saying, “Come on, come on,” followed by a loud cheer a few seconds later. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as he walks into his room.
He hangs up his messenger bag on his coatrack, then heads to his closet, opening the left door so he can see himself in the reflection.
He knows it’s stupid to be concerned about how he looks. Kurt has seen him stumbling out of the bathroom at 2 o’clock in the morning with toothpaste still smeared on his face. He was front and center for the inside-out sweater vest ordeal. He’s even seen Blaine without hair gel, for goodness sake.
Still, he can’t help it. He wants to look nice.
He wants Kurt to think he looks nice.
He fixes his hair a little bit, tucks his polo back into his jeans, and adjusts the cuffs of his jeans slightly. He looks himself over for a moment more, then nods approvingly and closes his closet door, heading back downstairs before he can work himself up too much.
He’s just reached the bottom of the stairs when he hears Mike call out, “Blaine? Is that you?”
Blaine heads to the living room, poking his head in as though he’s just stopping in on the way to the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Their living room is full of teenage boys. Three on the couch, two on the loveseat, and Kurt, as always, lounging in the recliner. They all look up at him when he speaks, and Finn even graces him with a wave. Then, as soon as he had the eyes of six football players on him, he no longer does, the pull of the football game far too strong.
As subtly as he can, Blaine flicks his eyes over to where Kurt is sitting, leaned forward with his legs spread wide, elbows rested on his thighs. He’s still watching Blaine, smirking a little, and Blaine looks away quickly, already feeling a blush creeping into his cheeks.
“Hey,” Mike says, grinning at him. He scoots a little down on the couch, forcing Finn and Matt to squish together even more. “You wanna join us?”
Blaine glances at the TV, wrinkling his nose a little. He doesn’t really care for either of the teams playing, and as much as he’d love to be in the same room as Kurt for the next hour or so, he does have a lot of homework to do.
Plus, he’s been informed very indelicately by his friends that he is completely obvious about his crush, and he isn’t sure if he should put himself in a position of being caught staring at Kurt for an hour straight.
“I think I’ll pass for today, but thanks.”
“Aw, come on,” Kurt speaks up, still smirking, and Blaine’s heart skips a beat in his chest. “Bobcats, man. We’re destroying the Ravens.”
Blaine scrunches up his face a bit. “More of a college football guy, to be honest.”
“Dude, he said no,” Finn says, shoving Mike back over on the couch. “There isn’t really any room for him here anyway.”
“Yeah, cause you’re on here,” Mike replies, shoving Finn right back. “Besides, Blaine is small. You could fit two of him where you’re sitting.”
Finn just laughs, but Blaine finds himself blushing a little at that. Small isn’t exactly the word he wants his brother’s friends associating him with. Especially one of them.
“I got tons of room over here,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Now he’s definitely blushing, but he manages to hit back with, “Careful Kurt, I might take you up on that.”
A couple of the guys laugh, but Kurt just keeps watching him, smirk still firmly in place.
God, Blaine cannot figure him out.
Without saying anything else, Blaine removes his head from the living room and heads down to the kitchen. He immediately pulls out a glass and grabs some water from the fridge, sipping it slowly.
The thing is, he knows Kurt’s straight. It’s kind of the biggest reason that Sam and Tina give him so much shit over his crush. And he’s not just like, average straight, he’s really straight. Football player who dates cheerleaders straight. Drives an Escalade straight. Texts girls late at night asking if they’re up with the eggplant emoji straight.
But he also does things like stare at Blaine intensely whilst smirking. Or ask him to share a recliner that’s barely large enough for just Kurt. Or text him whenever he’s drunk, asking why he never comes to parties with Mike. Or get really annoyed when Blaine doesn’t come to one of their football games, and then really excited whenever he does.
He doesn’t want to be that guy that’s constantly wondering what if, especially since he’s specifically heard Kurt call himself heterosexual on multiple occasions and he really wants to respect that, but sometimes he can’t help it.
Maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in him.
He sets his glass of water by the sink, then walks over to the cupboard Mama J always keeps stocked with junk food and pulls out a half-full pack of Oreos. He picks five out, then puts the pack back and leans against the counter, biting into the first one slowly.
“Yo, Mini AC.”
He looks up, eyes wide as Kurt walks into the kitchen. He has to force himself not to obviously check Kurt out, but it’s so hard because, damn, he had not noticed earlier exactly how tight the t-shirt Kurt is wearing is.
“Hey,” Blaine replies after swallowing the cookie in his mouth. Kurt walks right up to him until he’s leaning next to Blaine on the counter.
He grins down at Blaine, then reaches out and steals one of Blaine’s Oreos. It brings their bodies slightly closer, their hips now brushing together ever so slightly.
Blaine is pretty sure he’s no longer breathing.
“You’re weird, you know that?”
“Huh?” It comes out like an exhale of breath.
“Why do you always eat your snacks in the kitchen?” Kurt takes a bite out of his cookie. “A normal person,” he continues, mouth full of cookie, “would grab his snacks and,” he swallows, “take them up to his room. Or out into the living room, where his friends are.”
Blaine swallows thickly. “Well,” he says, tongue feeling thick as he watches Kurt pop the other half of the Oreo into his mouth. “I don’t like to eat in my room because I hate crumbs. And, uh,” he glances at the doorway just as a loud cheer erupts form the living room. “You guys are really more Mike’s friends. Don’t want to cramp his style.”
“You hate crumbs,” Kurt mutters, grinning and shaking his head. “You’re really something else.”
Blaine presses his lips together to stop the ear-to-ear grin he can feel himself wanting to break into.
“But you’re wrong about the second part,” Kurt says, leaning over to steal another one of Blaine’s cookies. “We’re your friends, too. I mean, christ, we’ve been parking our asses on that couch for like ten years now. You even join us sometimes,” he nudges Blaine with his elbow, and it pushes him away just a little bit. Blaine immediately misses the warmth of Kurt’s body, and wonders if there’s a subtle way he can get close again.
“Sure,” is all he manages to say.
Kurt shakes his head, chuckling. “You coming to the game Saturday?”
Normally Blaine would play coy, see if he can get a reaction out of Kurt by saying he won’t, but, well. He can’t really pretend given what game it is. “You guys are up for the championship. Obviously, I’ll be there.”
Kurt nods. “Good. Need my good luck charm, you know.”
And that’s another thing that confuses Blaine. Because no matter what girl Kurt is currently dating, or sleeping with, or pursuing, he always calls Blaine his good luck charm. And every single time Blaine attends a game and they win, the very first thing that Kurt does is look for him in the audience and point directly at him.
Sam tells him it’s a superstitious thing, but Blaine can’t help but wonder.
“Oh, good, you’re still here,” Blaine looks away from Kurt, surprised to see Finn walking into the kitchen, too. Without thinking, Blaine inches ever so slightly further away from Kurt.
“Hey, Finn,” he says.
“Yeah, hey,” Finn waves a dismissive hand. “Look, you remember the game last weekend? Against Dalton?”
Blaine frowns, then glances up at Kurt confused. He’s hoping it’ll be a small moment of comradery between the two at Finn’s strange question, but instead he finds that any trace of a smile has disappeared from Kurt’s face. His jaw is actually jutting out a little, and he’s sending Finn a fairly icy glare.
It just makes Blaine frown more as he turns back to Finn with a, “Yeah, why?”
“Well,” Finn continues, clearly completely oblivious to Kurt’s stare. “I went to camp a few years ago with the Dalton quarterback, Sebastian Smythe. He noticed you when you came onto the field to congratulate us and thought you were really cute.”
Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up at that. “What?” He hadn’t really been paying attention to anything other than the fact that as soon as he stepped foot on the field Kurt immediately ran up to him and picked him up in a way-too-tight hug that literally swept Blaine off his feet.
“He asked if I knew you and if you’d be interested in getting coffee with him sometime,” Finn is wiggling his eyebrows as he says it, and Blaine feels his heartrate going up a little bit.
“Well, I mean,” Blaine glances up at Kurt again, and yeah, Kurt is definitely glaring at Finn. “I don’t really know him. Or what he looks like.”
“Dude, he’s totally hot for a guy,” Finn says. “And he’s like, nice and stuff. You’ll like him, for real.”
Blaine presses his lips together. He glances up at Kurt again. Kurt, who he has had a crush on for over a year. Kurt, who confuses him. Kurt, who hugs him like he’s the only person who exists but then hooks up with a cheerleader later in the night.
He’s never really been asked out before. Is he really going to say no because of a guy who can’t even return his feelings?
“Uh, sure,” he finally says, shrugging.
Finn does a tiny fist pump. “Sweet! I’ll send him your number and you can fix something up. You’ll seriously like him a lot, I swear dude.”
“Great,” Blaine says, giving a weak smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Finn grins at him, then turns around and leaves again. Blaine looks back up at Kurt as he goes, hoping the iciness will have left his eyes, but it hasn’t. Instead, he’s still glaring daggers where Finn just was, and his arms have come up to cross over his chest.
“That was weird, huh?” Blaine says, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever—”
“Yeah,” Kurt cuts him off. “Right. Look, I’m missing the game, so.”
He pushes off from the counter and walks out of the kitchen without even giving Blaine a chance to respond.
“Right,” Blaine says, though he knows Kurt won’t be able to hear him. “Bye, then,” he says to nobody, eyes falling down to the cookies in his hands.
He sighs, shoves one in his mouth and leaves the kitchen, eating the other one as soon as he swallows the first one.
He really hopes that Tina is home by now, because he doesn’t think just texting her is going to suffice this time.
