#never late fashionably just slightly behind u know

[divinebunnii]

elf ~ // treat me // // shirt shop //

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: f2l!jun, jealous!jun, a lil bit of possessiveness, he's in love with u, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, semi-public sex, etc.

wc: 1994

a/n: i love writing jun he's so ... he's so jun

masterlist

jun was an idiot.

okay, maybe that was too harsh.

no, actually that was pretty much correct.

because if he wasnt an idiot he wouldnt be standing here right now, watching as the pretty bartender flirted with you.

had he acted on his feelings earlier (or literally ever), he wouldnt have to watch as the bartender gave you free drink after free drink, clearly slipping you his number on a napkin. what did he have that jun didnt? balls? yeah, maybe. but it wasnt fair! jun was your best friend, it's not like he could just give you his number and call it a day. you already had his number! that, and he needed to go through the whole 'sorry, i know we're just friends, but id like to submit an application for the promotion to boyfriend now.' he already had a whole thing going with you; a very platonic thing.

so now all he could do was sit there and watch. watch you in your pretty dress, hugging your body in the most delicious of ways, as the bartender looked you up and down, almost as if he was planning the easiest way to eat you right there and then. jun needed to stop this. you didnt seem uncomfortable or even phased by it, just showing plain disinterest, so he really had no valid reason to storm over there and drag you away. which is why he wasnt sure why he did just that.

you knew jun as a bit of a weird guy. someone who just did things without much thought in mind. so it didn't surprise jun when you didnt question him upon marching up to you, churning out an excuse of 'we need to go to the bathroom!' before pulling you away from the bartender's vicinity.

to be fair, he did take you to the bathroom. he quite literally took over the bathroom, walking you in and locking the door behind him, not allowing any other person to enter. it was an exaggerated yet ominous act. once he calmed himself down a bit, he turned back to you as you looked at him with wide eyes, head turned slightly to the side, clearly confused at his actions. okay, yeah, this was weird. even for jun standards.

"what was that?" you asked, wondering why he was being extra dramatic than usual.

"uhh .. that? just, i .. i didnt- i didnt like the way he was looking at you .." jun was never good at thinking on his feet. he needed time to formulate answers and think. and even then, he would sometimes stumble over his words, just like now.

"what? he just gave me his number. it's not like-"

"no! you should- you should throw it away. uh, please?"

"why would i do that? he was cute, i was thinking of hitting him up an-"

"NO!," his words interrupted you again, leaving his mouth before he could think.

"jun, what's wrong with you today ..?"

"listen, i ... i- it's just .."

"jun! what is it??" you were clearly growing more and more confused by the second. jun needed to salvage the situation. except, in true jun fashion, he did the opposite of what he intended.

"i like you, okay?," he gulped loudly before continuing, "i dont want a stupid bartender giving you his number. i dont want to see guys staring at you at the gym. i dont want jeonghan flirting with you. it's- it's all driving me crazy. i know i shouldve told you, okay? i know. i'm too late, i know. i shouldve asked you from the day we met. but you were so ... and- and i panicked! i love being your best friend, i do. but- but i just like you so much. i like you and i dont know what to do. i-"

"jun."

"no, listen! i get it. we're best friends and we've been best friends forever, and i know you don't see me that way, but-"

"jun!"

"-but watching you get attention from all these guys is just making me so- it's driving me insane. i cant stand the thought of you with someone else anymore. i know you havent really dated since we met, but even the thought makes me-"

"wen junhui! shut up!!"

he finally slammed his mouth shut at this, finally allowing your interruption to get through to him. he was now paying full attention to you. you were closer than he remembered before he started senselessly ranting at you. you were right in front of him, actually, staring up at him with eyes he had never seen before.

you grabbed his arms, limp at his sides, and wrapped them around your waist, now pressing the two of you almost chest to chest. he didn't know where this was going, but he'd allow you to do whatever you wanted as long as it meant it was him you were looking at and no one else.

"junnie ... you're such a fucking idiot."

okay. he already knew that.

"i like you too."

wait, what?

he gaped at you, "what?"

very smooth.

"you're so fucking stupid. you couldve just told me you liked me," despite your insults, you now had your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, almost pulling him down to you. it had his heart beating like crazy as he kept his own arms wrapped around you.

"i- you liked me?!"

"yes, you idiot! why do you think i havent dated anyone since we met?"

"i thought maybe you just didnt have any game, i dont know!"

"jun!"

"shit. sorry, i meant- hmph!"

your attack on him had been too quick for him to even process. without having realized, you had pulled him down the rest of the way, quite literally launching an attack on his lips with your own. for a few seconds he just stood there, eyes wide in surprise as he let you kiss him with no reciprocation. he was too shocked to respond, despite how badly he wanted to. it went like this until you pulled away, probably thinking this wasnt what he wanted.

he panicked once again, immediately pulling you back to his lips, backing you up against the nearest wall. that's when he really started to perform to his full potential. he pulled all stops, feeling nothing but pure bliss at finally feeling your lips against his. he licked frantically into your mouth, running his hands up and down every inch of your body, sighing at every moan that escaped your mouth and entered his.

he felt like he was on cloud nine, with you so pliant against his hold. suddenly an animalistic sense deep within him started to come out. every soft sigh you released against him, and every shudder of your body had his resolve breaking. he had to hold back from picking you up and pounding you into the wall. whatever it was that was taking over him, he had never felt before. there was a cloud in his mind giving him sinister thoughts; thoughts of you crying as he pistoned into you, letting all his desires finally release after the years-long wait for you to land in his arms.

"w-want you so fucking bad. please ...l he opted for communicating his desires, wanting nothing more than for you to reciprocate his insane want for you.

your response was found in you licking into his open mouth as he spoke, whispering at him to do whatever he wanted to you, claiming you had waited far too long to feel him. revealing that you thought of him every night and that your resolve had broken long ago.

his eyes rolled back at your lust, knowing his matched by a tenfold. he made quick work of your dress, pulling it up to uncover your crotch while pulling his own pants down just enough for him to begin rubbing his length against the thin cloth of your panties. he wanted your nude body so badly, but he knew it wasnt the time nor place. he'd save that vision for another day (most likely an hour or so, maybe after making you scream his name in the pub's bathroom).

"junnie ... please just-fuck! just fuck me," he understood your rush, already growing drunk on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your delicious cunt. god, that was yet another thing he needed to save for later; your thighs suffocating his head as he licked every drop of arousal out of you.

no. he needed to concentrate. he needed to get his cock wet and warmed up by your pretty cunt. and that's exactly what he did next, moaning out at the feeling of you enveloping him almost as if he'd belonged there all along.

"that's ... shit, that's such a pretty cunt, baby. fuck ..."

"wanted this cunt for so long, shit, fuck. it's so fucking good."

"all mine now ... no one else can have it .."

"fuck, gonna take you home and keep you locked in my room. go-gonna fuck you every day to make up for lost time, shit."

he couldn't help the candid words leaving his mouth. his mind kept screaming at him to show you how fucking badly he wanted you. there was nothing more perfect than the feeling of your body against his, all while your mewls of pleasure filled his ears. the thought of taking you home and keeping you in his arms forever made him feel like he was in nirvana. it almost overpowered the actual feeling of nirvana your cunt was giving him as you strangled his cock between your walls.

god, your cunt. he always knew you'd feel like heaven, but nothing couldve prepared him for this. no longer did he ever have to worry about the platonic wall that had been placed between him and your beautiful body (and mind and soul and everything else). now he had you all to himself, and he'd never let another man even imagine being in his current position.

"junnie ... need to cum. please. y-you're so fucking big. fuck!"

he needed to hear more of you. needed you to cry about his big cock bruising your cervix. so, he did what any reasonable person would and began pistoning in and out of you at a savage pace, feeding on the cries of pleasure leaving your lips.

"th-right there! fuck! junnie, please ... do-don't stop. gonna cum. g-gonna- shit ..."

not a single sentence could leave your body anymore as jun finally triggered your impending orgasm, with your own end dragging his out of him almost immediately.

the two of you breathed heavily against each other, hands unable to separate from the other's body for even a second. it felt comfortable; right. it was as if you'd done this together before. he felt like this was what he was supposed to be doing all along.

"do you really like me back?"

"jun, you idiot. yes! i wouldnt have let you fuck me in a dirty pub bathroom if i didnt like you."

"ah. hah, just making sure," he wasnt too sure where the horny monster inside of him had gone, now going back to his slightly awkward demeanor.

"now ... are you gonna make good on your promise?"

"huh?"

"gonna take me home and keep me locked up in your room?"

oh. you were flirting with him. your hands were rubbing at the back of his ear, making him swoon at your delicate touch. fuck, you were good at this. one word from you and he was putty in your hands. but it was fine. he liked it that way.

"y-yes."

"then take me home, baby. show me what you've been wanting to do to me all this time"

jun made a mental note to thank the bartender on his way out for making him jealous enough to act on his feelings as you dragged him away, clearly just as eager to get on his bed.

thank fucking god for that stupid bartender.

[thursdayygrrrl]

inevitably, inetivably, inebivatly

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: actress!wanda maximoff x gn!reader 

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

summary: After Wanda finishes filming a day drinking segment on Seth Meyers’ show to promote her current project, you take care of her.

word count: 2,061

a/n: i was watching random yt vids and came across the day drinking with seth meyers segments (the lorde and the dua lipa ones) and i just thought to write something short and sweet about it. i have not written in a while and english is not my first language, so please bear with me. this is also my first time writing for wanda. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. regardless, i hope u enjoy it !!

Your phone tells you it’s currently 3:46 PM, but the way Wanda is absolutely wasted makes it seem like 4 AM after a wild night out. She agreed to go on Late Night with Seth Meyers and participate in the day drinking segment. When the offer first came up, mentioned by her team, you were both apprehensive. But after some talk about it, guaranteeing her safety on set and the fan reception it would bring in, she ultimately agreed to it. Also, seeing your wife have some fun and let loose is one of the best sights ever. So here you were, hand on her waist, guiding her to your car after the shoot. 

“Okay, Wands, we’re almost there,” you say gently.

She mumbles something. “Hm?” You ask her, wanting not to miss anything.

“Don’t wanna…”

You suddenly remember that she’s wearing shoes which, honestly, looked painful to wear. You take this as a cue and carry her bridal style the rest of the way to the car. A little yelp escapes her in surprise when you lift her with ease.

“Better?” You ask her. She hums happily and buries her head into the crook of your neck. You kiss the top of her head as you walk nearer to the vehicle. Once you’re there, you bend down slightly to open the passenger door. 

Wanda removes her head from its former position once she hears the door open. She furrows her brow in that adorable manner you can never seem to get over. “Seth’s like… scary good at making people drink a lot a lot,” She slurs as you help her onto the seat and put her seatbelt on. “Yeah?” you try to keep her engaged.

“Mhm. Did you see me with those crazy cocktails? And those shots too?” Wanda rambles, emoting and gesturing without abandon, while you get behind the wheel. You chuckle, “Yeah, you took them like a champ, honey.”

“I sure did, Y/N,” She nods to herself proudly. You prep for the drive, making sure the temperature is comfortable and your phone is connected to the Bluetooth system. 

You open Spotify on your phone and gesture it towards her, “Any requests?”

She shakes her head, “Whatever DJ Y/N wants!” She giggles at the impromptu nickname she calls you. Her laugh is like music to your ears, you smile along with her.

“Alright, alright, alright!” You put your joint playlist on shuffle and start driving. One of your favorite songs comes on and Wanda starts dancing along, at least as much as the seatbelt allows. You join in by tapping your finger on the wheel and lipsyncing exaggeratedly. “I love this one!” She speaks loudly, still dancing, unaware of her voice modulation.

You match her energy, “I can tell!” This drive-turned-dance party continues for a few more songs until a slower one starts playing. She runs a hand through her hair and settles into the seat with a content sigh.

“Now that was fun, Y/N. We need to do that more.”

“Dance?”

She nods with an air of authority, “Absolutely.”

“Noted, darling,” You flash her a smug smile and she blushes.

She slumps in her seat and covers her face with her hands. “God, Y/N, that petname is so corny. And old-fashioned.”

You shrug and keep driving. “Sure, but you know you like it.”

She giggles, conceding, “Yeah, yeah. I do.”

You let the music take over as you make your way home. After a while, you look over to check on Wanda only to find that she’s blissfully asleep. Her copper waves are splayed across her shoulder. You smile to yourself as you park on the driveway. You take a moment to just admire her, to be enchanted by the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, and the peaceful expression on her face.

You leave the car and walk to her side, opening the passenger door as quietly as you can. Wanda stirs anyway. She whines softly when her sleep is interrupted.

“It’s okay, sweet girl, we’re home now. Okay? Just let me take care of you.”

She nods as you unbuckle the seatbelt and carry her again, this time into your home. She holds you as if her life depended on it. 

It was a challenge to get the front door open, but when you do, you immediately close it with your hip. You kick your shoes off and make your way to the bedroom. You lay her gently on the bed, which she immediately curls up in, then help take her heels off and pick out a change of clothes for her. The noise of clothes ruffling alerts Wanda. Her voice is muffled by the pillows and sheets surrounding her.

“May I wear one of your hoodies tonight? Pretty please?”

“You don’t have to ask, Wands. The answer is yes every time.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, a wide smile on her face while she drags out the last syllable of your name.

You look through your closet for some random sleep shorts and the exact hoodie you know she’s referring to. You also know how diligent she is with skincare, so you take the essentials with you too. Once you’ve got them, you go over to the bed again and bend so you’re at eye level with her.

“Sit up and let’s get you into something cozier, hon. Yeah?”

She wiggles her eyebrows playfully while following your instructions. “Ooooo, you wanna see me naked, huh?”

You try to suppress the growing smile on your face as you unzip the back of her dress. A blush creeps up on your face despite wanting to keep it at bay. Wanda teases you, “You totally do, Y/N! Look at you!”

The dress falls off her shoulders, revealing her upper body. She makes an excited noise. You take the dress and toss it on the floor, leaving it a problem for later, already coming up with an apology for her meticulous stylist. You sit in front of her and press a kiss on her shoulder as you unhook her bra. “I do, but I want you to be comfortable above all,” You whisper into her smooth skin.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” She pouts like a petulant child, but you know she would never mean anything bad by it. You help her slip into the shorts and the oversized hoodie. When her head pops out, a goofy smile is on her face. “I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too, Wanda.”

Now, you take her preferred cleansing balm and warm it in your hands. She closes her eyes as you massage it gently all over her face, to remove the makeup she’s wearing. Then, you take a damp cloth to rinse away the milky residue. She moans quietly at your touch.

Her eyes are still closed as you prepare to finish her routine with her favorite cleanser. “You’re so good with your hands, Y/N.” You chuckle at her comment, unsure if she meant the double entendre.

“I mean it,” She says sincerely as you keep working on her skincare, first with the cleanser then a clean washcloth to dry off. You cradle her face with your hand. She moves slightly to kiss your palm.

“I’m glad to be of service then.” 

Your hand moves to rest on her thigh instead. Her face gradually gets closer and her lips meet yours. It’s surprisingly gentle and tender, especially for someone so drunk and usually so eager. You let her deepen it, let her tongue venture into the familiar environment of your mouth, until she pulls away to catch her breath. You smile and give her one last peck before standing up and gathering the stuff up off the bed.

“I’m gonna get some water and some painkillers too. You’re gonna need it.”

Wanda scoffs and clumsily tilts her head upward to maintain eye contact with you. She takes her pointer finger and pokes your chest. “Please. Judging from a while ago, I could outdrink you, Natasha, and Yelena. Combined!”

You shoot her a questioning look, stifling a smile. “Sure, honey.” With that, you leave the room briefly and she lays back down. She lands on her back with a soft thud and stretches her arms and legs out like a starfish. “Y/N,” she calls out. “I am so grateful for this bed.”

With a bottle of water and a small dish containing some pills in hand, you enter again. “The bed is pretty great. It’s done us a lot of good.” You place the dish on the bedside table and open the water bottle, urging her to sit up again. “Here, Wands, drink up.”

She closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head. She makes a noise of disapproval that is not missed by your attentive ears. You tilt your head to the side, thinking of ways to try and persuade her. Wanda is stubborn, you knew that from years of experience, but you also knew that she would always fold at your actions if you played your cards just right.

Mustering up your best acting skills, you flash her your best wide-eyed, puppy-like gaze. Her eyes unscrew the tiniest bit, but it’s not enough. So you place the opened water bottle on the side table and move on to the next course of action.

