#hope this doesn’t seem like I felt the need to defend my love of a theatrical performance lol

[gothedrals]

just some thoughts about mcr and costumes/characters bc I was talking about how much I love the theatrical aspects of the band a while ago: I still do! I’m someone who was drawn to mcr bc of their glam influences, and the theatricality and visual nature of the band is something I love about them. but what’s really cool about this tour is that gerard can put on a costume and play a character if he wants to, but he doesn’t have to. yes I love that they’re a theatrical creative band but that has always been grounded in the music: the glam rock influences and lyrical storytelling. costumes and visuals are a fun extra that can be a really cool way of self expression (I know gerard has talked about using his onstage persona to express his gender identity) but it’s absolutely not crucial. the band’s happiness is the most important thing and I hope gerard never feels pressured to perform in character if it’s at all forced or restrictive. they have nothing to prove. blood-soaked suit or olive green t-shirt, I’m so just happy to see them onstage and having fun

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[anadiasmount]

along with you - jude bellingham x reader.

GIF by anchyxsblog

quick sum: when giving him a taste of his own medicine, doesn't work out the way you planned... frustrated with your sudden change, jude is faced with his biggest fear, when all he wants is to be along with you.

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hiii!! seems like the theme on here is angst to fluff, so here’s a fic!! also my lovely @judethluvr has wrote a fic similar to this so please check it out here! like always, hope you enjoy! 🤍

“you’re stressing me out jude! please all i'm asking is five minutes in peace!” you yelled, covering your head and walking away from an agitated jude. “y/n you started this? what are you talking about? all i’m asking is why you did come to today's game?” jude followed behind, talking with his hands.

“why would i jude? it’s not like you even wanted me there,” you laugh sarcastically, crossing your arms and facing a confused jude. “i heard what you said in your stupid interview yesterday and today. i’m not going to a place i’m not wanted or invited!” you stressed, feeling tears wanting to run down you’re cheeks.

it had been a rough start for you, not for jude. top goal scorer in the league, back to back man of the matches, top of the group table in the UCL. he had no trouble quickly adapting to a new city and country. while you had it different, the language barrier, your new school, and job, friends. you had no one here besides jude.

it was easier in germany where you could easily travel to him by train or plane. it was closer to england, and your home. where your family and friends were. you could spend the weekend there and come back for school and work. when jude asked you to move with you were estatic, more than grateful to have a partner like him who respects and values you always.

madrid was interesting start. the move was easy and finding the home was better. spending constant nights on the single couch and eating takeout because his and yours stuff from germany had been delayed. when jude became the new sensation, you didn’t expect the constant stalking, digging into your private life, crowds everywhere you went together even if you had tried to hide from them.

you could never get used to it, and it was becoming difficult when jude started to feed into that attention. spending more nights out with his team than at here with you. he constantly forgot about events you had, when you never forgot any of his. always there when he asked and said. you just wanted jude here. your jude.

“what are you in about? what did i even say?”jude tries to defend him, coping your movements by crossing his arms. “you know exactly what you said. i refuse to be treated like a plate for a second table. if you think i can’t be enough for you tell ME not the whole world?” you say, looking at the floor.

“all i want is for you to start being there for me. i missed one game jude, one game. you missed so many of my events since we moved here because you’re so focused on what’s ahead instead of what’s and who’s around you, living life in the moment. i’m tired, i’m tired of you acting selfish.”

you had said it. you always spoke your truth. if they wanted to listen, you’d speak until you felt the need to stop. you were humble and honest, which jude loved. but right now he felt his head would explode from anger and disappointment in himself. his chest tighten at how your words stung and told him to face reality.

“i’m being selfish? it’s my job y/n! i have to think of what’s my future, how i can better in myself and help my teams! just because i missed your events doesn’t mean you should do the same!,” jude stunned you, looking at him with wide eyes. sadness disappearing and now fury filling your veins.

“you see what i mean! this! this whole new persona and attitude! this wasn’t the jude from a year ago who always cared for those around him. this jude is to stuck, sticking his head in the wrong places. afraid to make any mistakes, because oh god forbid he can’t make them,” you say, voice laced with venom as you’d told up straighter.

“what am i supposed to do y/n? you hardly go out anymore, you’re always here or at work or uni. moaning and always tired, getting to our home late. what about the times i need you here? here with me to spend time with each other? to be there for you along with you?”

jude had finally caught up to the taste of his own medicine. it took him nearly three months to realize what you were doing. he did the same, so why couldn’t you? make him feel what you felt. what he was putting you through.

“excuse my language, but that’s bullshit. i’m always here, you just don’t care enough anymore to see that. i’m done with you testing my patience and limit, jude. if you can see or at least acknowledge where i’m coming from then we should think of our future. since your so good at that these days,” you say shakily, becoming afraid of what his next words would be.

jude saw you. you were standing here begging him, at your most vulnerable and sensitive state. your eyes pleading him to understand. you rarely got like this, and when you did, it absolutely drained you. your muscles felt lose, throat sore, eyes puffy, and head hard at steel. you hated fighting, or even have the smallest arguments, but if they didn’t happen, it wasn’t a healthy relationship.

“maybe i will y/n…” jude said angrily. he felt angrier at himself than the situation. you knew you had your reasons to not go and that was fine. he didn’t expect you to attend always but he needed and wanted you there yesterday. it was hurting him but he knew you were just telling him the truth. the truth that needed to be said the moment he started to change.

“if you feel like that jude, i won’t waste your time any longer. just say the words jude,” you test him, tears falling down your cheeks as you approached him pointing to the floor with your index finger as you spoke. jude tensed, clenching his jaw and swallowed heavily.

you took his silence as an answer, shaking your head as you began to cry and go upstairs. you felt torn and confused at where you two laid. it wasn’t easy. making a choice like that, let alone saying it out loud. your eyes felt red and dry, cheek having stains if your makeup and tears, heart dwelling to make things right even though it shouldn’t be you.

your heart was beating faster, and it didn’t stop the entire evening as you got ready for bed. we’re you really prepared to let him go just like that? just because of miscommunication and wanting to be petty? just because you were asking from his part when you did yours? it wasn’t fair, he was never like that before. he didn’t make you question your every move or word nowadays.

you attempted to fall asleep next to him, but you just couldn’t. your head raced at every interaction and touch with him. tears continued to fall from your eyes as you stared at his back facing you. why did he feel like a stranger all of a sudden? someone you couldn’t read anymore? someone who felt distant and cold? he was your boyfriend!

you couldn't stand it anymore... the distance, the argument, the pain, the confusion. you quickly grabbed your blanket and pillow and headed downstairs to the guest bedroom. you were careful with your movemntst and noise not wanting to wake up jude who desrved his sleep. he overworked himself, and the last thin you wanted was to wake him and him be angry at you again.

once settled in, you tucked yourself into the sheets. you went into a fetal position, tears continuing to fall down your face and landing on the pillow softly. when they rolled down slowly, they tickled your skin. you were super sensitive and when you cried, you cried like your life depended on it. you didn't even feel yourself fall asleep, eyes slowly closing and went complete dark.

jude was still puzzled and disappointed in himself. he sat on the kitchen island left wondering why the hell he isnt fighting for you and make you feel wanted, to fix and do what you were asking for. jude knew you were having trouble adapting here, but he was wrong for thinking you'd get over it. you were right, he was thinking of himself and him only.

he can't even remember the last time doing something for you when you asked. you always agreed with no hesitation, no matter how tired or unsure you were, you were there always. why couldn't he do the same for you? why did he let himself be this naive and selfish and think about him only?

the future he had in his head was getting married, having kids, owning a couple of pets, and traveling to give you the world. jude knew he wanted and needed you here in Madrid, he thought it would be best for both of you, a new chapter, which is why he asked you. you left a whole country, friends and family, your old life for him. and here he was acting ungrateful over a stupid game you didn't attend?

the images of you crying and looking lost at him triggered and were marked in his head. the way you slowly let out a breath of disbelief at his silence before rushing upstairs to lock yourself into the room, jude should've given you the space when you asked but he was eager to know and wanted to listen to how you felt, he should've never pushed or made assumptions about you.

jude couldn't sleep either, overthinking how the situation went. his body was drained from the game and how even he let out a few tears when he was left alone. how he had given the impression he had given up. he blinked rapidly, biting his lip anxiously at how he should approach you or apologize.

"y/n?" jude turned over, panic running up his body as he propped himself up at the sight of an empty bed, sheets ruffled and no pilllow there. he ran into the bathroom, then down the library you use to study, all empty. he walked downstairs figuring you may have gotten a glass of water. but nothing was there. he looked in the final place which was the guest room.

he knocked on the door, met with silence. "y/n? my love are you in there?" he knocked again, a bone inside him telling him you were there just choosing to avoid him. "please y/n..." jude landed his forehead on the wooden door, facing the fact whether to go in or go to sleep. he picked the first option, immediately nervous at the sight of you laying on your side.

you had woken up, your throat felt dry and your eyes even drier than before. you felt the bed sink in, jude lying close to you as you faced the window, eyes following the trace of lights outside caused by the moon. you yawned, closing your eyes and trying to focus on what he would say.

"i know i don't deserve it, but you know i can't sleep when you're not next to me..."

"i'm so stupid y/n... you were right. all along i've thought about myself and stuck my head in place it should've never been. all because i have this fear if i don't do what they say, i will fail. when in the ned i failed you, my sweetest y/n..." jude said softly, mimicking your moves and laying on his side where his chest made contact with your back.

"i should be able to make those mistakes and learn from it, it's a part of being human. one mistake can't define my whole career and life. you and i know i'm better than that. which is why i won't make the mistake of pushing you away when i know i should fight for us." jude kissed your bare shoulder. you could feel your chin tremble and your chest hot as tears threatened to fall again.

"i can't make the mistake of giving up on someone who moved a whole new city for me. make the mistake of walking away from the person who will drop what they're doing just to hold or talk to me. make the biggest mistake of leaving the person i can call home and be safe in. i can't and i refuse to let you go when you belong along with me..." jude cried, his words coming out shakily as he cried as well.

"i'm so sorry y/n. you didn't deserve anything in what i put you through... for how i made you feel? for how i treated you? not anything that was caused by my idiocy. i should've have listened to you, cared for you, maybe even helped you to try and find a solution," jude continued to let out, stopping every now and then to peck your shoulder and neck. showering you with the love and touch you craved.

you hadn't moved, your tears silently killing you from the inside and out as you heard his pleas and cries. your inside burned and you almost felt suffocated at the world for how they threw things at you when you least expected it. "whatever it takes, i will make it up to you. be there for you like you always have been for me. to love and care for like i promised to you that day."

you turned over slowly, meeting jude's brown eyes bloodshot red. you brought your hand to wipe his tears away, kissing the tip of his nose, watching how his eyes fluttered in a relaxed manner. you hugged him, your head finding home in the nape of his neck as you cried. "just hold me, please jude..."

and he did just that, nails raking against your bare back and hand smoothly running up and down your spine as he held you close, afraid to let go. jude knew it was a start and it would take a while for you to fully accept his apology. but he was willing to take anything you wanted or asked for.

"i'm glad you're prepared and know what you want because to me that means security and trust. that i know were on the same page and i won't be afraid of telling you what i want. just please jude, don't ever push me away like you did just to satisfy yourself and others around you..." you demanded, your forehead resting against his.

"i promise princess. you have my word."

your lips were centimeters apart, and with a final push, you closed the distance. jude hummed in delight as you kissed him with pure love and urgency. not pulling away until you giggled and pushed back. "now let's go to sleep, but in our bed, because staying in here is starting to freak me out..." you say laughing. jude picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he walked out into the stairs.

"couldn't agree more. let's go to our bed, where i can finally sleep peacefully knowing we're okay..."

[gtgbabie0]

Candlelit kisses

{When your apartment complex loses power you and Spencer have a sleepover leading you to both share your first kiss}

It’s a long one. Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

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The last thing you were expecting today was a power cut this late into the night, and perhaps that’s why you let out a little yelp with a jump when Spencer knocks at your door causing you to almost drop the small tealight that you were lighting.

“Hey, is your power out too?” You ask, and he nods with a slightly frustrated sigh, his eyebrows knit together as he tries not to drop the papers and books he’s holding against his chest.

You and Spencer have been neighbours for a while now and somewhere along the line, you two got closer. He would come over almost every Friday, sometimes he even stayed over, well more like he would accidentally fall asleep and you never had the heart to wake him up.

“I can’t work like this” he complains walking into your apartment as he drops his work onto your kitchen table. You can practically feel the stress radiating from him as he rolls his shoulders, it was strange seeing him so tensed up.

You walk over to him with a flashlight, “Well hello to you too Spencer, oh yeah no, my day has been good” you sarcastically ramble, and he lets out a dry chuckle looking over at you as you sit down next to him.

“Sorry, I just— it’s a big inconvenience” he sighs once again as he rakes his fingers through his hair. Your hand rests on his shoulder as you give him a gentle look, soothing his arm.

You flick the flashlight on illuminating the table, “Yeah you’re telling me— but hey, I could be your very own personal lamp” you say trying to lighten up the mood, but your attempts are fruitless, and you frown when he shakes his head with a heavy sigh.

In all honesty, Spencer doesn’t want to do any work tonight. He wants to play silly board games with you, only to catch you cheating horribly and watch as you try and defend yourself through a fit of giggles. He wants, more than anything, to just hold you and go to sleep.

“Sorry, I just barged in here complaining- I’ll- I'll leave” he panics slightly. Your relationship is still new, everything felt so thrilling and Spencer is terrified of messing up somehow because he's so insanely in love with you. He doesn’t want to lose this feeling or you, ever.