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endless-vall · 5 years ago
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Taking things slow - Thomas Mendez x MC fanfic
Summary: After deciding to take things slow, Thomas and Ellie finally go out for their first date. Spoiler alert... It’s adorable.
Author’s note: I don’t usually write fluff, I’ve done it a few times but it’s not always the easiest for me, but with those two it came naturally! They’re so sweet, I can’t wait for when they finally get together!
Tagging: @mcchoices @chetachisblog @god-save-the-keen @furiouscloddonutpeanut @writtenbycandy @asprankle @cora-nova @lilyofchoices @paisleylovergirl @dandeservestheworld @mfackenthal @quacksonlover @blackcatkita. Please let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works for Thomas Mendez x MC/Moty/Perma tag! Let me know if you want to be untagged!
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"I just want to take things slow, you know? I'm afraid that if we start something and things move too fast I'll just get left behind." Thomas wasn't able to put exactly things to words, but the look on Ellie's face made him realize she probably understood what he meant.
"Then we don't have to take things so fast. We can start slow. Baby steps." She tilts her head to the side, smiling that brilliant smile of hers.
"How slow?" Thomas was almost convinced. Hell, he wanted to throw himself at her right there and then, but he knew that if he'd done that then things will end just as fast as they started. And he didn’t want things to end with Ellie. He was going to keep her for the long haul.
"Going on an awkward-first-date slow." She says, as a matter of fact.
"Awkward first date?" He was on board with the plan, simply confused, that's all.
"You know, the 'I don't know if to kiss you at the end of the night' kind of awkward." Ellie said, and Thomas burst into laughter.
"Deal." He took a hold of her hand, gently. "Ellie Day, would you like to go out with me on an awkward date?" He purposely overdid it, but he was, after all, a hopeless romantic. (Well, he was once, before Soledad passed away).
"There's nothing I'd like more." She squeezed his hand contently.
Chuckling to himself, he searched his mind for an open slot in his busy schedule that could also work for Ellie.
"Tomorrow, 8 pm?" He suggested.
"Ooh, I'm busy tomorrow, Friday evening?"
"Friday evenings are always reserved for Luz," He furrowed his eyebrows apologetically.
"Oh, it's fine, another time, then?" Ellie shrugged.
"How about Saturday?" He wasn't ready to back down.
"Saturday's fine." She grinned.
"Great," he smiled back. "God, it's hard being a single parent, huh? Not a lot of free time" he joked.
"You're only finding this out now??" She commented and they both laughed again.
The week flew by, and Saturday arrived. They agreed to meet at 6 pm, Thomas was supposed to arrive for her soon.
Zoey was all too excited, helping Ellie pick a perfect date outfit. Ellie didn’t really want to tell Zoey about her date, not wanting to get her hopes up too soon, but she also couldn’t just not tell her. She was always truthful and honest with her daughter. 
Ellie had already changed outfits three times, and was still unsure of her selection.
“You know Thomas would love just about any of these, right?” Zoey peeked from behind her, playing with the ruffles of her dress.
“I know, It’s just first date jitters,” Ellie explained, shrugging and checking herself again in the mirror. It was a funny feeling to have when you were in your thirties, had been married before and already had a kid, but here she was, nervous and bubbly.
“First date jitters-- But you already have gone out with Thomas, on multiple occasions!” Zoey protested. “Does calling it a ‘first date’ really does make such a difference?” Funnily enough, the nine-year-old was the voice of reason.
Ellie sighed. “You’re right, as always,” She crouched down and gave Zoey a peck on her forehead. Zoey hugged her in return.
Letting go of Zoey a few moments later, Ellie turned to look at the mirror one last time. “You really think Thomas will like what I’m wearing?” She motioned to the light blue dress that was on her.
“I’m sure he will, mom,” Zoey chuckled, shaking her head at her mom.
Right on cue, they heard a knock on the door.
“And even if he doesn’t, you’re out of time!” Ellie heard her daughter giggling as she got the door.
Opening it, she found Thomas standing there, dashing as ever.
He was holding a bouquet of flowers, smiling bashfuly from underneath it.
“For me-- ?” Instead of greeting him, it was all Ellie managed out of her mouth. Somehow hanging out with him and going out on a date were suddenly very different things.
“Of course,” Thomas grinned, and handed her the bouquet.
“Oh, Thomas, they’re beautiful, thank you.” She quickly took out a vase and filled it with water. Thomas came in while she placed the vase on the dining table.
“You ready to head out?” He asked, a smile making its way to his lips.
“Yes.” She smiled back, seeing Zoey peeping out of her room. 
“Zoey, i’m heading out. If you need anything, Alma is right across the hall and she knows i’m going, you can even go over and just watch some movies with her. And you can always call, okay?”
“Okay,” Zoey nodded. “Hi Thomas!” She smiled as if she knew all about their date, and Thomas’ cheeks reddened a bit.
“Hi Zoey,” He waved, although flustered.
Ellie still had no idea where were they going to. Please don’t let it be any fancy restaurant, please, she begged in her mind. She took her purse from the stand by the door, ready to go.
By the casual look of his clothes, she guessed it wasn’t going to be a fancy restaurant, to her relief. But even in his casual clothes, he still looked like someone taken out of a modeling magazine.
“After you,” Thomas opened the door for her, like a true gentleman. Ellie fought the giddy smile forming on her lips.
Much to her liking, they didn’t drive to a restaurant or anything like that. A quarter of an hour later they pulled by the beach shore.
"I thought we could walk around, watch the sunset?"
"Watch the sunset? Thomas, are you secretly a hopeless romantic or are you just trying to impress me?" She raised an eyebrow, although she adored his ideas. It was a long time since someone pampered her.
"I guess you'll have to hang around and see for yourself," He gave her a warm smirk.
"Oh, I plan to hang around alright," She promised.
Walking out of the car, they started walking along the shore. Thomas' fingers brushed against hers a few times before Ellie grasped his hand in hers.
"You look stunning, by the way." He spun her around suddenly, now facing her.
"Flatterer." She bit her lip, giving him a look that was ought to make something flush inside of him.
"N-no! I mean it!" He chuckled, his cheeks getting color. She liked how sincere Thomas was. How she could always read his emotions on his face. That he didn’t hide them under a tough exterior.
She also liked that she was probably one of the few people that he showed that side to, knowing how quickly he can change into lawyer mode like he did that time in the principle’s office.
Ellie smiled in satisfaction. "Glad you liked it. You're not so bad yourself." She playfully bumped into his shoulder and Thomas beamed at her.
"Ice cream?" Thomas suggested, and Ellie noticed an ice cream truck parked nearby. "They have the best pecan ice cream in all of Goldcliffe, I swear." It's not that she wasn't convinced beforehand, but... "How did you know it's my favorite?" She narrowed her eyebrows suspiciously.
"I..." He scratched the back of his neck. "Might've used my powers for bad and sent a spy to ask Zoey what tastes you like or prefer," He admitted.
"And that little spy answer to the name Luz by any chance?" She laughs while still raising an eyebrow at him.
"Mayyyyybe." Laughing together, they headed to the truck. Thomas bought them two ice cream cones and before Ellie could protest, he pushed the pecan one her way. "You have to try this."
Ellie obliged, taking her cone in her hands.
"Wow. You weren't kidding. This is amazing." It was indeed delicious.
They continued their walk, now each munching on an ice cream cone, when Ellie spotting a pier not that far from them. "Mind staining your fancy shoes?" She motioned with her head.
"For you? Always."
Passing the shore, and getting sand all over their feet, they arrived at the pier just when the sky started changing color and the sun started to set.
A beautiful mixture of purple, pink and yellow colored now the evening's sky, but Thomas had only eyes for her.
Ellie smiled contentedly, a beautiful scenery before her, a beautiful and caring man by her side, who also adores her daughter and has little chipmunk of himself that she also adored, what more could she ask for?---
"Eeee!" She squealed as she felt something cold and wet meeting her cheek.
Thomas instantly burst into laughter, as Ellie realized he’d just smeared ice cream over her cheek.
"Two can play that game!" She threatened, before brushing her own ice cream across his chin.
Thomas didn't back down, both of them giggling now, and brushed some more of his melting ice cream, now staining her lips in the way.
"Oh, you're going to have to clean that up, mister,"
"Okay." He had a mischievous smile on his face.
Ellie made a move to take the baby wipes she had in her purse (being a mom, let along a single one meant having always baby wipes on you, along with other things necessary), but before she could hand them to Thomas, he leaned in and kissed her.
Ellie's eyes widened only for a second, before she melted into the kiss. Closing her eyes and forgetting they were covered in ice cream, she caressed Thomas face and deepened the kiss.
Thomas flicked his tongue along her lips, earning a satisfied sound from her, before pulling away all too soon.
"N-no..." Ellie expressed her complains and Thomas only slightly made fun of her.
"Maybe we should clean up a bit before continuing?" He suggested.
He did have a point, it just didn't mean Ellie was fond of that point.
"Fineee," she took the baby wipes out of her bag, and handed them to Thomas. They helped clean each other up, not wasting the chance to caress each other up.
Ellie ran her finger across Thomas' lips, wiping ice cream but also hanging there longer than necessary, the look in her eyes intent and purposeful.
"Ellie..." Thomas sighed impatiently, before they both leaned in and kissed again.
It was much more tender this time, but still full of emotion and passion for one another.
After finally breaking away, they both were blushing, getting a little bit ahead of themselves making out in public.
Ellie didn't remember the last time she forgot the world around her like that.
Standing up, giddily offering her hand to Thomas, they started walking back to his car.