Laying down and nuzzling into her side. A hum, much like a cat’s satisfied purr, leaves her lips.

“You like that?”

Wanda nods. “Yeah. A lot.” You then subtly move to sit up, leaning your back against the headboard. She whines at the gradual loss of contact. You can’t help but giggle softly as you pat the spot beside you. 

“Come up here, then. Sit up with me. I’m all yours.”

She begrudgingly does so, this time settling into your side and leaning most of her weight on you. You take this moment to brush some of the stray hairs away from her face and kiss her temple. She practically melts under your fawning.

You take your chance, continuing to play sweetly with her hair. “Now that you’re up, how about that water?”

A beat, a pause, until she yields.

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

A proud squeal you were trying to suppress escapes you. Wanda shoots you a knowing look, “Such a dork.” You quickly hand her the bottle, which she accepts and drinks from gratefully.

“Yeah, but this dork is just happy to get you hydrated before you inevitably fall asleep.”

“In-ev-it-ab-ly. Inetivably.” She sounds the word out and scrunches her nose when she mispronounces it. “That word is funny, Y/N. Inebivatly!” Both of you explode into laughter. She continues rambling about etymology and phonetics, gesturing wildly with the half-empty water bottle. "Woah!" You take it back before any of its contents threaten to spill.

“Hey! I was drinking that.” She pouts. You do your best to stay firm and mature, to resist your instinctual response to give in.

“Or were you using it as a prop?” 

“Mmmh, you got me there.”

Both of you settle back on the bed. Wanda takes her arm and wraps it around your midsection. Her head rests on your chest and your steady heartbeat grounds her. You alternate between caressing her hair and languidly stroking her side. The setting sun’s golden light creeps into the windows, bathing everything in a warm tone. After a comfortable silence, she speaks softly.

“M’sleepy…”

“Go ahead and rest, darling. I’ll be right here.”

“But there’s so many hours left in the day. Only old people sleep this early,” She drags the last word out in a whine.

“That’s okay, we have tomorrow.” You assure her like you unfailingly do.

Wanda hums in contemplation before nodding approvingly, “Yeah, tomorrow.” 

You keep soothing her until her eyelids eventually close, to hide those gorgeous eyes you could get lost in forever, and her breathing steadies and turns into quiet snores.

It is a guarantee that Wanda’s hangover tomorrow will be rough, but you don’t mind at all. It just gives you more permission to give her extra affection, attention, love, and care. Even in her messiest and most raw moments, there is nowhere in the world you would rather be than with her. This, you know, is certain. It is fated. It is inevitable.

[stormy-pinkness-2]

THIS IS JOHN X JOHN, IN CASE IT ENDS UP IN TAGS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ.

u know what i have a draft i'm never gonna finish and i see no reason not to post it here. stormy pinkess stans GO !!

It felt almost vapid to admit how stupidly attractive John was without his glasses.

Late in the evening John Flansburgh strummed on his guitar, moonlight illuminating his features in a Rembrandt-esque fashion. Slightly frowning (though Linnell knew this to be from focus), lips so and gently silluetted -- distracting him almost entirely from the song he was running by. His arms were defined and strong, his body bent slightly over the instrument in a deeply attentive way made him look as if the song was his sole focus, but above all Linnell couldn't tear himself from his dark brown eyes.

John didn't always have his glasses on, of course. Sleeping on the couch or simply conversating they were useless to him, he didn't have them on a good deal of the time. Hell, back in highschool he had phases where he barely ever wore them (Linnell recalled a great deal of whining over his mother not buying him contacts, in fact). But even still, after their years of togetherness it struck him.

"John. Joooohn. John!"

Flans snapped his fingers and as if previously hypnotized he regained awareness, looking all around him in an instant and then back to the man looking amusedly at him.

"H-Huh?" He stammered out.

"Dude, if you're too tired for this you can tell me. You weren't even blinking!" He said, a slight smile on his face. Linnell immediately flushed in embarrassment. He fidgetted with his hands.

"Um." His eyes between Flans and the wall behind him. "No, no, I'm not, I had a long day…"

When Flans enquizitively furrowed his brow Linnell had to fight the impulse to space right back out monologuing again. He was silly, looking at people as if he could see their very soul but unable to handle being looked at by his best friend. As he sat silent Flans sighed to himself.

"…Right. Well, if you so definitely don't want to sleep, do you mind it if I run this by you again?" He asked.

Linnell nodded yes.

He was unsure, as Flans began strumming again, if it was a blessing or a curse he had unconciously bought himself even more time to stare at a glassesless John Flansburgh. Either way his eyes returned to right where they were before, meeting Flans' own.

They were deep and brown and lovely, under the reflected light of the moon they shined bright as a color Linnell couldn't quite identify or label as anything other than beautiful. His eyelashes cast faint shadows onto his face, their gentle curve enthralling and perfect. The way they were covered by his eyelids as he looked down felt just cruel to John, almost as if being somehow teased by them. Of course Flans had no intention to do this to him. He knew this well, but he simply couldn't tear his gaze from them.

His face's shape was modified by his glasses when he wore them, though non-literal he looked different, a little less soft, a little more put-together. He didn't mourn this. Truthfully, the absence of glasses as a whole was not what he was entranced by. It was the vulnerability of it all, he felt trusted by the man, even loved. He was so beautiful, as he looked down to his lips he wondered-

"John, seriously man?"

Oh. He'd done it again, hadn't he?

"Ah, so-sorry…" He scratched at his head in embarrassment. Flans smiled.

"You wanna know something real funny, I didn't even notice you were spacing off until I was done!" He said. "You- Suddenly you had this really scared look like a third of the way in and I thought there was maybe something on me, actually. Lookin' dead into my eyes like I said something wrong, ha!"

Linnell flushed at the mention of the man's eyes. Thank god the room was dark enough that Flans couldnt tell.

"Ahaha, yeah…"

"Anything on your mind, man?" Flansburgh asked. "You seem a little tense."

Linnell laughed. "No. Not enough, actually, I was staring uh.. I was staring at you. No thoughts."

Flansburgh cocked his head to the side.

"I thought you were staring at the wall behind me, actually."

Linnell shook his head. "No, no, it…"

[worldismyne]

The Longest Sleepover Ch9

Summary: The first year of school did not go as planned for Harv and he’s never felt more alone. That is, until a loud kid from the saga studies course decides they’re best friends now.

(Year 1 AU, Harv deals with homophobia, Finn is oblivious.)

Series: Warrior U

Pairing: HarvFinn

Rating: T

Ao3 Link

At intermission, most of the guests filed out of the auditorium and into the halls for drinks and a moment to stretch their legs. Finn pulled away from Harv and stretched as soon as the house lights were up. They agreed to join the masses in line to get their hands on some wine or something of the sort.

"Ah, poor Helena." Finn said as soon as they found a table to rest their drinks at. "She got everything she could possibly ask for, and what does she do? She runs away." Finn sighed. "The actress playing her is amazing though."

"You don't think her acting was a little over the top?" Harv asked.

"It's acting Harvey, not lying. If you're not going to put your all into it, why bother?" Finn froze, catching a glance from a familiar face across the room. He tilted his face away, but it was too late.

"Finn?" Shad invited himself to their table with Beatus trudging behind. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were too busy to come out tonight." Finn seemed to stare off into space, searching his memory for any hint he'd had a conversation like that with them.

"I..." Finn looked at Harv, then back at the other two. "I just wanted to go with Harv. I forgot we were going to go together." Honestly, he just hadn't expected them to want to go with him after the fit he'd thrown at the start of break. Shad looked Harv up and down with a raised eyebrow. 

"It's pretty good though." Harv said, desperate to change the subject. He never knew how to talk to Finn's other bard friends. Especially when it was hard to tell when they were friends or not. 

"I know right," Shad grinned, "I mean how good is the gal they got to play Helena?" Finn perked up a bit.

"We were just-"

"Talk about drop dead gorgeous." Shad said. "I mean, she was pretty in Hamlet, but there's just something about the Athenian garb that really highlights her, well, you know." Shad grinned and looked to Finn for a response. Finn, blankly looked to Harv for an answer. He'd never seen the blond look so terrified before, like he had no idea what to say.

"She, uh, certainly has legs..." Harv agreed lamely. Finn's friends appeared mildly disappointed and started to talk quietly amongst themselves. It was clear they realized, albeit too late, that the question had made Finn uncomfortable. Instead of changing the subject, they'd just cut them out of the conversation entirely. Within a few minutes, Finn's expression was sullen, and he idly swirled his wine. Harv bit his lip and tried to think of something to distract Finn. "Speaking of costumes, Lysander's was pretty good."

"Yeah," Finn said with a smile, "the gold thread on the trim was a nice touch." Fashion was something he always had an opinion on. He certainly appreciated Harv bringing a new topic up, even if it was a lame excuse to cover why he hadn't paid much attention to the other actors. 

"He was quite handsome too." Shad said. He leaned forward on the table with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I think he's new. I haven't seen him in any productions around here before."

"You haven't seen any productions around here before." Beatus rolled his eyes. "Sewer."

"Beatus, don't speak of the past." Shad shuddered.  

"Finn wants to bring this guy to practice, to watch." Beatus said. He made eye contact with Finn, though slightly obscured by his mop of red hair.

"Oh, well there's an idea." Shad said. Harv could only watch as Finn got pulled aside by Beatus while Shad held him verbally hostage. "You know, private shows were quite common back where I come from, but I don't imagine Finn would charge a friend for tickets to rehearsal." Shad's smile dropped a little, having failed to get the warrior to look in his direction. He leaned back from the table, taking in how Harv's borrowed clothes didn't fit quite right. "So, you're interested in music, are you?" Shad's tone was still pleasantly conversational, if not slightly amused.

"Not particularly." Harv said. He tilted his head to look above the passing crowd. He couldn't make out what the others were saying, but whatever Beatus had said made Finn look ill. 

"Oh... what are you interested in then?" Shad asked. 

"I-" Harv faltered. "I haven't had a lot of time for interests actually. Usually, I work all the time."

"No time like the present I suppose." Shad shrugged. "Well, Finn's a good one to have around if you're looking to try new things. He doesn't get out much, so everything's still quite novel to him." 

"I thought he did stuff like this all the time?" Harv frowned. He glanced over at Finn again who was trying his best not to raise his voice.

"Yeah, with his mother." Shad half laughed. "But if she's busy, he usually stays at home." The announcer gave a five-minute warning for everyone to return to their seats. "Well, it was nice to finally meet you properly." Beatus and Shad waved goodbye, returning to their own seats. Harv had rushed back to Finn's side, but Finn was oddly quiet, choosing not to say anything ill about his friends for once. When they got back in their seats, Finn kept his hands in his lap, even though he clearly looked uncomfortable. 

As the house lights dimmed, Harv tentatively brushed Finn's arm with the back of his hand. Finn turned his head slightly, but kept his eyes on the stage. Not wanting to put his hand in Finn's lap, he lightly pulled at the inside of Finn's arm. Finn glanced at him quickly then back at the stage. 

"What?" Finn whispered, only coming as close as the arm rest. 

"Hand?" Harv whispered back, meeting him in the middle. Finn hesitated; his lower lip clenched between his teeth.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." Harv said. Finn stiffly offered his hand, refusing to let it drift too far away from the armrest. Harv ran his thumb along the back of Finn's knuckles. It took almost an entire act for Finn to relax again. One storyline at a time, the fairies cleaned up the mess they had made. The four lovers were back with their destined partners, believing that night to be nothing more than a dream. As the play came to an end, the fairy character told the audience that maybe the audience experienced a dream as well. 

-

After the final curtain call, Finn rushed out into the lobby, eager to be the first to get an autograph from one of the actresses. He had disappeared into the crowd before Harv had even had a chance to stand up. In less of a hurry, Harv followed the flow of foot traffic into the main hall, staring up at the various trinkets that were for sale related to the show. Someone roughly pushed into his shoulder to get past him.

"Hey, watch it!" Harv said. The stranger paused and turned, bothering to dust off his own shoulder with disdain. Judging by the red and gold embroidery, he was probably a noble, not much older than Harv. For a second, it seemed the other boy might apologize,  but one look at his hair had the nobleman scowling again. 

"Just who do you think you are?" He sneered. It was a tricky question to answer at the moment. Sure, Harv had grown up a peasant, but now he was working in a position just below Finn. While not technically a noble, the witch's household was wealthy enough to demand certain respects, and Harv had no idea how much of that applied to himself. 

"It doesn't matter." Harv said. "I was just standing here, you could have asked me to move."

"In this kingdom there are only two families closer to the royal family than mine, and you clearly aren't from either of them." He straightened his jacket. "If I were you, I'd hold my tongue." The noble left without another word, though the people around them looked at Harv and snickered under their breath. He could hear Finn run to catch up with him and motioned for them to leave through a different exit.

"What a jerk." Harv shook his head.

"Harvey, that was Darren." Finn whispered, eager to get away from prying eyes just as fast. When Harv didn't seem to recognize the name, Finn continued. "Darren Radner, son of the king's lead knight."

"Then he should know how to avoid running into stationary objects," Harv said, "and manners." Finn grinned ear to ear, his spirits lighter than it had been since intermission. His laughter cut through the still night, as they waited for a cart to take them home. 

"He really is harmless, but it wouldn't hurt to be careful." Finn said. "Rumors in court spiral, and I had hoped to have a hand in crafting the narrative. It's still funny he didn't notice you."

"I know right, I mean look at this thing." Harv held his arms out, the diamonds sparkling almost comically. "I look more like one of the actors than a column." 

"That reminds me." Finn fished in his bag and pulled out one of the playbills to hand to Harv. "Lysander's autograph." 

"I thought you were getting Helena's." Harv said. He took the folded paper, unsure of what to do with it.

"Oh I got three of those." Finn grinned. "One for my book, one for the wall, one to sell once the show's run is over." Harv kept looking at the drying ink in awe. It was a simple gesture, but he appreciated it a great deal more than the extravagant gifts Finn liked to throw at him. "You're welcome." Finn teased. 

"Oh, yeah, thank you." Harv said. There was a strange giddiness that followed him as the carriage pulled up, an anticipation for something he couldn't quite place. Finn climbed in ahead of him, fidgeting with his nails as the door closed behind Harv. He was always like this when they sat across from each other, constantly moving or his attention all over the place. The only time he ever seemed to still was when he was latched onto Harv's side. With this much room in the carriage, there was no reason for them to be in each other's space.

"I'm a good friend, right?" Finn glanced up at Harv, combing through every movement the warrior made for a sign of rejection. 

"Yeah..." Harv said, almost like a question, but not quite. "Does this have anything to do with what that guy said to you?" Finn looked out the window for a moment, the blur of buildings and trees the last thing on his mind. 

"He doesn't know what he's talking about." Finn said. "Everyone wants to feel special sometimes, it's not cruel to do things for someone else." His face hardened. "Besides, you're nothing like Shad." Harv barely had enough in common with the flashy bard to carry one conversation. He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why anyone would compare the two. 

"Did you used to be close or something?" 

"I tried to be." Finn sighed. "But being too nice gave him certain expectations, so I stopped." The thunder of hooves outside was almost deafening. "That makes me manipulative I guess..." He shook his head. "They're wrong about a lot of things though. It's just, I'm usually outnumbered. You and I are perfectly happy with the way things are, it's not weird to think that won't change." Only this time, he didn't spare a glance in Harv's direction, keeping his eyes stubbornly on the road. He couldn't afford to hear anything to the contrary. Not now, not when he finally had a friend that wanted to hold his hand. 

He wasn't forcing Harv to do these things, no matter what Beatus thought. Staying with him was Harv's choice, that alone should have been proof enough. Without all the gifts, and extravagance, Harv would still want Finn hanging around him. Finn just wished he could believe that as much as wanted other people to believe that.

-

With the silly expensive suit back on a hanger where it belonged, Harv felt freer than he had before. There was something especially suffocating about being in an unfamiliar place without Finn's endless energy to distract him from it. At least now he was in clothes he'd picked out himself, even if he'd never worn clothes made specifically for him before. They'd always been hand-me-downs from his father.

He had stepped out onto the balcony of Finn's room, favoring the occasional breeze to the stillness of the castle while Finn bathed. The stars, in their familiar patterns, blanketed the night sky with light when the moon could not. In that moment, the cloudless sky seemed steadfast and unchanging, a piece of home Harv was allowed to take with him. 