“Spencer what?— don’t be silly, I don’t mind you staying here you know that” You try to stop him from gathering up his stuff but he’s stubborn as he makes his way towards your door, completely ignoring you.

He stops when you tug on his elbow, “Don’t leave, please” you mumble deciding to swallow your pride, “It’s really dark in here and I don’t want to be alone” you whisper, feeling a little childish but it was true nonetheless.

Your apartment was completely engulfed in darkness, the only thing lighting it was the small tealights that you scattered around, and the cool light of the moon, that splayed across the room. But yet even that made it seem scarier, something out of a horror movie.

Spencer thinks he might melt by how sweet you sound, you wanted him to stay and the thought of you needing him makes him feel all floaty inside.

“Okay, yeah I’ll stay,” he says, smiling softly as he watches your face light up with excitement. He wasn’t too much of a fan of the dark either, the mystery of what might linger within the shadows always seemed much too daunting. Something he couldn’t shake even as he got older.

You clasp your hands together with a smile, “Oh!- I have something actually” his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion as he watches you disappear into your bedroom, but not before your turn around, “I’ll be one second” you inform him, he responds with a quiet, ‘okay?’ Still confused by what’s going on in that wonderful mind of yours.

He sets his work back down on your kitchen table, deciding that it’ll just have to wait until tomorrow. You soon return with a globe-shaped night light in hand, “Spencer Reid, be prepared to be amazed” you smile, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited watching you click the batteries into the light.

You set it down on the coffee table before pressing the small button, a hopeful gleam in your eyes, silently praying that it will still work. And it does, the light shines in different colours projecting stars and moons onto the walls and ceiling. Spencer looks around the room, turning around as he does, admiring the way the room is suddenly lit up with warm colours.

“There was a study that found red to be the best colour to fall asleep to as it increases the production of melatonin,” he says, eyes still focused on the stars and moons that litter across the room in an orangey hue. He looks over to you and he goes to ramble off about night lights and their pros and cons but he finds himself completely taken back.

Spencer can practically feel the words leave his mind, and all his thoughts are replaced with you, how pretty you look underneath the warm light. He notices how your soft skin glows and the way your eyes seem to glisten, he doesn’t think there’s anyone in the world who compares to your beauty, in fact, he knows there isn’t. You’re so radiant, and he hopes that the smile your wearing is because of him.

You go bashful once you realise what’s happening, he’s looking at you as if you were a piece of art, sculpted by the gods. And he has those love-filled eyes, the same look he had when he finally asked you out on a date.

“You- you’re beautiful,” he tells you as if it was an undeniable fact, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it. Your smile breaks wider with his gentle words.

You can’t help but giggle, you felt so giddy inside. A feeling you haven’t felt in such a long time and it warms you. “Thank you Spence” you smile.

He feels almost prideful at your reaction, a feeling that settles in his chest blooming through to his heart and it takes his breath away, although you always have that effect on him no matter what you do.

There’s a beat of silence. “So, what about a game of Uno?” You suggest sitting down on the carpet as you reach for the box, patting the floor as an invitation for him to sit, “Loser pays for dinner” You wiggle your eyebrows and he chuckles joining you on the floor.

There is no winning when it comes to Spencer and board games, especially when it’s Uno. In all honesty, you regret going through the rules so intently with him. It’s impossible to win for a multitude of reasons. One because he’s so incredibly smart, and two because he’s a profiler, he can tell when you’re bluffing from a mile away.

So you’ve resorted to hiding cards underneath your thigh, and it worked for a solid minute, then he gives you a look as if to say ‘I know what you’re doing’ and the chuckle that unceremoniously leaves you doesn’t exactly help defend you.

“You’re totally cheating!” He claims, noticing how you’re three cards less than before. You gasp, a hand against your chest as you look at him with shock.

“Cheating? I wouldn’t” you exaggerate your offence, leaning forward to try and take a peak at his remaining cards, but he’s fast to hold them against his chest.

You take the cards from his hands, dodging his hands as he tries to grab them from you. “I would’ve won anyway, and you know it, that’s why hid those cards under your thigh- you know you probably would’ve won if you played your cards correctly, but you’re-” he blabs on, not even noticing how close you are to him. It’s not until your lips are against his that he completely falls silent, taken back by the sudden closeness.

You shock yourself a little too, it was almost as if you had no control it just happened. You push away from him, consumed by a sudden surge of panic.

“I’m so sorry Spencer- I” he grabs your hands before you lose yourself to your own worry, and beneath the dim lights you can see the slightest red dust against his cheeks.

“No!- it’s okay, I- I erm, I liked it actually” he tells you with an almost hopeful smile that you’ll do it again.

You smile back at him and this time you decide to simply ask, “Can I kiss you again? Properly this time” You study his face for any signs of discomfort, and there is none. He nods whispering a bashful, ‘Of course, you can'

And without missing a beat his hands rest on either side of your face and he meets you halfway, his supple lips against yours, a movement that seems to come so naturally to the pair of you. It’s sweet and gentle, and there’s the slightest taste of peppermint and something else, him.

Spencer thinks his heart might just jump out of his chest it’s beating so hard and he swears you hear it too or worse his thoughts. He can’t believe that this is happening, with you.

You tilt your head to urge him closer, your tongue against his and he loses himself. His hold changes as if he’s scared to let you go, that you might not be real, that all of this is just pretend. He kisses you with urgency as if you might just disappear.

You pull back to rest your forehead against his, “Spencer, I’m not going anywhere- you can slow down” you tell him, your tone so gentle as you take his hands guiding them away from your face to rest on your lap.

He nods against you, “I'm sorry- it just, feels too good to be true I guess” he admits, noticing the way you squeeze his hand, your thumb grazing against the curves of his knuckles.

“You don’t have to apologise- just know I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying right here with you” you whisper, brushing his hair behind his ear as you press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then another to his cheek then to the corner of his mouth and so on.

You pepper kisses against his face until he’s laughing, trying to push you away and the sound makes your heart clench with love, it’s something you’ll never grow tired of hearing.

“You're still paying for dinner by the way,” he says lips grazing against yours. And just when you’re about to kiss him, in an attempt to persuade him otherwise, the lights turn on and it’s then you can really see him, in much better lighting. Rosy cheeks and glossy love-sick eyes, and you think you fall for him ten times harder.

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[redwineandtarot]

Who is your future spouse?

hi! today's pac is about your fs. these are general messages about them. take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. i would love to hear your feedbacks <3

decks used: ethereal visions illuminated tarot deck, the spirit animal oracle deck, moonology oracle cards, the soul's journey lesson cards

note: i am not talking about gender when i say feminine or masculine energies. masculine and feminine energies are just energies. anyone can have feminine or masculine energies regardless of their gender.

🥀paid readings🥀

Disclaimer:My readings do NOT replace any professional advice. Use your own judgment while making decisions. You have your own free will. Take everything I say light-heartedly. All of my readings are for ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.

pick a pile

pile 1-2-3

i do not own these pictures

pile 1

I see that your fs is someone ambitious and ready to fight for what they believe in. They have high hopes for themselves. They can sometimes be a bit too argumentative but mostly I am seeing this as defending what they hold near their fire (i was gonna say heart but i felt like saying fire). They can even fight their closest ones to defend their beliefs. They’ve got a lot of passion. They can see the beauty in things. They mostly have a masculine energy.

I see that while they are mostly in their masculine energy, they still can bring out their feminine energy and be very nurturing. They also have their gentle side inside them. Especially towards the people and things they love. They may have big eyes or very prominent eyes in some way. They may have experienced a big event while they were 18 that still affects them in some way.

They have a lot of gratitude for the things they have achieved so far. They have this balanced energy: while they have this fiery spirit, they can remain calm in situations that they need to stay calm. Again they see the beauty in things and are grateful for having the life they have. They are more on the optimistic side. 

from their higher self to you

Pile 1, are you more of a pessimistic person? Your fs is saying you need to release this pessimistic way of looking at life. Lol they are now saying it's okay if you don't, when they meet you they will help look on the bright side of things. But if you start now it’s mostly for your benefit, they say.

random things: clean and chic, suits

10th house, cancer, mercury

songs: charmer - stray kids (they are a charmer for sure lol), good thing - zedd, kehlani

pile 2

Pile 2, while i was shuffling the cards were going crazy! They may be in a chaotic situation right now. Like having a tower moment in some sort of.

They are on their head a lot. They worry a lot. Maybe it’s just their energy right now and not in general but I am seeing them, like, scattered(?). Like I said, even getting cards for them was hard and it was just chaotic. They have a stubborn energy. They are a go-getter. They are slow at making decisions but once they do it's hard for people to make them turn back. Even when it's better for them to turn back. They are a logical person for sure. And this can be for their detriment sometimes. They may suffer from some kind of mental illness, especially anxiety.

They are curious and independent.  Like they are so careful(?)  about their independence. This might make them seem like they are “not-available” to people. They probably had to learn to be this way in their childhood. They have a cold demeanor but inside they want to open their heart for that special someone. Please be loving to them pile 2, they are a softie inside. You might help them learn to appreciate their long lost softer side.

They might feel lonely even though they have lots of people that love them. I also see that they have an international friend group. Idk if they are always like this but especially right now they feel lonely. They are going through some tough things so probably that's why their energy is also showing up like this. Like they have lost themselves? They try to stand up again pile 2 and sure they will.

They've got a lot to say but feel like they can't share it with anyone. Like they didn't want me to go and tried to keep me with them.

from their higher self to you

It was again hard to get a card. I guess they didn't want you to see them at their worst. 

Their message for you is… Pile 2 they are so sweet, they are encouraging you to go after your dreams. They are like “I am in this way but l don't want this to affect pile 2, they are meant to shine”. They see you as their moon and want you to be confident in your dreams, they believe in you <3

dark aesthetic, dark hair, ginger hair

8th house, scorpio, venus

songs: into it - chase atlantic, i’ll dream of you again - harry connick, jr.

pile 3

Similar to pile 2’s fs, they are going through something right now. But their energy is a lot lighter? Like they have spilled some cups but they have gotten over it. They are already restarting and thinking about what comes next. I think in general they are like this: they overcome hardships fastly. Like they grieve over it, they let them feel their emotions and then they start to look at what's ahead again. It’s random but they may have a powerful(?) family in some sort of way. The scale would be different for everyone but it might be money, respect etc. I also see that they have balanced feminine-masculine energies.

They are attractive physically. Like a lot. When they enter a room, all eyes are on them. They might also have leo placements. But they know their worth. That’s probably why they overcome hardships so fast. And that’s also the reason why they are so determined. Their heart is open, they are emotionally intelligent. And they might have strong intuition in some sort of way.

People envy them a lot. They seem like they have everything together? Like their family is powerful, they know their worth etc. People might gossip about them a lot. So be careful pile 3, there may be false rumors about them. People might think they may have had it easy but it is not true. They also have had their hardships. They appreciate different cultures and different points of views.

from their higher self to you

“You are good enough like the way you are. While change is good, love, you must appreciate the way you are right now.” “I find you physically and emotionally so attractive. You are beautiful my love.” “Don’t hide yourself from me.” They admire your energy a lot, pile 3! They insist on saying that they appreciate you the way you are.

6th house, sagittarius, venus

songs: stand still - sabrina claudio, i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

[sapphire-writes]

The Things We Do For Love

pairing: Aegon x Velaryon(Strong)! Reader request: hiiii I wanna drop this idea about a secretly in love Aegon Aegon is engaged to Rhaenyra's daughter, she is sweet and has always been in love with him, although Aegon doesn't seem to see her in the same way,he is always considerate of her since they're childrens. Until one day when an old suitor of reader asks to fight for her hand and Aegon doesn't answer anything, he just makes a joke and leaves,reader doesn't show it but she feels sad about it and thinks that Aegon will never be able to love her in the same way and When she is on her way to ask Rhaenyra to dissolve the engagement Alicent stops her and takes her to the secret place where Aegon was training with Aemond, she tells her that Aegon asked her brother to help him train so he can defend her hand since he is in love with her, only he doesn't fight that well and he didn't want to lose the fight because of her hand and she eventually talks to Aegon and he jokes about it and reader tells him that he doesn't need to fight for something he already has, confessing that she's in love with him, even when he's a bad fighter. note: love this request it felt very soft i love soft Aegon 💚 warnings: language word count: 2.2k masterlist

You could remember the exact moment you had fallen in love with Aegon Targaryen. Down to the very position of the sun in the sky, the feeling of the summer breeze on your skin.  

When you were little, the majority of your childhood was spent in King’s Landing. Eager to ease the tensions between both sides of his family, King Viserys quickly announced your betrothal to Aegon when you were both still babes in the cradle. 

It was not an arrangement of love, merely one of duty. Aegon and you grew up beside each other knowing you would be wed someday. It was a fact you felt fairly comfortable with until feelings of love began to blossom. 

“She is not frightening, (Y/N), I promise,” Helaena told you, holding a rather large spider from her fingers. It dangled from her delicate fingers, long limbs stretching towards you. You could count every single one of its black beady eyes, looking up at you. 

You adored your aunt Helaena, but her strange fascination with long-legged insects was not a passion you shared. Aegon spotted you both from across the garden, noticing your pale face and coming to your aid. 

“(Y/N) doesn’t like spiders, Hel,” Aegon said, putting his hands on your shoulder, “she’s just too polite to say so.”

Helaena hummed to herself, smiling softly before turning away from you both. She crept deeper into the garden to release her friend. 

“Are you alright?” Aegon asked, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Your cheeks turned pink at his chivalry. Aegon was not often outwardly kind. You forced a nod, which caused him to grin. 

“Good,” he said, patting your head, “can’t have you dying on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you told him, nearly breathless. 

That was the end of it. You were suddenly thrown into adoration for the silver-haired prince. 