"I guess I don't have to wonder if I can kiss you at the end of the night anymore," Thomas joked, pulling Ellie closer and placing his hand on her waist as they walked.
"You better." She narrowed her eyes at him, but her lips were forming into a smile and Thomas felt a warm feeling creeping into his chest.
"Good night," They arrived back at Ellie's place, and Thomas leaned in and brushed a strand of hair behind Ellie's ear.
"Good night, Thomas, I look forward to doing this again." She admitted, leaning in too so now they were merely inches apart.
"You better," He mimicked her response from before, closing the remaining distance and kissing her goodnight.
Walking up to her apartment Ellie realized, this wasn't some little crush. She was already falling for Thomas.
And she had no doubt Thomas was going to catch her.
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mrs-all-amukeian · 5 years ago
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All this wedding talk is making me upset and I just sense that Michael isn't completely happy but I hope whatever he is doing, he'll find true happiness through it all
Ah yes, the time has finally come to rant about my favorite couple on this planet!!
Mystal has to be the shadiest couple I have had the pleasure of witnessing. There is so many things wrong with this couple (including the ridiculous age difference that would’ve caused a massive outrage if it were the other way around) but let’s start with the one and only, Crystal Leigh. Crystal is a b-i-t-c-h and when I say bitch, I mean bitch, This grown ass woman (what is she now, 35? 36?) has the audacity to fight with young fans (myself included) just because they called her out for her horrible past. Now, we all have made mistakes before when we were teenagers and have grown since then, but this woman has made all these mistakes in her late twenties and refuses to take responsibility for any of them. Fat shaming, using several slurs, and making fun of mental disorders is not something a grown woman should do and I would advise that she take notes from Michael who actually took responsibility for one sexist joke he made when he was fifteen! Another thing to add is that Crystal is a PR manager and has managed several celebrities (no A or B list celebs though) so she has her way around things and is no rookie here. 
 Now that we discussed that Crystal was no angel before meeting Michael, let’s bring up the numerous holes they have in their relationship timeline. In Michael’s engagement post on Instagram, he claims that it “all started for them” in Bali 3 years ago, where at the time, Crystal was still with Spencer (his posts at the time can confirm that) and some have already speculated that she was having an affair with Michael at the time because he kept posting about her and you can actually see them getting cozy in the background of some videos posted by friends. After the first Bali trip, Crystal was STILL with Spencer but yet, she had a picture of her and Michael kissing in Bali as his iMessage contact picture on her Macbook screen. As much as I hoped that Michael wasn’t the “homewrecker” type, he clearly knew she was in a relationship no matter what his intentions first were (rather it is PR or not). The Bali trip took place right after the band finished a big headlining tour, where the original plan was according to the boys, move to LA (where Calum and Ashton share a place & Michael and Luke share a place) but that did not happen. From what we eventually figured out, Luke had moved in with Arz, Cashton moving in together, and then Michael mysteriously living somewhere else. There was a picture Michael  posted in January of 2016 of a coffee mug and along with some of his stories, you can see that he was staying at a familiar apartment which ended up being Crystal’s place. So now that we can indicate that this relationship was a mess from the start, let’s continue to their current situation.
Michael is somebody who we used to mock at for always sitting his ass at home playing video games instead of clubbing with his bandmates because he hated that lifestyle but hey! throw Crystal in the picture and *poof*,just like magic, Michael is DJing at multiple clubs with “friends” and “friends of friends”. Michael has mentioned before that he gets social anxiety and sometimes prefers being alone rather than being somewhere crowded but yet, Crystal is dragging him along like one of her dogs to a ridiculous party with her plastic LA friends and people he hardly knows. I really do hope Michael is genuinely happy with this brand new lifestyle and isn’t just doing this for the sake of Ms.Sponsorship. Anybody with eyes can see that since the start of the relationship, e v e r y t h i n g posted by Crystal has to be either promo or a sponsorship. While this probably won’t be a surprise coming from Crystal (since my sis wants to secure her bag) but it’s a shock coming from Michael who’s doing it too now and if you look back at his old posts before Crystal, he has never tagged or mentioned a sponsor in his life. It’s one thing to tag a brand or location, but to tag every single detail on posts and stories is insane. All I’m saying is that nothing in this so called relationship adds up and it honestly looks like one big marketing scheme since literally everything they do is just looks like business (why is every single picture they take together staged and looks so awkward and unnatural? Imagine having a photographer following you around just to “capture the love” its fucking ridiculous LMAO)
One last thing I would like to discuss is the engagement and so-called wedding that everyone keeps bringing up to me. If one of my closest friends that i’d consider a brother gets engaged, I would be over the moon with excitement but yet, not a single one of his bandmates has peeped a word or even congratulated either one of them. The proposal itself is so funny because it took place in Bali, where their supposed affair began, and it was not even paid for by Michael, but by fucking GUESS, the clothing company that only invited Crystal and her friends for a photoshoot LMAOO. Let’s not forget how the Daily Mail somehow got access to every detail about this engagement (from their first song to ring size) and “professional photos” before he even brought it up to the public himself. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but wouldn’t it be nice to actually have the most important people in your life (maybe um like your bandmates or parents?) to be there and witness when you propose to the love of your life and not just some nameless models you met a week ago? The band clearly doesn’t give a shit about Crystal but obviously try to be supportive for the sake of Michael even though they have not once shown an ounce of support in the past 3 or so years they’ve been together. The fact that Michael getting engaged at 23 is just sad and crazy. Don’t get me wrong, it is perfectly fine for anyone to get married anytime after 18 but it’s the matter of should you set yourself up to be tied down at such an early age? Michael has spent every year since the start of his career on his feet and working, not being able to discover himself or live on his own for once. I feel like an older woman who clearly lived our her years as a teen and her entire twenties is capable of settling down but not a 23 year old man who hasn’t truly found himself yet and I feel like he’s trying to convince himself that he is happy even though his face says otherwise. At the end of the day, if Ms. Promotion wasn’t a piece of shit and Michael at least looked like he had an ounce of happiness in him, I would support the shit out of this couple and maybe even throw rice myself at their wedding (that might not even happen since Michael never brings it up and doesn’t even fucking know the year he wants to tie the knot LMAOO)
Anyways, long read I know but this can probably answer all the asks I have about my opinion on Mystal and the non-existant wedding that will take place in the year 20whofuckingknows 
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gigili-jiggly · 6 years ago
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can you list your favorite klance fics ://
(i’m not sure how to respond to your ‘ :// ‘ emoji, but i’ll take any excuse to gush about fics lol)
I have so many favorite fics, so I’ll just list some oneshots for now so that this list doesn’t become too long 
(I might post a list of more oneshots and ongoing fics if anyone is interested!)
SFW Oneshots: 
you’re lucky that’s what i like by @zenstrike
Lance rescues a hamster from certain doom.
or, Lance has Keith wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even realize it.
This is literally the cutest and softest klance series I’ve read in a long time!! It gives me lots of feelings and feeds my need for lovestruck Keith ladfajdifjdsklf
hey, mom, i met a boy by @mothpoem
“Sweetheart,” says Lance, his hair longer, his shoulders broader, the slope of his nose uneven now where it didn’t used to be, “you don’t know the half of it.”
LISTEN. This fic owns my ass, it’s so good. It has all my favorite tropes (marriage proposals, visions of the future, love realizations, etc.) and every moment between Lance and Keith is so sweet and full of love hnnngh. 
i know what you did last summer by seventies
Saving angry, mysterious damsels in distress multiple times weren’t in the job description of being a lifeguard. It would have been slightly bearable if only everyone would stop asking Lance if he remembered what he did last summer. What really happened, anyway? AU
Pining Keith? Oblivious Lance? A little bit of Memory Loss? Heck yeah!!! This fic also made me laugh a lot, so I always reread this when I need a pick-me-up
this, our town of halloween by @tobiologist
“Yeah, well, it’s written all over both of your faces,” Lance hisses. “It’s not a big deal.”
Pidge taps her chin. “Oh, you mean Keith, the local introvert and your ex-rival, creeping out of his cave to go to a huge Halloween celebration with you and your little niece and nephew? Of course that’s not a big deal. Silly me!”
Or: Lance invites Keith to Disneyland on Halloween and glimpses an entirely new side of the boy he has a stupidly massive crush on.
Lately, I’ve been loving tropes where people go on a ‘date’, insist that it’s not a date and then finally realize it’s a date. Also, pining Lance is good shit. 
Smell as Sweet by ultimateparadox
Coffee and love, Lance thinks, are the only universal constants.
Established relationship!!! Marriage proposals!!! Becoming a family!!! Everything here is amazing!!!
Bastion by Foxcote
In a healing universe, Keith and Lance await the arrival of their daughter.
I am a sucker for klance as parents, and one scene in particular between Keith and Krolia really captured my heart
In every reality, I reach for you by @enlacinglineswrites
Stories inspired the Klance AU month prompts.
I love drabble series and this one right here has so many interesting and wonderful aus! I read it time and time again like a morning newspaper lol. 
Somewhere a Clock is Ticking by @emphasis-all-mine
This is a story about time travel, lost memories, growing up broken, ukulele lessons, peanut butter banana sandwiches, and a stuffed hippo named Patches.
This is also the story of how James Griffin saved the world, but couldn’t stop his parents from falling in love.
Literally the fic that made me warm up to James! I’ve always loved time travel stories and the characterizations in this fic is so fun and enjoyable, I hold it very close to my heart! Also, klance family aldjofiadjfdf
5 + 1 times: lance and the search for keith’s boyfriend by @starwar 
Who could it be?!