He missed his family and in these quiet moments he wished he was home. Never before had he been away from his brothers for this long. His mother was probably overwhelmed with only Rhodri to rely on with the little ones. Running away hadn't strong-armed an apology from his father like he had initially hoped, rather it seemed his father had doubled down on insisting something about him needed to be fixed. If Harv was being completely honest with himself, he'd suspected as much the first night. As much as he missed his home, what he wanted to go back to simply wasn't there anymore.

The paned door behind him clicked open as Finn stepped out onto the balcony. Warmth from the summer sun was still baked into the air and stone, though the humidity kept it from being unbearable. The bard hesitated a few steps behind Harv before shifting to sit next to where his arms lean against the stone railing. 

"What are you doing out here?" Finn yawned. "Surely you must be a little tired."

"I didn't get up before sunrise like you did." 

"Oh." The forest at Finn's back rustled in waves as the wind passed through the leaves. "Did you not enjoy the opera?" Finn waited half a breath before continuing. "I thought it was fine enough, but that ending was- I simply hate when things are 'just a dream', what even is the point of watching something where the characters learn nothing." He shook his head. "I get it's supposed to be for laughs, but I still think Helena deserved better than Demetrius." Harv hung his head and laughed.

"You'd seriously rather talk to me than do anything else." Harv said. "At the very least, you could face the stars."

"I see them every night," Finn rolled his eyes, "I'd rather look at you than those dots." Harv looked up at him blankly, that same anticipation grabbing ahold of his chest.

"Why?"

"You're here." Finn shrugged.

"Why me though?" Harv gripped the edge of the stone, caught in the reflection of Finn's eyes. "If someone else had been sitting at the edge of the school, would you still be doing this?" Finn tilted his head then looked up at the underside of the roof with a hum.

"I don't think so." He'd seen the other warriors; goliath-like brutes who enjoyed punching things for fun. He probably would have ditched them halfway through town. "Besides, you're nicer than most people. I haven't met anyone that's made it past the garden gate without running away." Finn rubbed his eyes. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Sometimes you say things, and... I just... sometimes I think you like me more than I do." Harv said. "Especially now. I don't understand, after everything I've done, why you still want to be around me this much."

"Now I'm really confused, what have you done that's so bad?" 

"I abandoned my family." Harv said. "And I... I don't think... I'm not going back."

"Harvey, I don't think you're being that unreasonable." Finn said. "If they love you as much as you love them, they wouldn't want you to stay in a position that made you miserable. They certainly wouldn't want you punishing yourself for trying to make things better." He hopped down off the banister to stand next to Harv. "Do you hold a grudge against the moon for hiding in the shadows or being out of reach?"

"Well, no."

"And when you do get to see it, isn't it always best when it's full and bright?" 

"...I guess, but Finn that's a thing, not a person."

"Yes, well, if there were more people like us, I'd use a person." Finn said. "But we don't have that, we have the moon and your precious little stars. When we're old and grey, no one's going to talk about how you ran away from home. They're going to talk about how amazing we were when they had the chance to see us."

"You really think so?" Harv asked.

"Of course!" Finn nudged him a little. "One day, I'm getting out of this kingdom, and I'll be the most amazing bard there is. We'll travel all over the world, to places that never even heard of Cailburry, and everyone's going to love us. I uh, I don't know exactly what you'll want to do, but you'll be there." Finn's smile faded a little when he turned toward Harv. "Won't you?" 

For the third time that day, Harv felt a tightness in his chest, now sickeningly familiar. Hope, fluttering like butterflies, invading his lungs and bringing with it the dread that he'd been in this position before. Finn wore his heart on his sleeve, there were no hidden intentions behind wanting to keep Harv close. Sure, the fact Finn dragged Harv into his life to spite his old friends was unspoken, but it wasn't like he tried to hide it. No, the reason Harv kept puzzling and prodding was he hoped there was something deeper. He hoped, for once, his heart was getting pulled in a painless direction.

Which was absolutely silly since mere hours ago Finn had been quite insistent that he was happy with the way things were. There was no deeper yearning or even a passing interest in such things. He was standing before a dead end road, plainly advertised as such. Such notions shouldn't make his throat feel tight like this, not now.

"Harvey?"

"I can see it..." Harv said. Despite his stilted tone, Finn leaned against him and sighed. "Just... different rooms." Harv looked up at the stars, the vast display gradually getting covered by creeping clouds. "But I can see it." 

[salazarslytherin]

under the waxing moon (r.l x y/n)

requested: yes!! [could you do a young remus lupin smut perhaps? if not than cedric!! one with a marking kink, maybe!! and (fem) reader has love bites all over her and remus has scratches on his back from her yk.... and maybe the marauders notice or something cheeky like that at the end! thank u my love!!] send in your own request here!

🃛 masterlist!

cw/tw: smut, marking!kink, hickeys, oral sex (both male and female receiving), fingering, idk just sex man, basically porn without plot

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i hope you guys like it! i wasn't sure whether there were any cw/tw other than the ones listed? if you guys notice any please leave a comment or dm or smth to let me know! thanks :) ALSO i realise i use the word 'boy' a lot jic that makes people uncomfortable all the characters in my fics are of age, i just don't feel comfortable calling them men :/ anw, if you like it please leave a comment, like or reblog to help boost xx

☯︎ tag list

The door slammed shut behind you two as Remus kicked backward, not that either of you would have stopped what you were doing should the door have stayed open.

His hands were currently in one of his favourite spots – nestled under your thighs while your legs were curled around his waist, hands clinging to his neck like you were afraid he'd dissipate into thin air if you were to let go for a second.

Your two mouths moved furiously against each other, his tongue furiously dominating yours as he brought you two towards his bed, bringing you along with him like you weighed nothing.

"Fuck, I can't wait any longer."

Remus tossed you onto the bed, his tall stature casting a long shadow above you as the late morning light shone through the Gryffindor tower windows, the young werewolf's smirk glowing beautifully in the bright light.

"Then hurry up and have me."

The words seemed to do the trick, breaking the trance Remus was in– scanning your body almost in a predatory fashion. It was hot. The prefect almost growled at the sound of your words, diving back down to press his lips to yours, hands by your head, impassioned by the waxing moon.

As the full moon drew closer, you found that Remus' libido would be heightened. He often drew you into empty classrooms, broom closets, once even getting you off in the Three Broomsticks during a Hogsmeade trip. But you weren't complaining. You got your boyfriend's mind off the full moon, and an – actually, several, intense orgasms? It was a dream come true.

As you were lost in your thoughts about the last full moon, Remus had found his way away from your lips, trailing soft kisses down your jaw to the sensitive spot behind your ear, sucking roughly to draw a moan out of you, and effectively, you out of your thoughts.

"Mm, you like that? Like it when I mark you? When the whole school knows who you belong to?"

Nodding, the words vibrated against your skin as Remus traveled down your neck, never hesitating to bite and suck on every last bit of naked skin he could find. Your hands had moved from behind his neck down to his button-up, detaching each one in a frenzy to see him, to feel him.

His hands did very much the same, moving down your own school shirt to unveil your bra, showing more skin as his lips ventured lower down your body towards your collarbone– his favourite place to leave a mark. Nibbling on your left collar, Remus balanced himself on his elbows, moving to grind his hard-on on your clothed crotch.

"Fuck yes, Re I need you. Please."

Your hands had landed themselves on his pants, unbuckling his belt and pants with shaking hands as the two of you moaned together. He detached himself from you for a second, both of you undressing entirely in record time before latching back on immediately, your lips melding together before the two of you had even hit the bed.

Remus' knee found itself between your legs, nudging them apart as his hands sought residence roaming your body, leaving light trails that caused shivers throughout.

One hand eventually landed on your breasts, alternating between massaging and squeezing them as you elicited moans with each movement. The other made its way down to your thighs, gripping onto them hard, sure to leave fingerprints for the next two weeks, purple reminders of this night.

Whining against his lips, you took matters into your own hands, grabbing onto his hard-on and squeezing lightly around the base, making Remus growl in return.

You began moving your hand slowly up and down Remus' shaft, your thumb spreading the small droplets of precum that had gathered, picking up the pace as the werewolf let out breathy moans, moving away from your lips to bite onto your neck.

Continuing to jerk Remus off, your other hand reached down to tug at his balls. When you felt him start to twitch in your grasp you let go, making the boy gasp as he abandoned the section of your neck he was currently sucking a hickey onto, in shock at the fact that you had pushed him so close to the edge and not let him cum.

Smiling innocently at your boyfriend, you rolled him over– an action he definitely hadn't expected and kissed him on the lips, before making your way down his body.

"Couldn't let you cum like that. I want to taste you."

⚔︎

You gave a little kitten lick to the werewolf's leaking slit, making him moan as he propped himself up onto his elbows, watching you go down on him, fascinated.

You swallowed the tip, swirling your tongue around the head and grazing your teeth softly against the shaft. Remus' hands flew to your hair, tightening his grip as you hollowed your cheeks on his member.

You answered by sinking your nails into his thighs, scratching down slightly as he impatiently push you down further, moaning out as he felt his tip touch the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

You looked up at the boy through your eyelashes, lost in euphoria as he looked back down at you through hooded eyes, one hand leaving your hair for a brief second to caress your cheek, before flying back to pull your hair as you pulled off of him to swirl your tongue around his head.

Having already been pushed so close to the edge, it didn't take long for Remus to start twitching in your mouth again, the only indication of him reaching his orgasm aside from the sudden pull on your scalp.

The boy threw his head back, letting out a loud moan that you were sure would be heard down in the common room, before gripping onto your hair tightly and thrusting up into your mouth.

Ropes of white hit your throat, letting go of Remus' cock with a pop, before swallowing his seed, looking down at the boy panting beneath you.

"I fucking love you."

He pulled you down onto him, wrapping his hands around you to meld your lips against his, the two of you gripping each others' hips as Remus rolled you to the bottom again.

"Now I'm going to pound you into the fucking bed baby."

⚔︎

Remus' fingers slid inside of you without a hassle, you were so wet it was as if your body was welcoming him. He prepped you at a pace that was so quick you didn't dare to think how intense he'd be later.

Remus wasn't one to break a promise.

Your nails drew thick lines down Remus' back as he added a second finger, scissoring the two inside of you, hitting your g-spot which made you let out a small shout in response, gripping onto his shoulders with your nails.

"Re, oh God."

Your back arched off the mattress, eyes falling shut as you threw your head back, moaning louder and louder as Remus drew fervent circles on your clit.

Remus watched you from above, smirking as he moved down to suck on your tit, leaving a hickey above your nipple.

A third finger slid into your hole, your walls slowly fluttering around Remus' fingers as you felt a heat begin bubbling in your stomach, your toes curling as your orgasm quickly approached.

"Re, fuck, please, Re!"

You scratched onto Remus' back, gripping tightly onto his shoulders as you drew closer, until your high was denied, the nails that were gripping onto his shoulders relaxing in shock.

"What the fuck!"

The boy shot you a smirk as he looked down upon you, leaning in to nibble on your earlobe, whispering in your ear.

"You only get to cum with me inside of you."

⚔︎

Remus brushed the head of his cock up and down your folds, collecting your essence before pushing in, the both of you moaning at the feeling.

He pushed in further, bottoming out as you gripped onto his back, drawing thick red lines down it. Your tits pushed up against his scarred chest as he fucked into you slowly, sucking a hickey into your jaw.

Remus moved out of you so that only his tip remained, right before slamming back into you, making you moan out at the movement, his hands moving to land a firm slap on your thigh, his pace increasing every time he landed another slap. The small bits of pain mixed with pleasure, Remus' hollow slaps aiming only to arouse you rather cause any pain.

As he moved in and out of you, his hands gripped onto your thighs rather than continuing to deliver hits. He held onto them firmly enough to leave a bruise while maneuvering them so that your knees pressed against your own torso, hitting you with a new angle that caused him to brush against your g-spot with every movement, his crotch rubbing against your clit with every thrust.

Your lips found their way to Remus' shoulder, biting hard onto the skin to suck a hickey into it, biting down particularly hard as Remus' thrusts grew stronger, causing the boy to let out a guttural moan.

"D'you like this baby? Marking me up, showing everyone who I get to fuck every night?"

You nodded into Remus' neck, his own lips kissing your neck as his tongue darted out to trace the red marks he'd left behind, sure to turn a dark purple for everyone to see later tonight.

His hips moved at a vicious speed, the sound of skin on skin being the only sounds to echo around the room aside from the raspy sounds that would emerge from both of your throats, the two of you too immersed in the pleasure to make any proper sounds.

"Re. I, close."

Your walls began pulsing around Remus, incoherent moans leaving your mouth as your orgasm began to build for the second time that day, one hand moving away from your thigh to massage your bundle of nerves, his lips moving back on top of yours.

"Cum for me baby, I want to see you scream my name."

Despite his own orgasm building, Remus never faltered in his movements, his hips snapping to hit just the right spot to bring you closer and closer to the edge, his chest pushing down your knees as his hand moved to hold your neck, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure as the two of you build towards your climaxes.

"Such a pretty girl baby, all marked up and fucked out. You ready to cum yet?"

Nodding despite the hand wrapped around your neck, you threw your head back, your hands never ceasing in their movements to draw lines on Remus' back.

"I–fuck, yes, Remus!"

White clouded your vision as your orgasm hit you– a tidal wave followed by ripples that came in the form of Remus' slowing, yet still strong, thrusts into you, his head brushing against your g-spot with each movement which made you whine with each moment, your juices leaking out from around him, making you impossibly more wet than before, sinful sounds echoing from around the room.

"Cum for me Remus, I want to feel you fill me up."

Your hands reached out for the boy above you, pulling him down so that both your heads nestled in each other's necks. Tired from your orgasm, you were still eliciting noises as the boy moved in and out of you, him moaning as he felt your walls tighten around him with every other movement.

"Yes baby, I'm going to cum, fuck."

The werewolf moaned, muffling it by biting into your red neck, leaving yet another mark to remind you of this day. You felt hot spurts of Remus' cum hit you, moaning as a new warmth filled your hole.

The boy fell on top of you completely, his knees giving out under the ecstasy he experienced.

⚔︎

You whined slightly as Remus pulled out of you, suddenly feeling empty when he left you.

Your combined juices flowed out of you in that moment, but the sadness you felt was suddenly replaced with a shot of pleasure, the werewolf leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lower lips.

"Such a good girl, letting me cum inside her twice."

The kiss turned into a tongue, teasing at your sensitive entrance as Remus licked at the juices flowing out of you, drawing moans from your mouth that you didn't know you still had the energy for.

"It'd only be fair if my baby got to cum twice too, wouldn't it?"

Your eyes fell close again, nodding as your hands searched for Remus' body below you, trying to find something to grab, something to grip onto.

"I need to hear you darling, otherwise I don't know what you want me to do."

A smirk fell on the boy's lips, making you want to cry out in frustration as he moved away from your cunt, instead peppering kisses and sucking on the soft skin of your inner thighs, intent on marking you there.

"Fuck, Remus make me cum again."

The boy hummed against your thigh, moving away to admire a small hickey he'd left behind.

"Not good enough baby. I need to know how much you want it, I'm not here to be told what to do."

Tears welled in your eyes as you grew more and more frustrated, tired from the first round already you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching Remus much like how he watched you when you sucked him off.

"Please Remus, I need you to make me cum again. Please?"

Your bottom lip stuck out, making the boy chuckle. Another stupidly handsome smirk grew onto the boy's lips, leaning down to dart his tongue out onto your slit, flicking over your nub for a brief second.

"Of course Y/N, anything for you."

You fell back on the mattress as Remus dove back in, his hands gripping your thighs to push them apart, fingers digging in yet again to leave as many marks on you as possible.

He sucked on your abused clit, tongue darting back and forth at the same rhythm as his hands, massaging your thighs with his fingers. His mouth moved lower, drawing figures on your lips as his tongue danced around, occasionally dipping into your hole, fucking you with the appendage.

"Oh Re, faster."

The boy below obliged with a moan that sent ripples up your spine, fucking his tongue in and out of you at a speed reminiscent of the way he pounded into you mere minutes ago, two fingers moving to rub rapid circles onto your clit.

Moans grew into pants as you felt him speed up, your toes curling as your hands gripped onto his hair, pulling Remus' mouth further onto your pussy.

Your thighs trembled as your orgasm built, pushing you over the edge as your walls clenched around Remus' tongue, the boy muttering a 'cum for me' onto your lips.

You released with a shout, legs shaking as you pulled Remus' hair tightly, your back arching off the mattress as you rode out your high, Remus continuing to eat you out until you were reduced to a twitching mess.

"Feeling good?"

⚔︎

An hour after your activities, Remus walked the two of you into the Great Hall, both of you famished and ready to stuff yourselves with lunch.