“Fetch me another cup, Y/N,” Aegon called, at the funeral of Laena Velaryon. You nodded, eager to please your betrothed. Aemond scowled at this, distraught at the way Aegon treated you.  

“She is not a servant,” he told his elder, “she is a princess, your future queen.”

“She’s a sweet girl, she does what I ask,” Aegon tells his brother, watching you depart, “and she will not be my queen for many years.” 

Aemond rolled his eyes. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Lady (Y/N),” Willas Follard said when you returned to the Red Keep following the funeral. 

His cheeks turned red whenever he spoke to you. Willas was a kind boy and a ward of the crown. 

“Mayhaps someday we shall be wed,” he had told you once as you strolled through the training wed. 

You had looked at him with a confused expression on your pretty face, though his eyes were hopeful.

“I am betrothed, my lord,” you told him, causing him to frown. 

“We shall see, my lady,” he promised before taking his leave. 

Years later you were still eager to please your betrothed, at his beck and call. You had hoped love would grow in his heart as the years passed, but it seemed that Aegon was destined to see you as only a child. Only someone he was pleased with, nothing more. 

When he became a man, Lord Willas decided it was time to ask Aegon for your hand. He saw how your uncle was with you, treating you not as a lover nor a wife. He believed Aegon would hear him out. 

“Were you dropped on your head as a child?” Aegon questioned, face scrunched up in confusion. 

“N-no my prince-”

“(Y/N) is a princess,” Aegon said, enunciating the words, “what on earth would she want with you?” 

Your ears perk up at the sound of your name. You had been lounging on the steps leading to the sunken courtyard, nose buried in a book. You hadn’t noticed when Willas had passed you, making a beeline toward Aegon. The two men are lost in their conversation, not paying you any mind. 

You close your book and stand as the conversation appears to take a turn for the worst. Lord Willas has turned rather red in the face as Aegon laughs in front of him. 

“Then I wish to challenge you!” Lord Willas says, voice shaking. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Aegon tilts his head to the side, an incredulous grin breaking out across his face.

“Prepared to meet the Stranger so soon, are you?” Aegon teases, a laugh rolling through him. 

Willas’ face flushes a darker shade of red as Aegon tilts his head back, continuing his laughter. Your stomach churns. Surely Aegon cannot be serious. Surely he would not risk losing you?

“I wish to challenge you, to a duel for Lady (Y/N)’s hand,” Willas says, this time with more confidence. 

Aegon’s laughter dies down, he suppresses the giggles that still flow.

“I’m shit with a sword,” Aegon confesses, the smile never leaving his lips. He is like a madman in that way, always smiling. 

Lord Willas does not answer him, his glare speaks for itself. 

“Very well,” Aegon says, opening his arms, “it shall be a quick duel then.”

He turns and continues his leave. 

“When, then?” Lord Willas calls. 

“Give me a week, lord,” Aegon says with a groan, not turning around. 

Your cheeks are flushed, with embarrassment and hurt. The entire thing was a joke to him then. Your worst fears are coming true. Aegon will never love you the way you did him. He was willing to lose you so easily, you could already feel yourself slipping away from him. Tried and hurt, you retreated to your chambers for the rest of the evening. 

Your mother Rhaenyra could sense something was wrong when you had your food delivered to your chambers for the second day in a row. She brought it upon herself to visit you when you could not be coaxed from your chambers by any of your brothers, or your stepfather. 

Rhaenrya rapped her knuckles against the wood of your door, hearing a soft ‘enter.’

You lay curled up in your feather bed, where you had remained the past couple of days. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyra called, “my sweet love, let us fetch you a bath and get you dressed.”

You cried the entire time your mother helped bathe you. It was as though you were a small child again, as she poured the warm water on you, and stroked your smooth hair with sweet-smelling oils. Your mother’s comfort released all the emotions you had desperately tried to hide.

“He does not want me,” you sobbed, “he has never wanted me and I have been so blind, so naive all these years not to see it.”

“Shh, my sweet girl,” Rhaenyra said, helping dry your hair, “come, let us get you dressed.”

As your mother helps you dress, another knock comes on the door and Queen Alicent makes an appearance. 

“Princess Rhaenrya,” she says, nodding to your mother, “Princess (Y/N).”

You only hope Queen Alicent does not notice the red that rims your eyes. 

“I wondered if you might accompany me on a walk, the gardens are quite lovely this time of day,” Queen Alicent asks, much to your surprise. 

You had hoped to continue the conversation of dissolving your engagement with your mother. Lips trembling, you nod. You need some fresh air, being cooped up inside for days is not good for your head, no matter how sad you are. 

As you walk through the halls of the Red Keep you make up your mind. 

“I wish to dissolve the engagement,” you tell Queen Alicent. She squeezes your arm, a concerned look on her face. 

“Do not be rash with this decision, my love,” she tells you, smoothing some hair from your face. 

“I have thought long and hard about it,” you insist, “Aegon shall never love me the way I love him. It would not be fair to either of us.”

Alicent purses her lips, leading you further towards the gardens, down a narrow path. The hedges were tall around you, roses sprouting from them hiding you from the rest of the palace. 

“OW!” you heard Aegon’s voice from over the hedges. You frown, looking towards Alicent who has a small smile on her lips. 

“Did you hear that?” you ask, with a confused expression on your face. 

“I told you to keep your guard up,” Aemond’s voice called from the same direction Aegon’s was heard. 

You peered around the corner watching what was going on. Aegon was shaking his wrist, his sword on the ground, and a pained expression on his face. Aemond was shaking his head, adjusting the grip on his sword. 

“This is barbaric,” Aegon said, grabbing his sword.

“This would be quite easier if you paid any mind to our lessons as children,” Aemond scolded, motioning for Aegon to hold up his sword.

“I did not imagine finding myself in this situation,” Aegon grumbled, as Aemond launched towards him. 

“Your right side Aegon,” Aemond said roughly, before slapping his sword over Aegon’s rib, knocking the wind from him. The sword clanged to the stones once more.

“The Mother, have mercy,” Aegon gasped, doubling over. Aemond smirked, clearly enjoying this, wiping some sweat from his brow. 

“What are they doing?” you whisper to Alicent as the brothers continue to fight. Alicent smiles softly, bringing a hand to stroke your hair. 

“Aegon has been training for the duel that Lord Willas demanded,” she tells you, causing your heart to swell. 

“What?” you whisper.

“He has been practicing all week,” Alicent tells you, gazing fondly at her son. You give her a confused look.

“Why?” you ask.

“Men do strange things for the women they love,” she tells you, causing you to scoff.

“Aegon does not love me,” you assure her, eyes flickering back toward him. Alicent smiles and follows your gaze. 

“Oh?” she questions and you give her a quick nod. 

“Come on, quickly now!” Aemond says as Aegon rushes to pick up his fallen sword once more, “do you believe your opponent shall wait for you to pick up your sword?”

“I expect him to be less of a twat than you-OW!”

You stifle a giggle, and Alicent grabs your arm. 

“Quickly, lest we be found,” she says, urging you towards the castle. 

You wait for Aegon in the training yard, hoping to spot him when he goes to return his sword. He is bruised and bloody when he finally appears, silver hair wet with perspiration. Though you hate to see him groaning with pain, it sends a thrill through you to see him so roughed up. 

“Aegon,” you softly call and he drops his sword once more. He truly is careless with the blade. 

“Princess,” he says, scrambling to grab his sword. 

“Whatever has happened to you, my prince?” you ask, feigning confusion. 

Aegon smiles, then winces as it tugs on his split lip. He has a nasty bruise appearing on the top of his cheekbone as well. 

“I fell,” he tells you, releasing a breathy laugh. Your eyes fall to the sword in his hands, and he follows your gaze. 

“With my sword,” he continues, “I fell with my sword.”

“You fell with your sword,” you repeat as he returns the blade to its place with the other training swords. 

“Mhmm,” he says facing you once more, lips tightly pursed together. 

You nod, slowly walking closer to Aegon. He sticks his tongue against his cheek as you approach, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. 

“I saw you,” you tell him, causing his violet eyes to widen. You smile at his surprise. 

“Why do you train with Aemond?” you ask, “why the sudden interest in the sword?”

Aegon opens his mouth, then closes it again. He brings a hand up to his chin, as though trying to think of a witty response. 

“Aegon,” you say before he can think of something clever.

He sighs. 

“Lord Willas was serious about your hand,” he tells you, a blush beginning to form on his cheeks. 

Your face softens as he continues. 

“I am no knight, but,” he bites his lip, trying to find the right words, “I do not wish to lose you, (Y/N).”

You step closer, placing a hand on his chest. Aegon meets your eyes.

“You cannot lose what you have always had,” you tell him, heart beating erratically. You laugh softly, shaking your head. 

“Aegon, I have always been yours.”

Aegon brings a hand to your cheek, caressing the smooth skin, before bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, sending butterflies from your stomach all the way down to your toes. You sigh as he pulls away. 

“I am pleased to hear that,” Aegon murmurs, mouth so close the words brush against your lips, “for I have loved you far longer than I care to admit.”

You giggle against his mouth, the sound swallowed by another kiss, his free hand snaking around your waist. 

“And I you,” you tell him, breaking away for a breath. His lips move to your neck, as he chuckles.

note: hope you enjoyed it 💚

[fluffymaxsworld]

hii i just came across your blog and i love your theme!! it’s so cute :))))

can i request könig defending the reader from teasing? maybe she’s a new recruit for kortac and she’s very soft spoken and some other recruits are making fun of her b/c she’s so quiet!! könig overhears this and comes to readers defense!!

thank u bunches!!!

-🐻‍❄️

STOP THIS IS LITERALLY SO SO CUTE 😭😭

könig x gn!reader

(i changed it a bit so you’re soft spoken and a lil shy)

you’re someone new, like never ever been in the military and your first mission is no other than a undercover one!! you’re so so scared bc you know how hard for you is social interactions, especially talking with strangers, ESPECIALLY on an undercover mission that’s supposed to be your first. and its so uncomfortable bc everyone is so used to this type of missions but you :( so you decide to talk to a superior and share your problem. he’s so kind and doesn’t mind that you’re shy and he tells you it’s okay for you to stay at the base.

four are the people that aren’t picked for the mission, you, two men you barely talked to and this big, scary masked guy (lol guess who is!!).

you kinda feel that feeling of shame for not being in the mission, after all everyone knew that that was supposed to be your first one so you just sit there, staring at your lap and sometimes biting on your nails. that big scary guy (who you finally remembered was könig) just sat in front of you with legs spread and body relaxed.

after awhile the two other men approached you. at first they barely acknowledged your presence but then it seemed like they realized who you were and why you were there.

“you skipped the first mission?” one of them asked.

“and the undercover one, over all! it’s basically free buffet and a couple of trackers!” the other continued.

“i don’t like socializing that much…” you muttered, still glaring holes in your lap. your voice was soft and sweet, definitely not the voice of a military woman. they stared at you for a second and then one of them started laughing.

“that’s the fuckin’ weirdest excuse i’ve ever heard!” he said, looking at his friend.

“woman, you can just say you’re lazy, no need to make up a lie like that”

“it’s not a lie…” you replied, voice shaking. you could feel sweat forming on your forehead and lips trembling. you wanted to bury a hole and hide in it.

“it’s not a lie” someone repeated (woooh🫣). you stared up and saw the big, scary man behind the other two. he looked at them and they cheaply excused them self, saying something like “relax man, we were joking” or “you’re no fun…”.

as soon as the two men stepped out the room he turned around to face you.

“are you okay?” he asked, the eyes softening slightly.

“now i am, thank you” you said, catching up the breaths you lost in that hell of a minute.

“you’re the new recruit, aren’t ya?” he asked. you could tell he was from central europe, germany or austria, he had a very clear accent.

“yeah.” you presented yourself, smiling awkwardly at the situation.

“the captain told me ‘bout ya. can’t handle galas or parties?” he said genuinely. it felt like you could trust him, even if you barely knew his name.

“yes. i don’t like talking to strangers…” you answered.

“my cousin has the same problem, ya know? he doesn’t want to host a party, not even for his 18s” he chuckled.

you could help but smiling, his laugh was contagious.

“you must care a lot about him” i said, now enjoying really much his presence.

“yeah. he gets me. you don’t seem scared of me, though. does it mean i made a good first impression?” he asked with a grin on his face that was so oblivious even with the mask on.

you smiled and nodded.

“we’ll get along really well…”

a/n: my god this was so fun to write!! i have a latin exam tomorrow but i wanted to post it earlier, i hope it was okayy :33

i might do a pt.2 tho i wanna make em kiss😈

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi, hello

Would I be able to request an Upper Moon demon Obanai x Reader, where Reader is a hashira? (Obanai lives rent free in my head)

If not, that's fine too

Have a great day/night and make sure to take care of yourself!!

Hmmm! I’ve actually wanted to write Upper Moon Obanai for a long time but had no actual idea for it so thanks for the idea, my dear! Have a wonderful day, hope a fellow Obanai simp likes it!

Forgot to mention! Not my art, not my art! Please give credit to original artist. If anybody knows their name, please give it over so I can shout them out. Please, please. Thank you!