Lance tried to convince himself it wasn’t jealousy… it was just friendly concern. He had to ensure that whoever Keith was with treated him well, not that Keith needed Lance to look after him, but still, Keith deserved the world and Lance wanted to make sure whoever he was with gave that to him.
Just buddy-buddy concerns.
or alternatively; 5 + 1 times lance doesn’t realise he’s keith’s boyfriend
Oblivious Lance who doesn’t know he’s Keith’s boyfriend? Bet your ass I’m gonna read that!!
chaser of fate by freshia
Where Lance thinks everyone else is really frickin’ weird, the others spend copious amounts of time trying to get him to just remember, and Keith just wants to (re?)live his life.
(Modern Reincarnation AU where the biggest threat to face, is the looming deadlines for essays.)
One of the first klance fics I’ve read and one that I absolutely consider a classic. I love me some reincarnation au’s, and I love how this one is nice and not too angsty! 
Save the Date by @thathopelessromantic 
They had gotten married in the middle of a war, on an alien spaceship, both boasting major injuries. It was rushed and short and the team was thrust into battle almost immediately after “I do.” But afterwards, after some insistent questioning from Keith, Lance admitted to things he had let himself imagine for their wedding, were they to have had one on Earth.
Cute established and married klance celebrating their anniversary, what more can a girl want? 
Speak for the Stars by @speakswords 
All Lance has ever wanted is to prove his worth. So, maybe it’s fitting that the Black Lion picked him right when Lotor betrayed them and Shiro’s clone went rogue. Right when the team was at its lowest and closest to failing.
The desire for glory that Lance grew up with—that drove him to join the Garrison and pursue fighter class, that drove him into his one-sided rivalry with Keith, that drove him after Keith in the Sonoran Desert and into Blue’s cockpit and into space and into the war in the first place—it’s a relic of the past for him now. All he wants these days is to keep his friends alive and the Coalition afloat, and he tries his best, despite the pervasive fear that he isn’t the right person for this monumental task. Despite the growing certainty that Black picked the wrong guy.
This fear will be put to the ultimate test when the mess that ensnares the team after the clone disaster turns out to be a labyrinth more winding than any of them were prepared for. Because Lance might just be the only person equipped to lead them through this maze and into the light.
I love those tropes where peeps get stuck in their own dreams and someone has to help them snap out of it. This fic does this wonderfully with Lance and I loved Keith’s dream in here, it was so sweet
in every reality, we meet by ULTIOcean
Small one-shots about our favorite team, taken from a prompt list on tumblr for the October Writting Challenge, in which i’ll write 31 short stories, unrelated to each other, each insipred by the prompt of the day.
i adore this drabble series, each chapter is such a unique take on the prompt! 
you’ve got a hand for the taking (i’m about to take it to the moon) by seabear
“I think,” Lance says, squinting, “he’s a vampire.”
one of my comfort fics to be honest. i really really like their interactions here and the confession scene makes me very happy
where & how we’ll land by @ephemelody 
The first time Keith meets Lance is also the first time they kiss. It all goes downhill for him from there.
looking for a childhood klance fic that is so so good? this one is a classic!!!
Complete Mature/Explicit Oneshots: 
assemble by groovystars
‘there was an idea- katie and hunk know about it- called the voltron initiative. the plan was-is, god, it is- to bring together a group of remarkable people, and see if together they could become something more. to fight the battles we never could. i wasn’t sure though. just knew that katie and hunk could do it, maybe lance if he wasn’t knee-deep in cover work. but now that cap’s used to the century and keith kogane turned up from the dead, and we have a literal god on our hands… now- now i think we can do that. i think we can believe in heroes.’
aka the marvel au that’s probably already been done
As a huge Marvel fan, this is an amazing superhero au!! It has klance and shatt, as well as lotor and allura in a thor and loki dynamic! 
i like me better when i’m with you by @reader115 
His mother’s advice when the war is over? That he should ask for what he wants.
Keith joins Lance and his family on their farm, and Lance wishes for a never ending visit.
i’ve read so many post-canon fics when vld ended and this one is one of my absolute favorites. It’s because of this fic that i started associating the song with klance, haha! I love the characterizations and the overall sweetness/lovey dovey feeling the fic has and aldoifjaidfd I just love reading this over and over again
there are worse things i could do by @peachgrdn 
His chest went tight when he recalled Keith’s face. What did it have to mean? They’d never been lovers; that much was clear.
When Lance goes out to buy himself a gift for his own pleasure, it comes with a little emotional baggage. Only just as he thinks he can manage it, Keith throws himself into the mix, and Lance realizes he must come to terms with buried feelings.
honestly, i consider lyssy the queen for fluffy and feely smut lol. I love her humor in this one as well as the many feels it gives me…just aldkjodfa i love this fic a lot okay?
kiss me (like it hurts) by mottainai
Purple light streamed through his kitchen window from the neon sign across the street, getting tangled in Keith’s hair and painted on the planes of his shoulders. He held his breath, afraid to disturb the moment. Keith’s eyes were on his, too soft to be coming from a dangerous man. Lance could see himself becoming caught in the gap in his teeth, pressed into the groves of his calloused hands, inked across his ribs. It should terrify him, the kind of terror of one looking into the belly of the beast.
But it didn’t.
Or: Keith and Lance, told through arguments and resolutions
i’m such a sucker for gangster keith stuff and this fic here has one of my favorite takes on it. perfect for rereading again and again! 
lure by chaeriee 
Becoming indebted to Keith Kogane was not a part of Lance’s future plans. Falling for him, even less so.
another gangster keith fic and it has almost all of my guilty pleasures in it uwu. i love those /person A needs to pay off a debt and works for person B while unknowingly becoming the most important one to them’ storylines haha! 
 Alpha Affairs by marizousbooty
Keith and Lance take a romantic vacation to the mountains for a snowy weekend getaway.
vampire lance and werewolf keith….doing it….good stuff
Heaven in hiding by i_write_shakespeare_not_disney
Keith finds something interesting in Lance’s drawer and it leads to one of the most amazing nights of his life.
insecure lance in lingerie and keith helping him become comfortable with it? sexy. 
Beast of Burden by melancholymango
“Keith, no, we can’t go again.” Lance pleads fall on deaf ears. Keith is honed in on him now like predator to prey. He’s fighting a losing battle and they both know it. He sees it in the way Keith is raking his eyes over him, sizing him up. “We’ll be so late getting to the bar.”
“Just one more.” Keith insists, herding Lance toward the counter with a stubbornness that is innately wolf. Lance pouts, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go but backward.
“That’s what you said last time! And the time before that!”
The week leading up to a supermoon, as told by the world’s best werewolf boyfriend, Lance McClain. The good, the bad, and the horny.
I read this on Halloween and I’m not even ashamed of how much I enjoyed this. This fic made me very very biased towards werewolf keith lol. 
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journeytuann · 6 years ago
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Drabble: Experimentation || Mark Tuan (GOT7)
Summary- upon figuring out your dirty little desires, Mark decides to pursue them, making your lustful dreams come true
Warning?- smut, agoraphilia (the enjoyment of fooling around in public)
Word count: 3,669
P.S. feel free to drop a request, I appreciate you reading! Have a good day and enjoy~
—————
During the ungodly hours of the am, you sat in bed with your significant other, a smile coaxed to your tired lips as you could hear him giggle like a school boy. Mark had recently gotten back from the americas, his body horribly jet lagged. But in truth, you didn’t mind being up with him for you missed all the time that was robbed form your relationship thanks to his idol status. But you understood.
Asides from catching up, you both darted into random conversation, spitting out whatever came to your mind. Some things were random, others were sweet, yet others were vulgar and utterly suggestive.
“Hey (y/n)...” Marks sleep deprived voice called out. You could hear the smile growing on his lips. “I never really asked.. do you have any kinks? Or you know.. fantasies?..”
Out of all the questions this kid could have asked, that was one that threw you off a bit. You mentally had to skim through which ones were on the table for discussion. Your silence in thought led to Mark bugging you. “Did you die?” He joked, getting a nudge from you in response.
“I’m thinking.” You hummed out. “I mean.. I enjoy the way you mark me up in bed..” you trialed off, hearing a small whine come from your boyfriend.
Mark shifted closer to you, letting his face burry into your neck, delivering a small nip to tender spot which sent tingling shivers down your back, bothering your sorer core from activities earlier that day. “Not what I mean.. I already new that kitten.. it’s a dead give away. Ah especially the way you melt and moan when I do, I’m interested about the ones locked away..” he hummed, bringing himself closer to you as he propped his head on your chest.
With a small sigh you gave in, picking one that always interested you. Just the thought sent an arousing tingling sensation. “I suppose the idea of fucking in public sounds fun.” You admitted bluntly. “Okay not just plain out fucking but.. maybe at least fooling around.. no one having the slightest clue of what we’re doing..” as you elaborated, slightly bashful, you could feel mark chuckle softly.
“Mm, Fair, I’ll keep it in mind.” Was his only response. Before you had time to ask him a daunting question in return, Mark changed the subject. “Do you think I could pull off pastel pink hair..? What about a mullet..”
- - -
Time seemed to pass with ease and eventually you two night owls managed to get to a normal sleeping schedule.. somewhat. You weren’t going to lie, it was good having mark back home, you missed not only the affection but the sex as well. What? Who could blame you, Mark was certainly one hell of a ride. Literally.