You tried not to limp as you walked, and then had to brace yourself as you sat down on the wooden bench, Remus kissing you softly on the cheek as he joined you, greeting James and Sirius with a smile.

"Hey Y/N!"

Your housemates called out to you, prompting you to wave at them in return, before moving to serve yourself some food.

"Merlin, Y/N did you get mauled?!"

Peter came towards the table, dropping himself in the seat across from you.

"I–, what?"

The boy gestured towards your neck, making the other two marauders crane to see what Peter was talking about.

"Fuck, Y/N, what the hell happened?"

Remus looked down at your neck, then turned red as he realised what the boys were talking about. In the past hour or so, your hickeys had darkened immensely, covering every part of you, from behind your ears down to your collarbones– which could be seen from the undone top buttons of your blouse.

"Uh, I uh."

You had also caught on to what the boys meant, biting your lip as you looked down at your food.

Remus suddenly felt very warm, his skin heating up, rolling up his sleeves and tugging at his collar to let some cool air touch his skin.

"Oh, Moony! You really didn't have to mark her up that much you know. I think the point's been made. The whole world already knows she's yours."

Sirius chuckled and elbowed James, pointing down at Remus' arms.

"Look, I'm thinking Moony's not the only possessive one here at the table y'know."

The thick lines you'd drawn up and down the werewolf's arms still remained, and the few hickeys you'd left on his neck were small, but still noticeable.

Your cheeks heated, shifting your hair as best you could to cover up your neck. Remus let down his sleeves, shifting his collar and let out a cough.

"Moony just gets antsy 'round the full moon, y'know?"

[boldlyvoid]

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[tteokggukk]

summer heat → jjk

–pairing: twin!jungkook x reader

–genre: fluff, mature (? but no smut), drabble, a minor attempt at humor, best friend’s twin brother type of thing

–words: 2.9k

–warnings: explicit language, sexual tension, tiny bit of humiliation, a hint of jungkook and reader having some sort of “history” if u squint hard enough

–summary: in an attempt to calm you down and prevent your mood from swinging due to the blazing heat, your best friend decides to go out and buy you some ice cream. you’re shocked, however, when he quickly returns and looks different, making you see him in an entirely new light and leaving you trying to resist the urge to give in to your raging hormones and just jump on him.

–a/n: i was thinking of this scenario in the shower but didn’t have the brain power to turn it into a full length story so i might just add this to a pile of drabbles that i may or may not develop heh + ive been in my jungkook feels too lately sigh + also this is unedited 

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum  @mochisjoon​ @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd​ 

It was a scorching hot summer’s day. Sweat was beginning to trickle down your temples and your shirt was getting stuck to your skin, causing an irking feeling of discomfort. Looking around, you quickly grabbed an empty long folder from your best friend’s messy desk and began fanning yourself to cool down. The two of you were just there, sitting in his room in a not-so-comfortable silence.

You were currently plopped down onto a chair with your legs resting on the desk in front of you, too lazy to come up with ideas to kill your boredom.

It was a tradition for your family to travel every summer and visit a new country you hadn’t been to, but this year you had to pass the plane tickets and sight-seeing due to your best friend, Junghan, asking begging you to help him out with a month-long film project. You didn’t have the heart to decline, so you told your parents you’d stay behind and help him out which resulted in you having to stay over at Junghan’s place for the rest of the summer.

You had to admit though, a small part of you felt disinclined to stay because the project sounded like it would’ve been a tedious workload, but working with your best friend was so much more fun than you’d imagined and even the project itself turned out to be enjoyable. So far, your summer break has been spent filming and hanging out with Junghan—though hanging out usually meant staying in his room and watching romcoms all day while crying over fictional characters, ranting about how you two would never meet such perfect men in real life. It was great.

Until the air conditioner broke down.

You glanced over at Junghan, who seemed to be just as spiritless as you were while he sat in front of a fan, eyes looking empty and distant.

“I told you the air conditioner needed to be fixed,” You sighed and looked up at the ceiling, completely missing the harsh glare he sent you.

“I said I was gonna get it fixed,” He replies and turns back to the fan, his voice quieting down a little, “But the number for repair wouldn’t answer.”

“Right,” You muttered absent-mindedly, eyes staring at the ceiling while your mind was too busy trying to come up with suggestions to beat the heat, “We could go to the pool?”

“Closed,” Junghan grunts, “The mall?”

“As if we’d both drive in this state,” You rolled your eyes as you tried to get your shirt to stop sticking to your skin. Junghan glances over at you when he hears you grumbling, one of the many cues that you were beginning to feel peevish. Deciding that it was pointless to keep tugging on your shirt, you opt to take it off instead.

“You don’t mind do you?” You asked before completely removing your shirt, only leaving you in your bralette. Though you knew he never did because of the countless times he’s helped you change and pick out different outfits, you always asked out of politeness. Additionally, his zero interest in women made you feel much safer and comfortable enough to undress around him.

“I really don’t care,” He says and stands up. You hear him rumbling for a moment while you were neatly folding your shirt, and seconds later you recognize the jingling sound of keys.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“The nearby grocery. You’re about to get grumpy and I am not going to listen to a rambling bitch for the rest of the day,” He says, rubbing his temples as he makes his way to the door.

“So you’re just gonna leave me here?” You asked, too exhausted to even glance at him. He probably wasn’t, you only asked for the dramatic effect.

“No, dumbass. I’m just gonna go and buy ice cream. See you in a bit.”

And with that Junghan leaves and closes the door shut. Only a few minutes later after the sound of the engine had gone did you decide to exert a little effort and move over to his previous spot to sit in front of the fan, the air immediately cooling your skin. You sighed in relief and grabbed a few tissues to wipe your temples dry before grabbing your phone and texting Junghan to buy some lemonade, followed by a second text telling him you’d pay him back once he returned.

You were surprised to hear, not even ten minutes later, that the car was already back and pulling up in the driveway. It couldn’t have been Junghan’s parents as they were out working, and it was only you and Junghan around—not like you two had many friends who would come and visit. Instead of rationalizing with yourself on how Junghan came back home in supersonic speed, you decide to drop it and wait for him to come up back to his room.

Someone knocks on the door, causing your brows to furrow in confusion. Since when did Junghan knock?

“Come... in?” You answer, though it came out more as a question. Your head turns at the sound of the door opening, and your eyes widen at seeing Junghan standing by the doorframe.

Looking oddly different.

“Dude,” You stood up from your place and stared him up and down, “Is that what you were really wearing when you went out?”

His eyebrows raise in shock and you catch his eyes taking a quick glimpse from your chest before quickly looking back at the perplexed look on your face, a small smirk forming on lips. You decide to ignore it.

“What a warm ‘welcome home’,” he chuckles.

“You didn’t answer me,” you replied, still oblivious to the difference in his tone.

He was wearing an all-black ensemble—a black cap, a black leather jacket, black pants that outlined his toned thighs (how have you never noticed?), and some chunky black boots—a huge contrast to his normally colorful and baggy clothing. You were genuinely curious because you hadn’t noticed what he looked like before he left the house as you were too tired and lazy to even look up and say goodbye.

“Uh, yeah. This is what I was wearing?” He narrows one of his eyes, looking confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know… since when did you wear all black?”

“Since way back then? I don’t know,” He replies, and you now noticed how his voice was unusually low. Junghan steps inside and averts his eyes from you, looking around in his room before scrimmaging through drawers as if in search for something.

“What are you looking for?” You asked, folding your arms and following him around.

“A charger,” He replies, and a chill runs down your spine at the sound of his voice. You thought maybe you’d detect how he was just trying to change his manner of speaking, but it was effortlessly low; like he wasn’t faking it or anything. It was weird because Junghan normally sounded a little more high pitched. 

“What charger?”

“A laptop charger, mine broke,” He continues searching and not once does he meet your eyes.

“Oh okay, let me help you then,” You begin to look around and help him search, “Though I don’t know what it looks like, I’ll let you know if I see a charger.”

He looks up at you and smiles, but you don’t catch him watching you as you were already busy searching, “Thanks.”

The two of you continue searching in silence, though occasionally you’d look up and glance at Junghan. What exactly was he doing? Was this for his film? Is he supposed to be in character? This new look and manner of talking that he somehow adopted after a quick trip to the grocery store did things to you. Every time he grunted in annoyance after a failed search, something in your stomach would twist and you found yourself suddenly feeling drawn, or maybe even more than drawn, to your best friend. Your gay best friend.

You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts.

Only a few minutes later did you find something that looked like a charger hiding underneath a pile of unfolded clothes before presenting it to Junghan, “Is it this?”

“Yes! Exactly that,” He jumps up from crouching over one of the drawers at the bedside and walks over to you, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t know why you took such a long time searching for something in your room, though,” You rolled your eyes.

“My room?” He smiles, voice a little deeper but with a hint of amusement.

God, you could just jump on him right now.

“Yeah?” You knit your brows, “And stop doing that!”

“Stop doing what?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he was looking up at you. He leans back a bit a folds his arms, a smile still tugging on the corner of his mouth.

Maybe it was the summer heat doing things to your head and making you think about all these things that you never thought you’d ever want to do with your gay best friend, but he seemed so in character it was actually beginning to bother you. What store did he go to exactly? And where the hell is the ice cream?

“That! What’s up with your voice? And your outfit? You look so different, it’s weird,” You folded your arms as if to mirror him.

“Weird, huh?” He asks and looks at his clothing before looking back at you.

“Not in a bad way. It looks good, it’s just not you,” You squirmed slightly before shaking your head to snap out of it, “I don’t know what store you went to that made you look like this—and congrats I guess, if you’re trying to switch up your fashion, but you completely missed the ice cream, so good luck trying to handle this rambling bitch.”

He laughs at the words “rambling bitch” and oh god that is not what his laughter sounded like before. When did the sound of his laugh sound so deep and sultry? You subconsciously sucked on and bit your lip at the sound of his laughter, trying your best not to visibly drool in front of him. He catches your subtle action and his brow raises at the sight.

“Despite all the things you said, you think this looks good?” A playful smile rests on his face and your heart beats erratically at his expression.

“Y-yeah, I don’t know,” You mumbled. He shifts on the edge of the bed to move closer to you.

“And because there’s no ice cream, you’re going to turn into some rambling…” He reaches his hand out, the back of his fingers feeling the skin on your exposed waist before resting his hand on your back to pull you in closer.

“…person?” he continues, brows raised and eyes staring intently at yours, not using the vulgar word you had just used to describe yourself (or the word he had just called you before he left to go to the store).

“I...um, we’ll see,” you replied, and he only chuckles deeply. Your voice had transformed into a murmuring mess and it annoyed you, but you couldn’t really do anything about it, right now he reminded you so much of—

“I think you look good too, you know. Maybe I did miss you a lot more than I thought I did,” he whispers, pulling you in even more so you were now standing between his thighs.

Missed you? After an eight minute trip to the grocery store?

You didn’t question it. Your mind was blanking out, malfunctioning, even. Here was your best friend, your gay best friend (as you had to keep reminding yourself), placing his hands on your bare skin in a way that you knew wasn’t going to turn out to be so innocent. Right now you were extremely attracted and possibly even turned on by whatever the fuck he was doing, all you could do to save yourself was blame it on the heat. Was this absolutely weird? Hell yes. Did you want to stop him? Fuck no.

Were you now completely devoid of all reason and logic?

Definitely.

Softly, he tugs on your arm and pulls you into him so you were now sitting on his lap with your hand resting on his chest. One of his hands was still attached to your waist, the other was resting itself on the bed, gripping on a blanket.

Chills run down your spine for the second time now as his mouth moves closer to your ear, “Lucky for you I know the perfect way to handle rambling bitches.”

Your breath hitches for a moment and Junghan moves back to face you, his lips grazing your cheeks a little before you meet each other’s gaze. The summer heat was definitely nothing compared to this, but you didn’t mind. Your faces were only mere centimeters apart now and you could’ve sworn he was beginning to lean in by the look in his eyes, which were now fixated on your lips.

Seriously, you could just grab him by the collar right now and speed things up. He’s the one who pulled you in first, anyway, you just wanted to get things going. Though you haven’t exactly a clue as to where this would end, you wished he would hurry up a little to find out.

But for some strange reason, your senses were enveloped with the distinct smell of a signature fragrance that you knew did not belong to Junghan and it snapped you out of your thoughts. The scent was strong enough to flash some memories back in your mind, making you frown. Did he use this perfume on purpose? Or was your mind just playing tricks on you? In a flash, you could suddenly think straight and you couldn’t help it, the moral side of your brain had turned far stronger than your currently raging hormones (thank goodness). Something was definitely off.

“But, Junghan… aren’t you… gay?” You asked, your voice trailing off a little.

His eyes widen and he pulls back from you. He stares at you for a few seconds before it hits him, and he starts erupting in laughter. You narrowed your eyes at him and got off his lap, moving over to the side and sitting beside him instead.

“Junghan?” He stresses on the name. You’re staring at him blankly now, like you knew he was just messing with you. His laughter eventually dies down and he places a hand on your thigh, though it seemed much more innocent now, “I’m so sorry, ____, you’ve got the wrong person.”

With one hand, he quickly grabs the blanket off the bed. The back of his other free hand endearingly caresses your jaw, and you notice how he lingers for a while as he moves a bit lower down to your neck—before wrapping the fabric around you and covering your whole torso with it. Your face immediately turns pink as you clutched onto the blanket to further cover yourself, feeling slightly humiliated, though you were still confused.

“Wrong person? What do you mean?”

“I was wondering why you had no shirt on, I thought that was just a regular thing for you now. But it’s probably cause you’re more comfortable around my brother, huh?”

“Your brother…?”

“Has it really been that long?” He chuckles, and instantly your mind began connecting the pieces together. Could it actually be him? You haven’t seen him in years, and no one even bothered telling you he was coming back today. No way, surely this was Junghan playing a joke on you.

“I’m not Junghan. I’m his twin brother, Jungkook. Remember?”

You hastily stood up in defense, still clutching the blanket close to your chest, “Shut the fuck up, Junghan. No one said anything about Jungkook coming back today!”

Junghan Jungkook only laughs and stands up, the melodious sound filling the room, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching the wide open bedroom door. 

“What a shame, but it was a surprise. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home today,” He folds his arms, “And if I am Junghan, then who is that?” He points at the doorframe and true enough, Junghan was standing there holding grocery bags in his arms wearing his usual oversized colorful jacket and khaki colored pants.

You and Junghan both looked at each other with mouths dropped down to the floor before you looked back at Jungkook, who had the same smirk tugged on his lips, clearly amused at the whole situation.

Jungkook bends forward and leans in to your face, his voice in a lower tone but still audible enough for his brother to hear, “Probably shouldn’t take your top off so leisurely around the house anymore, huh?” He grins and winks at you, causing you wince and force an awkward smile, internally cursing yourself at everything that just happened.

“Anyways, I should probably rest up in my room. See you around,” Jungkook flashes you a smile before placing a chaste kiss on your (now dry, because your body had frozen up) forehead before walking away from you, taking the charger and dangling it in his other hand. He taps his confused looking brother on the shoulder before turning his head back to take one last look at you before walking out, leaving you and Junghan staring at each other in shock.

Junghan walks in slowly and sets the bags of grocery on the floor, shutting the door behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?” He asks you, eyes wide in anticipation.

Your mind replays everything that had happened between you two. Was Jungkook really just about to kiss you minutes before? Heart racing, you clutch on your chest from underneath the blanket he had covered you with. No way was Jungkook back. No way is he back and looking even more attractive than he did the last time you saw him. Not when you had just gotten over your small crush on him a couple of years ago.

The heat returns to your body, but it mainly pools on your cheeks. You look back at your best friend, but no words of explanation come up. 

“Believe me, I’m asking myself the same thing.”

↣ all rights reserved © 2021 tteokggukk. please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

[constancelaufeydottir]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

[apricotgojo]

hi bestie.. 😃

so um , i saw this prompt somewhere and i wanted to send it to my favorite blog ! ( you ) so here it is!!

adrien with a s/o who’s from america ( new york specifically ) and she has a very veronica lodge type past. meaning she’s very proper and rich and silvertounged but very kindhearted and sweet and extremely loyal.

but she has a past where she used to be a bully in new york and bullied people if they didn’t fit in , and was practically the it girl from a movie? does that make sense?

however shes changed , yet one day during a akuma attack , her whole past gets revealed and videos of her being a complete BITCH and it being played off as hot by her classmates gets shown to the entire of paris?

what’s adrien doing? is she going to comfort her or leave her?