Upper Moon! Obanai- Serpents and Arachnids

You’ve always felt like there was one than one pair of eyes watching you. That there is always something slithering around you. At the night, everytime you’re on a mission whilst the stalking eyes are never around during the morning. Every night, you always wield your Nichirin katana and prepare for any chance a demon will jump you. You suspect that odd feeling of something watching you is directly from a demon’s hand

It wasn’t just any demon. The Upper Moon 3 himself, Mamushi. He had spotted you during one mission of your own upon being tasked to take care of the nearest Hashira, you’re that Hashira. His enemy and the one his Master tasked him with disposing off but yet… he couldn’t stop looking at you and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything harsh to you

You’re so beautiful, you’re so strong and you’re so opposing. He loves that in his little victims but he isn’t going to eat you, he is going to watch you throughout every mission in a almost protective manner by sending his loyal snowy white beastly serpents to follow you around everywhere, seeing through their eyes

The Arachnid Hashira, the Upper Moon 3 loves the Demon Slayer Corps’ Arachnid Hashira so much that he can’t stand letting them being able to leave his sight. He is very smitten and enamoured with you to the point it’s so unhealthy and you possess his mind 24/7. Yes, he doesn’t even know your name but none of that matters to him. He wants you… and he’ll do whatever he must to have you, human or not, Mamushi always gets what he wants. He’s the Upper Moon 3, who would ever have the gut to try refuse him? Unless they want him to rip every opponent in his path piece from piece

After a few silent minutes of treading through the dark misty forest with your katana bared, you heard it… that familiar snake-like hissing by your feet. Immediately preparing for any chance you may need to defend yourself, the hissing dies down as the odd echoey noises seem to disappear into thin air. It makes your spine shiver but you continue on, you need to find that demon you’ve been tasked with handling

A powerful demon attacking and mutilating a nearby village for whatever reason. To the Corps, it’s clearly for hunger but on the demon’s end, on Mamushi’s end, it’s to attract his little Arachnid Royal

The second you spot a big round pool of bright red blood, you rush over to it and then recognise the disgusting smell of a deceased human body and see many drips of red blood in a trail. The stalking snake is always following you, silent and climbing through the trees to let the Upper Moon 3 constantly keep his eyes on you as you follow his trap. His blood trail trick, you’re coming to him unknowingly and it’s perfect

Mamushi, from within the shadows, knocks you out when you finally reach the end of the trail with your katana flared. His signature blood red-eyed double-headed beast of a snake catching you before you can fall onto the floor when the Upper Moon chops at your neck, hitting a sensitive part of the flesh. He won’t let you see him… not yet, he needs to make sure you’re inside his basement and tied up before he reveals himself

He cannot wait to see you up in close…

“Have a good sleep, my precious little Tarantula~”

[dailyreverie]

Pumpkin

@flufftober - Day 20 Pumpkin

Pairing: Marc Spector x reader

Word count: 921

CW: Marc gets a bit suggestive but it's all very fluffy.

Flufftober masterlist

Marc is used to hard days, to days that never seem to end and drag until late at night. However, the past few days he’s had, have tired him to the bones and made him yearn for nothing but to be tangled in you. The air has been getting colder, the trees are turning orange, and all he wants is to forget the world outside and be with you.

The second he reached your door he felt all his muscles finally relaxing as if his body knew he was home at last. A soft knock to the door is all he does and in just seconds you open the door, smiling at his tired form and pulling him into your arms. He closes the door behind him as you take his jacket off - he doesn’t need it there, not when everything smells so sweet and feels so warm, warm enough to sneak his hands under your sweater to feel the skin of your back. Marc feels you shudder, his hands must be cold, but you don’t seem to care, or at least you don’t move. Quite the opposite, you hold onto his neck and finally - he thinks - let him kiss you, and taste you, and feel you, and everything he longed to do since the day he left for his latest mission.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Marc almost purred against your lips, his hands on your back holding you close.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that came from you, it made you pull back, moving back an inch, not even hiding the blush creeping up your neck. “What did you just call me?”

“I think you heard me.” Marc smiled fondly at your surprise, not minding the embarrassment he felt from how the nickname slipped out of his lips without warning. Marc Spector, whose sweet nicknames never go past the usual “baby”, was melting like putty in between your hands calling you pumpkin by some sort of betrayal of his own brain. 

“Oh, I did,” You pulled him back for a soft kiss. “But I think I might want to hear it again.”

Marc laughed and hid his face, looking at the floor to avert your gaze. “It’s not my fault. You taste like pumpkin spice, and your sweater smells like your pumpkin candle.”

“I’m seizing the season,” You defended yourself as if it were needed.

“I never said it was a bad thing, in fact…” Slowly, his lips approached yours enough to let your noses touch, his tongue licking into your lips to take another taste of you. “I love tasting you, you know that.” He managed to say before you both sank into the kiss, letting his hands massage your body as he deepened the kiss, walking you backward letting himself inside your apartment. You both fell onto the couch, catching air as he pulled you on top of him, your legs on each side of his legs.

“I really do hope you like pumpkin,” Your hands pushed his hair back, resting on the back of his head and softly pulling the curls you found there.

Marc groaned at the sensation, looking at you through hooded eyes. "Hmmm, you know I do." A soft chuckle escaped you as he leaned in to kiss your jaw, leaving a trail of tender kisses before returning to your lips.

"No, Marc..." You gently pushed him away to meet his eyes once more. "I mean actual pumpkin. Because I baked a whole pie, and I'm not going to eat that alone."

He playfully pushed you off him, making you fall on the couch, giggles erupting from you as he scoffed at the whole situation. “That explains all the pumpkin smells.” 

“And I thought you were just being sweet.” After a quick kiss on his cheek, you stood up stretching your hand out inviting him to join you. “Come here and taste it. It's been a while since I baked one, and I need an expert opinion."

Marc didn't need any more encouragement. He grabbed your hand and let you pull him up and guide him to the kitchen where you presented him with a slice of the homemade pumpkin pie. As he took a bite, his eyes widened in delight. "This is amazing," he mumbled with a mouthful of pie.

"I'm glad you like it.” You chuckled and leaned in for a kiss, capturing the taste of pumpkin on his lips. “I missed you.” Your voice turned soft as you looked at him, nibbling on the homemade treats you had made just for him.

Forgetting the pie for a moment, Marc wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, his eyes casting a soft gaze on you. “I missed you too, pumpkin.”

You giggled again at this new nickname of his before he captured your lips with his. As Marc held you in his arms, it felt like the world outside had melted away, leaving just the two of you in the warmth of the cozy kitchen. The soft glow of the pumpkin-scented candles on the table added to the romantic atmosphere. 

The pie eventually reached the living room, where you catch up on the past few days and what you did without each other. Time passed, and as the evening turned into night and a movie was playing in the background, Marc found himself falling asleep with his head nestled against your shoulder, feeling completely content and at peace. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, savoring the feeling of his presence, and knowing that, in this moment, there was no place he'd rather be.

🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[elleloquently]

Hi love. I’m having a bad day and I just need some Ellie fluff. Can it be about something like Ellie comforts reader because she’s crying and upset about her parents. (Reader doesn’t have the best parents and they aren’t really around) if you can do this request I’d appreciate it so much <3

-S xox

| a/n : got to work on this the moment that it appeared in my inbox. hope it's okay !!!! <3 and i hope ur day turns around ):

| c/w : vague but implied bad relationship w family, comfort, joel is in this briefly lmao. established relationship.

found family - ellie williams

you hated bothering ellie, and you hated that you thought of it as bothering when it wasn't really that at all. whenever you referred to it as bothering, ellie always called you out on it.

"you realize we're dating, right?" ellie would say, rolling her eyes with a fondness that she only held for you. "if you didn't wanna be around me, then we'd have something to worry about."

you sniffled, looking at your phone in your lap. she was busy tonight, probably playing games with jesse or hanging out with dina or something. you didn't mind, not really, but you were on edge tonight.

you didn't want to be alone, but you didn't want to be a burden.

after a pathetic debate with yourself, you decided to text her anyway.

whatcha doing? you sent, hoping it was casual enough and not at all bothersome.

ellie replied almost instantly, and your heart seized.

Missing you. How are you holding up?

you frowned down at your phone screen. how were you holding up? you brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. if you held your breath, the world around you would be silent. your lock screen faded to black after going untouched, the only light in your room disappearing. you blinked in the darkness. night had fallen, and you didn't bother with turning on the light.

your phone sounded once more, causing you to wince.

Everything okay?

you pushed out a sigh, immediately feeling guilty and wishing you could take back the simple message.

no, everything was not okay, and ellie was probably already beginning to suspect that. you had a rough day, which seemed to be much more common lately. arriving home to an empty house was your breaking point, expected but still disappointing.

the idea of being alone so often used to excite you, the possibilities of growing independent and getting to be yourself without experiencing any scrutiny. the reality lost its charm quickly.

the grass is always greener, which you knew but still tended to wish for the opposite of whatever you had at the time. the house with your family around felt like an overstimulating nightmare, you were always on edge. during those moments, you would do anything for an empty house. when the house was empty, you didn't care if words spoken were biting or sarcastic, you just wanted to hear something.

you drew a shaky breath, picking up your phone from your bed. your thumbs danced over the keyboard, you weren't sure if you should be honest or just play it off. the uncertainty of reactions freaked you out, even though ellie never made you regret being open with her.

all good! you typed quickly, pressing send before you had too much time to think about it. within a minute, your phone was ringing.

"you have got to get better at lying," ellie automatically said, not giving you time for a hello.

"what?" you frowned, falling back onto your pillows. "all i said was two words," you defended.

"two words that smell like bullshit," ellie claimed. you picked at your fingernail, trying to think of a response.

"it's not," you replied stiffly. everything was so quiet, you felt like you had to whisper.

"oh my god! ladies and gentlemen, she just keeps going," ellie exclaimed. you pictured her going all wide eyed and you giggled, feeling your mood instantly begin to shift.

"sorry," you muttered. "i'm just..." lonely. "bored," you said definitively.

"want company?" ellie asked.

"aren't you busy?" you asked, perking up at her question.

"nope. i'm about to leave dina's," ellie explained.

you sat up quickly, straightening your top. your house wasn't far from dina's, and you wouldn't mind ellie making you a quick pit stop.

"i'd love some company," you admitted, standing up from your bed to turn on a light. the sudden brightness caused you to blink rapidly, and you heard ellie laugh, presumably at your sudden enthusiasm.

"that's my girl, i'll be just a minute."

you hung up the phone as fast as you could, wanting to meet ellie at the front door. you lingered in the doorway of your bedroom however, feeling childishly anxious. the rest of the house was dark, empty. it made you feel so uneasy. you simultaneously felt too big, yet too small. you mentally shook off the thoughts, quickly dashing through the house and turning on lights, making it appear brighter. happier.

the sound of a car outside made your pulse quicken, and you bounded to the door, throwing it open before ellie had a chance to knock. you immediately threw your arms around her, and she made a sound of surprise.

"you know we just saw each other yesterday, right?" ellie teased, but the easy smile left her face once she took in her surroundings, or lack thereof. no extra cars filled the driveway, and your sudden fling of affection was only one that would happen if your family wasn't around to witness it.

"'m sorry," you mumbled against ellie's shoulder, and she replied by wrapping her arms tightly around you.

"hey, it's cold out here, let's get you inside," ellie suggested lightly.

you nodded and retreated, standing to the side to allow ellie more room. she awkwardly stepped inside, not really sure what to do with her body.

you closed and locked the door, leaning your back against it as you took in the sight of your girlfriend. she was cute bundled up in her jacket, cheeks and nose pink from the cold. it made your heart warm.

ellie glanced around the room, unsure if she should address the obvious issue or leave it alone. you avoided eye contact, poking at the floor with your socked foot.

"no one home tonight?" ellie asked quietly, eyeing you carefully.

you opened your mouth to speak, but instantly clamped it shut as your eyes began to sting with tears. you nodded instead, plastering a weak smile onto your face.

the state of you made ellie's stomach hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to sweep you away and make sure that you always felt wanted, important.

"that's okay," ellie continued. "want me to stick around? hang out?" she offered sincerely, wringing her hands together.

you nodded, thought about it, and then shook your head instead. you wanted to be with ellie, but not here. it made it seem fake somehow, like playing pretend. living amongst ghosts.

"it's just," you tried feebly to explain, but your voice broke and with it came the tears. ellie was on you in an instant, pulling you into a hug.

"i know. it's okay. i got you," ellie muttered as you cried, finally allowing yourself to break instead of just swallowing it down, adding to the lump in your throat that never really seemed to go away.

"jus' not here," you tried to explain, and ellie knew. she quickly nodded in understanding, feeling confident about the backup plan that she had managed to hatch in a matter of seconds. maybe she couldn't sweep you away for forever, but she could at least for tonight.

ellie pulled away just slightly so she could look at you. you wiped your eyes, eyebrows drawing together at the seperation.

"i have an idea," ellie proposed to you. you tilted your head, curious.

"joel has this movie that he said i need to watch, probably some old man movie," ellie pretended to complain, and she really played it up when she noticed that it made you smile. "why don't you come? we can have a movie night, the three of us."

your eyes lit up in excitement, but you drew away from her in doubt.

"i don't know," you muttered discouragingly. "i don't wanna impose, 'specially if it's your thing," you sniffed.

"pfffffft," ellie shook her head, rolling her eyes. "seriously? joel fucking loves you," ellie ranted. you looked at the floor, hiding the smile that grew on your face. "i think he'd be just fine if you showed up and i didn't," ellie continued, tapping you once on the nose.

you wrinkled your nose in response, finally meeting ellie's eyes. "that's not true," you disagreed.

ellie looked at you thoughtfully. "let's make 'em really happy then, and both show up."

you raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. honestly though, you really wanted to go. ellie knew you were hesitating. "i'm not leaving without you," she threatened.

you pressed your lips together to avoid a smile. "i'm in my pajamas," you complained.

ellie glanced over you, shrugging with a grin. "perfect," she complimented. before you could protest once more, ellie turned and walked deeper into your house, leaving you alone and confused.