Your attention was pulled from your phone as mark tossed a blank box into your lap. “Babyyy.. we’ve spent the whole week inside, tonight I want to go out and eat, plus the boys invited us for dinner at the new Korean BBQ that opened down the ways.” His innocent plead was tempting, but frankly you were just about bored of staying at home doing nothing.
“Fine by me, but what is this?” The tone of your voice expressed clear confusion as you held up the box, giving a shake as if to figure it out.
“Hm?” Mark held an innocent face, not giving light to your question one bit. “Ah, you’ll find out, I just want you to wear it to dinner tonight if you don’t mind.” Before you could ask your question again, Mark was off jogging upstairs shouting down at you to be ready by 5:30. “Oh! I’m taking a shower first before you use up all the hot water!” The boy chimed innocently with a small laugh.
You sighed, shaking your head with a smile, why did you love that absolute child again? As curiosity beckoned you, your fingers eagerly popped open the box, soon becoming muddled with this pink, oddly shaped object. Then it hit you. “Holy fuck, Mark you kinky bastard..” you grumbled to yourself, your face flooding with heat.
- - -
That smile of purity. God you hated it. How on earth could the man act so innocent as he conduced such sin??
“Ready to go?” Mark chirped, looking you over with a small chuckle. “Is kitten wearing her new gift..?” for a brief moment Mark’s voice dropped to a more serious note. While you acted like you hated the little pet name, you both knew you loved it.
With a small bob of your head, you shifted slightly, not fully accustomed with the vibrator hooked on you. “Yes, and.. yes.” Was your simplistic answer, taking the hand of your boyfriends outstretched arm, lacing your fingers with one another.
The car ride was silent for the most part besides whatever was playing on the radio. It didn’t matter that much to you, your mind was racing over endless thoughts of how the night would turn out, god was it arousing to think of. Who knew Mark would actually act on your naughty desires? As if to ease yourself you have your thighs a small squeeze.
- - -
Not long after did you two arrive. Mark turned down the radio and glanced at you with a mischievous glint. “If.. if you make it tonight, I’ll reward you. But you must be quiet, I don’t care if you cum twenty times, I won’t stop it until we’re in this car, got it?” Mark asked, his pupils dilated as his eyes ran over you.
The way he talked to you, with such a serious tone turned you on. God were you his little sub.. “Well what will be my reward?” You asked daringly with a small grin.
“Hm.. I suppose anything my kitten wants. Oh, I might add, everytime you make a peep I’ll up the intensity, if I’m feeling generous I’ll lower it but it doubt it.” Mark flashes his sweet boy smile before getting out of the car, soon going to your side to take your arm and lead you in.
Once you took a seat you could feel the small vibrator slowly begin working it’s magic. It was slow but ignorable, so you indulged in conversation with a few of the other members, chuckling as bambam complained about his sugar glider. “I had plans to wear my new shirt.. but Shabu peed on it again,” the Thai boy groaned as he set his menu down.
Jinyoung snorted. “And this is why I don’t have any pets.. they just pee and poop.”
“Maybe Shabu was trying to tell you something, tell you that that shirt was not ittt!” Yugyeom chuckled as he teased bambam who just rolled his eyes.
Mark just chuckled and listened, his mind somewhere else. Occasionally Mark took a glance your way out of curiosity, he could tell you weren’t bothered which annoyed him slightly.
Not long after is the waiter come, taking everyone’s orders, asking of yours somewhere in between. As you opened your mouth to speak you felt your vibrator jump up multiple notches, so instead of clearly asking for water, a gasp left your lips. You confused the boys slightly but proceeded to apologize and quickly place your order, soon handing in your menu to the kind young man. Fuck was this getting to be a bother. For your punishment of vocalizing, even just the small gasp, Mark went up one extra notch prior to placing his order.
Jaebum questioned if you were alright, to which you gave a small nod and smile. “It’s just cramps, ah nothing to worry about.” Quite the coverup, though none of the boys would dare ask further questions about it. Mark on the other hand just grinned at your response, knowing it was a dirty lie.
Unlike before, the sensation was difficult to ignore, building up great amounts of pleasure against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck..” you muttered to yourself, thankful that the place was cluttered with conversations, drowning out your small comments. The boys seemed to delve into their own conversations, all you had to do was act like you were listening.
As that coil wounded tighter and tighter, the sensation was utterly impossible to push off and ignore. That buzzer constantly going against your clit sent you over your first orgasm, drawing a small whimper from you, your hand gripping suddenly over Marks thigh. With your legs tightly crossed, your body quivered ever so slightly. Somehow you pulled it off without attention on you, but Mark, with his cocky grin, turned up the setting another notch. “Markk..” you whined just for him to hear, letting him know clearly how much this was getting to you.
Mark didn’t comment, instead your vibrator just went up in intensity once again.
By the time the food got here you already passed your third climax and soon onto your fourth. Hopefully the food was something that would be able to properly distract you, hopefully. To a degree that was true, shoving your face with food drowned out your struggles and whimpers of over stimulation.
Growing full, you were nearly done with your food and off your fifth orgasm of the night and mark was bored and finished with his food. So to fule his amusement Mark, without reason, set the vibrator on its near-max setting.
All of a sudden the intense pulses against your throbbing clit made your squeal, hands quickly covering over your mouth as attention was put on you. Youngjae expressed worry for your being. “Is it that bad (y/n)..? I’m sorry,” Youngjae frowned, unaware your periods were this bad. Your hazy mind was confused partially at what Youngjae was even talking about before you recalled your comment earlier. Ah poor innocent sunshine, little did he know. You assured him it was alright with the best smile you could muster, your body tensing and shaking the slightest over the intense buzzing. “Maybe they have a chocolate dessert that will make it a bit better?” Bambam suggested, asking for a dessert menu form a waiter, soon on the look to fulfil your lie.
Out of all the other members, Jackson was the only one smirking. He had bold suspicions that fit the puzzle perfectly. But that certainly was none of his business. Oh though it was certain he would be teasing and taunting Mark for this later.
You on the other hand played along best you could, listening partially to the boys as they discussed about desserts, asking which sounded best. “Just uh.. pick something cheap that looks good?” Jokes on you bambam picked out the most expensive one. “If it’s pricy it means it ought to help right?” Which was bambam’s philosophy..
You gave a scoff, squeezing your eyes tight. Fuck number six. Your jerked slightly, your hand grabbing onto Marks which previously rested on your thigh, keeping it apart from the other on purpose. With the vibrator finally set at its highest pulsing rate, you brought Marks hand up to your lips, propping your elbows on the table for dear support.
Mark bit back the growing smirk as he sat up, changing hands so the other one could rub your back. “You want it to stop?” He asked for your ears only, dropping to that tone that sent shivers up your spine.
“N-no.” Was squeaked out from your lips, pushing deeper into Marks hand. Lucky high number seven was coming and well, this time it was crowned sweeter than ever. The scent of his cologne on his wrist was getting to you, making the whole sensation more surreal, more personal.
Have smelt this man’s cologne before? I swear to you it’s heavenly.
You swore it made the whole experience fifty shades more pleasurable. In fact, had his cologne always smelled this sexy? You didn’t care now, your mind focused on his blissful smell as you were dragged out on another high, trying to suspend it for as long as humanly possible. You were quite sure if you could handle another wave like this.. maybe tapping out after this would be for the best, because at this rate you’re about to squeak.
With your muscles tensing in preparation, Mark took note and leaned over. “Cum.” He demanded, pressing his lips into your temple and pulling you into his chest, holding you tight as you rocked though that seventh high. The scent of his cologne embedded in his sweater was much stronger, giving everything an extra kick. Your body shuddered, growing limp against his, allowing him to brush his hands through your hair.
“Mark, is (y/n) okay?” Jinyoung asked, utterly worried. Mark gave a small bob of his head. “(Y/n)’s cramps are really bad this month.. I think we’ll go home, maybe later this week we can catch up again. Is that alright? I know all she wants to do is lay in bed right now with her heating pad.” He teased you, gently ushering you to your feet which trembled, struggling to stand. The vibrator was turned down a hair but nonetheless kept fucking with your beyond neurotic clit.
The boys gave their soft goodbyes, soon down two friends and left with a cake that was initially set to be for you.
A cake was the least of your worries or thoughts in general at the moment. Your whole mind was left in a steamy, lustful puddle just like your panties. Upon being helped into the car the buzzing stopped. Mark decided to let you recoup as he was in a hurry to get home. Your senses gradually game back and wow were you spent. That night could certainly linger in your thoughts later.. There was a pinch of guilt in doing it, lying to your friends about what’s as going on, and honestly probably ignoring them as the pleasure was too much at times.
The car ride was short, and before long Mark had you inside, pushed up against the wall. It was clearly evident Mark had gotten off to seeing you like that, given the hard spot grinding into your sensitive core. Marks lips were quick to reach yours, attacking them in a messy manner while his hand fished out the device. Forcefully, Mark pried himself away from you, his eyes lusted over staring directly into yours. Not for a second did he break the eye contact as the toy was brought to his lips, sucking on the ridges that dripped with your taste. Such a naughty sound left his lips. “Fuck.. kitten you taste so good.. daddy’s babygirl did so good in public.. I’m proud,” he scoffed, tossing the toy off on some counter. “But next time I will be hands on..”
The idea of future fooling around excited you, but the thoughts were cut short as Mark pushed back into you. “Daddy might not have shown it.. but watching you quiver.. trying not to moan.. it all made me a hard mad man in there.. if I had zero control I’d of fucked you on the table right then and there.” His words were so vulgar yet you loved it.