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

 I had so much fun writing this, but fair warning that it’s kind of angsty oops! thank u for the request nonetheless <333

Ship: Adrien Agreste X reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: Angst oops

What should you do when your father is out on a business trip?

Throw a party.

And that’s exactly what you did. At least that’s what you used to do back in New York.   It’s something you were known for. Now since you’ve got the chance to start fresh with a new life in Paris you decided to bring an old tradition back with you and invite some friends over from the school you’re attending, and your boyfriend of course.

Adrien Agreste. You had no idea what you did to get such an angel in your life. You’ve been dating him for a few moths now and you could already see yourself becoming a better person around him. You came to Paris with the intention of leaving your past behind, starting new and fresh without the bullshit from your past. This was it. Nothing could fuck this up.

“Hey,let me help you.” You hear your Adrien say while you try to adjust the lights near the DJ stand.

“I got it.” You say and get on your tip toes to hang the last light. “There.” You say, a successful smile on your face.

“You really out did yourself huh?” You feel his arms wrapping around you from the back and you hum.

“Oh please Agreste, this is nothing compared to what I used to do in New York.” You say and turn around, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I hope everyone likes it.” You say, more to yourself than to him.

“Of course they will, Ma belle.” He says and kisses your forehead.

You loved it when he called you nicknames, they just made butterflies burst around your stomach.

His soft hand reaches up to touch your cheek and he caresses it gently. You look into his green eyes which were soft and welcoming. He is so gorgeous.

Your noses touch and you sigh, touching his hand and smiling softly. “I hate to ruin the moment, my love but I have to go make a few minor changes before your friends come.”

He pouts at you. “But everything’s already perfect, can’t we spend some alone time together before everyone comes?”

You shake your head. “I promise you’ll have me all to yourself tonight , Agreste.” You smirk and watch as his cheeks glow red. You quickly kiss his cheek and giggle, walking away to the kitchen to make sure that everything is in place.

It didn’t take long before people started arriving.

“Claudia, start offering the drinks around to people.” You whisper to your maid before going to greet everyone.

A familiar bluenette appears, with an amazed look on her face while she looks around. You grin and walk towards her.  

“Marinette! You look stunning!” You say and give each other a friendly kiss on the cheek. She really did look stunning. You’ve never seen her hair like this before, let down and slightly curled.  She’s wearing a dress which perfectly hugged her body and the colour was gorgeous on her - A deep vermilion shade which complemented her fair skin. 

“Likewise.” She grins and looks at your dress. “Oh my god who are you wearing? This dress is gorgeous.” She gasps, eyes wide while she moved around to see the dress from the back and front.  You knew that she would comment on it, she had an eye for fashion after all.

“My father got this for me as a gift from South Korea. The designer is a family friend of ours.” You smile proudly. You didn’t want to brag about it but in all honesty you loved this dress too much not to show it off. 

You look to her side and see a blue haired boy standing kind of awkwardly next to her. “And you must be…?” You trail off, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Luka, Marinette’s date.” He says nonchalantly and Marinette stops looking at your dress, straightening up with her face glowing red.

“Ah, I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Im-“

“I already know who you are.” He states and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re more than sure you’ve never met this guy before.

Marinette nudges him and you see him stiffen up.

“I mean, it was kind of a big deal when you came to Paris and everyone was talking about you so-“

Marinette sighs and grabs Lukas arm. “We’re going to get a drink, It was nice seeing you! Au revoir !” She says and walks away with Luka. You could hear her cussing at him from where you were standing.

Ah, of course. You knew that everyone was talking about you. The new rich bitch from New York who’s mother is in jail. That’s what everyone saw at first. Maybe they do still see it now. But maybe that’s why you fell for Adrien, because he never judged you in the first place despite all those rumors.

You turn around and see him, talking to Nino. He’s wearing the outfit you picked out for him.  Black shirt slightly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, tan pants with a black belt around them and black converse.  His hair was messy but it looked so good on him and his cheeks were tinted a little pink, probably because of the few drinks that he’s had already.  Your eyes meet and he smiles at you. Right as he was about to come next to you, you feel someone tap your shoulder.

“Hi, Nadja Chamack. Did you move to paris because your mother is imprisoned for drug trafficking? Was your father denied bail?” The woman rushes to say while shoving a microphone to your face. You stare at her wide eyed. You didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, leave now before I call security, you shouldn’t be up here.” You hear Adrien say sternly while putting a hand on your shoulder.

“But was that the reason you came to Paris or was it because of the video that was spread of you-“

“Security!” Adrien shouts and two body guards grab Nadja and her camera man.

You stand there, dumbfounded as the body guards drag them away, the two cussing and struggling to get out of their grasp.

“Mon ange, are you okay?” Adrien asks, cupping your face with his hands, snapping you out of your thoughts.

 You look at him and clear your throat.

 “I’m fine, I need a drink.” You say and remove his hands from your face and start walking away.

He grabs your hand and looks at you, concern filling your eyes.

“No you’re not okay.” He says, kissing your hand and holding it gently. “What did they mean by video?” He asks.

Your body goes into full fight or flight mode.

“God Adrien! It’s nothing.” You snap at him. “just let it go, I don’t want to deal with this right now.” You remove yourself from his grasp and quickly walk away to the open bar.

You didn’t mean to snap at him but that conversation needed to wait until you two got more serious. You weren’t ready for it.

You grab a glass of champagne and down it, your face contorting because of the after taste.

You were about to get another one until you hear a scream.

“We want to know all your secrets! Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” A distorted voice says and you drop your glass on the floor when you see a dark purple monstrous figure coming your way.

“Shit.” You cuss and run away from the bar.

Everyone was screaming and trying to rush to the exit but everywhere was closed off with a purple like shield around.

You frantically look around to find a place to hide until you see a familiar blond with cat ears motioning to you.

Chat Noir. Thank god.

You were about to run to him until you started floating in the air, a purple bubble surrounding you.

You screamed and frantically hit it to try to escape but it was no use. 

“I got you now!” You hear the distorted voice say and let out an evil laugh.

You watch your phone float out of your hand and out of the bubble.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

You were fucked.

The bubble that surrounded you explodes and you fell from it, right into the arms of Chat Noir.

“Hey I got you it’s okay” He says smiling at you and for some reason you were slightly comforted by him.

 Your eyes fill with tears and your throat begins to feel like it’s closing.

“She has my phone.” You croak out and your body starts shaking.

You see Ladybug swinging from the roof, throwing her Yo-Yo to try and grasp the villain but it was too late.

A screen appeared out of thin air and a video started playing -  you were in it, in your classroom in your school in New York. You knew exactly what this video was.

Your jaw clenched when it started playing.

“Awh look she’s crying guys.” You say in a condescending tone in the video. The girl, Sarah, was balling her eyes out in front of you while you smirk and stand in front of her, your arms crossed.

“H-How could you!” She sobs out.

“How could I what? Your boyfriend was the one with his hands all over me, I just gave him what he really wanted.” You say and chuckle.

“That’s not true he would never-“

“Cheat?” You cut her off, lean closer to her and put your hands on the desk in front of her. “hate to break it to you honey but he did.” You tell her and she sobs even harder.

“Maybe this will help you put you back in your place.” You say, grabbing her face, making her look at you. “You’re a nobody, a loser and you had the audacity to talk shit behind my back?”

Her lips quiver in fear and she was visibly shaking in the video.

“You think you could ever stand a chance against me? Think again bitch.” You say and let her face go, turning around and arranging your skirt.

“By the way, he’s a really good kisser. Such a shame.” And with that you walk away from her while people wolf whistle at you and mumble things under their breath.

You were still in Chat’s arms, he was looking at the screen, eyes wide and lips parted. It was like he was frozen. Tears were streaming down your face, you couldn’t move.

Everyone around you was mumbling and whispering things.

“She’s such a bitch.”

“I knew the rumors about her were true! She’s horrible!”

“This wasn’t the video I wanted! Where’s the proof where’s the-“ The villain gets cut off by Ladybug grabbing her microphone with the akuma in it and slamming against her knee. A purple butterfly emerges from it and she grabs it with her yoyo, turning it white.

    “Miraculous ladybug!” She chants and the place starts magically getting back to normal.

Chat clears his throat. “I need to go.” He mumbles and removes his hands from you. You nod and stare down at your shoes.

“Thank you for saving me.” You say, forcing yourself to smile.

He didn’t even look at you, he didn’t even say anything as he left.

Did he think you were horrible too?

Oh my god.

Adrien.

 After the villains were taken away everyone left without even saying goodbye to you.

You sat down on the platform near the DJ stand and hugged your knees closer to your chest.

You hear footsteps walk towards you and you look up. His green eyes meet yours but they instantly avert to the side.

“You know, when we first started dating, everyone was telling me about these stupid rumors about you and I never wanted to hear them because I never believed you could be capable of that.” He says, a frown on his lips.  “I never wanted to be so fucking right in my life but I guess I was wrong.”

You were trying so hard not to cry in front of him. You knew that this would happen when he found out, it was like a gut feeling. Adrien Agreste is a good person. He likes to be surrounded by good people and that video just showed that you might not be the good person he really thought you were. Your heart ached.

“I’ve c-changed Adrien.” You stutter in a small voice, scared that you would break down if you spoke too loudly.

“Have you really?” he questions, looking directly at you. He was disappointed in you. “God, why didn’t you tell me this before!” He rubs his face in frustration. You’ve never seen Adrien so worked up like this.

“Because I knew You’d react like this!” You say, louder this time as you get up. “For fucks sake Adrien! I told you my past wasn’t perfect and I know I was a bitch but I was young and stupid and I know it doesn’t excuse my actions but I’ve grown from my mistakes. I came to Paris with the mindset of becoming better, finding out who I really am and starting fresh!”

You watch him part his lips to say something but You cut him off.

“Look me right in the eye and tell me you’ve never done a mistake in your life, Adrien.”

His lips close and he averts his gaze away from you again.

  “I know I should’ve told you sooner but I was too scared of losing you. Y-you made Paris feel like my home, you’re the reason why I make better choices, you helped me find myself.” Tears start falling down your cheeks and you look down. “And if I haven’t changed then I wouldn’t be looking stupid and crying over you and explaining myself to you because im genuinely terrified at the thought of losing the first person in my life who I’ve genuinely fallen in love with.” You sob out.

There was silence, apart from the sniffles and sobs coming from you.

“What did you say?” Adrien asks you and you hear his footsteps come closer.

“What?” You sniffle, looking up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. Your eyes were puffy and red and so was your nose. You haven’t cried like this in ages.

“The last part.”

“I’ve genuinely fallen in love with you? “ You mumble and widen your eyes. Oh shit, you’ve fucked up again.

“I know it’s sudden and I don’t expect you to return it back and I don’t know why I just said that but-“ He cuts you off with his lips smashing against yours.

It was euphoric. Probably the most genuine kiss you’ve ever felt in your life.

He breaks away, your foreheads touching and both of you breathless.

His pretty pink lips curl into a small smile and his face cups yours, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I love you too.” He whispers and kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry I overreacted, I just didn’t want to be wrong about you but I believe that you’ve changed, I know you’re heart is pure.”

And that’s when you realized that yes, your heart was pure again. Clean from all the sins you’ve did in the past. You didn’t know if it was his green eyes, soft skin, perfect lips or maybe the way he looked at you that has cleansed you but maybe it took pure love to find a pure heart.

[alleunwalk]

tokyo revengers idol au hcs part 3 that no one asked for AGAIN here’s part 1 and part 2 to get a better understanding.  this is what the members would be doing alongside their idol promotions+ what they would post on social media  toman tbh these guys are all just so damn funny on their own that they would constantly be invited to comedy variety shows. maybe perhaps doing something similar to seventeen or wanna one where they even have their own variety show on youtube (ie. seventeen’s-going seventeen series or wanna one’s show on mnet)  mikey-he would post basic food pics like of his parfaits or taiyaki but also it’s rare because he’d constantly forget his password. however on important days he’ll post long emotional and sentimental posts that hit you in your feels thanking his members and fans always. he also has a youtube channel posting random funny vlogs. draken- he has his own personal soundcloud to upload solo mixtapes/songs feat diff members. posts photos of his bikes and different tattoos he would be getting. responds with 1-2 words to fans during fansigns or ig comments but like mikey, once in a while, will also write heartfelt posts thanking everyone.  baji- his ig feed is filled with animals + dance practice vids. also has his own soundcloud too. trolls his members by commenting on their stuff. “delete this u ugly mf no one wants to see this”.  takemichi- very chatty, (sometimes too chatty where he’ll end up accidentally spoiling their next album info) and interactive on social media to his fans. tries his best to respond to most comments or ama ig stories questions. posts a lot of selfies and photos of his members. king of fan service.  chifuyu- beautiful photos of the sky a lot on his ig (in canon he wanted to be a pilot :,) ) along with cute soft selfies. (which baji and kazutora troll and comment being like “damn....u ugly AF!” “lmao stop pretending to act cute u loser”  kazutora- his ig is filled with pure chaos. just pics of him catching his members slipping (sleeping photos where they’re drooling or have their eyes slightly open or making ugly faces behind the scenes). also has photos of cursed memes and memes made by fans. he’s a literal enigma.  mitsuya- very wholesome ig photos- lots of photos of his family, group photos, sometimes cool artsy edited selfies. occasional photoshoot photos.  hakkai- ig is filled lots of #ootd photos and occasional photos from his modeling or acting gigs (he’s the visual, duh!) gets a lot of sponsorships from big brands.  pah-chin: has a joint youtube channel with peyan. they do silly challenges but will sometimes post dance videos (feat. baji) since they’re the main/lead dancers. fans love him because of his “matter-of-fact” responses that are funny without even trying. (example- fan comment: omg i love u guys soooo much u guys are the best in the whole world!!!<333 toman OUTSOLD!.  pah-chin: idk about best in the world but we’ll just take “the best in our neighborhood” for now i guess. thanks.”)  peyan: joint youtube channel with pah-chin. at fan signs mikey has to warn him to chill out cuz peyan will accidentally yell and scare fans without meaning to, but he’s just really excited to meet his fans is all ^_^   angry: posts a lot of wholesome photos like mitsuya (selfies with smiley) and writes a lot of motivational sweet captions cheering fans up and reminding them to always be happy :,)  smiley: joint youtube account with angry. smiley does a lot of prank videos and angrys just usually in the back like  🧍‍♂️... he also does tiktok- he would be doing all the dances, memes, and trends.  inui: ok hear me out, i mentioned before inui has similar vibes as cha eunwoo so i’d figure his ig would give the same vibe as his (iykyk). since he’s the other visual he would be getting a TON of acting and modeling gigs. idk why but i feel like inui would be a great actor (his facial expressions during tenjiku arc, the range!). actor of the year. gets a lot of skincare commercial deals too. 

black dragons shinichiro- photos of bikes, cars, and photos where hes pretending to do a cool pose but his members (+mikey) would troll and comment “LAME!!!!!” “why tf do u look like that?” “hey leader, it’s not too late to delete this now bestie :)” does fun ig lives. on variety shows as a joke his members tease him there as well. really great at fan-service and pulls the whole “pretend boyfriend” scenario with fans (the delusional fans are gonna act up if he keeps this up...).  taiju- (if shinichiro did not exist in this au OR if you wanted both in the group) photos of him at the gym, photoshoot photos.  inui- similar to if he was in toman, his ig would just be a lot of cool and cute photos of him from behind the scenes of dramas or photoshoots. a soft visual king. occasional selfies with koko and bike photos.  kokonoi- has a personal youtube channel but he would be Drowning in sponsorship videos all from high-end designer brands. he’s just casually flexing that PPL in his vlogs. ig feed is a lot of #ootd photos or pics taken with inui. him and inui would be makeup brand ambassadors or faces of brands (ex: like jennie from blackpink represents chanel). in this case kokonoi would be the face of fendi (he wears fendi slides in the manga cover) and inui would be the face of jimmy choo (his heels in the manga cover looked like jimmy choo but i could be wrong.. but u know what i mean) 

tenjiku  izana- pretty leader has a very artsy ig feed. extremely photogenic like inui. has photoshoot photos and candid pose photos. acts in dramas time to time (gg second male lead syndrome).  kakucho- posts gym or dance practice videos on his feed but he posts rarely because he’s just too busy or forgets he actually has an ig. loves commenting on takemichi’s posts “haha no wonder ur called baka-michi!” as a joke.  kanji- posts gym photos but it’s rare because he always forgets his password.  ran- the other visual. he would be modeling for high-fashion brands and go on runway shows. also definitely gives off actor vibes (he would be constantly casted in dark action movies hahaha). loves giving fan service.  rindou- in contrast to his brother, rindou when it comes to fan service, he loves trolling fans. also he’s really good at drawing a line between fans (y’know, keeping the delusional ones in check...which means he ‘friend-zones’ them but it’s for their own good tbh idols need to remind people their boundaries). has a youtube channel where he just posts random dance practice vids and occasional vlogs. also comments under his brothers ig posts “you look stupid af in this wtf”. on variety shows people find their brotherly banter hilarious.  mutou- posts gym photos, also really awkward selfies (he doesn’t know what his angle is lmao). another member who also reminds fans of their boundaries and keeps it real. (sanzu always likes his photos though and hypes him up in the comments).  sanzu- shy baby. constantly following mutou around. posts a lot of cute selfies and random pics of shogi stuff (he tags mutou in it of course). during fan signing/autograph sessions they love putting cute headband props on him like this or this. 