"what are you doing?" you called, rooted in confusion. your question was answered when different sections of the house fell dark once more, ellie turning off the lights for you.

she appeared once again in a matter of seconds, your keys and phone present in her hands. "thank you," you uttered shly.

ellie had convinced you and of course you agreed, stomach fluttering with butterflies. you didn't even bother with shoes, and instead shoved your feet into slippers before following ellie outside.

you were sleepy during the car ride, leaning your head against the cold window. you felt a little drained from crying.

just as ellie had assured, joel was happy to see you. within a matter of minutes you were wrapped up in blankets, snacks on display for your potential wanting. joel talked a lot throughout the movie but you didn't mind, you actually found it comforting.

ellie pretended to be annoyed with joel's commentary, but she was genuinely interested in the film, and asked questions that prompted more talking. ellie was, however, quickly shushed by joel every time that she tried to give her own take. joel grumbled about people who talk through movies, to which yourself and ellie shared a look. it was hard to suppress your laughter but you didn't really need to. both ellie and joel were perfectly pleased whenever you laughed at a joke.

you felt happy like this, comfortable, safe, all of the things you desperately wanted to be all of the time.

if ellie had any say in the matter, which, she sorta did, she would absolutely ensure it. that was a promise that she continued to keep, time and time again.

[alchemie-tarot]

How To Walk Your Talk

Hello! It’s been a while. I felt like this slightly ambitious (for me) pick-a-card topic needed a ton of energy and discernment to execute, and so I really took my time with it. I intended it for Aries season but, oh well... Look, another fire season Leo is just around the corner!

Take a breath. Feel free to choose the pile/s that call out to you. Some details may not make the mark and that’s natural, since this is a general reading. Please don’t take it too seriously as well. Nothing is set in stone. My objective has always been to channel messages that may help its readers in any way.

Yes, these are more sunset pictures from my sunset photography cache.

Pile 1

Cards: 5 of Swords, Queen of Cups, Death, 8 of Wands, Page of Cups, 10 of Wands, 7 of Pentacles

Your Talk is about overcoming conflict with other people. You’re proud of being able to defend yourself at all costs, from those who “attack” you and don’t believe in you, in particular. When you do, there’s a winner takes all kind of feeling. Proving yourself against any kind of criticism is a win. You definitely are not one to hold back and, if worse comes to worst, you can cut deep if you feel like you need to.

You think that this is the way to prioritize yourself. The way to show yourself love. It doesn’t seem to matter to you if you end up not having a lot of intimate ties because of this. You believe that the worst betrayal is the betrayal of your own self. 

I think this Talk of yours usually comes out when it has all been said and done. Something about you making sure you have the last word. You may wait to strike when the other party has their guard down. You may also want your Talk to have a potent and instantaneous effect on its listener. You tend to make sure there’s no room for them to say more, to potentially dismiss or disprove you. You’ll cut the conversation if you have to. 

What you may not realize is that this hurts your objective either way. Yes, you’re an advocate of yourself, but this behavior makes them see you as a “child” who doesn’t really seem to know what they’re saying and thinks little of consequences.

Under this bravado of yours, I sense an expectation to be understood. It may be that a part of you hopes that someone with an x-ray vision meets you with empathy, instead of the dismissal or outright opposition you know so well. Sometimes, other people’s emotions simply do not run as deeply and strongly as yours. What matters to you may be something they don’t personally read too much meaning into. 

Pile 1, your Talk seems to be taking a toll on you more than you would like to admit. This kind of vigilance is a lonely burden to carry. Do not get me wrong, though, it has paid off somehow when you learned to protect yourself. You’re impenetrable, but at what cost? You leave out the potential good that can touch you in significant ways.

Spirit urges you to put the sword down for a bit and look around you. You can’t make the most out of your life by always being on the defense. To truly Walk your Talk, you need to uncover the root cause of all this defensiveness. Do you think that being alone is worth turning away the compassion that you can receive? Is that what you really want? Continuing down this path will only push that possibility further away. 

Try to look over everything that you have gone through so far, but with curiosity to understand rather than a restless need to justify. I hear a suggestion, to redefine your boundaries. Take a rest, too, Pile 1, I believe you really need it. It will all pay off either way, but there is room for grace that may benefit you more than you could imagine.

Pile 2

Cards: 7 of Cups, 10 of Wands, 2 of Wands, The Hanged Man, 8 of Wands, The Emperor, Death

You think that daydreams get in the way of real life. Fantasy is a way to escape responsibilities and that it ultimately ends up being a burden since it’s technically not really a “way to live.” You think having too many choices is more inconvenient than it is exciting. Most of them are simply distractions, temptations to veer off course. 

You may be a really pragmatic person for the most part. For some, though, I see that you are not necessarily repulsed by the rose-tinted perspective, but that this kind of ambition is too much work to actualize. It’s something that would force you to choose between what is necessary and what is ideal. Grounded, longer term goals are more important to you, anyway. Not letting yourself get carried away is an act of bravery to face reality.

I sense that you’re surrounded by people who don’t really agree with your way of thinking. Perhaps a lot of the people around you have quite lofty dreams and, maybe at times, have too much faith in their abilities. You may think that they could learn a thing or two about staying in one’s lane. On the other side of that, they may think that you’re self-righteous and quick to judge. They see you as a person of action and laser focus in your own right, but your Talk about achieving such goals suffers because, well…some goals are idealistic and unlikely by nature. That’s what makes them goals! 

As far as it goes, you seem to be really Walking your Talk. To a tee, in fact. A little too firmly, perhaps, to the point where you may be getting complacent. 

Something you should know about this Emperor's energy that you have is that, no matter how strictly the Emperor follows a certain system, he would still strive for something beyond him. Why would he need to stick to the current reality if it could be changed and improved? With his power and position, why not seek what would commonly be thought of as “impossible”? What is good, and for good, is always worth a try.

There can be more than logic to make the most out of the goals we form– a touch of compassion on yourself and your circumstances can truly transform those goals into more than ticks off a to-do list, you know? Instead of resisting changes in plans, welcome them as a potential channel for breakthroughs. Even if they entail a little imagination from your part to materialize. Nothing wrong with letting yourself dream a little, Pile 2.

Pile 3

Cards: The Hermit, King of Cups, 8 of Cups, The Star, Justice, The Sun, The Empress

You keep this Talk mostly to yourself. You’re in quite a period of serious introspection, Pile 3. Gathering strength and gaining inner wisdom. You want to master yourself: your inner workings, your emotions, your psyche, the subconscious– and you believe that this is the way. You’re trying to find balance by going within and spending time with yourself. 

You carry out this Talk in the times you walk away from things you determine no longer serve you. Things you don’t see developing positively or going anywhere. Leaving behind those spilled and empty cups. For now you have been withdrawing a lot on an intentional and well-meant level. To be honest, the Talk here is Not Talking, and so it manifests that way… through silence. Focusing on what you would like to move ahead towards.

You want people to see this as what it is: your way of healing. You want to be seen as someone taking their time at the moment. There’s a factor of distance, the not wanting to be disturbed by outside energy. Minimizing your availability. This is all about you right now. There is also something about  finding yourself that you may have lost connection with at an earlier point. You want to achieve that peace and somehow let that energy seep through and act as its own protective barrier.

And you know what? The people around you believe that you are undergoing what you rightfully need. They see and understand what you’re trying to do. You have their support, and many are even cheering you on from afar. This is such a positive message, Pile 3! They believe it’s a victory in itself to see you in the process of bouncing back. The way you are holding everyone, including yourself, accountable for the things that should be so. They think that events are finally turning in your favor.

Getting The Sun for asking how your Walk looks right now is really one of the best things I have seen for this pick-a-card. It is so lovely to see that this is making you happy. I am happy for you, too! If you’re not quite there yet, trust that you will be. You will find that light you’ve been seeking in the dark depths of yourself that you bravely traversed. I’m telling you, what a shining light it is that you will find. You’re genuinely finding your way back to your inner child. Keep going and they will have more blessings to give you.

If you are feeling up for it, Spirit offers that you can take it up a notch by exploring more ways to nurture your soul. I see letting your imagination expand, creating things with your hands, pampering your body. Whatever has happened, Pile 3, know that it’s not too big for you to overcome. Your Walk is such a profound journey to a revival… You’re very close to experiencing the fruits of your labor. Sending you my warmth, Pile 3!

Pile 4

Cards: Death, Ace of Swords, 8 of Pentacles, 6 of Wands Rx, 5 of Cups, The Hanged Man, The Star

Change starts in your head. Change starts from within. Your Talk is giving me coach or counselor vibes, mostly of the spiritual kind. You may have gone through a major life event at some point in your life, however it applies to you. This may have pushed you then to speak about these major, life-changing events. You think that they are opportunities to grow. Signs to cultivate a new mindset. The best way to ride with it is to be sharp and alert, and to fight with all your might.

You seem to be quite methodical and stubborn about it. I hear you could have catchphrases of some sort, along the lines of “everything happens for a reason,” or that “you can get through anything if you just tried and worked hard enough.” Like I said, you may have experienced such events in your life already and it seems like you’ve seen enough to point out certain patterns. You developed a sense of anticipating how long something may last, where it is likely to lead, what’s next, etcetera. 

You want others to see how humbled you are because of these experiences. You want to gain their support, partly because you feel that it solidifies the validation of your Talk. Here’s the thing, though: the insistence of your experiences have been rubbing some people off the wrong way. You’ve been taking your narrative to an unclear length. It’s not your bravery and openness that they have reservations about, but the fact that it’s starting to sound like a broken record. At the end of your anecdotes, what message does it all lead to? Some are getting the impression that you’re stuck in some way with that period in your life instead of presenting solutions or forward steps to move on from it.

I think you see yourself as a champion for these life-changing experiences, to the point where your way of expressing or living out the empowerment you preach seems like an effect of the hold it still has on you. Deep down, you may feel some level of uncertainty to step out from its familiarity. Where were you supposed to go next? Maybe a part of you is also wondering, is this all I'm ever gonna be talking about and be known for?

I can’t help but notice the comparison of the cards Death and The Star: Death, clad in armor, and The Star, shining in their nakedness. Spirit urges you to take off that armor. You don’t have to justify yourself anymore. It won’t always be a battle. Yes, what happened has happened, and it has affected you deeply. It helped you be stronger as a person, but you have to realize that you’re still wielding it in a way. You can’t truly move on even if you simply turned the weapon around– you’re still holding it. There comes a point where you have to take it out of your hands.

Your Talk will become more potent and natural that way. You will find a calm about yourself and this Walk will draw you the support that you need and deserve.

Pile 5

Cards: Ace of Cups, Justice, The Fool, Judgment, 7 of Wands, Knight of Pentacles, The Devil

All is fair in love and war is the first thing I heard. This is seriously your Talk. You’re a go-getter, especially the emotional, creative, watery kind. Not just a go-getter, but a kind of rule-breaker, too. You focus your sights far, far ahead. I’m seeing that you don’t really read too much or think too deeply into most things. When something catches your attention, you just take it and make a run for it, I’m hearing. What an interesting Talk.

You want people to realize how awakened you feel and how liberating it feels in general to be in that mindset. You want people to see how many paths and options it opens up for them. To you, even though it sounds contrary, it actually narrows down and leads to what you really want– and then absolutely taking it at all costs. You see this as a road to inner wisdom and taking responsibility for one's own life. You think this is a primal kind of behavior and it’s only natural to give in to it as humans.

However, people mostly just see that you’re setting yourself up to be in a constant, if not lifelong, struggle. They think you’re too high up in your worldview and that you could be taken down a notch. Even if they won’t necessarily call you out or actively try to humble you, they believe there will always be something or someone to challenge you, and that it’s not really a worthwhile thing to keep up forever. 

As far as it’s going right now, your Talk is coming to be your Walk, quite naturally. As chaotic as this mindset is perceived, there is a diligent and grounded way that you’re implementing it. You really believe in its value and it shows in your actions. Not much can shake you about it, I see.

In order to achieve your wants and goals in the best way, Spirit urges you to take some time to look at your shadow. Try to take a look if you’re acting out fully aligned with those goals, or are you simply carried away from the addictive feeling it brings? There’s a benefit to taking everything with a sense of moderation, no matter how you choose to live your life. Is there something deep-seated that you ought to acknowledge, that instead of giving you that “freedom” it could actually be a kind of blockage? Do you really believe that these are the rules of the world or did you impose them on yourself? Reevaluate what freedom is to you.

Pile 6

Cards: Queen of Pentacles, 8 of Wands, 3 of Swords, Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, Page of Swords, Knight of Cups

You believe that financial stability and reaching certainty in physical comfort are easy come, easy go. One should always be maximizing their time to be productive. Opportunities shouldn’t be wasted and the only things worth aligning with are those that lead to this state of living. Anybody you encounter is a potential for your network. There is no time for sitting back. You should always be ready. Go past or eradicate anything and everything standing in your way.

While your Talk is one that is supposed to be motivating by nature, the way you deliver it seems imbued with an element of fear. “Do this or leave yourself vulnerable. Hardships eventually catch up, so you better keep on moving.” I think you may be one to say that no matter how secure one is, one shouldn’t be chilling out too much. It can easily be lost in a blink of an eye.

You want to be seen as someone who means well and is only doing everything they do to help. You want to be seen as an embodiment of your Talk: always on the move and, for some reason I heard, looks cool while doing it. Willing to do whatever it takes.

Others see that your Talk is clouding quite a bit of your actual vision of it. They do see that you do not give up easily. Your directness is admirable, if not a little bound to the notion of having to always be on the next thing after finishing the previous. You look so far ahead you’re practically living in the future than the present. You’re also hardly paying full attention to the things you currently have, born from all the hard work you’ve put in.

Well, you seem to be using a lot of your words at the moment, I hear. Talking and talking. To people with like-minded goals, and to yourself? I'm getting that it’s because you feel quite flighty at the moment. Are you okay? When was the last time you took a breath? There’s a bit of anxious, running-on-fumes energy. You seem to be highly inspired, though. Bursting with ideas, in fact. For now, these plans mostly stay as plans.