“I can see that..” your mumbled off, your hand reaching down to apply pressure to the evident bulge down there. Seeing, no, feeling what you had done gave you a sense of empowerment, to do such a thing to him without even trying.
Mark groaned at your touch, his hips bucking for more satisfaction instinctively. “You will fucking feel it I promise you..” he growled, soon commanding you to jump on his waist to which you complied.
Your lips were on his neck, leaving as many horrid marks as you could before Mark would get to you. You knew the more you worked him up the more things he’d do to you.
It wasn’t long till your body was tossed on the bed, your jeans tugged off eagerly by the fellow brunette. “God look at the mess you made.. so soaked..” he muttered, rubbing two digits against the wet fabric before sliding it off, leaving your bottom half fully exposed. “Tell me what you thought of.. did you think of me?” Mark questioned, slowing bowing his head as his tongue darted between your folds, gathering most of what you left him.
His actions made your legs instinctively quiver, your whole body shaking each time his nose or lips brushed against your clit. “You.. yes you, all I could think of was you doing this to me, pushing me to the edge over and over again..” You breathed out, your hands clenching the fabric of the bed as if to steady yourself. “And that dumb cologne of yours.. it fucked me up and sent me to cloud nine..” you mumbled out truthfully.
Mark could only chuckle to your response, praising you for your honesty. However what really made Mark laugh was your response to flicking your clit. You yelped, shooting up with a whimper, bringing your legs closed shut which in turn made Mark grumpy. “No ma’am.” Your boyfriend growled, ripping your legs apart as his head bowed down to your heat, his lips instantly attaching themselves to your clit. Whimpers left your parted lips as mark showed no mercy to you. Moans spilled, precious moans that made mark go harder on your poor bud. Moans that you had desperately held back prior till now.
Mark pushed you through and eight orgasm as you gripped to his hair, trying to get him to go easy on your poor cunt. To your assurance, mark pulled from you with a pop, scoffing at your exhausted frame. “What number was that?” He asked. “8.” You shot back without missing a beat. Your chest heaving up and down as you from down from this sweet bliss. You knew damn well it would hurt to walk later but did you care? Nope. Not one bit.
Mark was soon on you, lips roaming your skin, not leaving a spot untouched on your neck. His nimble fingers worked through your shirt, managing to get the fabric off, following the rest of your articles, tossing them about, half landing at the end of the bed, the other half on the floor. The cold air was soon to bite you, your nipples clearly expressing their chill. With a small whine and tug of Marks clothing, Mark pulled away from you to strip himself of his layers, earning a satisfied grin on your face.
Before you knew it, Mark was exposed to you yet again. You could never really get enough of him, and boy did you love what he constantly hid under baggy clothing, such a fine tuned body.
Mark followed your eyes down his body, stopping at his stiffened member which was at clear salute. You wasted no more time in bringing him back down to you, letting his body press against yours as his hips shifted between your thighs. Mark gave into your inviting lips, kissing them with a fiery hunger, hands roaming to your hips to keep them in place before soon moving down, marking your neck with bruises and bites sure to last. There wasn’t a time that you weren’t decked in hickeys and bites after sex, maybe quickies here and there but Mark was always sure to leave you with something to linger.
Your impatience was growing, Mark could tell by the way you squirmed under him for some friction. “Beg kitten..” He asked of you, biting down on one of your hardened buds before swirling his tongue around it.
Begging was embarrassing to a degree but Mark loved to hear you, and frankly adored when you grew desperate for his cock, showing it vividly with your words. “Mark..” You whined, bucking your hips which mark presses his fingers deeper into. “Please.. please fuck me, fuck me so hard I can’t see straight. The whole night I was buzzed off some damn vibrator but I want your damn dick.” You groaned in annoyance at first but soon it spilled to be an out right moan. “Fuck!” You cursed, dropping your head back as Marks whole length burrowed inside you. A moment passed before he was at it, working his movements, rolling his hips quick into yours. It may have caught you off guard but you were quick to fall in love with the rhythmic movements of your hips colliding together, locking your ankles behind his back as you worked to match his movements.
Small grunts and groans left the lips of Mark, dirty slurs slipped past his them which he distracted on your skin. Mark plucked, sucked, bit and nipped at your neck, pushing out lewd noises from your lips in addition to the moans spilling out about his cock.
You were so spent, you were falling fast and mark could feel it, your walls clenching so tight around his hard girth with each thrust. “Mark..” you warned with a whimper, your fingers gripping and digging into his back as each stroke yanked you closer and closer over pleasure pier. The only thing you got from him was a grunt of ‘I know’ and the accompaniment of harder and quicker thrusts.
In a matter of seconds you came undone, clenching to your significant other as you shook through your orgasm. Proceeding to ride out your high, Mark slowed his pace down before pulling himself out, falling down onto your heaving chest.
Instead of a long silence, you heard Mark break the thick air with his soft chuckle. “Well.. that was fun..” the boy hummed in his childish tone before leaving a few lazy kisses on your skin. You gave him a small slap on his back for the comment.
“I swear I won’t walk straight in the morning..” you groaned out, brushing your sweaty hands through his messy hair.
“Ha,” mark mocked before shifting up to give your jaw a gentle kiss. “I’d push for round two in the shower.. but I doubt you could even stand for it.” He teased with a snicker.
“Oi! Bitch bet. Just.. just give me five minutes.” You muttered, pushing his face away playfully from yours.
“Oh that’s a bet, your ass got off like what? Nine times? And I haven’t gotten off-properly- once?” He asked in a clear teasing matter before rolling above you only to pamper his kitten with kisses. “Five minutes.” He told you with his sleazy grin.
300 notes · View notes
ick25 · 5 years ago
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Rockman.Exe Episode 54 Review.
Let’s play “What is Mahajarama holding?”
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A stuffed big foot/chimp plush?
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The episode opens with an advertisement for some noodle restaurant with a Navi name Sanukiman.
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For the ad he makes a simple dance that Netto, Meiru and Tohru copy for fun.
Netto asks Meiru about Dekao who wasn’t in school and she tells him that Dekao’s younger brother Chisao has come to visit him from Ameroupe. Netto is curious about what he would look like since he has a poorly drawn image of a mini Dekao in his head, but after the tittle card, everyone is suspicious that Chisao looks nothing like him.
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WOW, Meiru.... Dekao is standing right there! o_o
Tohru asks Chisao why he doesn’t live with his brother in Akihara. Chisao tells them that he lives with his dad who works in Ameroupe where he attends a special kinder garden for “Genius” kids, according to Yaito.
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Again? We are being very mean today, not just against Dekao, because Chisao tells them how his brother told him in his e-mails that they are his worthless and stupid pupils. 
This angers everyone secretly because they remember that Dekao begged them to pretend that he is the best Net battler in the city and that they were all ex-gangsters in fourth grade that he reformed, just so Chisao could respect him.
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In the next scene we see a long line in front of a restaurant, then the same ad with Sanukiman’s dance with everyone imitating him again.
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This silly dance is gonna be important later on.
Looks like Chisao’s welcome party is gonna be in a new Udon restaurant called Heineken that just opened, conveniently, next to the Ex-WWW’s curry shop, which looks completely deserted. Netto and friends mention that they have reservations at the restaurant but the WWW suddenly appear to scold Netto for betraying them or something.
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“And besides, you guys have tried to kill me in multiple occasions, I don’t owe you anything!”
The Ex-WWW proceed to insult the Udon shop and this infuriates the owner named Kotaro Saburou who starts to argue with Mahajarama.
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He has a point. 
To spite him even further, Mahajarama steals Netto and his friends by offering them free curry, something he later regrets when they leave various stacks of empty plates.
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Hey, Gulping Netto is back!
In another scene, we see Saburou contemplating a bowl of Udon noodles and then spying on the curry restaurant through two peep holes on the wall located in a menu along with a new code!
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Which is the code for shrinking the “Collect” program, that is also the most expensive item in the menu.
After eating almost all of the curry in the shop, Chisao tells Dekao that he wants to see him and Gutsman in a Net Battle, so Dekao asks for permission to use the net (I’m guessing free Wi-fi was not a thing here yet) and everyone plugs in their Navis.
Just like Dekao, Gutsman is pretending to be a super powerful Navi and tells the others to attack, unfortunately for him, Rockman forgets about their arrangement for a second and shoots at him leading to probably my favorite scene from this episode.
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I just love how Gutsman is scared to death of Rockman’s buster shots. XD
Anyway, Roll reminds Rockman what he was suppose to do and Dekao orders Gutsman to attack.
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That dramatic pain shot followed by Rockman softly landing on his back is so funny.
Then he proceeds to attack the rest of the Navis, including Rush.
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I don’t know about that, Rush seems to be enjoying himself.
After seeing Gutsman in action, Chisao gets excited and asks to operate him, and just out of nowhere, makes a perfect PROGRAM ADVANCE! 
Yeap, apparently the whole “Navi and operator must be in perfect sync” is just something Miyuki made up, because if a preschooler can make Gutsman summon a Beta Sword while he is in shock, then episode 15 was just a huge waste of time... Or Netto was just really dumb.
And not only does Gutsman copy the steps like Rockman, but when Chisao sends the Sword he does the same reaction Rockman did in the Planetman episode.
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You can’t fool me anime!
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Legendary technique my butt.
Everyone is amazed after seeing Chisao use a program Advance that almost hits Rockman, but after he says how he wants to be as strong as his brother, Dekao feels guilty and takes the PET away from him.
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If anyone should be pissed here it should be Netto, that kid just did what he took many episodes to perfect in only two minutes!