bonten because this group’s concept and aesthetic is mysterious, mature, artsy, gloomy, and dark they will take this concept to the grave. (minus a few exceptions) they are invited to variety/talk-shows but never make an appearance because they want to keep the air of mystery around them. (it’s a good marketing technique).  mikey- does not have any social media. he does have a private account to lurk around but no one knows what it is.  kokonoi- has a youtube channel but it’s locked and you have to pay to get into it. posts super short vlogs and teasers. thats it. (the ultimate scam! but their fans love them too much to notice). lots of sponsored #ootd posts on ig.  kakucho- he would be modeling ONLY high fashion brands and high end editorial places. his instagram is just his exquisite and expensive modeling photos whether it be candid backstage photos from shows, candid runway walk pics/vids, pics of diff photoshoots you name it. doesn’t really comment much.  ran- visual. similar to kakucho- modeling ONLY high fashion brands and editorial places. instagram is filled with modeling photos but also some artsy scenery pics he took.  rindou- posts short artsy dancing clips (like modern dances in black&white filter) on ig.  sanzu- since he’s the other visual, he also posts a lot of his modeling/acting photos on instagram. also pretty chatty (he’s the exception) on social media and loves teasing and trolling fans. posts with a lot of random cute emojis on everything. “just ate lunch and now im off to practice hehe 🍜🍇🤟💃🤠🧚‍♂️💞🦋” no one really knows why he uses random emojis but it’s just endearing lmao.  kanji- no social media at all.  akashi- manager....or if you made him the rapper in this au then he too would also not have any social media. 

[arcadejohn127-9]

Just

Just think about Luke seeing Mc as an older sibling figure, and then think about how he'd have to see em die from old age or an illness

H u r t

You know what? I'm going to hurt your feelings right back

You did this, this is your fault. I'm crying so now you gotta cry with me!

I'm making it hurt EXTRA

I'm not done with this angst wagon! I have so much angst stored up in me rn and you're all going to have to deal with it 😂 let us cry together

Warning: death, angst, sad Luke

"(Y/N)! Im back! Your guardian angel has arrived!"

You smiled, turning from the window as you heard the gentle footsteps come further into your little home.

"oh..? I thought the celestial realm called you back."

"I was able to get time off my duties to come see you, I do have a duty to protect you after all."

Luke smiled brightly at you, a bag in hand as he walked into your room. His face faltered for a moment seeing you were out of bed but kept his smile, placing the bag down on the table.

"awww, you're still such a sweet young boy."

You reached out to him, your wrinkled hands shaking slightly. He huffed at your cooing but none the less, bowed down so you could pinch his cheeks. You smiled wider; happy there was still some baby fat on him.

"I'm not a boy! I'm a grown man."

He was pouting childishly; some habits never dying. But sadly, he was right. By now he has finally grown up. He wasn't exactly an adult but he was close. He was no longer the small boy you use to know in the Devildom, he was now a tall gentle man. He reminded you alot of Simeon but definitely didn't go after his sense of fashion.

He was grown. And you've grown....grown to become old and Sickly. He still had such a youthful face despite being thousands years older. It was truly unfair but you would rather he looked as young as he did than look like you. Saggy and wrinkled. Death on your lips, it made them dry. It tasted bland and sour.

"what did you bring me this time? I hope it's a new recipe."

"I actually visited the Devildom before coming here, I made your favourite with Barbatos."

He unpacked the bag, revealing the sweet treat. It was going to be far too sweet for your taste buds now but you couldn't refuse. He frowned slightly, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"you should be in bed, the doctors said you need to rest."

"I'm not doing anything, those doctors shouldn't think of me to be so fragile! I spent years in hell." You grumbled, grinding your drenchers.

You missed the demons; it's been awhile since they've visited. It was unusual....for years outside or in hell you were surrounded by them. Always pestering you and wanting your attention. Endless plans that always ended with Lucifer fixing it. You missed them.....so so much..... you just wished your magic didn't grow so weak.

"yeah.... you're unbeatable so being in bed won't be anything."

He had you there. But it was growing tiresome of just sitting in bed. You were wasting away in it; the doctors weren't sure what was going to take you out first. Old age or illness. All Anyone could hope for that it's peaceful and in your sleep.

Luke helped you back in bed, smiling as he tucked you in. He placed the desserts holder on your lap before whisking himself away to the kitchen. He made you both some tea and picked up cutlery on the way back. You thanked him when he handed you the cup, humming happily at the warmth. The world felt so cold now.

"Have the brothers visited lately? Barbatos seemed.... solemn - did something happen?"

"No, it's been mostly you or Simeon seeing me but I don't blame them, it must be hard to see me - I know Simeon tried to stop you aswell, Saying it'll be too hard on your heart."

"nothing is going to stop me not even Simeon! you're family, and those demons-! They should be seeing you!"

He didn't even realize he stomped his foot, pouting and puffing out his cheeks. No matter how much he wanted to be called a man, he was still young. You hoped you'll get to see him fully mature into a powerful angel he was destined to be. You knew he'd be a great help to the celestial realm and make people just as happy as he's made you.

You always saw yourself as just an older sibling and he seemed to feel the same but now you felt more like a parent. Watching your child grow up and be better than you ever were. He made you so proud.

"ah~ theres the young boy I know, always pouting and complaining about demons, it was so nice to see you freely enjoy yourself the third term, you looked so much happier."

"he can see all sorts, perhaps something bad is going to happen soon but it could always be, he saw a rat in the castle - oh the way he could loose all composure-!"

"if it wasn't due to a recent visit then- why was barbatos so glum? Do you think he's okay?"

You both bursted out laughing, imagining the usually stoic butler frantically smacking the floor with a broom whilst ontop of a counter. Your laughed grew louder and louder until you choked on it; coughing harshly into your shaky palm as your chest tightened.

Luke quickly helped you sit up properly, rubbing your back as your coughing slowly died out. He told you to keep it easy but noticed how quickly your mood soured. He patted your lap and held up the forks; forcing a small smile on his face.

"let's eat, shall we?"

you both dug in, he kept his bites small as it was for you after all. You didn't even realize you teared up; the flavour was the exact same if not better than you remember. Barbatos always knew how to make it perfect for you; even now as your sugar fondness has simmered it still tasted just as good.

He really was amazing....

Luke wiped your stray tears as you stared at the treat, a distant look in your eyes. The angel was starting to panic; no matter his efforts you were becoming unhappy. Was it him? Was it talking about the Devildom? But he knew if he tried to never talk about it you'd just insist on knowing. He didn't want to keep making you upset.

"I'm sorry, just - I've been so nostalgic lately, I really appreciate what you've done, don't be upset with yourself, Luke, just ignore this old human."

"I can talk about the celestial realm, would that make you feel better? Or-or- new Cake ideas-!"

"I'd like that very much, has the celestial realm change much?"

"it's been really busy, I'm actually getting my own apprentice soon! She's been a late bloomer with her wings but she's been amazing with prophecies - I've ranked up actually! I'm almost to my goal....soon- I'm going to be just like Michael and I can help humans across the globe!"

He was beaming, his hands becoming more animated as he talked. You hummed softly to yourself, nodding as your eyes drifted to the wall. His voice soothing you.

"And- and the demon angel partnership has been a huge success! Theres been more pairs ups this year than any other! Things are really improving in the other realms- you know it's all thanks to you, right? You did this."

He waited for your response, but you didn't say anything. You just stared at the wall behind him. Luke's head tilted to the side, dread creeping up his spine.

"(Y/N)-?" He gently shook your hand, trying not to startle you incase you were just zoning out again.

But that's when it hit him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, there was nothing. No pulse.

"(Y/N)?!"

The young angel screamed as tears flooded down his cheeks, shaking your body. He kept calling out your name but you never responded. He tried everything he could; giving CPR, using his magic - he even consider using the life trees leaves from the celestial realm.

He just - you couldn't be- he wouldn't let you! He's your guardian angel! Yours not supposed to be -! Not yet!!!

NOT YET!!

Your soul spilled out of your chest, he sobbed as it formed into an orb. He hugged it close to his chest as he cried, Begging it to return to your body.

"please.... please-! I'm asking nicely- why won't you go back?! It isn't time! Please!"

No matter how hard he pressed your soul back to your chest it refused to enter your body.

You were gone.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the struggle bus

summary: spencer is the kindest human alive, which makes things tough for the reader :/ (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 5.3k (a doozy kinda!)

warnings: i guess angst, but really just idiots in love (my fav trope). reader is kind of a hot mess. also, mention of overdose via multivitamin.

author’s note: hi, it’s been approx 4000 years since i last posted, but it’s just because i have no concept of ‘efficiency’ or ‘speed.’ but it’s okay. some of this is good, some of this is eh, make of that what you will. also, this is supposed to be #funny sometimes so uhhhh, keep that in mind. ALSO, the title is majorly stupid, but it was the title of the google doc, and i couldn’t think of anything else......anyways, love u!

For once, the bullpen was quiet.

Spencer was immersed in some case file, doing some work that you should have probably been doing as well, but it was approaching the late hours of the night, and you would barely be able to keep your eyes open if you came even close to trying to read or write. Your desks were situated against each other, so you shifted your gaze across the small divider to him. His sharp features were softened in the lamplight, a sight that tugged on your heartstrings, and you took a moment to just look at him. Most everyone else was gone or was too focused on getting their work done to pay attention to your reverie. Derek, if he were here, would dub you as ‘lovesick’ and shoot mischievous smirks and wiggling eyebrows in your direction, but luckily for you, he was not. Twisting carelessly in your chair with your feet propped on the desk, you chewed absentmindedly on a pen, lost deep in thought. “Hey, Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He continued scribbling on the file without so much as a glance towards you, but that was perfectly fine by you, more time for not-creepy staring.

“How many of my vitamins do you think I could eat before I died?”

At this, he furrowed his brow and neatly laid his pen down.

“That depends on what vitamin you’re taking. If you’re talking about iron supplements, the limit is somewhere around 20mg of elemental iron per kilogram of body weight. Any more than that will have incredibly unpleasant side effects like abdominal pain, persistent vomiting, rapid breathing, and coma. However, if you’re talking about Vitamin C, it’s virtually impossible to overdose, but you might get a bad headache if you supersede 2000 mg.”

“Okay, what about my gummy vitamins?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “While it still depends on what vitamins are included, eating a whole bottle of your typical multivitamin could easily result in death.”

You mulled this over. “So, I should definitely not go home and eat the rest of my gummy vitamins tonight?”

Spencer chuckled, “I’m not a medical doctor, but yes, I’d recommend that you don’t do that.”

Tossing your head back and letting out a small groan, you protested, “But Spencer, my gummy vitamins taste so good! And I have no food at home, so I guess I either die by overdose on gummy multivitamins or starvation.”

He couldn’t help but grin at your melodrama. It could be 12:06 in the morning, and you could still somehow make him laugh. He was starting to understand that he was in too deep, but he also had the startling realization that he didn’t mind drowning if it was in you. 

“You’ve got quite the predicament on your hands there, (Y/N). Maybe you should go grocery shopping with me the next time I suggest it, so you don’t end up in this situation again.”

“Oh my god, dude!” you moaned. “I told you I was actually busy; I had to take Oscar to the vet for his vaccines! I try to be a good mother to my dog, and you know I’m not an anti-vaxxer. I’d never decline time with my favorite guy without a good reason.”

Spencer’s heart was doing somersaults at the thought of him being your favorite guy. He’d won plenty of awards and medals in his lifetime, but somehow, none of those measured up to the accomplishment of being your favorite. Pride and butterflies boiled in his stomach. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You snorted, “I appreciate your unmatched benevolence, Dr. Reid.” Locking eyes with him, you tried to dampen the lava flow of heat in your chest that erupted when he looked at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen, but you failed miserably. You had to clear your throat and look away; it was becoming all too much. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the restroom. Don’t leave without me!”

As you dashed away, a thought crossed Spencer’s mind, and he stood up and set off down the opposite hallway.

You returned a few minutes later to an empty bullpen which made you frown, and your heart sank. You had thought he was going to wait, but guess not. Sighing, you tried to not let it sting too badly when you noticed a light on in JJ’s office. You knocked and pushed the already ajar door with a quick hello? before being met with an exhausted-looking JJ.

“Hey, (Y/N). I thought everyone had left by now.”

“Nope, not quite yet,” you replied, offering a weak smile. JJ noticed and wrote it off as fatigue. “You didn’t happen to see Spencer leave a couple minutes ago, did you?”

“Uh, no, I thought he’d gone too.”

“Hm, okay, thanks anyway!”

You prepared to leave, but she stopped you, cocking her head. “Why do you ask? Is he still here?”

Leaning your head against the doorframe, you sighed. “I’m not sure. He was here when I went to the bathroom, but he wasn’t at his desk when I came back. I’m a little disappointed. We always walk out together because we’re both afraid of the parking garage at night.”

A grin simmered on JJ’s face at that fact. “Well, I could walk you out if you’d like?”

“Nah, that’s okay; I don’t want to bother you.”

There was something behind JJ’s eyes you couldn’t identify as she replied, “Alright, then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” She definitely wasn’t thinking about how you didn’t want her intruding on a you-and-Spencer tradition. Not that she minded! She’d been rooting for you both since the minute you’d stepped into the BAU, and Spencer had looked like he was about ready to melt into the floor at the sight of such a pretty girl.

“Thanks, Jayje.”

Dragging your feet a little, you made your way back to your desk to gather your things, trying to fend off the disappointment. You had gotten your jacket on and were about to pick up your bag when you heard a (Y/N)! from down the hall. Well, that was certainly not JJ. Hesitantly, you called out, “Spencer?”

He finally emerged with his arms loaded with...something, you couldn’t discern what in the dim light. His face lit up like the Vegas strip when he saw you. “(Y/N)! I didn’t want you starving or eating all of your vitamins, so I went down to the vending machine and got you a couple snacks!” Arriving at his desk, he dropped the various bags and packets on his desk, and your eyes widened immensely.

“A couple? Dude, did you buy out the whole machine?”

Slightly breathless from his quick jog back, he waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. And hey, look!” He picked up a bag. “Fruit snacks! Just like your vitamins, but without the part where you get really sick.”

You were astonished, to say the least. And minorly speechless too, as evidenced by your mouth that was gaping like a fish. “Spencer...this is so nice. You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me.”

At that, your face nearly split in two, and he mirrored your grin. You thought you might pass out at his kindness, and you knew you’d be thinking about this every day for the next two weeks at least. Your expression then turned mischievous, as you tried to tamp down all of the warmth bubbling in your stomach. “Do you want to help me try to fit all this in my bag?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

——— 

Garcia had been practicing her ukulele peacefully when she got the call.  (Well, ‘peacefully’ might have been a stretch as she had threatened to smash the object on her coffee table when she simply could not get the finger picking pattern she’d practiced for what seemed like hours, but it was supposed to be a relaxing hobby, so yes, it was peaceful.) Huffing a sigh of relief when the caller ID said [(Y/N/N)!!] with the longest stream of heart emojis and not [hotch >:( ], she picked up with her usual air of cheer. “What can I do ya for, my loveliest, most bewitching—”

She was cut off abruptly by the sounds of your horrible, heart-wrenching sobs, and her brows furrowed in concern. “Oh no, my sweet! What’s wrong?” She had to wait a few moments for your tears to calm (somewhat) while you tried to wrangle in your breath, so you could form some sort of sentence.

“Penny!”—gasp—“Oh my God,”—hiccup—“it looks so bad!” With your last word, you tumbled into incoherent bawling once again.