Like all things, balance helps with feeling stable within yourself. Spirit urges you to get in touch with your emotions at the moment. Access what’s behind that flighty energy. You have the goals, the plans, and the direction. What you lack right now is a sense of being grounded enough not to run yourself ragged. Intuition plays a big role in this– yours wants to tell you something. It also won’t hurt to learn how to handle things, especially yourself, with more grace and compassion. Appreciate your ideas as themselves and not just a means to go somewhere else. It’s okay to not think about the goods right now. Think about what genuinely fills your cup.

Thank you for interacting with this post of mine. Always take care of yourself. 💜✨

[companionjones]

We’ll Always Have Cuba

Pairing: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Reader

Fandom: The Gray Man (Netflix)

Summary: After the events of The Gray Man, Claire and Six run off to Cuba because it doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the USA. There, they meet you. You are staying in the same apartment building as them for the summer. Over that summer, Six falls for you.

Warnings: None that I can think of, I skip over the smut

*******

    “You’re staring again.”

    Claire’s voice snapped Six out of the trance he was in as he gazed out the living room window. “Am not,” he childishly defended.

    “Are too.” Claire plopped down on the couch with her newest record folder in her lap. It was currently playing. Claire’s eyes scanned the words of the folder. “Is Y/n home?”

    Six turned away from the window. He glanced at the young girl as he headed for the front door. “Maybe,” he vaguely informed.

    “You’re a stalker!” she called after him as the door shut.

    He was far from that, he thought as he descended the stairs of the five-story apartment building. To be a stalker, one must follow a person places, and Six hadn’t done that in a couple months.

    Yes, he knew that sounded bad, but he was only checking to make sure you hadn’t been sent by the CIA to hurt him or Claire. His mental alarms were set off when you didn’t bat an eye at his code name, which Claire had presented to you as his real name. You just kept the same sweet (and beautiful) smile on your face and thanked them for welcoming you to the building.

    Six tried not to trust you after that. He followed you to stores and to the beach, looking for any sign that you weren’t the kind, gentle, and loving person that Six came to know you to be. He found nothing to contest what his instincts were saying about you. So, Six stopped following you, and consigned to only keeping a close eye on you while you were at the apartment building. Maybe too close an eye for what you warranted.

    “Oh, you’re a life-saver,” you smiled at Six as he started to help you with your bags. “One thing I won’t miss about this place: the five-floor walk-up.”

    He smirked at you. “It’s not so bad when you’ve got someone to talk to. That’s why I’m here.”

    You tried to hide a smile from Six, and that made his heart skip a beat. Because of that, the bags he was carrying seemed light as air.

    “You know, this was my last grocery trip here,” you pointed out as you and Six walked into the apartment you were staying at.

    Six’s brow furrowed when he felt his heart drop slightly. “You’re leaving at the end of next week, right?”

    “Yep.” You put the milk away, and opened the next bag. “I think the owner of this place told me that I’ve been at this Airbnb the longest out of his customer. A whole summer...And I really want to thank you and Claire for helping me feel more at home.”

    “No problem.” Six glanced at the ground to hide the sincerity behind his words. “Well, if that’s all you need...”

    Your eyes grew wide. “Oh! Yeah, you can go. I’ve got it from here. Thank you again!”

    “No problem,” Six repeated under his breath. He felt he needed to get out of there, or else he would end up saying something he would regret.

    “Hey, Six?”

    He turned around at the sound of your voice just in time to duck his head out of the way of a box. Of course, Six caught it. He read the English words on the box.

    Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum

    Six smiled.

    “I, um...found that at the store for you...I hope you like--”

    “I love it,” he interrupted you to say. “Thank you.”

    That put a smile on your face as well.

    Six popped one of the pieces into his mouth, and exited your apartment.

    “You’ve got it bad...” Claire teased as soon as Six came back into their living quarters.

    He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, “No, I don’t,” before moving to the kitchen to put away the gum.

    “Oh really? Then what’s that?” Claire leaned over the back of the couch as she referenced the present you had gotten Six.

    “None of your business,” Six warned with no real malice.

    Claire rolled her eyes. “Come on, Six. That’s just proof they’ve got it bad for you too. Why don’t you do something about it?”

    Six leaned on the counter and sighed. “You know why I can’t.”

    “Why? Because they’re leaving? That’s more of a reason to take the jump now, before you never see them again. And who knows, maybe they’ll--”

    “Not with the life we lead, Claire,” reminded Six.

    At that, Claire just shook her head. “You can’t let that hold you back forever, especially from stuff like this.”

    “Somewhere between getting kidnapped and running away to Cuba,” she shrugged.

    Six stood at the counter, contemplating for a moment more. Then, he figured he should go now before he talks himself out of it. Six marched toward the door, and yanked it open.

    And there you were.

    Both you and Six were shocked into silence.

    You were the first to speak. “Um, I know I have a couple weeks left, but I was wondering if you and Claire would like to come over for dinner, so I can properly thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

    Before Six said anything in return, Claire was off the couch and heading for her room. She gave a fake yawn. “I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’ll head to bed early tonight. You two kids have fun, though!” Her bedroom door shut behind her.

    “What was that about?” you said over a laugh.

    “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Six smiled, hiding his embarrassed. “You sure you want to make dinner?”

    You answered as if it were obvious. “Of course I’m sure. Plus, I’m going to miss you-guys,” you clarified. “Why not start the goodbye now?”

    Six could feel his heart clench in his chest, but he hid it well. He closed his front door behind him, and followed you to your apartment.

    A couple of hours later, Six couldn’t remember ever being as relaxed as he was right then. There was just something about you that put him at ease.

    “What are you thinking about?” you asked as you sat down next to him on the sofa, two refilled glasses of wine in hand.

    Six couldn’t find it within himself to lie to you. “You,” he answered sincerely.

    You blinking, obviously taken off guard by the response. You tried to hide your nervousness. “What about me?”

    He smiled as he elaborated, “You brought me here to thank me, but I’m pretty sure I should be thanking you.”

    “For what?”

    “For being you.” Six informed, “You showed me...that life can be normal.”

    “Can you tell me what you mean by that?”

    Six hesitated. “My life, my whole life...has always been...less than normal.”

    You smiled, “I know, Six. I’ve always known when it comes to you.”

    That threw him off guard. It even scared him a little. “What do you mean?”

    “Well, I can’t guess the details, but I always figured you and Claire have lead less than easy lives. It’s in how you carry yourselves, and how you treat each other. I mean, come on, your name is Six.”

    He chuckled. His worries were somehow put at ease by you somewhat understanding his past.

    “I’ve lived a life, too,” you admitted, “Let’s just say there’s a reason behind why I ran away to Cuba for a summer.”

    Six’s interest was peaked, but he wasn’t going to ask about it if you didn’t want to know about his past for the moment.

    You took a drawn-out sip of your wine. “I really don’t want to go back. This summer has just been so amazing. Plus, there’s you and Claire.”

    A part of Six wanted to ask what else was keeping you from going back, but he surprised both you and himself by what he said next. “Stay.”

    Your brow furrowed a little as your soft voice questioned, “What?”

    Six put his glass down on the coffee table. “Stay with me, with Claire.” He took your glass from you and put it next to his Six took your hands in his. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go.”

    “Where is this coming from?” came your worried question.

    “It’s coming from what I’ve felt since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m sorry, I just can’t keep this inside anymore--mmhh.”

    You had cut him off with a kiss.

    Six relaxed against you, but he tensed up again when a thought crossed his mind. He broke the kiss. “I’ve killed people.” He bluntly stated. He couldn’t let the night go on without you knowing.

    “I know.”

    He realized you had guessed as much as you caressed his face between your hands.

    “That don’t change anything for me.” You pulled him in to kiss you again, and this time, Six accepted it wholeheartedly.

    Hours later, you and Six were curled up in your bed together, with you in his arms.

    He kissed the top of your head. “You know, my real name is Courtland Gentry. Court.”

    You smiled, “That’s a nice name.”

    He went on. “I actually prefer Six.”

    “Why’s that?”

    He shrugged. “Because, for the longest time, it was tied to my purpose in life, the CIA. The name Six helps me kill bad guys and help good guys. And it doesn’t help that my abusive dad gave me the name Court.”

    “But?” You had guessed correctly that that word was coming.

    He smiled, “But...I don’t know. I’m not a part of the CIA anymore, my dad’s long dead, and I got a new purpose in life now.”

    “Taking care of Claire?”

    “And you, if you’ll let me.”

    You bit your lip and nodded, cuddling closer to him. “I think I like Court. Courtland Gentry.” You tested the name out.

    Court smirked. “I definitely liked the way you said that.” He put a hand on your cheek and guided you back to his lips.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more stories over on my page, you should check it out. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (4)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 4.2K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

Part Three

--------

Dr. Anderson came in the next morning and Bradley did his best not to glare too harshly at the man, remembering the way he had spoken to you. Your dejected face popped in his head and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. 

He asked a lot of the same questions he had the previous day, and Bradley responded with a lot of the same answers. 

His ribs ache, but he was able to get up and walk to the bathroom without needing the nurse who hovered beside him in case he fell. 

His head hurt, but not as bad. The dizziness has improved, and the blurred vision has gone away. 

He doesn’t remember anything new.

You sit quietly in the room as Dr. Anderson takes note of all of it. He goes through the motion of shining that stupid light in his eyes, pressing down on his ribs, and checking on the details of his vital signs throughout the night. 

“You’re healing quite nicely, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. The scans from yesterday show that the swelling in your brain has continued to go down since your accident. We’ll want to continue monitoring the skull fracture you sustained over the next few months, but as of right now it looks okay. Despite the memory loss, I would say you’re well on your way to being healthy,” the doctor explained. 

Despite the memory loss. It was said with such casualness, like there wasn’t four years of his life that were missing. 

Like they had been doing for the last three days, Bradley’s eyes strayed to you. You had a pensive look on your face and you were twisting your rings around your finger again. You looked like you wanted to ask something, but were hesitating. He felt anger at the doctor again for making you feel like you couldn’t do so openly, but he pushed it down. He called your name softly, your eyes instantly meeting his. He sent you a smile he hoped conveyed his encouragement. His breath stuttered when you just seemed to know what he was trying to say as you turned to the doctor. 

“Do you know when he’ll be able to go home?” 

Bradley had been wondering the same thing, but hadn’t gathered the courage to ask. 

Dr. Anderson didn’t answer right away, scrolling through his tablet, before setting it down with a sigh. He glanced at you before turning back to look at him. 

“Lieutenant Commander-” 

“I’m not the one who asked.” The words came out before Bradley even really thought about them, just like they had the day before. His urge to protect and defend you was instinctive; he wondered if it had always been like that, even before he knew you the first time. 

“Apologies,” Dr. Anderson said, a forced smile on his face before he turned to address you directly. “Mrs. Bradshaw,” 

Mrs. Bradshaw. It still knocked him back. 

“Like I said, his scans are good. He’s healing nicely from surgery, and his lungs sound good after the scare they initially gave us.”

It felt like there was a but coming. You must have picked up on it as well, as your eyebrows furrowed and you asked the doctor just that. “But…?” 

“I’m not a psychiatrist,” Dr. Anderson began, “but I don’t want there to be long term ramifications of that on your ability to get back in the air. You’re already looking at being grounded for 3-6 months as the fracture in your skull heals. I’d like you to have a psych eval before you’re released, Lieutenant Commander. Just to ensure going home at this point in time is the best move for you. Too much too fast could be detrimental to your career.” 

“This is about his ability to fly?” you demanded, your voice harder and more incredulous than Bradley had ever heard it as he was still trying to process what the white coat was actually saying to him. It seemed you were quicker on the draw. “Shouldn’t the main concern be his 

health? Wouldn’t re-familiarizing himself with his regular surroundings be helpful in potentially jogging his memory?” 

“Like I said, ma’am, I’m not a psychiatrist. Psychological evaluations in cases like this are completely normal.” He turned back to Bradley then, “If they give the okay that you’re fine from a psychological standpoint to go home, then we’ll get you out of here in the next day or two. If they advise staying in the hospital for a little bit longer for us to monitor you, then that’s what I’ll have to advise as well.”   

The Navy was more concerned about his ability to be eligible to deploy. The realization should surprise him more than it does. 

He cleared his throat and shook his head of those thoughts, focusing instead on the next steps. 

“We’ll get you scheduled for one this afternoon, if you think you’re ready.”

Bradley nodded, agreeing that yes, that was fine, and Dr. Anderson said that someone would be in to speak with him soon. He glanced at you, but didn’t say anything before he left the room. 

Bradley took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leant his head back against the pillows. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, and he turned his head to meet your eyes. 

He didn’t really know what he was feeling, but he knew that looking at you made him feel a little bit better. He shrugged. You toyed with the ring on your finger, and he could almost see the wheels turning in your head. 

“It’s whatever you think is best for you,” you finally said, “they don’t get to make that decision for you, okay?” 

The lump that formed in his throat appeared seemingly out of nowhere. You were protective of him, too. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything in return, but he hoped the smile he gave you said enough. 

It was a few hours later when there’s a knock on the door. An older woman walks in, with stern facial features and her blonde hair pulled back in a tight, low bun. But her eyes were kind and there was a friendly smile on her face. “Afternoon, Lieutenant Commander. Mrs. Bradshaw. My name is Captain Garcia - I’m one of the psychiatrists here.” 

Bradley’s spine straightened automatically, but Captain Garcia held up a hand. “At ease, Lieutenant Commander. No need for a salute from your hospital bed.” 

He relaxed back into the bed, listening as Captain Garcia explained that she was here to do his psych eval, which Bradley had assumed.. She turned to you, “You’ll have to leave the room for this, Mrs. Bradshaw. Protocol.” 