After this, we see Chisao sitting all alone somewhere in town when a disguised stranger, who is totally not Saburou, gives him a PET with a Navi to help him fight some alien spice monsters he just made up. That night, while Dekao is sleeping, Chisao sees his new Navi, at first he is disappointed when he sees it, but turns out the Navi can shape shift into anything he wants.
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Right after this, Netto gets a called from a worried Gutsman telling him that Chisao has gone missing.
Then we go to the Curry shop where we see Mahajarama in his pajamas and his stuffed monkey discovering that everything in the shop is out of control. The other WWW operators believed it was the work of the Udon shop and sent their Navis to deal with them, but Heatman and the others were captured by a Navi that looks just like Gutsman named Nuggetsman AKA Kutzman.
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After commercials, Netto and the others split up to look for Chisao while he stays with a very worried Dekao. And I like this shot because it looks like Netto just hit Dekao.
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“That’s what you get for calling me your stupid pupil!”
Back in the curry computer, Mahajarama sends Magicman to save the other WWW Navis, but Kutzman uses them as a shield to block his Magic Fire attack.
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What’s worse is that Kutzman’s noodle like tentacles prevents the WWW operators to plug out their Navis.
Chisao attacks Magicman by sending a made up chip that doesn’t exist in the game called “Hi-Guts Beam”, and it looks like something Masa-san would have.
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ITS A TUNA THAT FIRES A LASER!
This defeats Magicman and creates more damage to the curry shop. Dekao and Netto see smoke coming out of the store and go in to investigate, where a very angry WWW is telling Dekao to stop Chisao.
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After hearing this, Netto and Dekao send their Navis into the computer where Rockman frees the WWW Navis by shooting at the tentacles and allowing them to log-out.
They are surprised to see that the Navi looks like Gutsman and that Chisao is the operator. Not-Saburo tells Chisao that Dekao and Netto are fakes, and Chisao believes him because he tells Dekao that he is weak after Gutsman and Rockman receive a hit from two more laser tuna chips.
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Ouch.
Netto tells Dekao that he is being fooled by someone and they both fight back to destroy the tunas.
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Now I have shots of Rockman and Gutsman killing tunas.
They proceed to attack Kutzman as well but he repels them with his noodle tentacles. Rockman tries to fire his buster, but Gutsman stops him and says that it is Dekao who should save his brother. After this, Kutzman uses a titus gun that looks like a Vulcan chip and shoots... Fried dough, I think?
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I guess the dub doesn’t need to cut this shot because it is not firing anything potentially dangerous.
The WWW searches for Chisao inside the store with no luck, and all seems lost until Kutzman suddenly does something stupid that gives away his identity.
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Yeap! That stupid dance from the noodle ad revealed to everyone that Kutzman is actually Sanukiman, the mascot for the Heineken Udon shop.
So immediately after, Dekao kicks down the door of the Udon shop and tells Chisao that he’s been fooled. Chisao doesn’t believe him until Dekao does something that forced the dub to skip it, pull down his pants and show him his birthmark.
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 I am not gonna take a screenshot of that, so trust me when I say that we don’t actually see the birthmark, I even had to open my eyes just to make sure. And now I will never get that image of Dekao’s butt crack out of my head T T.
Gutsman reveals Sanukiman’s true form with his Guts Hammer while Dekao and Netto scold Saburo for what he did.
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Saburo orders Sanukiman to attack Gutsman but Rockman protects him with his Buster. Then we get this unusual scene that I like for some reason.
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I needed this so bad after what I saw, DON’T JUDGE ME!
Dekao sends Gutsman a Gold Fist Battle chip (which sounds familiar), he defeats Sanukiman, Chisao and Dekao celebrate and Saburo surrenders.
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Now I remember! Nobody returned the Battle Chips Yaito stole from Higure’s counter in episode 33?! Then Netto did kept that meteor chip! O0O
The next morning, Hinouken threatens Saburo, Netto asks why so much hate and the WWW say that Udon and Curry can’t go together (Like they are suddenly so obsessed with curry). Netto reminds them that there is a dish called Curry Udon and Mahajarama gets an epiphany, with the same code for shrinking Collect in the background.
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In case you didn’t see the code in the menu.
With tears in their eyes, both parties make peace and look forward to a brilliant new future for their stores. Even Chisao finds Netto’s argument inspiring, Netto tries to give credit to Dekao but he grabs him to talk in private.
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And he does...
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Okay, I think the writers wanted this to be just a joke for this episode, but in the later seasons they needed an excuse for Dekao to leave Japan for some reason.
I’m saying this because the next scene morning, we see the Udon stor closed and Dekao feeding Netto a noodle from a udon curry he did and then eates the rest in front of him.
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And the episode ends with Netto yelling at Dekao for only feeding him one noodle and eating the rest, with a heart closing in on chisao.
My thoughts?
First of all, Udon is a type of noodle that is commonly used in Japanese cuisine, and Sanuki is a special type of udon. I had no idea there were different types of noodles.
I’m not a fish expert like Masa, but I did some research and it looks like the fish in the High Guts beam chip is a Skipjack tuna, a tuna that is used very often in Japanese cuisine which is known as Katsu or Katsubushi, so I think there was a pun in here somewhere.
Dekao and Chisao’s names are puns, with Dekao meaning “Big Guy” and Chisao meaning “Little Guy”.
You might have noticed that Chisao says “-chu” all the time. I think that’s a way of saying that he is so little that he sounds like a mouse, since Chu is the sound a mouse makes.
So, this episode introduces Chisao who will, for some reason, appear unnecessarily often in future seasons, and in that regard, the episode also gives a tiny hint of what will happen to Dekao too. As I mentioned before, I think that it was originally just a joke for the end of this episode since it is not brought up again until the next season. I don’t know if they were already planning Axess, but let’s not think about that for now.
Who knows what happened after Saburou and the WWW make peace because we don’t see him or Sanukiman ever again.
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brax-was-here · 5 years ago
Text
Scarlet Briar: The Redemption of Ceara - Chaper 2 finale
Written by: Braxxus
Editing by: Arwen Darkblade
Chapter 2: Nightmares Come When Shadows Grow
Sometimes life gives you a different path...
     It had been hours since Amaranda left the Seraph office, and the only information she could get from the Seraph was that the Pavilion was where the apparition was seen most frequently. She searched around the upper Pavilion, and the surrounding areas of the Western Commons and the Ossan Quarter. Sadly, there was nothing to be seen, except for the random citizens going about their daily lives and the few Watchknights standing guard over the Pavilion. She wasn't even feeling anything out of the ordinary from the Dream. Still, she couldn't let her guard down. She had to keep her mind sharp in the event that Ceara or whatever that thing was she saw in the Dream appeared. She kept thinking about what happened in her dream and what happened when she entered the palace grounds. Traveling back to the Western Commons she started to feel uneasy, like she was being watched again. But this time it wasn't something ethereal. Looking around, the street seemed empty and a light mist was setting in.
      "Amaranda? What is she doing here?" Ceara thought to herself, spying the Sylvari from the shadows of an alleyway. "I'm sure Mother sent you." She thought back to the voice she had heard in her mind months ago.
      "Come home, my child."
     She stood in thought for a few minutes.
     "Maybe I should...No, I can't." Ceara was still determined to forge her own life away from the bindings of the Dream and the Pale Tree. "I have to be my own sylvari, walk my own path." She turned her attention back to Amaranda who was walking towards the area where Ceara was hiding.
     "She's searching for something." Ceara's eyes narrowed. "Me? The ghost?"
      Amaranda paused suddenly. "It's here" she said to herself as a cool breeze lightly blew down the street. She scanned the area as she cautiously walked, searching everywhere, high and low. Something grabbed her.
      "WAAAAAA!!!" she screamed as she was pulled by the arm and yanked into an alleyway. She was forced up against a wall, an armored arm across her chest. She reached for her dagger, but it was knocked away. She looked at her assailant but all of its face was covered. 
     "What do you want with me!?" She asked in a huff.  Ceara removed her goggles and scarf, revealing her face. Amaranda's eye widen in fear. She panicked.
     "YOU!" she screamed. "STAY AWAY FROM ME!!" Ceara grabbed Amaranda's arm as she attempted to scramble away. "LET ME GO!! HELP!! HEL.." Ceara put her hand over Amaranda's mouth.
     "Will you shut up!" Ceara whispered. "You'll bring the whole Seraph down on top of us and all this will be for naught!" Ceara breathed deeply. "Now, Amaranda, I'm going to assume that Mother sent you here to convince me to return to the Grove, or you're looking for this so called 'ghost', or both, right?" Amaranda nodded her head slowly. "Now I'm going to remove my hand and if you make even the slightest peep, I'm going to stuff you in a..." Ceara paused, stunned.
     "Nightmares come when shadows grow," a voice sang out in the distance. It was her own voice, yet ghostly and ethereal. Ceara looked at Amaranda. Amaranda was looking at her, her eyes wide. They both heard it. It was getting closer. Peaking out from behind the wall they were hiding behind, they saw it. Dancing whimsically down the street was the ghostly image of Ceara herself, pale white as can be, thorns protruding from her jet black hair, and the blackest eyes. It passed by the alley they were in, lightly singing to itself, seemingly oblivious to the onlookers.
     "Oh, my minions! I can't wait to attend the Queen's Jubilee. It's going to be ever so much fun!" it spoke excitedly, stopping in the middle of the street. "I can't wait to show you all how explosive it's going to be!" It gestured to an unseen crowd and continued on before stopping at an empty book cart. Ceara and Amaranda stepped out onto the sidewalk to watch it. The ghost seemed focused on a pile of nonexistent books.