“Dear, what looks so bad?” She held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she began to gather up her things. Whatever was wrong, it was clear you needed some good, old-fashioned Garcia TLC, and she was ready to give it.

The sniffling subsided minorly, and you choked out, “Remember when we were talking the other day, and I mentioned that my hair had gotten a little too long for my liking?” Oh no, Garcia could see where this was going. “Well, I figured I’d spend our evening off getting my hair cut, and I went to that new hairdresser, and oh Penelope, it looks awful. I don’t think I can ever go out in public again.” With that, your tears resumed.

“Darling, you know I’ve been where you are, and I know it seems bad right now, but everything will be fine. Let me grab my scissors and I’ll be over faster than you can say, ‘Penny, I love you so much, you truly are my fairy godmother.’”

You paused before whispering into the phone, “Penelope, I do love you so much, and you are my fairy godmother. But please, hurry.”

And hurry, she did.

Garcia was knocking on your door a little over five minutes later, which was incredibly suspicious because she lived at least 10 minutes away on a good day, but in the state of your disarray, you were not inclined to care. She sat you down on the toilet in your bathroom, whipping out her hair care set (she had definitely spent a significant amount of time dabbling in cosmetology, and it was desperate times like this when it came in handy). Squeezing your eyes shut through most of it, she snipped here and there, trying to make the best of this...horribly atrocious cut (seriously, that hairdresser should be sued), and when she was finished, it was not as bad as when they started, but it still wasn’t great. The rest of the evening was spent watching cheesy rom-coms and baking in an attempt to get your mind off of your hair.

Everything was mostly fine until the next morning, when you realized you’d have to go into work like this, and as terrifying as that prospect was in a normal work environment, you also worked in a place with an abnormal amount of hot people. (And you happened to be developing feelings for one of those hot people, but your brain was insistent upon ignoring that for the time being.)

Already anticipating your worries, Penelope had sent a text without your knowledge to a BAU group chat that excluded you (she had one of these for every member, it just made surprise birthday party planning so much easier).

[penelope :)] please DO NOT MENTION (Y/N)’S HAIR!!!! she got a bad haircut and she feels really terrible about it and doesn’t want to think about it so do not talk about it!!!

[jennifer!] Oh, no! :( Lips are sealed!

[rossi ;)] rip.

Emerging from the elevator in the nicest work outfit you own (an attempt to distract from the monstrosity), you scurried to Garcia’s lair before anyone could see you. Once inside, you slammed the door shut, and leaning against it, you slid down and covered your face with the files in your hands. “Pennyyyyy,” you moaned. “I don’t think I can do this!”

She swiveled to face you with a look of empathy. “Sugar, I know you can. It—it doesn’t even look that bad!” But Garcia was a horrible liar, and if looks could kill, she would have been dead instantaneously. 

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you came to sit in the seat next to her. “Can’t I just work in here today? And maybe for the rest of time?”

“You know I would love that, but those other lovely people on our team need you! Especially the young doctor, you know he’d be lonely without you.”

As if her mention had summoned him, Reid opened the door to their secret meeting, files in hand, and your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. Garcia stared at him very intensely, attempting to telepathically tell him to not mention the hair, and you looked like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out a way to hide yourself from him and possibly the entire universe. And poor Reid shifted his gaze between the two of you, helplessly confused as to what he had walked into. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Uh, no!” Garcia said in the least convincing manner.

“Okay,” he responded, not convinced in the slightest. “I just came to give you some files from Hotch.” So, he handed Garcia the papers and then turned to leave when you caught his eye. 

And because he was not the greatest with technology, Spencer had not checked his phone that morning…. Meaning he had not seen Garcia’s text. So he looked at you a moment and cocked his head. “Your hair looks really nice today, (Y/N). Did you get it cut?”

This time, it was Garcia’s turn to glare (because read your texts, dammit!), and you fumbled for a response. As you scanned his face, searching for a sign that he was lying, that he was just saying something to make you feel better, you came up empty. He was telling the truth. He genuinely thought your hair looked nice. “Um, uh—yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” He offered you a smile, which you returned easily (a fact that surprised you). “See you.” Retreating from the office because the vibes in there were weird, he shut the door, finally leaving you and Garcia alone again. 

You were reeling.

You thought about when you had gotten dressed that morning, and you had entertained each outfit with great scrutiny, trying to come up with something that might draw attention away from your hair. In that half hour you’d spent, you had realized that you didn’t really mind looking bad in front of Morgan or Emily or Hotch or really anyone on the team. Almost anyone. With an increasing amount of discomfort, you had realized you didn't want to look bad in front of Spencer. Of course, he’d never judge you, but you wanted to look good for him. For your best friend.

And he told you your hair looked nice.

You smiled to yourself.

Garcia turned to you with a look of shock on her face. Had that been anyone else, she was sure you would have curled up in a ball beneath her desk and would not have left until every single other person had left the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but you hadn’t, and she smirked.

Oh, she knew where this was going.

——— 

To put it lightly, it had not been the best of mornings. 

It seemed that everything that could’ve gone wrong did, so you burst past the glass doors of the BAU six minutes late with a coffee-covered shirt, mud-stained pants, soggy shoes, and a most miserable attitude. Hotch, while a sympathetic man, was still your boss with rules to follow and when you stumbled into the bullpen, gave a pointed stare between you and the clock, and you nodded sullenly. You understood his silent admonition, but knowing that he was even slightly disappointed in you, made your knees want to buckle. Swallowing around the slug in your throat, you set your bag down beside your chair and noticed a foreign object sitting on your desk. Interest thoroughly piqued, you reached forward to find it was a book with a satin ribbon tied on it.

It truly was a beautiful book with a deep crimson hardcover and the kind of deckled edges that you loved. Running your fingers along the rough-hewn pages, you finally noted the title, and you gasped. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Your favorite. The cursive words curved in black on the cover to match the ribbon, and you carefully traced the curling letters, wondering where this gorgeous book could have come from.

In the desk across from yours, Spencer watched the scene in front of him with a grin. He couldn’t help but feel pleased at the look of awe on your face as you inspected the book with careful fingers and a gentle gaze, and his heart swelled more and more the longer he looked. “Did you know that Margaret Garner, the woman the character Sethe is based on, her trial was used as part of an effort to dismantle the Fugitive Slave Act?” Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and those stupid freaking butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach as you realized who had gifted you the book. “The presiding judge didn’t accept her lawyer’s argument that the act violated the right to religious freedom, but it was still somewhat of a turning point in the movement to strike down the law.”

“I did not know that, but thank you. For the fact and the book.”

“You’re welcome.” He had to avert his eyes from your strong gaze because he thought he might melt otherwise.

“Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful because I’m so, so thankful, but why?”

He shrugged, “I was just in the book store, and it made me think of you.” No, he didn’t keep an eye out specifically for this book on his weekly trip to the bookstore by his apartment after you had briefly mentioned your love of Ms. Morrison’s metaphors. And he definitely didn’t ask the owner Alice if she would let him know if she ever got any new copies.

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Combing back through your conversations with him, you tried to remember when you had talked about the book, but you couldn’t come up with anything other than a couple words tossed briefly here and there. Suppose it wasn’t really the fact that he had heard, but the fact that he had listened. He listened and remembered things about you, little things tucked in the back of his brain, and it was how he thought about you even when you weren’t around. So, you clutched the book to your chest tightly as if it could meld with your heart and let your thoughts rage with the implications for a minute before smothering your mushy grin and tucking the book into your bag.

(Later, you pulled it out on your ride home on the metro. Spencer had already gotten off at his stop a few minutes before, so you took this moment of solitude to revel in the glory of your new gift. Every time you smoothed a hand over the cover, your mind was overwhelmed with what-ifs. What if he felt the same? What if his stomach rumbled with the same butterflies when you looked at him? What if this means he likes you as more than…. And abruptly, you were doused in doubt once again, muzzling those dangerous, rearing hypotheticals. This was a path that would only lead to disappointment.

Those thoughts only got worse when you read his inscription, though:

Dear (Y/N/N),

I hope you find great joy in reacquainting yourself with the graces of Ms. Morrison’s elegant prose in this new copy. I was inspired by your praise and read this classic again, and I can say that I definitely understand your veneration of her story-telling. Hopefully, we can discuss it soon, so I can try to see all of the details that you so admire. You are always much better at appreciating the finer things in life.

She says that, “something that is loved is never lost.”

I hope you know that you will never be lost to me.

Sincerely,

Spencer

(P.S. I wrote this in pencil, so you can erase and have the clean copy you wanted.)

You would never erase it.)

——— 

“Hey, are you alright?”

You sat at your desk with your head in your hands. Your responding “no” came out muffled. 

Spencer frowned and sat on the edge of your desk. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Running your hands over your face, you finally met his gaze. His eyes were soft as they searched your own, and the expression on his face was not of pity or frustration but empathy, and of course, he was just being his sweet self. Your eyes watered in response, and his heart clenched at the sight. You shifted your eyes somewhere else, anywhere else. “Uh, no.”

It was clearly a lie.

Furrowing his brows at your obfuscation, he scanned your face for any indication of what might be the problem. A small sigh. He came up with nothing. “Alright,” he conceded hesitantly. “May I ask what is wrong?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You stared down at the files neatly ordered on your desk, trying to mentally shoo him away with the sheer force of your willpower alone. But Spencer Reid was a stubborn man, and you knew this, and you also knew he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were alright. So, you both sat in the silence of the bullpen that only accompanied the arrival of midnight. The glow of your lamp bathed the vicinity in a warm yellow, and the tick of the nearby clock rattled around your chest as you attempted fruitlessly to subdue your incessant thoughts. He was close enough that you could hear the soft susurration of his exhales as his eyes flitted about the room to give you some sort of breathing room, and you shut yours for a moment to appreciate this moment of peace before the inevitable catastrophe to follow.

“I’m—uh, not okay.”

Finally turning back to you with a mildly surprised expression (he didn’t expect you to say anything so soon. Or so bluntly.), he offered you one of his signature tight-lipped smiles as encouragement to continue.

“I’m kind of really struggling…” you trailed off, gaze empty, ensnared in your thoughts.

Ever the gentleman with persistence that could last a thousand years, he gently prompted, “With…?”

A strong gulp and eyes squeezed shut. “With you.”

Well, that was not the answer Spencer was expecting. He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and he was hollow and shaken and in pain. Gaping, he fumbled hopelessly for an answer, trying to find some reason you could be upset with him. He had always thought you two were the best of friends; he’d never doubted that before. How could he have missed this?

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, he strained to ask, “Uh—um, what—what did I do?”

Upon witnessing his struggle, you quickly amended your previous statement. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not mad at you, well, I kind of am, but you don’t need to feel bad, it’s not your fault.”

“I’m not really sure what to make of that.”

You huffed a sigh and covered your face with your hands in a poor attempt to try to hide the blush rapidly coloring your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just—you’re so nice!”

Now Spencer was really confused. “You’re mad at me...because you think I’m nice?”

“Yes, Spencer! You’re so nice, and it makes me incredibly frustrated. You see this?” You picked up a book from your desk and waved it frantically. A little intimidated by your crazed look, he nodded timidly. “Do you recognize this book?”

“It’s a special edition of Beloved by Toni Morrison.”

“It’s the special edition of my favorite book that you bought for me because you know how much I love this book.”

Spencer looked like a deer in the headlights. “You always said that your book at home was so messy with your annotations and that a fresh copy would have been nice.”

“You didn’t even buy it for my birthday or a special occasion! You just saw it in the store and said that you thought of me and had to buy it. That’s so unbelievably thoughtful! Not to mention the fact that I can barely look at fruit snacks now without tearing up. And—and the other day! When I got my haircut, I hated it, but I came in the next day, and you were the first person to tell me you liked it. You weren’t even lying to make me feel better; I’m a profiler, and I know that you were telling the truth. And it took no effort or thought because Spencer, you are the most kind-hearted and compassionate and generous person I’ve ever met. You are so—so genuinely good. 

“No, you are the best. You are the best person I know,” you stated with finality, holding his stare with an unshakeable firmness. It was the first time you truly looked at him all night, and his heart felt like it was going to expand past his ribcage and burst open like a balloon. Your resolve melted though and your voice dropped to a near whisper. “And you’re not just nice. You’re nice to me. Which just makes it so hard.”

You deflated, withering into your seat.

“Makes what hard?”

“It makes it so much harder for me to not fall in love with you.”

Stunned silence. 

Until it was shattered by a hiccup, and Spencer finally noticed the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, and he tried, he tried so hard to puzzle through all of this new information and the fact that you just admitted you’re falling in love with him, and for some reason, you’re crying? He couldn’t even get his stupid genius brain to come with a single word before you started stumbling into an apology. “I know that’s not what you want to hear because we’re supposed to be friends, and I know that you’re just a good person, so you’re nice to everyone. Believe me, I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but I couldn’t keep holding on to this by myself, and I knew if anyone would let me down easy, it’d be you.” You chewed on your lip and avoided his stare at all costs. “So, I’m sorry.” You sniffled. 

The quiet that followed weighed heavy on your chest, and you couldn’t seem to breathe. You had expected rejection; you hadn’t expected complete silence. And this was somehow so much more unbearable. In a voice so faint you weren’t even sure if he could hear, you begged, “Please say something.”

A beat.

“(Y/N), I love you.”

A whisper just barely verging on hopeful, “What?”

“(Y/N), I—I love you so much.” His heart felt like it was in his throat, and his voice broke slightly as he stood. “You’re the first person I think about when I get up in the morning, and you’re the last person before I fall asleep. I dread going home at the end of the day because you’re not there. When you’re not with me, even if you’re in the other room, it feels like I’ve forgotten something, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out what I was missing, but it was you. You consume my every thought, which is saying something because I think a lot. Actually, it’s kind of funny,” he chuckled somewhat morosely, “I truly cannot comprehend the fact that you don’t know how much I’ve liked you, how long I’ve loved you because it feels like it’s so obvious and so potent that it seeps out of me, whether I want it to or not.

“And I’m nice to you because no one else is more deserving of kindness. I’d be lucky if you let me be the one to remind you of that, everyday. Because you’re the best person I know.” You looked up at him with shining eyes and the meagerest beginnings of a smile, and he just beamed right back. With a creased brow, he ventured, “You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that, right?

Failing to suppress your growing grin, you nodded your head meekly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

Spencer felt pleased with himself until he remembered that he had forgotten the most important part. “Would you like to get dinner with me sometime? Like a date?”

Standing from your seat, you wrapped your arms around his neck and burrowed your face into his chest, and he immediately reciprocated, clutching you as close as he could. “I would love that.” It came out muffled, but he understood well enough as he pressed his face into your neck. And you stood like that for a few moments, just existing together, and for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. There was no worry of unrequited yearning or pain of terrible pining; there were just two people who finally knew peace. Knew that the person they loved most in the world loved them back. Neither ever wanted to leave.

However, sometimes necessary duties like breathing take precedence, so you pulled back from him enough to finally claim some air. Your hands slid down his front, resting on his chest, his on your waist, and you just stared at him. The most beautiful face you’d ever seen looking right back at you with the same expression of awe that made you realize just how lucky you were. And slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned in ever so slightly with heads wavering and tension buzzing. Gingerly and sweetly. Neither could commit, but no one could pull away from fast-approaching revelation. 

Finally, a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded.

When your lips met, your chest heaved with your eager, romantic hopes and dreams bubbling up near your lungs, finally coming to fruition. His hands came up to caress your jaw, and you leaned into him. His touch was so gentle, but he also touched you with intention. For once in his life, Spencer Reid felt no hesitation, kissing the girl of his dreams. And you felt held by him. You were bursting at the seams of your existence, swollen with infatuation and tenderness, yet totally and completely encompassed by him. You could shatter into a million tiny, little pieces, and he would be there to collect every shard. How cheesy.

Both of you grinned into the kiss; the sickly sweet itch in your heart was contagious. You finally released him, and wanting to savor the moment, you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck, so his chin could rest on the crown of your head. “I love you a lot, Dr. Reid.”

He hummed in agreement.

It didn’t need saying.