“Of course,” you said, already gathering your phone and your wallet. Like he did the night before, Bradley found himself reaching out to grab your hand before you could walk to the door. When you looked at him, he didn’t quite know what to say. He forced a smile onto his face and let you go. 

“I’ll be back,” you murmured, your voice low and just for him. 

“I can give you a call when we’re done if you’d like,” Captain Garcia spoke, taking note of the exchange. She held up the navy blue file folder in her hand, giving it a gentle shake. “Your contact information is in his file.” 

You gave him a gentle look, and it was almost like you found what you were looking for in his eyes, because you took a step closer to him and leant down to press a kiss to the top of his head. His skin flushed, and his heart raced. You didn’t say another word as you stepped back and left the room, closing the door behind you. 

The evaluation was similar to all the other psych evaluations Bradley had in the more than a decade he’s been in the Navy. He went through questions about the path and trajectory of his career and previous missions he’d been on. He answered her questions honestly, trying to treat it like any other conversation with someone who outranks him. She was kind to him, too, which was refreshing if not a little odd. 

Finally, though, like he knew she would, she bridges the topic that’s been at the forefront of his mind for the last three days now, and what he’s sure is one of the main reasons she’s speaking to him to begin with. 

“Four years is a long time to forget, Lieutenant Commander. It seems there were some big changes in your life during that time.” 

“I think that’s putting it mildly, Captain. Wouldn’t you say?” 

She huffed out a laugh, but nodded. She set her pen down and crossed her legs, her hands clasped over her knee as she looked at him expectantly. “The advancement and movement in your career is one thing. That’s familiar to you, I'm sure. Something you always expected. But tell me about your wife.” 

His wife. 

“She seems….nice.”

Captain Garcia raised an eyebrow at him, saying without words that his answer wouldn’t be enough. 

“I didn’t anticipate her,” he amended, “but I can..I can almost feel her, if that makes sense?” 

“Assume that it doesn’t.”

Bradley sighed. He mulled over his response, trying to figure out how to articulate what it was he was feeling. He had never been good at explaining his emotions, and this mess inside of him was more jumbled than it had ever been, a tangled web of anxiety and confusion and a weird sense of longing and something that felt deeper than that, even. 

“I know her. I have no memory of her here,” he said, tapping his head. “But it’s like I instinctively know who she is and that I..care about her, I guess.” 

“Do you feel attracted to her?” 

Of course he did. She was beautiful. It was his first thought the first time he saw her. She maybe wasn’t the type of girl he would normally go after, back then. She didn’t seem like the type who would fall for his normal lines or charms, and he admittedly wasn’t always the best at the chase when there were plenty of women where that wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t proud of that. But you were enrapturing. Captivating. Unlike any other woman he ever met, every other person he’d ever met, and he still wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. And it wasn’t just outwardly, either. Warmth and caring seemed to radiate from you from the inside out. 

“Yeah,” he said simply. Captain Garcia looked at him, almost knowingly, but this time didn’t push for a longer answer. 

“Going to a home you don’t remember might be a lot for you,” she said instead, “do you think you’re ready for that?” 

It was something he had been asking himself for a few days now, but especially since it was mentioned to him this morning that going home might be an option sooner rather than later. And truthfully, he didn’t know. The last home he remembered was a small DC apartment, if he could even call it that. It was practically a shoebox where he slept and ate; that was about it. But the thought of going somewhere, especially to the home the two of you shared, with you…it terrified him, but it excited him, too. 

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, sorting through his words carefully, “but I know that…I trust her? As confusing as that is. And I guess the thought of being around her is less daunting than being in a hotel room or base housing on my own.” 

“That makes sense to me,” she said, continuing on with saying that exposure to things that are familiar, even if he doesn’t remember them right now, could jog some memories. There’s no guarantee of that, of course, but it might. She cautioned of being mindful of his emotions and not pushing himself when he felt overwhelmed. 

Something clicked in Bradley’s head as she spoke to him. “Does this mean I get to go home, then?”

“If that’s what you want, Lieutenant Commander, I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t.”  

_____________

The next afternoon, he watched the scenery pass by as you drove, taking it all in. He wondered if the two of you ever took walks down these sidewalks, or if you were friendly with your neighbors. Does he mow the lawn in the summertime? Do you have him outside stringing Christmas lights in the winter? It’s fall now - do you hand out candy on Halloween, or keep your porch light off while you go out with friends for the holiday? 

The two story house you pull up to is bigger than he anticipated. It’s at the bottom of a cul de sac, tucked slightly away from the other houses here. The driveway led up to an attached double garage, and he could see a dark brown wooden fence lining the backyard on the sides. You open the garage door and his heart skips a beat when he sees his blue Bronco parked inside. Maybe it was the familiarity of it, or his deep connection that he’s always had to it, but he breathed a sigh of relief when your crossover SUV glided into park beside it. 

You turned the engine off and pulled the keys from the ignition, sending him a small smile that looked nervous. 

“Home sweet home,” you said softly. He returned your smile with just as many nerves. He stepped out of the car at the same time you did and helped you grab the bags from the trunk, ignoring your fruitless attempts to stop him. His ribs were broken, not his arms. 

His pulse picked up when you opened the door to walk into the house itself, but he followed behind you diligently. It led into a laundry room, and he toed his shoes off in the same spot that you did. Turning the corner, he was met with a large kitchen that opened up into the living room. The sectional sofa looked comfortable, and there was a huge rug underneath the coffee table. 

It was a beautiful home, he thought. The decor and furniture gave everything a homey feel. Instinctively, he knew you had taken the lead on everything in here. He had never had a flare for design that was obviously implemented here. 

He decided that he liked it. 

Bradley felt something brush against his ankles and let out a startled laugh when he looked down and saw a cat winding her way between your legs. He knelt down to the ground, pleased when the brown tabby nuzzled her head against him. She purred softly, raising to put her front paws on his bent knee. 

“Hi there,” he cooed,  “you must be the infamous Florry I’ve heard about.” 

He scratched behind her ears and pet her soft, soft fur. He had never considered himself a cat person, only having a dog for a few years while growing up, but he immediately fell in love with the little feline. After a few minutes of petting, Florry seemed to have enough, and slithered away from him like she had completely lost interest in his presence. He couldn’t help but laugh. He stood back up to his full height and looked in your direction. 

You were looking at him with adoration and longing written all across your face. It seemed to take you a moment to realize he was looking at you, and that flush that he was really starting to enjoy spread across your cheeks. He smiled at you to try and ease your embarrassment. 

He was finding he didn’t mind you looking at him, because he was enjoying looking at you, too. 

“She’s cute,” he commented, stuffing his hands in the front pocket of his Navy hoodie for the simple purpose of having something to do with them. 

“Yeah,” you said, “she knows it, too.” 

Silence settled over them, and after a few moments, it started to feel heavy. Stifling, almost. 

“Can I-“

“Are you-“

You both started speaking at the same time, stopping and starting again. You laughed awkwardly, and Bradley motioned for you to go first, his face hot.  

“Are you hungry?” you asked, “I can throw something together?” 

“I could eat.” 

“Anything you’re in the mood for?” you asked, already moving to the other side of the kitchen, “Nat stocked the fridge and pantry for us this morning, so there are plenty of options.” 

“Whatever you want,” he said, not wanting you to go to any trouble specifically for him. “Anything will taste better than hospital food. I’m sure you…know what I like?” 

That wasn’t the best thing to say, he realized. You paused, looking back at him over your shoulder, “Yeah.” 

This may be the most awkward conversation the two of you have had, and Bradley didn’t know how to recover from it, so instead he cleared his throat and gestured to the living room behind him. “Is it okay if I look around?” 

Your face softened and you nodded. “Of course. This is your home too.” 

You turn back to observing the contents in the refrigerator, and he takes that as his cue. He walked further into the living room, trying to determine where to start, when a frame on a shelf one of the built-in bookcases caught his eye. He stopped in front of it and felt that familiar pang in his chest. His parents' wedding photo was sitting there, right next to a photo of the three of them together when he couldn’t have been more than three years old. A picture of him and his mom from his high school graduation was next to it, and his father’s formal photo in his dress whites was at the end. The shelf seemed like something of a dedication to them, and he couldn’t help but notice how it was so prominently on display, when he had almost always kept them tucked away. 

He moved throughout the house, observing every nook, cranny, and picture on the wall. He looked at photos of the two of you, waiting for a memory to hit him. He paused when he got to a room on the second floor, realizing it must have been your office. He sees your journalism and political science degree on the wall, and there was a collection of photos pinned up on a corkboard above your desk. It was the solitary framed photo near your computer monitor, though, that got him out of the doorway and moving forward. He picked it up gently, almost cautiously. 

The two of you stared back at him, though you weren’t looking at the camera. He was in his flight suit and you were in his arms in a short floral dress. Your arms were tight around his neck and your feet weren’t touching the ground from how he was holding you. Even from the side view the camera was capturing, he could see that the two of you were smiling into the kiss you were sharing. 

He could almost feel the collision of your body against his as he lifted you. He thinks he might have spun you around in his excitement to see you. 

His heart is racing in his chest, yet he feels a peace settle over him at the same time. He’s starting to believe this is his natural combination of reactions to you. 

He’s still standing there holding the picture when you appear in the doorway, knocking against it softly to get his attention. You're backlit by the hallway light, and he realizes the sun has gone down outside. He must have lost track of time. 

“Dinner’s ready.” You don’t look like you’re upset to see him in your office, so he assumes this room isn’t one that’s normally off limits for him. 

He turned the wooden frame toward you. “Did I just get back from deployment here?” 

You stand up a little straighter from where you’d been leaning against the door frame. You nodded your head slowly. “Yes. Do you remember that?” 

He looks back down at the picture. He can taste something like coconut, and he wonders if that’s the flavor of chapstick that you use. He can’t really conjure the whole scenario in his mind, though, no matter how hard he tries. 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, setting the picture back down, “Just a feeling, I guess.” 

When he looks at you, you’re playing with your ring again, and your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth. You release it and smile when you meet his eyes. “A feeling is a good start.”

The two of you eat dinner together, seated at the island in the kitchen instead of the table. Even if you claim it’s just a simple pasta, it tastes better than anything he could have ever made for himself, and definitely better than anything the hospital had to offer in the last week. You tell him how you didn’t learn to look until you moved out to California, because your parents had sent you a gift certificate for a cooking class. You snorted into your bottle of water when you explained how your mother said it was step one to being married. 

“Jokes on me, though, because I actually like to cook.”  

He finishes his food and wishes he had room and the energy for a second, but his ribs were hurting him again and his head was starting to ache. He had done a lot of moving around today between physical therapy in the hospital this morning to journeying home. 

You pick up your plate and his, setting them in the sink before sliding him his pain pills you had picked up for him at the hospital pharmacy. 

He hadn’t even needed to tell you he was in pain. 

He sits in the quiet for a little while, watching you clean up after dinner. He had offered to help but hadn’t argued with you when you gave him a pointed look and told him not to move. You move around the space with ease, and it’s over sooner than he expects. 

You’re giving him a nervous look when you finally stop, the island a distance between the two of you as you stand directly across from him. 

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.”

The words take a moment to process through his mind, but he startles once he registers them. He finds he wants to argue with you about it. There’s no need for separate bedrooms. You were his wife and he was your husband and wouldn’t the normal thing be for the two of you to sleep in your shared bed? 

It’s odd, and he wishes he understood why he felt that way. He chews the inside of his cheek, struggling to figure out what to say. His lack of response must have made you nervous.

“I’m so happy you’re home. Please know that. I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else. But I think…I think it would be better for now. For both of us,” you admitted, so quietly that he almost missed it. 

For the first time, he second guessed his decision to come here. But he knows that in all reality, this was the best decision for him. And he knew you knew that and believed it too. 

But it also hits him, then, how hard this must be for you. 

This is the home the two of you have shared for almost the entirety of your marriage, where you’ve created memories together that he currently doesn’t remember. But looking at you closely now, standing here in the place you should be the most comfortable, he can see how maybe the reality of his situation was finally crashing into you. 

He wishes he could comfort you, somehow. But he has a feeling stepping forward and wrapping his arms around you like he so desperately wants to do would only make this worse. 

“You don’t…” he stumbled over his words, stopping to take a deep breath of defeat. “I’ll take the guest room,” he settled on, “You’ve been sleeping in a chair for over a week for me. This is…this is your home. Sleep in your own bed.” 

Hurt flashed in your eyes, and he realized how his words sounded when it’s too late to take them back. 

Your comment from earlier echoed in his head. This is his home too. That’s his bed, too. 

He wants to apologize, but you start speaking again before he can. 

“I’ll get you some of your things” you replied, giving him a quick smile that he knew was forced, already moving toward the stairs. He watches you go, wondering how he had only been back in this house for a few hours and had already messed up with you. 

----------

Part Five :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: AHHHH!!! He's home!!! And it's definitely going to be an adjustment. I hope you liked this one! The next part is one of my absolute favorite things I've ever written. I'm excited to get it finished and posted!

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[charliedawn]

I can't stop thinking about how the hannibals would react. If you refused to go out with them because you thought that they ask to mess/as a joke with you.

As someone how was asked out as a joke. Cuz I was the weird kid and still does not believe people when they do it for real

"You and me are going out on a date tomorrow."

Morgan doesn’t mess around. He’d have the papers ready and ask you without a moment of hesitation because he is sure you like him too. He isn’t one to ask unless he is sure it will go according to his calculations. But, he froze when you answered with a laugh.

"Ah ! Good one, Morgan. But no." You then resumed to reading your book and Morgan frowned. His first reaction would have been to take offense by your refusal or lack of acknowledgment. But, he was too stunned to speak.