     "How can anyone read this rubbish? So droll. None of this even compares to everything we learned in the Eternal Alchemy, right...Ceara?" A chill ran down Ceara's spine. The ghost slowly turned its head towards them.
      "Oh Ceara! There you are! How I missed you!" it said excitedly. "I missed all the fun we had together. I was so sad and lonely when you died! But...you're not dead! You’re here now! Oh what great fortune father has showered on me this night. And you brought a friend! Oh how I love a party!"
     Ceara stood shocked. "Father?" She looked puzzled for a moment.
     "Oh yes, our father. He called to you from the forest. He spoke to you in the Eternal Alchemy. Remember? He brought us together! So we could set him free!" Ceara remembered the bodiless voice that plagued her dreams and controlled her mind.
     "The dragon," she said lowly. She looked at Amaranda who was transfixed on the spirit.
     "It..it's her..." Amaranda sputtered. "So much chaotic energy. She's causing the corruption of the Dream." Ceara looked back at the spirit.
     "What are you?" she asked. The spirit looked shocked, its black eyes widening in disbelief.
     "My dear Ceara, have you forgotten me already? It's me, Scarlet. Oh those nasty heroes must have affected your mind somehow. I can help you fix that! Won't you come with me to the Jubilee! We're going to have so much fun together again!"
     The spirit held out a ghostly hand to Ceara. She looked down at it, then at Amaranda, then back at the ghost. A large sinister grin grew over the spirit’s face. "Father would love to have us all back together." Scarlet turned to Amaranda, sneering. "And I haven't forgotten about you, Seer." She snarled. "That was a neat trick the Mother Tree pulled while we were in the Dream. You won't be so lucky next time." She looked back at Ceara. "Now, shall we?" She disappeared in a cloud of mist, her laughter echoing through the street.
     Amaranda looked at Ceara. "That...was that... Scarlet Briar?" Ceara nodded lightly standing in silence. "So much...hate....evil."
     Ceara looked at Amaranda. "Am I…always that chatty?" Amaranda shrugged. "Well, let's go." Ceara pulled her cloak up and started walking. Amaranda sighed heavily and walked beside her.
     They reached the southern entrance to the Crown Pavilion. It was deathly quiet. The only sound heard was the low whirl of the Watchknights’s movements.
     "I won't be able to get in very far," Ceara said.
     "Why not?" Amaranda asked.
     "Do you hear that noise? It's the Watchknights. I'm sure the Queen has had them modified to kill me on sight after that little episode I pulled at the Jubilee." Ceara paused for a moment lost in thought.
     "Ceara?"
     "Except....it wasn't me," she said softly, "it was her, it...whatever it is. It controlled me. I wanted out, wanted to escape, but I couldn't. It wouldn't let go." Ceara started rambling.
     "Hey!" Amaranda said grabbing Ceara by the shoulder. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on, but right now we need to focus, I need you to focus, on the task at hand. Ok?" Ceara paused a moment and gave her a slight smile.
     "Ok," she said, nodding. "Now, we have to get in there. Somehow."
     "Look!" Amaranda whispered. She pointed to the canopy of the pavilion. Scarlet had appeared on the top of it.
     "Where are you, Ceara?" Scarlet yelled playfully. "I know you are out there! I don't want you to miss my show! Perhaps afterwards we can go visit Lord Faren! You remember how much you liked him!?" Ceara thought back to the Jubilee. She had placed a nearly naked Lord Faren in a cauldron and proceeded to try to torture him through boiling. She smiled slightly and looked at Amaranda, who was looking at her with the most deadpan face Ceara had ever seen.
     "What?" Ceara asked.
     "I cannot believe you are thinking about Lord Faren," Amaranda protested.
     "What? No! I wasn't..." Amaranda raised a finger to Ceara's face, cutting off her sentence.
     "You're still as disturbing as ever," Amaranda said in a huff.  
      "Please don't let that nasty Seer drive a wedge between us, keeping us apart! We can be together forever again!" Scarlet continued.
     "I'm here… Scarlet," Ceara yelled back. The ghost turned her attention toward the duo.
     "Ah! You made it just in time for the fireworks! You're both going to love what I have planned! Please come closer! The guards won't attack you. I've made sure of that!" A chill washed over Ceara.
     "What does that mean?" Amaranda asked.
     "It means she's taken control of the Watchknights, again. And if they are anything like last time I was here, we'll be in the Mists before we know it." Ceara cautiously stepped into the Pavilion, keeping a watchful on the nearby Watchknights. They didn't seem to take notice.
     "The guards seem to be glowing," Amaranda said softly. Ceara focused her attention on the closest WatchKnight. She could see a faint ethereal glow emanating from it, just enough to be noticeable.  
     "I see it," she said.
     "Come, my dears. I have saved special seats for you front and center. The duo slowly approached the guardrail around the large pit in the center of the Pavilion. Below lay the multiple arenas used for the Queens Jubilee celebration.
     "Behold, isn't it lovely?" Scarlet said, holding her hands out in front of her, the sounds of combat, screaming, and chaos started pouring from the arena. Peering over the edge, Ceara gasped at the activity below. Rampant chaos engulfed the arena. She saw the heroes that stopped her on the Breachmaker. She saw herself in multiple places around the arena. She realized it was the Jubilee from months ago, playing out again.
     "She's calling up images of the past," Amaranda stated. "So much chaos."
     "What are you doing!?" Ceara shouted at Scarlet.
     "So much chaos we sowed together, my dear Ceara. You were so full of energy and hate. It fed me," Scarlet said calmly. "Now, watch out for the fireworks!" A blast of white light erupted from the arena, blinding them, knocking the pair to the ground. As the light faded, Ceara regained her vision; she could see Scarlet still standing on the canopy. Amaranda shook her head and looked at the specter, her eyes wide.
     "She...she absorbed all that energy..."
     "What? What do you mean?" Ceara asked.
      "She pulled the echoes of the celebration from the Dream. All the chaos, it left a...almost like an energy imprint. That's why..." Amaranda stopped mid-sentence, thinking for a moment. "That's why she appears wherever you have been in the past. Kessex, Lions Arch, here. Every place you created mayhem, she has appeared. Gathering all the traces of chaotic energy."          
      Ceara thought for a moment. "Lornar's Pass at the marionette..."
      "The Seer is very observant. I kinda like her," Scarlet said.
     "So why are you doing this? What's your plan?" Ceara asked.
      "Why, my Dear, to make Father more powerful."
      Ceara stood stunned. "She's going to feed that power to the dragon." Amaranda gasped.
     "Oh yes, Seer. But this is just the beginning." Scarlet held out her hand. "You see, bigger things await." Ceara grabbed her rifle and fired multiple rounds at Scarlet. Scarlet laughed as the bullets passed through her, her laughter echoing off the walls of the Pavilion. "Did you forget I'm just a spirit, dear Ceara?" Scarlet brought a hand up and closed it into a fist. The duo suddenly heard the whirl of machinery come to life. Turning they saw the Watchknights marching towards them.
     "Thorns!" Ceara cursed. "Run! Get out of here!" They bolted for the nearest gate. Amaranda ducked through the guards as best she could, Ceara right behind her. "Please don't leave me again, Ceara!"
     Scarlet laughed menacingly. Ceara felt something wrap around her leg and pull her back, causing her to fall. She turned over to see a ghostly tendril dragging her back into the Pavilion. She clawed at the sidewalk, trying to resist. "It's not nice to attack your family, Ceara." Scarlet hissed as she appeared on the walkway. Ceara pulled up her rifle and fired at Scarlet, the rounds passing through the ghost once again. Scarlet raised her hand and swiped it to the side in front of her. Vines wrapped around the rifle, yanking it from Ceara's hands and crushing it. More grabbed her arms and legs, hoisting her into the air in front of Scarlet.
     "Now dear sister," Scarlet spat as she reached out with her hand, her long thorn tipped fingers phasing into Ceara's chest, "now it's time for us to be together again. Just as before, just the way Father wanted it" Her voice chilled the air and sent shivers through Ceara and Amaranda. Ceara screamed as darkness surrounded her heart, she felt the same intrusion into her mind that she had felt in the Eternal Alchemy.
     "No," Ceara whimpered. "No...Not again..." Scarlet smiled sinisterly.
     "Oh yes, dear sister." Scarlet paused. She let out an anguished gasp and grabbed at her chest. She stepped back, a look of pain and surprise on her face. "What...What did you do to me?"
     "I hope...I hope you burn... in the Mists." Ceara glared at her, trying to catch her breath. She mustered up enough strength to spit at her.  
      Scarlet's face turned sour. "Then I will see you there," she growled as she brought her hand up and a rift opened behind Ceara.
     "No!" Ceara breathed trying to turn her head to look behind her. Amaranda turned just in time to see Ceara pulled through the rift. Scarlet closed her eyes as it sealed shut.
     "Such a waste," she said softly. After a moment she opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Amaranda.
     "Pale moth...." Amaranada's thoughts were cut off.
     "You can't run, Amaranda," she heard in her mind. "Mordremoth will rule you all. He will rule all of Tyria!" Her voice became louder almost thunderous. "The Mother Tree will not be able to stand against him. She will not be able to protect you any longer. He will devour the Dream, he will conquer the Mists, and all that is existence will be his! Give up your hope, align yourself with him and he may show you mercy! Open your mind and let me show you!" 
     Amaranda covered her ears and screamed. She felt herself falling to the ground, the last thing she saw was a group of Seraph soldiers approaching before her vision faded to black.
Chapter 2 End.
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