[gojology]

Job Benefits (Part Three)

broken routines - chapter three.

you can find part two here : 

part two : undesirable pairing : ceo! gojo x female reader warnings : cursing wordcount : 1442 a/n : im highly disappointed with this but im very hyped abt writing part 4 and uh i need to change my writing style sooner or later wtf is this mess LOL

     If there’s one thing Gojo knows more then his own body, it’s routines.       It’s what he grew up around, coming from such a bustling family. Since he learned how to walk, he had attended many interviews, gone to parties, all in one day. Of course, it was commonplace in his already hectic life. He saw routine in everything.      Imagine his shock when you came into the office in an outfit that differed so greatly from your regular one that his jaw might unhinge and fall off.      He can’t wrap his head around why, but he’s utterly confused as to why you changed this up. Was it permanent, and why the change? He had many questions going through his head. This is one of the many negative traits Gojo Satoru has; he thinks his input is important, even though the majority of time it is... Maybe it was somewhat justified. But he doesn’t realize how unnecessary it comes out to be when no one asked.      No one had ever told him no, of course they hadn’t, he was ranked nationally as an important kid due to his wit and charismatic personality, essential for entering the business industry.     When he opened his mouth to speak, even at 8 years old at his parent’s conferences, the old professionals would all look at him, keenly waiting for his orders, or perhaps his opinion. This was what he grew up having; so naturally he didn’t know any boundaries, nor did he know when to close his mouth.      But that’s besides the point, he thoroughly enjoyed the look on you.     He takes his normal trip down the hallway into your office, humming a tune, a messy stack of papers in one hand, a custom ceramic mug in the other; made personally just for him. He expects to see you in your regular outfit, a pencil skirt, white t-shirt, the short clicky heels, and the black blazer. It certainly made for an excellent example of casual, formal attire.      Unexpectedly, you’re not. You’re calling someone, phone perched delicately on your shoulder almost as if it’s supposed to slip out, your hair framing your face. Lips parting as you start responding to whatever is on the opposite side, and he notices an evident gloss, your lips are a different color too.      You glance up at him and gesture to your phone, and his hands are shoved deep into his pockets, taking this extra time to examine you up and down. White turtleneck, layered alongside a slightly unbuttoned dress shirt with a crisp warm toned brown trench coat. Not too long, not too short.       Simple gold jewelry adorned your neck, and his eyes caught onto the gold bracelet that jingled on your arm as you swayed it around; he kinda found it cute how even when the person you were talking to wasn’t in front of you, you were still so animated.      Gojo can’t see your pants nor your shoes, but he’s about to enter cardiac arrest because truthfully he didn’t expect that you knew how to dress.     “What?” you say, words dripping with venom and menace, putting the phone back down. He’s taken aback, what’s with the tone?      “What do you mean, what, (Y/N)?” giving you a shit eating grin, he takes a step closer to your table.     “Answer my question, I asked first.” you shot back, now crossing your legs, you hope you look bored just to add more insult to injury. The guy deserved it for thinking the world revolved around him.      He doesn’t answer, instead staring at you, setting his cup of coffee onto the already crowded tabletop, slightly hunched over. You feel your heart drop. Fuck, maybe seeking some sort of symbolic revenge against your boss wasn’t the best of ideas.    Actually, none of your ideas were the best last night. Naturally you’d only think up disasters when you were under distress.     “What’s with the new outfit? Buy a new fashion sense on Amazon?” he finally inquires, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, brushing your... Rude words aside.      You shrug, pulling out your planner from the drawer and mumbling, biting your pen before writing inside, they’re mindless words. You hope your acting is good, because you want to cry again even at the slight sound of those words. “I don’t know, I felt like I would try something different.” Fuck, were was the sass? Why did you answer nervously? Why did you feel so scared?      There was obviously something that you wanted to do rather then chit chat with him, and Gojo’s now unoccupied hand rubs his neck, this was suddenly so awkward, even for someone as lively as him.     “Hm. Right. Anyways, these were in the printer.” he slaps the freshly printed lukewarm pages onto your desk. “Figured these were yours, still had your name on them.”      “Ah. Thanks.” you say before yawning, covering your mouth before sliding the papers back into the drawer behind you- as if you had no care for them. Actually, you didn’t. This was apart of your master plan that you had crafted at 1 AM last night, too exhilarated to rest. You would print papers out in Gojo’s printer, which you had used once in a while prior so it wouldn’t be too suspicious, and since Gojo never left the dang office he’d hear the sounds and return them to you.       Both of you were silent again, and he’s debating between hitting you up with a topic of conversation, perhaps a joke, but you seem so uninterested he’s not sure if it’s the right moment.      “Just to let you know- your lunch break is in 10 minutes.” he adds, whistling to try to appear careless, but he could feel his heart sinking. You were acting unusually cold, no dramatic tantrums from you that he usually loved. In fact, that was the whole reason why he liked coming to your office. That, and the cute stationary.     “Ah! Really?” you make sure to act like you just got a ticket to heaven, just as a petty way of saying, “Hey. You’re boring. I want to get out.” and Gojo’s pretty sure that all the contents of his heart was shattered now.       Hmph. Whatever, if you continued this behavior he’d swear he’d fire you, but even he knows that’s not true. He had grown fond about you over the small amount of time that you had worked as his secretary, besides, what was a good work life if you didn’t have a good relationship with your very own secretary? He’s sure his banter doesn’t affect you.     “Yeah.” he says, now quiet. He turns his back on you, pausing for a quick moment before walking out, not before he bangs the top of his forehead against the door frame, which earned a slight groan out of him, and just like that he left. You still hear the faint clicking against the tile floor from his shoes.       You exhaled a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, twirling your office chair to look at the large window pane behind your desk. This was something you admired about the architecture of the building you worked out. Every single office had a large window facing Tokyo, so late working hours would always involve beautiful city lights and the bustling of night life.       The sun and sky was bright and cheery, and it comforted your frazzled body. Today wasn’t as bad as yesterday, but it still felt strange from not having your daily ridiculous conversation with Gojo- and strangely you missed it.       Instilled with energy and motivation, you stand up, pulling your bento out of your bag, determined to go through with the rest of your plan. You knew Gojo had a good friend that worked here, Keto Sugareu or something like that. You’d have lunch with him, work your feminine charms, and that was that.       It wasn’t like you wanted to, but a part of you so desperately wanted to prove to Gojo that you could be smart, witty, yet sexy at the same time. You weren’t a prude- just someone not as exposed to these lifestyles.     But you didn’t really eat your lunch in the break room, rather, you were almost always in your very own office. If you weren’t found in there, it’d either be the bathroom or conspiring to steal Gojo’s luxury coffee machine at your house. Infact, you’re not even quite sure if you remember how it looks like.    “Whatever.” you mumble to yourself, before scooping up your utensils and napkins and heading out for the break room.      You shouldn’t have ever stepped foot into that cursed hellish room that day.

nice to see u down here, u want chapt 4? too bad. just kidding! here, have at it.  chapter four : conspiring     

[pradaksj]

Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored (m.)

♤ 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

♤ 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! 🤍 

“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.

“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.

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.  

“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.

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.

“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.

“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.

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.

“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—”

“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.

“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.”

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?

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.

“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.

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.

“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. 

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.

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.

“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.

“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.

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.

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.”

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.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 18

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy...yep, one second.”

Trudy shoves her rolling chair across the tiled floor, delivering the cordless phone to Scully with a flourish.

“It’s your man candy,” she says with a smirk, and Scully suppresses an eye-roll as she takes the phone.

“Hi, what’s up?” she greets. Now that he has his own office and more privacy (save for Monica, who’s a friend) he’s taken to calling her more often at work.

“Hey honey, you studied German, right?”

“Yes,” she answers, an expectant lilt to her voice.

“What does ‘unruhe’ mean? U-n-r-u-h-e.”

“Mulder...is this a work call or a personal call?” she questions in a lecturing voice.

“Work, it’s for a case we’re looking at,” he answers plainly.

She sighs, moving the phone to her other ear and turning away so Trudy can’t hear her.

“Mulder, we’ve discussed this. I don’t mind you calling me for help on cases, I don’t even mind looking over medical files for you. But if you’re calling me as a colleague, then I need you to address me as one.”

“Shit, sorry, let’s start over,” he says, and she hears the squeak of him shifting in his chair. She imagines him sitting up straighter, putting forth a professional image, and it makes her smile.

“Hi, what’s up?” she repeats.

“Hello, Dr. Scully, I was wondering if I could ask you to translate some German phrases that appear in a case Agent Reyes and I are investigating, if you have time to spare,” he says in his most distinguished, Special Agent voice.

“Of course, Agent Mulder, I’d be happy to help.”

———

The elevator dings, the doors opening to a quiet and nondescript hallway with a few lonely shelves lining one wall. She steps out, suddenly regretting her insistence that she could find her way to Mulder’s basement office without escort. She makes her way down the hall past a set of bathrooms, and finally arrives outside a closed door.

Fox Mulder

Monica Reyes

Only the names of the occupants, not their division, department nor area of expertise are included, presumably because anyone who ends up down here is already aware of what they are walking in to. She knocks three times and waits, smiling in relief when Monica appears on the other side.

“Hi, Dana, you found us!” she muses, then steps aside so Scully can enter.

It’s an odd office, in so many ways. Oddly shaped, with daylight basement windows and a glass-encased annex, the space is long and narrow which makes it feel big and crowded at the same time. The decor is odd; newspaper clippings and kitschy knick knacks on the walls and every available surface. She smiles at the sight of the house-warming gift she’d purchased for Mulder; a full sized poster of a UFO hovering over evergreen trees with “I Want To Believe” emblazoned across the bottom. Mulder had told her about one just like it he’d had in “the good old days,” and she spent the better part of a week tracking one down after they’d gotten word that the files would be reopened. Though they’ve only inhabited this space for a few weeks, it already looks very lived-in.

Mulder is sitting on the corner of his desk, remote in hand and a slide projector cart situated in front of him. On the wall across from it is a blown up image of a severed head, the eyes partially closed and the lips hanging open. Scully smiles at Mulder and then glances at the screen, frowning at the image but otherwise unaffected.

“Well look at you,” she says with pride in her voice, crossing the room to stand before him where he touches her waist and places a kiss on her cheek. “And who’s this?” she asks, turning again to the screen.

“This,” Mulder says, standing and moving closer to the image, “is Leonard Betts. Or it was, anyway.”

“What’s so special about Mr. Betts that he’s found himself in an X file?” Scully asks.

“Would you believe me if I told you that after Mr. Betts was decapitated, his headless body got up and walked right out of the morgue?” Mulder asks with a cheeky grin, and she glances at Monica, who just shrugs.

“No, I wouldn’t, I’m afraid,” she answers.

“Well, since seeing is believing, Reyes and I will be heading up to Pittsburgh for a few days to have a look for ourselves,” Mulder says as he turns off the projector and wheels the cart into a corner.

Scully’s heart sinks just a little. Mulder had set the expectation that there was quite a bit of travel involved with being assigned to the X files, but this is the first time he’s actually needed to be away overnight for work. Wanting to be supportive, she keeps her expression neutral, betraying nothing.

He approaches her, standing close so that their conversation feels private, even with Monica seated a few feet away.

“Tell Missy and Byers I’m sorry to cancel our dinner plans tomorrow,” he says with a sympathetic frown.

“Will you be home by the weekend?” she asks quietly, “I was hoping to celebrate your birthday on Sunday.”

He smiles sadly at her. The topic of his approaching birthday has been one they’ve both grappled with for slightly different reasons. He proclaims to have never cared much about his birthday, but knowing that it will mark one year since she walked down the aisle with Ethan makes her want to do something special, to reset the date, in a way. She wants it to be Mulder’s birthday, not the anniversary of the worst decision she ever made.

“Probably, but I can’t make any promises. I’ll do my best, okay?”

She nods, and he leans down to kiss her softly in the middle of her forehead.

“I’ll need to swing by the apartment to pack before we leave this evening, so I’ll see you in a bit,” he continues.

She bids Monica farewell and good luck, then rides the elevator back up to a world where headless bodies don’t roam the streets.

———

Mulder flies home Saturday afternoon, giving her just enough time to throw together a small birthday celebration at the Gunmen’s the following night. Sunday evening she’s sifting through her closet, deciding whether to dress up a little for his benefit. Mulder is lying behind her on the bed fully dressed, pretending he’s on standby to offer fashion advice but in reality he’s just staring at her as she walks from the closet to her dresser in her bra and panties. He has confirmed no fewer than six times that birthday sex is a tradition that she believes in, then suggested that it might be applicable on both the day of his birthday party as well as his actual birthday, which is tomorrow. He seems to be looking forward to that more than getting together with his friends.

“What do you want me to wear, Mulder? It’s your birthday, you pick,” she says in a defeated tone, feeling uninspired by everything she owns.

“What you’re wearing is great, just go with that,” he retorts matter-of-factly, and she looks down at her underwear before giving him a sarcastic sneer.

“I’m sure Frohike would love that,” she says, and he makes a face.

“Maybe just jeans and a T-shirt then. I honestly don’t care, honey, wear whatever you want. I’m just going to take it off later anyway.”

As he finishes speaking, there’s a knock at the door and he stands to answer it, stopping to give her a quick kiss on the crown of her head as he leaves the room.

She pulls out a pair of dark wash jeans and tugs them on, listening as Mulder opens the door and has a muted conversation with someone. It’s a little bit late in the day for solicitors, but they don’t seem to have any boundaries these days. She’s slipping her arms through the sleeves of a blue sweater when Mulder reappears in the doorway.

“Hey Scully?,” he says, his tone strange and unreadable.

“Hm?” she responds, slipping pearl studs into her ears.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

She gives him a quizzical look. “Who?” she asks, and he purses his lips in response.

With a mix of curiosity and trepidation she walks out to the front door, which is slightly ajar. She pulls it open and finds Ethan standing on the other side. Her stomach drops, a flush of adrenaline running from head to toe as ringing sounds off in her ears. She gapes at him, unable to take any kind of action.

“Hi, Dana,” he finally says, somewhat sheepishly. “Sorry to drop by like this, I just, um...I found a spare key to the apartment,” he says, holding up a single key between his thumb and forefinger. “I figured I should return it.”

“Oh,” she replies, then holds out her hand.

He places the key in the center of her palm and she closes her fist around it, then drops her arm to her side. They stand there awkwardly, an expectant feeling hanging between them. Though she’d momentarily forgotten Mulder was there, he suddenly appears by her side.

“I need to go run to the store for something, I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, locking eyes with her on the ‘okay.’ She understands it to be him asking if they need privacy, and if she’s comfortable being left alone with Ethan. She nods with a grateful smile.

After Mulder has retreated down the hallway, she stands to the side and gestures for Ethan to come in. He enters the apartment cautiously, looking around. She closes the door but stays near it.

“Looks different in here,” he remarks, standing behind one of the dining room chairs and resting his palms on it.

She nods and shrugs.

“Was that, uh...is that your boyfriend?” he asks, hitching his thumb towards the door.

Her shoulders drop, a pained expression falling over her face. “Ethan...” she begins, ready to ask him if he came here just to guilt trip her.

“Sorry, forget I asked,” he interjects, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to give you a hard time, Dana, I promise. I just…” he looks around again, pulling in a deep breath. “You know it will be a year tomorrow, since...and I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. For what happened, and also how things ended.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “What do you have to be sorry for?” she asks.

“I might have said the same thing earlier this year,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh, “but I’ve done a lot of reflecting since we split and I realized that I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the signals you were sending me. In retrospect, it was pretty obvious that you were having doubts, and I just kind of crossed my fingers and soldiered on. And then after the wedding, you were so unhappy. I just chose not to see it, I guess. And that was wrong of me.”

She feels tears welling in her eyes and her throat becomes tight. She doesn’t trust herself to speak so she just nods.

“I recently started seeing someone,” Ethan continues, “and it’s pretty new, but it’s really made it clear to me that you and I just weren’t a good match. Not because anything was wrong, but...it wasn’t right either, you know?”

She nods again, crossing her arms over her chest as a tear spills over and runs down to her chin.

“So, anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time. I just think a lot about how things ended the last time we saw each other, and how angry I was, and I wanted you to know that I get it now. I understand why you did what you did. And I’m glad that you didn’t spend twenty years suffering through it just to prove a point. We both deserve better than what we had.”

Her face is now contorted into a grimace as she tries to keep from falling apart entirely, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, and this opportunity to atone. Ethan moves to the door, pulling it open. As he steps into the hall, she clears her throat and forces out the only words she can muster.

“Thank you,” she squeaks, and he turns to look back at her.

With all the anger and resentment faded away, the grief and the guilt washed clean, she sees again the man she once loved very much, who was a good partner to her, even if he wasn’t “the one.”

She moves towards him and he opens his arms, enveloping her in a tight hug. When he loosens his grip, she steps back so she’s just inside the apartment, sniffing and wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“Goodbye, Dana,” he says with a sad smile.

“Bye,” she says, and closes the door.