"Well…That is rather disappointing." He then sat down next to you and looked at you again before scratching his chin pensively. "I thought you would at least think about it. Or maybe even give me a chance to defend my case."

You glanced back at him, but didn’t know how to answer. You finally sighed.

"What is there to defend ? I have been tricked before. I refuse to be tricked again…"

Morgan stayed silent for a moment before taking your hand and tracing circles on your skin with his thumb.

"I am not one to joke. I have an awful sense of humour. My brothers can testify."

You chuckled and Morgan smiled before intertwining your fingers together.

"…But, I make you laugh. And that miracle does deserve a chance, don’t you think ?"

You had never seen Morgan seem so hopeful before and thought about it for a second before smiling back.

"Fine. One date."

"Would you be interested in allowing me a delightful evening in your sweet company ?"

Hannibal Jr. is a gentleman through and through. He would find a moment for the both of you to be alone (without the children around) to ask you and try to be as gentle as he can, as he would know your earlier struggles with dating. He’d try to reassure you the best he can and convince you that he isn’t a man to come back on his word. (He really isn’t.)

He also made sure the date is worthy of your place in his heart and take meticulous care as to prepare the perfect meal for you. He prepared the room and took a long time to choose his best suit for the occasion. He wanted to beat all those times you hadn’t been properly invited on a date.

And when you came in a sweatshirt and pants and said that you thought he was joking…His smile slightly cracked because of how upset he was. Not at you. Of course. But the simple fact that you hadn’t thought that he was telling you the truth.

He took your hand and kissed the back of it—deliberately staring into your eyes.

"…No need to worry, love. You will believe me. Eventually. Now, come on. I have a bœuf bourguignon that just waits for your exquisite palate to taste…"

He smiled at you before leading you inside and closing the door behind you…You would believe him once you’ve seen everything he’s prepared for you. He would open your eyes. Eventually.

Hannibal Jr. could be patient.

"…Date me. Please." Peter asked you and you were momentarily stunned. You had known Peter for a while now, but you couldn’t have possibly expected him to actually make a move. You didn’t know what to say. You shook your head.

"Why would you wanna date me ?" All of your past requests had been lies or ways to make fun of you…You knew Peter to be better than that. But, you still doubted that he really wanted to date you because he liked you, or because he felt pity for you.

It was Peter’s turn to be stunned. You were gorgeous, funny and beautiful. He couldn’t possibly understand what would make you think like that ?

"Because I love you."

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Peter who didn’t shy away from your gaze. He held it and even leaned forward—his lips mere inches from yours.

"…Please. I love you, Y/N." He repeated and your heart hammered in your chest as you saw him close your eyes and lean forward. He wanted to kiss you. That much was obvious. And you hesitated. You didn’t want to be hurt again…He seemed to understand and sighed before pulling you towards him and resting his forehead against yours "…I love you, Y/N. Please. Give me a chance. I promise not to disappoint you or make you feel bad. Ever."

You almost cried at his pleading voice, but finally nodded as you buried you face in the crook of his neck.

"…Alright. I trust you."

"…Would you like to…go on a date with me ?" Kevin had rehearsed his speech in the mirror at least 30 times before finally finding the courage to ask you. He smiled at his small accomplishment…until he heard your answer.

"…I never thought you’d play such a cruel prank on me, Kevin."

His eyes widened and he frowned in incomprehension before running a hand through his black locks in frustration.

"Wait…You think am fuckin’ joking here ?" He sighed before sitting down next to you. "I know am an idiot, but come on ! Gimme some damn credit."

You looked away and sighed.

"Come on. We both know you’re outta my league. And guys like you never go for women/guys like me."

Kevin shook his head again in incomprehension. What did you mean by that ? Guys like him ? Did you…Did you think he wasn’t good enough ? He suddenly froze at the realisation. You were right. You were too good for him. Who was he kidding ?

Kevin sighed before standing up and nodding.

"Fine. You’re right. Guys like me have nothing to do with women/guys like you…I’m sorry I even tried."

He then proceeded to leave, but before he could get out…You embraced him from behind and held him closely.

"…I am sorry, Kevin. I didn’t mean it like that."

He knew exactly what you meant…He just didn’t want to hear it. He turned around to hug you tightly.

"…Don’t insult my tastes again. I like you means I like you. I don’t give a toss if you think you not good enough for me, because that would mean you think am a dumbass who decided to ask you on a whim. And I ain’t no bloody dumbass."

Your breath hitched before you smiled and nodded.

"Alright. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kevin…"

Hannibal Sr. knew you were attracted to him and your past experiences. He didn’t want to rush you, but he also knew he couldn’t wait forever. So, he eventually hinted that he may enjoy to spend a little time with you. But, he knew you wouldn’t believe him at first.

He kissed the back of your hand and smiled.

"I never joke about the matters of the heart, my little lamb."

He then stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, his knuckles barely grazing your lips as he smirked. He then playfully winked at you.

"Besides…I am quite curious as to what a little lamb like you may offer me ?"

He then stroked your lips with his thumb and his eyes stayed there for a moment before he grinned and raised his eyes to meet yours again.

"…Do tell me when you are ready to trust me."

He then walked away and let you think about it. Hannibal Sr. can wait. He has spent a lot of time in prison and knows the values of patience and determination. With time, you’d come to realise that he is the man for you. And until then ? He’d let you think and slowly come to the obvious conclusion…

[remuslovebot]

Heyyyyy could you do a fix with Remus that has some sort of connection to the song snap out of it by arctic monkeys? Tyyy

gah!!! this one >>>>>

enjoy bestie <3 sorry it’s so late

𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐈𝐭 | 𝐑.𝐋

summary: Remus writes a song for The Marauders based off his jealousy and worry for you and your toxic boyfriend.

warnings: jealousy, angst to fluff, toxic relationship (not with Remus). fighting and a black eye. lmk if I missed anything! not proofread :/

pairing: rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough…I gotta tell you the truth, yeah…

Remus sang into the microphone, strumming his guitar. The other marauders watched him play, as this was the new song Remus wanted to present to them. Immediately, Sirius knew who it was about. You.

I wanna grab both of your shoulders and shake, baby. Snap out of it.

You were in a relationship with a very toxic man. He was controlling and easily jealous. He didn’t like that you were friends with the Marauders and was threatened by how Remus felt about you. Although you denied your boyfriend’s accusations because you were oblivious.

Remus finished the song and the other marauders seemed to enjoy it. Sirius liked it too but pulled Remus aside.

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, a little obvious mate?” He asked the sandy haired boy. Remus shrugged, “What do you mean?” He acted clueless.

Sirius sighed, “I know you wrote the song about Y/n,” he said. “I’m fine with it, but I just hope you know the can of worms you’re opening,” he warned.

This frustrated Remus, he finally got his feelings out on paper and Sirius was warning him about repercussions. “It’s fine, Padfoot. Okay?” He said it more like a statement than a question.

Sirius just nodded, playing with his drum sticks as he walked away.

A week later, the band recorded the song and released it. They played it at numerous concerts, each one you attended.

You sang along to song, as it was your new favorite one. Albeit you didn’t know who it was about, your boyfriend did. One night after a gig, Remus was smoking a cigarette in the back alleyway. You were at the bar with Lily and Marlene, discussing the Marauders newest single. Your boyfriend was no where to he seen and it concerned you, as he always made it a point to be by your side.

If you were being honest, you also felt a bit relieved. You hated when he hovered. Little to your knowledge, you boyfriend had cornered Remus in the alley way.

“Oi! Lupin!” He yelled. “I know that new song is about my girl,” your boyfriend shouted angrily.

Remus had a temper but it was rarely used, as he not easy to bother. But this made his teeth grit together. He dropped his smoke and stepped on it, before facing your boyfriend.

“Listen, you need to back off,” Remus defended. “I’m not going to steal Y/n from you. You won alright,” he said.

“I still don’t appreciate the way you’re looking at her. Why can’t you just cut ties with her?” He pushed Remus.

Remus backed away, getting more angry. “I’m her best friend! I’m not just going to drop her. I love her.” He pushed your boyfriend back.

With that, you boyfriend punched Remus in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Stepping outside for a cigarette yourself, you witnessed the entire encounter. You rushed over to Remus and went to his aid.

“Oh my god! Remus are you alright?” You asked, cupping his cheek. You turned to your boyfriend, “What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked angrily.

He got in your face, as Remus stood up from the ground. “He’s in love with you. That new song that you and your friends love so much is about you. He doesn’t want you with me!” He argued.

“Yeah well, right now I don’t want you with me. How dare you punch my best friend. God your a terrible person!” You yelled just as angry.

“We’re over,” you added. You boyfriend didn’t like that. “What?” He asked, walking towards you.

Remus crossed in front of you, “You heard her. It’s over”, he said, then returning the favor and punching him. Your boyfriend was knocked to the floor. Remus took your hand and led you away into the crowed bar.

After walking into the bar, you led him to the back and into the restroom. “Here, you’re bleeding,” you said, wetting a paper towel and placing it on his cheek.

He winced and you felt horrible that he was in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking into your eyes. Whenever he looked into your eyes, Remus felt like he was looking into your soul.

You stared back and old feelings began to flood. When you two were in school, you had the biggest crush on the sandy haired boy. But once you graduated you thought you needed to get over him, because there was no way he would like you back.

Little did you know, Remus was hopelessly in love with you. He wrote ‘Snap Out of It’ for you and for a reason.

You sighed, “no it’s my fault. If i never would have dated that asshole, you wouldn’t have a black eye,” you said, wiping away some blood.

“I’ll be okay. I’m glad you broke up with him,” Remus admitted, with a shy smile.

You blushed, “I am too. I guess your song worked. I snapped out of it,” you teased cheekily.

This made Remus laugh and then you laughed. Both looking into each others eyes, you captured eachother in a small kiss. It was knew and unfamiliar, the best of first kissed. His arms slid around you waist, protectively and needlessly.

As your kiss grew passionate, the drummer of The Marauders, Sirius Black walked into the restroom.

Stunned and shocked at first, he then laughed under his breath. “Well I guess the song worked,” he grinned.

[winniethewife]

My first taste of love (Hunter x Reader)

A Fic for @freesia-writes

A/n: I hope you enjoy it!

No warnings Just fluff.

~~~

It all started on Kamino. She was one of the few ever charged with training clones, she had seen many batches of cadets come and go, but when she was asked personally By Nala Se to train the experimental batch of clones known as Clone force 99 she was definitely honored. They were a unique bunch. Tech with enhanced mental capability, Wrecker was well… built to wreck things, Crosshair and his long range abilities, these were all things she felt like she could work with. Hunter was an enigma. His enhanced sensory abilities were beyond anything she was used to, it took a while to figure out what she was going to do with him, but the main thing that made Hunter the most interesting to train was teaching him how to deal with how his senses would overwhelm him.

Once when the batch was still relatively biologically young, translatable to about 12 or 13, she found Hunter hiding in a supply closest. She didn’t even say anything she just climbed in the closet with him and wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, I’ve got you.” She mumbles. He nods and hid his face in her shoulder, embarrassed for being found but thankful for her comfort. That was the day that Hunter found out what a crush was, it was totally inappropriate, She was his trainer, His teacher! But he couldn’t help it.

~

As they were nearing the end of their training and the end of their accelerated growth cycle she found her role changing from teacher to friend, she still had some things to teach them but it was obvious that they were going to end up doing things their own way. She was so proud of them, and it showed. She would defend the batch tooth and nail when any of the republic officials or Kaminoans seemed to take issue with them. Something that probably cost her job in the end. She was reading the notice on her data pad that after the next Cadet graduation she would be asked to leave, her services no longer needed. She was so focused on the notice that she didn’t hear Hunter come up to her.

“Hey…you okay?” Hunters gruff voice asked as he saw the expression on her face, she jumps up startled.

“Kriffing Maker! Hunter! You scared me!” She laughs slightly and gives him a small smile. When did he get so…handsome…she shakes the thought away “Nothing for you to worry about, Okay? I’m just fine.” She reaches out and pats his shoulder, his face flushing.

“Alright if you say so.” He is unconvinced but doesn’t want to push.

~

After their cadet graduation, it would be a long time until she saw the batch again. She went back to mercenary work. At some point the war ended and everything seemed off about it. She was rubbing her temples while sitting at the bar at Cid’s parlor, unfortunately one of the few places she could get work these days. Just as she was about ready to just head out she heard some familiar voices. She quickly turns her head to the entrance in disbelief. But there they were, The Batch…Her Batch. After recovering from the most enormous hug from Wrecker, an introduction to Omega and Echo, and a very detailed explanation of everything that had happened from Tech, She finally managed to steal Hunter away for a moment. He had spent the entire time standing to the side a small smile on his face as he admired her. She was even more beautiful now then she had been on Kamino. She approaches him and with slight tears in her eyes she took his hand and pulled him in touching foreheads, hands still clasped together.

“I’m sorry, that I wasn’t honest with you” She says quietly as she maintained the contact.

“I worried, you just vanished after our squad graduation. I-I thought I did something wrong.”

“No, Hunter… You never did anything wrong. The Kaminoans thought I got too attached to you guys, wanted me out of the picture.” She squeezes his hand gently. Her eyes meeting his amber ones. Her free hand running through his hair.

“I…I never had the chance to tell you…how I felt.” Hunter whispers as he looks at her.

“Hunter…I always knew. You never had to say anything.” She smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks with slight hesitation. She smiles wider

“Yes.” She mumbled. He pulled her in closer and wrapped his free arm around her waist, closing the distance as he pressed his lips to hers. Lost in the perfection of the moment they hardly notice Echo covering Omegas eyes and the rest of the batch averting their eyes.  She was happy for the first time since Kamino, she was in his arms…Hunters arms. Her Hunter

~

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